Afterlight by Jonathan Shuerger

Author:Jonathan Shuerger [Shuerger, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creative Grumbles LLC
Published: 2024-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

“You, Captain,” Silas Cayne proclaimed, “are a sight for sore eyes. A painful one.”

The red-headed officer descending the gangplank to the dock grinned at him. “Cayne the Hero, as I live and breathe, I can see that you still do both. Should I curtsey in the presence of greatness?”

Silas chuckled and said, “No, I think seeing you in a dress the one time was enough.”

The newcomer leveled a stormy glare at him. “I keep telling ye, ye daft git, it’s a kilt! A worthy garment representative of the honor of Clan McKoll.”

Silas pointed at him. “You know, most families choose swords or flags or something. Not scratchy skirts.”

“Ye complain,” Captain “Mike” McKoll said, “But the tartan’ll be the standard dress uniform soon enough. So I’d get used to it.”

McKoll offered his hand and Silas slapped his into it. “Cripping good to see you, Mike. This place is hurting for real soldiers.”

“Clearly, if ye’re in charge of it,” McKoll said, glancing around the docks.

Cayne crossed his arms. “So, what are you doing here? There’s no way a runner got to you in time for you to muster and sail over.”

McKoll’s expression darkened. “Aye, well, a runner did get to us, and that’s why I’m here.”

Cayne realized immediately that Colonel Mayhue must have reached the garrisons on the east end of the Graveyard.

“Ah,” he said, and offered out his wrists gamely. “Well, then, I guess you’ll be needing these, won’t you?”

McKoll waved a hand. “Put those away, Cayne. There’s no one this side of Bel Farak that thinks ye’ve got yellow in ye. Particularly when a commanding officer — a colonel, no less — shows up, raving aboot undead and incompetence. They needed someone to come investigate. They sent me.”

The highlander looked Cayne up and down. “Investigation’s complete. Ye’re charged with being daft and loyal to the King.”

Silas squinted. “Aren’t those the same thing?”

McKoll chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Ye said it, not me.”

Men pounded down the gangplank after their officer, with sergeants bawling orders behind them. Silas glanced past McKoll’s shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how many soldiers did you bring to arrest me?”

McKoll grinned at him. “Don’t sell yerself short, laddie. Ye’re Cap’n Silas Cayne of Beaufort. I told’em I’d need no fewer than two hundred of Samothrace’s finest to nail you down. So here we are.”

Cayne sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Two hundred?” he repeated weakly. Tears stung his eyes and he could feel his throat closing. By the fething Throne, we might make it through this.

McKoll’s face got a little redder himself, and he leaned closer. “I’ve got yer back, Silas,” he said hoarsely. “Ye know I do.”

He backed off and cleared his throat. “Ach. My allergies are flaring up.”

“Captain Cayne!”

Silas turned to see a Tunn soldier running up to him, baby face flushed with exertion. The soldier snapped a quick salute, which Silas returned. “What is it?”

“It’s the Sheolin, sir. They’re back. Scouts are reporting hundreds of them.”

Silas sighed, his shoulders slumping.

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