Retribution Falls

Thirty-Five

The voice that had halted the execution belonged to Kedmund Drave, the most feared of the Century Knights, who Frey had last seen lying on a landing pad in Tarlock Cove after he emptied a shotgun into Drave’s chest. His moulded crimson armour showed no signs of the encounter as he swept across the courtyard towards Duke Grephen, his thick black cape swaying around him.

To either side were Samandra Bree and Colden Grudge. Frey recognised them from their ferrotypes. Samandra was wearing the outfit she was famous for: battered coat and boots, loose hide trousers, a tricorn hat perched on her head. Grudge, in contrast, looked like something half-ape. Shaggy-haired and bristle-faced, he was a hulking mass of dirty armour barely contained inside the folds of a hooded cloak. His autocannon clanked against his back. It was a gun bigger than most men could even carry, let alone fire.

‘What exactly is going on here?’ Drave demanded, striding up to the Duke. They could scarcely have been more different: the soft, spoiled aristocrat in his neatly pressed uniform and the iron-hard figure of the Knight, his silver-grey hair shorn close to his scalp and his cheek and neck horribly scarred.

Grephen collected himself, overcame the physical intimidation and attempted to assert his Ducal authority. ‘These men are pirates,’ he said. ‘They have been condemned to death. I wasn’t aware there was any law forbidding a Duke to deal with pirates inside his own duchy. As you can see, I have a judge here to ensure everything is legal.’

Drave stared at the old judge, who began to look nervous.

‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘I imagine the trial has been thorough and fair.’

Grephen bristled. ‘Remember who you’re talking to, sir. You may have the Archduke’s authority but even the Archduke knows to respect his Dukes.’

‘I’m not in the business of respect,’ Drave snarled. He turned to the judge. ‘There has been a trial, I assume?’

The judge looked shiftily at Grephen and swallowed. ‘I was brought here to oversee the executions. The Duke assured me that their guilt was not in question.’

‘You’ve obtained confessions, then?’ Drave asked Grephen.

Frey grinned. There wouldn’t have been time to make up and sign another confession after he’d ruined the last one.

‘They were caught red-handed in an act of piracy,’ Grephen declared, flushing angrily. ‘There was no need for a confession, or a trial. I exercised my ducal authority, as is my right. Besides, they admitted it.’

‘Did we, bollocks!’ Malvery yelled from the cage. ‘He’s lying!’

‘You shut up!’ growled Colden Grudge, pointing a meaty finger at the doctor.

‘We’re innocent!’ Pinn cried, joining in happily. For a while his faith in a last-second intervention had wavered; but now here it was, and all was right with the world again.

Drave turned his gaze to Trinica. ‘Trinica Dracken. You caught these men?’

‘Yes.’

‘You know what crimes they are wanted for?’

‘I do.’

‘And you were hired to catch them by the Duke?’

‘I was.’

‘Then he must know what crimes they are wanted for.’

Trinica looked at Grephen, her black eyes emotionless. ‘I’d assume so,’ she said.

Drave turned on Grephen. ‘Given that, Duke Grephen, why did you see fit to execute these prisoners yourself instead of delivering them to the Archduke for public trial? After all, it wasn’t your son they killed.’

Grephen had begun to sweat, his limp hair becoming lank. He looked to Gallian Thade, but Thade couldn’t help.

‘I can answer that,’ called Frey. He was still kneeling on the platform, with the executioner standing next to him, Frey’s cutlass held loosely in his hand.

‘You be quiet, criminal!’ Grephen snapped.

Drave’s eyes narrowed as he looked for the first time at the man who had almost killed him a few weeks earlier. Frey wondered if the malice in that glare would be the death of him, or if Drave would give him the chance he needed. For a long instant, Drave said nothing; then he held up a hand.

‘Let him speak. I’d like to hear what he has to say.’

