Before
Caledonia stretched along the prow of the Ghost as
the ship sliced through black water. At night, the ocean offered only a
dark reflection of the sky above, and the promise of a cold grave
below.
Her mother,
Rhona, crouched near, a rifle balanced on her knees, eyes surveying the
sea road ahead. “Our way forward is marred. Do you see?” she said.
Caledonia
studied the eddies in the water, searching for the signs that meant
there were rocks ahead, or a sunken ship, unusual swirls, or a sudden
chop of waves. Rhona was always the first to spot them, but Caledonia
was getting better.
“Rocks,”
Caledonia said, and without waiting for permission, she turned and
called to her father where he stood on the bridge. “Three degrees port!”
The Ghost nosed
south to avoid the sharp danger. On either side, familiar outlines of
small islands rose around the ship. These were the waters of the Bone
Mouth, a series of islands and rocky protrusions that offered flimsy
sanctuary to anyone brave enough to sail them. They were treacherous in
daylight, and nearly impassable at night, except by Caledonia’s mother,
Rhona Styx, captain of the Ghost. Under her command, they sailed as smoothly as if on open blue waters.
Years
ago, Rhona liked to remind her daughter, they wouldn’t have needed such
stealth. When Rhona was a girl, she sailed from the colder northern
currents, past the towering Rock Isles, all the way down to the Bone
Mouth without any more danger than the occasional storm. Then, so
gradually few noticed until it was too late, a man named Aric Athair had
grown a fleet of ships armed and armored for taking and killing. His
fleet of Bullet ships stretched in a violent chain across the only way
in or out of these expansive waters. Anyone on the wrong side of his
notorious Net found themselves bent under the pressure of his thumb.
Now,
after years of dodging Aric Athair and his Bullets, and facing
dwindling resources, Rhona had decided the time had come for their small
band to punch through the Net. For months, they’d searched for the best
way. They’d studied the Bullet ships from a distance and determined the
weakest point was at the tip of the Bone Mouth, where even Aric’s ships
were loath to sail. The Ghost could make it, but first they
needed food—fruit, nuts, and meat if they could get it—to supplement
their stores for the unknown waters beyond.
Tonight, they resupplied. But tomorrow night, they ran for the very last time.
“You and your brother prep for the shore run.” Rhona’s red hair rolled behind her, battling with the wind.
A
small thrill straightened Caledonia’s spine. From the age of six, she’d
campaigned for the responsibility of shore runs to be hers. Only in the
last year had her mother finally conceded and assigned her the task.
But as much as Caledonia cherished the trust her mother placed in her on
those occasions, she knew her little brother hated those long dark
rides to shore. He would spend the entire night terrified of being so
far from the safety of their ship. “Let me take Pisces.” Caledonia
climbed to her feet and followed her mother. “We’re a good team.
Besides, Donnally’s too young for shore runs. He’s only twelve turns,
you know.”
Rhona laughed her grizzly laugh. “You know this from all your experience?”
Caledonia
pictured Donnally’s eyes tight with fear, his mouth pressed into a
stoic line as he struggled not to disappoint their mother.
“I do,” she answered.
“Cala, the only way your brother will learn is by your side,” Rhona said with a sigh, but there was no fight in her words.
Mother
and daughter skirted the bridge, then took turns sliding down the
companionway ladder to the deck below. Even in the moonless dark, they
knew their way easily around the Ghost. The ship had become a
refuge for families looking to escape Aric’s rule. As their numbers
grew, every inch of the ship was transformed to meet a variety of
needs—masts supported sails and laundry lines, the galley was
transformed daily from a mess hall to a bunk room, even the deck was
host to stacked garden beds and two goat pens. While more than a dozen
men and women were still topside at this hour, most of the crew was
asleep in the small cabins below. There were lookouts posted forward and
stern and up in the nest, but here in the Bone Mouth, the Ghost had
never come across one of Aric’s Bullet ships at night. Bullets were
vicious and bold, but most lacked Rhona’s seafaring skill.
Caledonia
spied her brother crouched behind one of the four mast blocks studding
the centerline of the ship, an overlarge jacket hulking around him like a
gray cloud. He had their father’s dark hair, their mother’s fair
complexion, and a nose that curled up at the tip, giving him a look of
perpetual surprise.
