Chapter 9 Whispers in the Dying Sun
Talon stepped out first and then I followed, Fisk was behind me. As I stepped out of the tunnel and straight into blinding sunlight. Took me a moment for my vision to adjust. I looked around and I could see the reds and oranges of the start of the setting sun.
The out door breeze sent chills down my spin. I could still feel the damp stone that clung to my back from the hours in the tunnel. Where some spots where so tight we had to walk sideways.
Panic hit me as I took in the open space of the forest. Where thugs and other threats could be lingering anywhere.
Not safe.
A small voice repeated over and over again as I took in the landscape.I tried to ignored it as we moved through the forest.
The wind carried salt from the surrounding ocean. I could still smell the blood and Rum on me. I needed to get cleaned up and see the damage as soon as possible. Infection was the last thing I needed to deal with right now.
Fisk climbed out of the tunnel and moved ahead of me, his shoulders swallowing the last streaks of orange sun. For a second the light caught his eyes just right. Making the color of his green eyes bright and sharp. It changed how that man looked, it was different, it stripped him of tavern swagger. Not loud. Not joking.
Just built from nerve and stubborn survival.
His shirt clung to him, sweat darkening the fabric across his shoulders. I was busy admiring him as he approached. He reached out and grabbed me by the arm, forcing me to turn and move.
Not rough.
But absolutely not negotiable.
I realized then I was moving towards the tunnel. It was too late now to turn back.
Talon His eyes swept everything except me. They never lingered long enough for me to decide if that made me feel safer or not.
Fisk didn’t speak. He just started moving.
And because his hand still had my arm, I moved with him.
Talon drifted a step behind us, weavying in and out of trees as Fisk Lead me through on the path. With the tunnel gone behind us. Panic crawled up my spine. Every instinct screamed that I should turn around, crawl back underground, and wait for the world to sort itself out.
Instead I kept walking.
With Fisk’s help of course.
We crossed a sloping hill slick with dew-heavy grass. Cold soaked straight through my boots. Below us the village looked half asleep, rooftops leaning into each other like drunks. Fisk kept us above it though, skirting the edge where shadow swallowed the last of the light.
Then distant shouting rose from the direction of my tavern. Was it the thugs or my regulars wondering where I was? I thought about the cook and…
Fisk finally spoke. Breaking my spiraling thoughts.
“We don’t have long.”
His voice was low enough that I felt it more than heard it. His breath brushed my cheek, warm and smelling faintly of rum and smoke and something rougher beneath it.
“They’ll start along the quay first,” he murmured. “We cut behind the north sheds. Stay near the water.”
My chest trembled, and I couldn’t decide if it was fear or something else entirely.
I almost asked what his plan was if the thugs caught us. Was I was bait, shield, or convenient distraction for him to use, but that didn’t feel right.
His hand slid down my arm and wrapped around my wrist instead.
Not dragging.
Holding.
Like I might slip away if he loosened his grip. Like I was a treasure he wanted to keep.
Talon clicked his tongue softly somewhere behind us. A warning. Maybe impatience.
His steps made no sound in the grass. His shadow stretched long and thin behind him. The look he gave Fisk carried something heavy in it, but it passed between them too fast for me to read more into it.
They had their own language.
I wasn’t invited to it.
We slid down a shallow ravine cluttered with broken crab pots and rusted hooks. Rotten fish stung the air, tangled with the sharp bite of the incoming tide.
My boot hit slick mud and I nearly went down. Fisk caught me before gravity finished the job. His hand tightened around my wrist, steadying me.
“You alright?” he asked.
He still wasn’t looking directly at me, I watch his eyes dare around taking it all in. but the question traveled down his grip to the pulse hammering beneath his fingers.
“Yeah,” I said.
My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
He grunted, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might smile.
“We’re almost there.” The words felt meant for me more than him. I felt the relief release through out his body.
The harbor we made it to the harbor.
First the noise. Voices rolling together. Boots hammering dock planks. A bell clanging somewhere against a hull.
Then the lights.
Torches moved along the docks like fireflies with bad intentions. Ships crowded the harbor in dark shapes, their masts clawing up into the sky.
And there she was.
The Ghost.
Black hull barely visible against the water. It was beautiful and scary. Just like the stories I heard. I wonder thats why there was so much shady men around. Were they apart of the ghost crew?
“There,” Fisk said quietly. “My ship.” I wonder which ship he was talking about, there were many. I couldn’t help but notice that something in his voice softened around the words.
“Our way out.” His smile was warm with excitement. Was I going on the boat with them as well? What was his plan with me. Did I even want to go on the ship especially with my fear of… my thoughts cut off as Talon stepped up beside us, lips pressed thin as wire.
“They’re already watching the gangway,” he murmured. “Two there. Maybe four more on the far side.”
He still didn’t look at me, but I could feel the calculation working behind his eyes.
Fisk’s arm slid around me suddenly, pulling me tight against his chest.
My shoulder bumped beneath his collarbone.
“You keep your head down,” he said close to my ear. “And do exactly what I say.”
His voice dropped lower.
“I won’t let them take you.” I stiffened immediately.