Frey looked around the courtyard. All eyes were on him now. The guards in their light blue uniforms glanced at each other nervously. Grephen looked nauseous with fear. They’d thought this would be a simple execution: now they realised there was much more to it.

‘Can I get to my feet?’ Frey asked. ‘My knees are getting kind of sore like this.’

Drave motioned for him to get up. The executioner backed away a step. ‘Make it quick,’ he said. ‘And make it good. I will get to the bottom of this, but I’ll not lie to you, Darian Frey: I’d like to see you dead as much as anyone.’

Frey got up. He was still possessed of that strange sense of calm that had settled on him with the surety of death. It was as if his body couldn’t quite believe there might be a reprieve for him.

‘I’ll keep it simple, then,’ he said. ‘Duke Grephen plans to overthrow the Archduke. He’s being bankrolled by the Awakeners; they want to see the Archduke deposed because of the political measures he and his wife are introducing to limit their power. They know Grephen is devout, and that he’ll act favourably towards them once he seizes power.’

‘These are lies!’ Grephen shouted, but Frey went on anyway.

‘The Awakeners don’t have an army, and Grephen doesn’t command enough troops to challenge the Coalition Navy, so between them they’ve raised a force of pirates and freebooters, paid for with Awakener gold. This army is at the hidden port of Retribution Falls, waiting for the signal to move on Thesk and unseat the Archduke. As far as I know, that signal is coming any day now.’

‘And what does any of this have to do with the destruction of the Ace of Skulls and the death of Hengar?’ Drave asked.

‘Hengar’s death was a preliminary. They wanted to be sure there was nobody left for dissenters to rally round. He was the only surviving member of the Arken family who could inherit the title after the Archduke is gone. His secret affair with a Samarlan gave them an opportunity to get him out of the way and make it look like an accident. And Hengar was the popular one; by killing him and then leaking the information about the affair, they made the Archduke’s family look dishonest and immoral. All the better for after the coup, when they could claim it was a revolution to depose a corrupt regime, just like the Dukes when they overthrew the monarchy.’

‘This is pure fantasy!’ Grephen shrieked. ‘I will not stand here and listen to this slander from a pirate and murderer.’

‘I can prove it,’ said Frey. ‘I’ve been to Retribution Falls, and I’ve seen the army that’s waiting there. I know how to find it.’ He stared hard into the eyes of Kedmund Drave. ‘I can take you there.’

Drave stared back at him. ‘In exchange for a pardon, no doubt.’

‘A pardon?’ cried the Duke, but was ignored.

‘For me and my crew,’ Frey said. ‘The Ace of Skulls was rigged with explosives. Any engineer would tell you it’s nigh on impossible to blow up a craft that size with the guns I have on my craft. We were set up to take the fall for it, so nobody would suspect that it was part of a bigger plot. They hoped we’d be killed before we ever worked out what was going on, so we wouldn’t be able to tell anyone.’ He raised his bound hands and pointed across the courtyard. ‘The set-up was Gallian Thade’s doing. He’s in on it too.’

Thade said nothing, but his gaze was murderous.

‘You’re going to take his word for what kind of guns he has on his craft?’ Grephen spluttered.

‘I know what kind of guns he has on his craft,’ Drave said. ‘We have it in our possession.’

Frey’s heart leaped. That could mean only one thing: Jez. Somehow, she’d found the Century Knights and told them what was going on. A flicker of real hope ignited in him.

‘He’s playing for time!’ Grephen accused. ‘He’s leading you on a wild goose chase. You’re not really thinking of letting him lead you all over Vardia in search of some mythical pirate port?’

Drave looked at Frey. ‘Is that what you’re doing? Playing for time?’

‘If you’ll permit me . . .’ said Frey. He reached down into his trousers and began groping around at his crotch. Several guards covered him with guns. Samandra Bree raised an eyebrow.

After a moment, he pulled out a tightly folded piece of paper and proffered it across the podium. Drave looked at it, then nodded at Samandra.

‘Me?’ she cried in protest. She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine!’ she groaned.