The
lines of a blunted arrowhead tattoo half-filled with black ink peeked
out from beneath his curls. A matching one was drawn on her own temple.
It was custom on the Ghost for parents to mark their children
with unique sigils in case of capture. The mark would give those
children the chance to find their family again someday.
“I’ll
take him next time.” Guilt nudged at Caledonia. Her mother was right.
The only way to prepare Donnally for the world was to take him into it,
but sometimes she feared for her little brother. The gentle pinch in her
mother’s eyes said she did, too.
“Donnally!” Rhona called. “Hoist your eyes, son!”
Donnally
started, rocketing awkwardly to his feet before he managed to spot his
mother and sister. He trudged across the deck at a reluctant pace, dark
hair flopping in his eyes. He schooled his features when he asked,
“Shore run?” But the note of tension in his voice gave him away.
“Yes, but not for you. Cala’s taking Pi, which means I want you and Ares on watch. Clear?” Rhona pointed toward the nest.
Donnally nodded eagerly. “Clear,” he said, giving Caledonia a grateful smile.
Rhona pulled her daughter into her arms, planting a kiss on her head. “Get the job done.”
“And get back to the ship,” Caledonia finished.
By
the time they dropped anchor near an island they called the Gem,
Caledonia and Pisces were prepped and ready to go. They climbed into the
bow boat harnessed against the hull of the Ghost and lowered it to the water as they’d done a dozen times before.
With
quick strokes of the oars they covered the distance be- tween their
ship and the island. Recently, Pisces had grown several inches. She’d
outgrown her little brother, Ares, and shot straight past Caledonia, and
her height seemed to make her fearless. Pisces’s shoulders were broad
and strong, her skin a warm, pale brown, and she wore her hair in four
long braids. As they rowed, her eyes were full of excitement, focused on
the island and its bounty, while Caledonia kept one eye on the black
ocean.
“It’s too quiet. I don’t like it,” Caledonia said.
Pisces
pulled in a deep breath and tilted a ready smile toward her friend.
“It’s peaceful, like being so far underwater you can’t see the surface.”
“That’s called drowning. Only you would find that peaceful.”
Pisces laughed quietly to avoid unsettling Caledonia further.
Together
they moored their boat in a sheltered cove, securing it in a thicket of
tall grass. The girls split up to make their work faster, agreeing to
meet back at the cove when their sacks were full. The path down the
shore was narrow, the ocean as dark as the night sky and nearly as flat.
Caledonia moved along the rocky tree line, stuffing fallen coconuts and
bananas and jackfruit into the canvas sacks draped across her
shoulders. There was enough that she could afford to be picky, though
the more she gathered, the longer they’d be able to sail. No one knew
what to expect when they broke through the Net. They might need to sail
for days or months, and they needed to be prepared for both. People once
said that beyond the Net were wide-open seas and towns where children
weren’t forced into the service of a tyrant, but it was a world
Caledonia could not quite imagine.
The
tide was low and the waves sluggish, burbling and hissing as they
surged and receded. In their wake, the sand glittered with the
pearlescent shells of burrowing crabs and the slick backs of beached
jellyfish. From the dense forest came the looping songs of insects and
tree frogs. Perhaps she would return with meat after all.
Footsteps, hurried and heavy, sounded behind her.
Caledonia’s
heart tripped, her hands stuttered on the strap of her canvas bag, and
she instinctively slipped through a fall of vines. There had been no
other ships in sight for miles. These footsteps must belong to Pisces.
They had to.
Still, the cadence of the steps refused to conjure the image of Pisces running, long black braids flying behind her.
Even away from the Ghost, the rules of the ship still applied. Number one: Never be seen.
Caledonia stilled her breathing, adjusted her feet, and disentangled
herself from the bag full of fruit. She would be ready to run. She would
be ready to fight.
The
steps grew louder and slower. A dark figure appeared: tall, muscled,
male. Instead of racing past as Caledonia hoped he would, the boy
stopped a few feet from her hiding place. His skin was suntanned and
slick with sweat, his vest and pants lined with guns and clips of ammo.
His bicep was marked by a single scarred line that even in the dark was
bright orange, saturated with the Silt in his blood. He was a Bullet, a
soldier from Aric Athair’s army.
