A Promise of Tides by Rookhouse Riley & McCue Marie

Author:Rookhouse, Riley & McCue, Marie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Story Garden Publishing LLC
Published: 2024-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

And so Panabelle went, plunging into the sea of green like a kingfisher into a waiting pond, Brightfang’s folded letter to Orsull tucked in her loose-fitting britches. The going was slow—even slower given her desire to formalize the plan in her mind—but she was trending more or less westward, in the direction of the beach. The humidity was oppressive, and it seemed to seep into her pores like a thick, heavy syrup, making her skin glisten in the dappled light. She pushed aside thick ferns and vines, listening to the rustling of the underbrush and the occasional chirping of hidden birds. The jungle was alive, and despite the promise it held, she was wary. If her suspicions turned out to be wrong, then every step she took away from the encampment was a step deeper into danger—and she was utterly alone.

No, now wasn’t the time for hasty decisions. If too many died, she was as good as dead too, but she would need to be judicious regarding those who remained. The crew were sheep, and rattled or not, Brightfang would continue to guard her flock. Orsull was a weak link, as were the others who had mutinied—lacking in foresight, all of them—but none, she thought, were as weak a link as Ellis.

Capture the captain’s ear and you could command ships; capture the captain’s heart, and you could sink them.

And as for the others, Deysha, Aropha, and Tupper⁠—

“Yes, yes,” Tahwyr said. “I gather you are still feeling indebted to the two young sweethearts. But I’m not as interested in them as I am in this devious little plan of yours. I know you want the navigation equipment, but how does sending Orsull and a small crew out on a voyage to Tide Island help you attain it? He’ll be needing that same equipment to pilot his little boat.”

She turned her head to look at him, on the verge of answering, when her foot struck something on the ground, and she was robbed of her balance. She flew forward, her legs going out from under her, and struck the ground, hard, with a thud. Her bowless-wounded jaw screamed at the impact. Stars swam before her eyes, and if her elbows hadn’t hit the ground first, she might have crushed the new life growing in her belly like a beetle under her boot.

Grimacing, she dug her hands into the damp earth and struggled to her feet, searching the forest floor for whatever stump or vine she had tripped her.

But what her eyes found instead wasn’t a part of the jungle. It was a body, so fresh the flies had yet to descend on it: male, bulky around the middle, a long-handled carpenter’s axe clutched weakly in one hand. His red face and shaved head glistened with sweat, his eyes open in a permanent and unseeing stare.

“Interesting,” Tahwyr observed.

“What happened here?” Panabelle asked, gesturing down at the corpse. “Which crew member is this?”

“One of the navigator’s new best friends, of course,” Tahwyr answered. “I believe his name was Kawah.

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