She took the paper delicately from Frey’s hand, touching it as little as possible. ‘That’s been down there for days, right?’

‘Ever since Dracken captured us,’ Frey said, with a wink. ‘Lucky they didn’t search us too closely.’

Samandra wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘Ugh.’

She handed the paper to Drave, who unfolded it, apparently unconcerned by the moistness and the smell.

‘It’s a page from the dock master’s book at Retribution Falls. You can see his name and title signed down there in the bottom corner,’ Frey told him.

‘I see it,’ said Drave. He turned the paper over. ‘I don’t see the Ketty Jay on here, though.’

‘We weren’t calling ourselves the Ketty Jay at the time. It would have been a bit stupid with half of Vardia trying to catch or kill us.’

‘How convenient!’ Grephen crowed.

‘I’m not showing it to you to prove I was there. The fact that you hold it in your hand is proof enough that I was there,’ Frey replied. ‘The name you should be looking at is the Moment of Silence. If you look up her records you’ll find she’s a craft registered to the Awakeners. The signature will also match the captain’s. She was the craft shuttling Awakener gold to Retribution Falls to finance the army.’

Grephen was becoming short of breath. ‘That . . . that piece of paper doesn’t prove anything! A forged piece of rubbish!’

There were many tales told about Kedmund Drave. Like all the Century Knights, he had his own kind of legend. One of the less unpleasant stories claimed that he could tell if a man was lying just by looking into his eyes. He looked now: a penetrating gaze, boring into the Duke.

Grephen backed off a step. ‘You’re going to take the word of a convict over that of a Duke?’

‘A Duke who still hasn’t told me why he’s attempting to execute these prisoners when he knows they should have gone to the Archduke for trial.’

‘This is ridiculous!’ Grephen cried, flailing. ‘I’m not answering to you! I don’t have to answer to anyone but the Archduke in my own duchy.’

‘We act for the Archduke,’ said Drave. ‘So you answer to me!’

‘Come on, Grephen!’ Frey jeered. ‘Tell him why you want me dead! Tell him about Orkmund and all your pirate friends!’

‘And you!’ Grephen cried, thrusting a shaky finger at him. ‘I’ve had quite enough out of you.’ He looked at the executioner, who was still standing on the podium, holding Frey’s cutlass. ‘Kill him!’ Grephen ordered.

Two lever-action shotguns spun out from beneath Samandra Bree’s long coat, and fixed on the executioner. ‘Raise that sword and you’re the first to die,’ she said.

The executioner stayed where he was, his gaze flicking between the Duke and the twin barrels aimed at his face. Frey was in no doubt which would prove most persuasive.

The Duke’s guards were stirring uneasily now. Their loyalty was to their Duke, and they didn’t like to see him bullied. Colden Grudge, sensing the tension, flung back his cloak to allow himself easy access to the double-bladed hand-axes hanging at his belt.

‘Your Grace, I think you had better come with me,’ said Drave, ‘until we can verify your innocence.’

‘You’re arresting me?’ Grephen gasped. He looked left and right, eyes bulging, a cornered animal searching for a way out. The elderly judge had already retreated, distancing himself from the Duke.

‘Your Grace!’ Thade snapped, seeing the panic on his companion’s face. ‘Calm yourself!’

‘I’m requesting the pleasure of your company on the Archduke’s behalf,’ Drake insisted steadily. ‘You won’t be locked up. We just need to be sure you aren’t going anywhere. If these allegations are groundless, you’ve nothing to fear.’

‘Nothing to fear?’ he screeched. ‘I’m a Duke! Spit and blood, I’m a Duke of Vardia! You can’t treat me like this in my own house!’ He hesitated, gaping, as if shocked by the enormity of what he was about to do. Then he turned to his captain of the guard and shouted: ‘Seize them! Arrest those Knights!’