Aric
conscripted children, dismantling families in order to build his
empire. Rogue families like Caledonia’s had taken to the water rather
than see their children stolen and transformed into soldiers. But
because they’d run, if they were ever captured, none would be spared.
Not even the children. People more readily offered their children up as
payment when they knew the only alternative was death for all.
This
Bullet couldn’t be much older than Caledonia, seventeen at the most,
but the mark on his bicep meant he’d already killed in service to Aric.
She smelled the salt of his sweat and the sharp pinch of gunpowder and something unrecognizable and sweet. Caledonia shivered.
The
boy didn’t look at her, didn’t seem to be aware she crouched so near,
her fingers inching her pistol from its holster. Instead, he began to do
exactly what she’d been doing. He bent down and collected fruit.
She’d never seen a Bullet this close; her parents did their best to keep the Ghost as
far from Aric’s fleet as possible. Over the years they’d outrun dozens
of Bullet ships and collected as many families from other ships and
outlying settlements, all while staying out of sight.
Rule number two: Shoot first.
Her
pistol was in her hand, finger curled around the trigger. When the boy
turned his back and kneeled to inspect a coconut, Caledonia had the
perfect advantage. She would only need one bullet.
She raised her pistol and stepped quietly out of her hiding place.
The boy froze, dropping the coconut as he raised his hands. “Whoever you are, you have me,” he said.
Caledonia didn’t respond, her throat tight as she considered pulling the trigger.
“Would
it make a difference if I asked you not to shoot?” the boy asked, face
forward and eyes on the ocean. “If I begged for mercy?”
“Killing you would be a mercy,” she told the Bullet.
“Maybe so,” he said, voice at once piteous and resigned. “At least, if you’re going to kill me, let me see your face?”
Caledonia’s
pulse quickened. There was no time for this. Where there was one
Bullet, there were a dozen or more. She needed to find Pisces and get
back to the boat, and she needed to do it now. Shoot, her mother’s voice urged, but this was one rule Caledonia had never had to follow.
Sensing
her hesitation, the boy shifted on his knees, spinning to face her. His
hands remained steady in the air, but now he watched her.
Alarmed, Caledonia took an involuntary step back. “Move again and I’ll shoot.” She raised her aim to his head.
He
nodded, star-pale eyes fixed on the barrel of her pistol. He had a long
face with a jaw that looked sharp enough to be a weapon on its own.
Blond hair, thick with sea wind and salt, framed his forehead like a
crown. One ear stuck out a little farther than the other, but the effect
was endearing. She counted two guns strapped to each of his thighs,
which likely meant there were at least two others she couldn’t see. For
the moment, she was the one in power, but she knew just how quickly that
might change.
“At least if I’m to die, it’ll be at the hands of someone lovely.” His eyes charted a slow course across her face.
Warmth crept into Caledonia’s cheeks. “Where’s your crew?
Your clip?”
“I—Can
I point?” When Caledonia nodded, he did, back in the direction he’d
come from. “Ship’s anchored off the northern tip of the island. Stopped
for food.”
“One ship?” Caledonia asked.
“One ship,” he answered. “We were headed to the Net and moored here for the night. It’s a bad moon for traveling.”
He
could be lying—he was probably lying—but this far from the Holster it
could also be the truth. One ship on the opposite side of the island was
survivable. As long as she and Pisces returned to the Ghost quickly.
But something had to be done about this Bullet. “What’s your name?” she asked.
The boy seemed to grow smaller under the weight of that question. “What does it matter if you’re going to kill me?”
“It doesn’t.” Caledonia’s finger found the trigger again, and again it stuck there.
A sad smile twisted his lips. “Lir. I’m called Lir. And I expect you’ll be the last to know it.”
He
was so ready to die, and so young. Was he young enough to be saved?
They said it didn’t take long for the children Aric took to succumb to
the dreamy pull of Silt. Addiction made Bullets both loyal and mean. But
they also said an encounter with a Bullet al- ways, always ended in one
of two ways: either you died, or he did.
Shoot, my brave girl, she heard her mother’s voice whisper.
“I’m…I’m
sorry,” she said, preparing to fire. Her fingers trembled. Now his eyes
grew wide, his hands stiff and splayed in the air. “Please,” he said,
“please, show me the mercy the Father never does. Take me with you.
Whatever life you have, it’s got to be better than the one he forces on
us. Please, help me.”
This was precisely why the rule was shoot first and not shoot as soon as possible or shoot when you feel ready. But she’d broken the rule and now this wasn’t a Bullet, it was Lir.
Lir, who desperately wanted a way out. Lir, who hadn’t hurt her.
Lir, who might be someone’s brother.
If it were Donnally on some other beach with some other girl’s gun to his head, wouldn’t Caledonia want that girl to help him?
“Stand up,” she said, lowering her aim to his chest.
Lir
complied, and his expression softened when Caledonia moved in and
pulled six guns and two knives from holsters on his thighs, calves, and
back. Up close, he smelled even more like the ammunition he carried, but
with a pinch of something too sweet. He kept his hands up as she
worked, eyes marking every place she touched him. “Please,” he repeated.
“I’ll never have a chance like this again. Please, help me.”
The
ocean rushed toward them and away, the waves quickening as the tide
began to roll in. It was the same tide that would carry all the families
aboard the Ghost far away from this terrible life that turned
children into warriors, that made Lir plead for his life on an empty
beach in the middle of a moonless night. She could help him. And she wanted to, but it went against everything her mother had taught her.
Shaking her head, she pressed the muzzle of her gun into Lir’s chest.
Desperation surfaced in the tremulous bend of his mouth. “What’s your name?”
It wasn’t a secret, yet she frowned, refusing to give it up.
His
smile turned mournful. “How about I call you Bale Blossom, then? It
seems fitting.” His eyes raised to trace the frame of her hair. The
smile on her own lips surprised her. It wasn’t the first time her hair
had been likened to the deep orange of the baleflower, but it was the
first time the comparison felt like a compliment.
“Call me whatever you like,” she answered. “I still won’t give you my name.”
“You don’t trust me. There’s no reason you should, but I’m going to show you why you can.”
Caledonia’s
finger tightened on the trigger as he slipped one hand into his vest
and produced a push dagger she’d missed. The handle was small enough to
fit inside his grip completely while the black blade protruded between
his first and middle fingers. He held it out hilt-first in the narrow
space between them.
She snatched it, noting how his body had warmed the metal, and tucked it into her belt.
“How’s that for trust, Bale Blossom?”
Caledonia
wished desperately for her mother’s wisdom. Rhona would know what to do
in this situation. She would know how to do the right thing even if it
was a dangerous thing.
But Caledonia had only herself.
“No one trusts a Bullet,” she answered. “But maybe I can help.”
“Are you going to take me to your crew?” Lir smiled sadly, seeming to know the answer before Caledonia had given it.
Rule number three: Never reveal the ship.
“No,” she said, resolute. “But I’m not going to shoot you.”
Lir
nodded, the bravery on his face haunted by disappointment. Even in the
dark of the night she could see his jaw was carved with dirt and old
scars. His eyes glittered dimly, and his mouth settled into a hard line.
The flash of hope Caledonia had seen a moment before had been swept
away by resignation.
When
he spoke next, his voice was hollow. “You should leave. Go back to your
ship. Get out of here. I’ll hide or I’ll die, but I’ll do it under my
own sail.”
She glanced in the direction of the Ghost, wishing it was as simple as taking Lir with her.
Lir
followed her gaze, and before her eyes, he became as steady and as cool
as the gun in her hand. He asked, “Do you know what we call this moon?”
“There is no moon tonight,” Caledonia answered.
“It’s
the Nascent Moon,” he said after a quiet moment, all trace of that sad
resignation gone. “It’s a time of potential and growth. A promise for
things to come.”
He
touched her cheek, and Caledonia gasped, her arm lowering. She felt his
hand slide into her hair, felt a spike of delicious heat follow his
grazing fingers.
“It’s the moon of beginnings and endings.” His voice found a malicious edge.
Too late, she realized if she’d missed one dagger she might have missed another.
His fingers tightened in her hair. A slaked smile surfaced on his lips.
And the blade sank into her gut.
Lir
gripped the back of her head. As hot blood spread across her stomach,
he held her close. Her knees buckled and her gun hit the ground with a
thud.
“Thank you for
your mercy, Bale Blossom,” he whispered, lowering her almost gently to
the sand. Nauseating pain burned through her body. “And thank you for
your ship.”