Chaos erupted in the courtyard. The militia surged in on the Knights. Samandra Bree’s shotguns bellowed, and two men flew backwards in a cloud of blood. Colden Grudge swung his axes, severing limbs and fingers. Kedmund Drave moved faster than his bulk and armour suggested he could, slipping out of the grasp of two soldiers, coming up with pistols blazing. In seconds, the space in front of Frey’s makeshift gallows became a battlefield as the militia tried to overwhelm the Century Knights, and the Knights retaliated with lethal force.

The executioner was standing agape. Frey turned to him, holding out his hands.

‘Cut the ropes!’ he said. It was addressed to the cutlass rather than the man holding it.

The blade moved of its own accord, slashing through the air and dividing the rope between Frey’s wrists. As soon as his hands were free, the cutlass somersaulted from the executioner’s hands and into his. An instant later, Frey had the tip at the confused executioner’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged in incomprehension. Frey delivered a good, solid kick square between the legs. His eyes bulged even further as he sank gently to the ground.

Pinn was cheering from inside the cage. Crake shouted at Frey and pointed. ‘Dracken’s running!’ he cried.

Frey looked. The melee in the courtyard had become fiercer. The Knights were many times outnumbered but they still wouldn’t go down. Several bloodied bodies lay on the ground. The militia had given up trying to seize anyone and were just trying to kill them now, but their rifles were unwieldy in such close quarters. Some had reverted to pistols and knives. The Knights slipped between the bullets and blades with practised savagery, and their opponents couldn’t lay a hand on them.

Beyond it all, Frey could see Trinica Dracken. She was fleeing towards the door that led into the barracks building, away from the courtyard. Duke Grephen was backing away from the knot of men struggling with the Knights. He looked dazed, startled by the carnage he’d unleashed. Inadvertently, he strayed too close to the cage where the Ketty Jay’s crew were imprisoned, and Malvery reached out and grabbed him with his thick arms, hugging him close to the bars.

‘I’ve got this one, Cap’n!’ Malvery yelled, as Frey launched off the platform in pursuit of Trinica. He sprinted across the courtyard as she disappeared through the door. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gallian Thade running for the same door. The aristocrat had obviously decided that Trinica had the right idea and had abandoned his Duke in favour of a quick escape.

The two of them raced across the courtyard, and for a moment it looked as if they’d reach their destination at the same time. But then Frey saw Kedmund Drave raise his pistol and fire through the press of bodies that surrounded him. Thade’s sprint became a stumble, tripping forward under his own momentum. His face went slack, and he crashed to the ground in a heap of dust, his fine jacket holed and stained with blood.

Frey ran on, fearing a bullet in his own back at any moment, but Drave was too busy saving himself to spare more than a split second to deal with anyone else. Pinn and Malvery cheered him on as he flew through the open doorway, out of the courtyard and into the cool stone corridors of the barracks.

Trinica was just disappearing around a corner, and he gave chase. Her compass and charts were the only bargaining chips he had; if she got away with them, he and his crew would still hang for their part in the crime. As he rounded the corner, he glimpsed her again—her black-clad figure, her roughly cropped white hair. Hearing his footsteps, she looked back at him. Her eyes showed him nothing, not even surprise. She dodged around another corner and was lost from sight.

Frey sprinted, arms pumping, his cutlass cutting the air. The barracks were deserted, and the walls rang with the hollow echoes of his bootsteps. He swung round the corner after Trinica.

She was standing there, a few metres away, her pistol aimed at his chest. Frey felt a moment of dreadful surprise, and then she shot him.

The gunshots were deafening. He didn’t even have time to skid to a halt before she pulled the trigger twice in succession, shooting at virtually point-blank range. Frey’s momentum was violently checked. He tottered on his heels and fell onto his back.

Trinica had dismissed him before he’d even hit the floor. She holstered her pistol and ran on, not interested in wasting a moment of her escape on sentiment.

Frey heard her footsteps disappear up the corridor. His chest heaved. His brain and body gradually slipped out of a state of shock.

He got up on his elbows. He felt around his chest in disbelief.

There were no holes in his shirt. He was unharmed. He got to his feet, looking around himself as if there might be an answer lying there.

I’m not dead, he thought, dumbly. Why aren’t I dead?

There was only one thing he could think of. He looked down at his hand, which was still holding the cutlass.

The daemon-thralled blade had deflected the bullets.

‘I didn’t know it could do that,’ he murmured, staring at it in wonder. It wasn’t even marked. ‘Crake, you’re a bloody genius.’

But there was no time for amazement. Matters were too urgent to wallow in good fortune.

The corridor ended in a T-junction, which brought him to a halt. He looked both ways. A door was ajar some way down the left corridor. He crept towards it. As he neared, he heard the sounds of muted rummaging inside, and the click of case-locks. Suddenly, the door flew open and Trinica burst out. His arm snapped up, the edge of the cutlass resting against her throat, and she froze. In one hand was her pistol; in the other was the case he’d seen her carrying when they were shuttled down from the Delirium Trigger. The case holding the charts and the compass that would lead him back to Retribution Falls.

‘Ah-ah, Trinica,’ he said chidingly. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Drop the gun.’

She stared at him, her eyes black, and said nothing.

‘Don’t think I’ll do it?’ he asked. ‘Try me. After what you just pulled, I’d be glad to be rid of you.’

Trinica dropped her gun. Frey kicked it away from her. ‘Give me the case,’ he told her. She did so. She didn’t seem surprised that he was still alive, and she didn’t ask how.

‘They’ll kill me, Darian,’ she said. ‘When Grephen’s plan comes to light, they’ll hang me as a conspirator.’

‘Probably,’ said Frey. He was still angry enough not to care. The fact that she’d pulled the trigger on him had wounded him deeply. Somehow, he’d always thought she wouldn’t be able to do it. Watching him die was one thing, but this had a whole new level of cold-bloodedness to it. He felt unreasonably betrayed. Their past should have counted for something at that moment. You shouldn’t be capable of killing someone you once loved.

Trinica stared at him for a long moment. ‘What now? Are you going to take me back to them?’

Frey didn’t answer that. He hadn’t thought beyond reclaiming the charts. He hadn’t considered what he might do with Trinica.

‘You know there’s no guarantee they’ll pardon you, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You know they could just force you to co-operate. They might go back on their word after you’ve done what you said you would. Because whatever way you cut it, you fired on the Ace of Skulls. You were attacking it when it exploded. You think the Archduke is going to want to pardon the man who killed his only son?’ The corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. ‘You’re a traitor and a pirate, just like I am.’

Frey wanted to deny that intimacy. He wanted to tell her that they were not the same. But he knew she was right. She spoke to all his deepest fears. His whole plan relied on making a deal with the authorities, and he knew how authorities could be. There was no fairness or justice in them. They had the power to go back on any deal they made, if it suited them.

‘Come with me, Darian,’ Trinica said. That shocked him.

‘With you?’ he sneered, automatically.

‘I’ll drop you at a safe port. You can make your way from there. We’ll be under terms of truce, as one captain to another; I’ll see you’re not harmed.’

Frey hesitated, the sneer dropping from his face. He believed her. There was honour among pirates of a kind there never had been among the aristocracy. And yet it enraged him how even this slender invitation made his heart jump. Though he’d loathed her all these years, his body seemed never to forget the love they’d once shared. The merest hint of reconciliation, of alliance, ignited a yearning in his guts that disgusted him. He reacted by hardening his resolve.

Damn her. Damn her and her terms of truce.

She was no longer the woman he’d loved. The woman he loved no longer existed. Instead, he was haunted by her ghost.

‘Why take the risk, Darian?’ she said. ‘If you go back there, they’ll hang you.’

‘If I don’t go back, they’ll hang my crew for sure.’

‘Since when did that matter to you?’