Caledonia
screamed, fighting to stay conscious. If they heard her, they might
escape. She clutched at her wound and felt sand against her face, rough
against her lips. She knew there was pain, but all she felt was panic.
She had to get up, find Pisces, warn the ship. She screamed again.
Footsteps.
This time, she knew them to be Lir’s as he raced away, toward the
Bullet clip that would soon find her family. She fumbled in the sand for
her gun and fired three shots. It was still deadly dark, but she
thought she saw him falter.
Even
if those three bullets had missed their mark, everyone near the island
would have heard the shots. Her family would have warning. They could
escape, and as long as they followed the rules, they would.
Her
nausea eased into a strange numbness. The blade, she realized, was
still in her gut. A parting gift, and one that might just save her.
Holding the knife in place to stanch the bleeding, she got slowly to her
feet and began to stagger toward her cove and the bow boat, the only
thought in her mind to see the Ghost safely on its way.
“Cala!” Pisces burst from the trees, her long braids swinging around her like ropes. “Oh, spirits, Cala!”
“Bullets.” Caledonia barely managed the word before falling again to her knees. “We have to hurry.”
Pisces
nodded grimly and ripped a long strip of material from her shirt. The
blade hurt even more coming out. Pisces worked quickly, binding the
wound tightly before tucking her head beneath Caledonia’s arm and
lifting her friend to her feet.
Together,
the girls stumbled through the woods, taking the shortest possible path
to where their little boat waited. Caledonia tried to run. With each
step her legs felt weaker, her lungs more shallow. Her gut burned as she
moved. Thorny plants clawed at their legs and arms, leaving small
trails of blood on their skin. Thick vines slowed their progress even
more. Before the ocean was visible again through the trees, the sound of
gunfire ripped through the air.
Neither
girl spoke until they’d returned to the cove. The boat they’d used to
come ashore was still there, bobbing as the tide came in. But now, out
where their family’s ship lay at anchor, a Bullet ship approached,
flared with light.
It was an assault ship with a sharp nose and grooves along the hull where Bullets waited with magnetized bombs. The Ghost fought
to weigh its anchor and gain speed, but the assault ship was already
upon it. Bombs soared across the narrowing channel of water. A boom rent the air as the missiles exploded against the Ghost, ripping open the ship and knocking the breath from Caledonia’s lungs.
Flames
spilled from a hole in the side of the hull. It was everything the
girls had been taught to fear, to avoid, everything their parents had
spent a lifetime protecting them from. And Caledonia had brought it
right to their feet.
Screams
replaced the sound of gunfire. Caledonia lurched, pushing past the pain
and into the shallow water. She surged forward once, determined to
swim, but her body faltered and she cried out in defeat. Her feet sank
into sand, salt burned in her gut, and Pisces gripped her shoulders to
pull her back to shore. “Caledonia, no!” she cried.
The two girls could do nothing but witness. No one would be spared.
It lasted less than fifteen minutes.
The sun rose higher. Screams and gunfire waned.
Then
the Bullets began their gruesome work of dragging the dead to their
ship and hoisting the bodies of the slain on the metal pikes studding
their rail.
One body,
placed at the very front of the Bullet ship, wore an overly large coat
that puffed in the air like a gray cloud. The feet dangled in the wind,
and Caledonia choked on the memory of leaving Donnally behind just a few
short hours ago.
Caledonia
shivered in the warm night. Blood seeped down her body, but the pain in
her gut was nothing compared to the pain in her chest.
“How?” Pisces whispered.
Caledonia
slumped to her knees. She shook her head, unable to confess the truth
to her friend. She’d failed her entire family; she couldn’t fail Pisces,
too. So she pushed the truth deep down, beneath her grief and her guilt
and her anger.
“What do we do?” Pisces asked, her brown face bright with tears. “Cala, what do we do?”
Caledonia
fixed her gaze on the Bullet ship, her ears on the final screams of her
family. Fire reflected angrily across the black surface of the ocean.
For all its darkness, it had failed to keep her family a secret. But so
had she. Her heart hardened over the memory of Lir. He had taken her
mercy and turned it red. Now she and Pisces were all that remained.
Taking her friend’s cold hand in her bloody one, she gave the only answer she could find. “I don’t know.”
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