He didn’t know the answer to that. It wasn’t really important. It had been an accumulation of moments: a clutter of drunken laughter, of triumphant grins, of gunfights and arguments and sarcastic little quips. The feeling had crept up on him stealthily, and by the time he was aware of it, he’d been overtaken.

Maybe he’d decided it when he chose to trust Jez with his ignition code? Or when he’d given it away to Trinica in order to save Crake’s life? Maybe it was that he felt the need to repay Jez’s loyalty: she’d come back, and he admired her for that.

He didn’t know when it had started to matter. He just knew that it did. He wouldn’t abandon his crew, no matter what the risks were now.

Trinica saw the decision in his eyes. A faint respect crept into her tone. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Look at you now.’

But Frey was in no mood to be congratulated. He pressed the tip of his cutlass harder under her chin, tipping her head back. A spot of bright red blood bloomed against her white skin. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.’

‘There isn’t one,’ said Trinica. ‘This is your chance, Darian. You take me back, I die anyway. So I promise you, I won’t go quietly. You’d better kill me now. I’d rather you did it than them.’

Her voice was utterly without fear. It was Frey who was afraid. He had no doubt that she meant what she said. She’d throw herself onto his sword rather than allow herself to be taken prisoner. She didn’t just expect death, she welcomed it. At that moment he understood how she’d become one of the most dreaded pirate captains in Vardia. Everything inside her had died with their baby. How could you kill the walking dead?

He looked upon the woman he’d once loved, her chin raised, gazing coolly at him. He knew he’d never be able to do it. Because he owed her. He’d turned her into this creature when he left her so cruelly. Maybe he wasn’t entirely responsible for the death of his child, but he bore some of the blame. He’d inspired her to do it. And, bitter as it was, he couldn’t lie to himself any more.

Trinica had suffered enough. It was written all over her.

He lowered the cutlass.

‘You’ll be hunted now,’ he said. ‘Not a freebooter any more. A straight-out pirate. The Navy will never leave you alone.’

Trinica stepped back, one slender hand going to her throat, covering the cut there. She stared at him with a strange, wounded tenderness.

He couldn’t bear it. ‘Get out of here,’ he told her.

‘You’re not what I thought you were, Darian,’ she said, and there was something soft in her voice, something that reminded him of a voice from long ago that had once melted his heart. He dared not let it do so again.

‘Goodbye, Trinica,’ he said. And then she turned and ran down the corridor, and he watched her go until she was lost from sight.

By the time Frey returned to the courtyard, the battle had ended. Six of the militia had surrendered. The rest lay in various states of death and dismemberment on the floor, their blood turning the dust into red mulch. Of the Century Knights, Colden Grudge had suffered a superficial wound on his brow. He was covering the Duke and the surviving militia with his autocannon. There had been no opportunity to use it earlier, due to the close-quarters fighting, but he looked eager enough to be given the excuse now.

Kedmund Drave looked up as Frey appeared, alerted by the rousing cheer from the caged wagon where his crew were imprisoned. Frey had stashed the charts and compass he’d taken from Trinica, and his cutlass was jammed through his belt. He walked with a tired step.

‘Didn’t expect to see you back,’ Drave commented.

‘Just eager to help out the Coalition,’ Frey replied. ‘Call me a patriot.’

‘Dracken?’

‘She got away.’

‘You think she might warn the others? Orkmund and his men?’

‘I’ve made sure she can’t get to them. But we should move quickly. They won’t attack while there’s no one to give them a signal, but they’ll get wind of what’s happened here sooner or later.’

‘Tell us where they are. We’ll deal with them.’

Frey laughed sardonically. ‘No. I’ll tell you what’ll happen. You assemble a strike force of Navy aircraft. I’ll lead them into Retribution Falls. Without me, you won’t know where you’re going.’

Drave stared at him, searching for signs of deceit. Frey wasn’t intimidated. Numbed by his recent torture and the shock of facing his own extinction, he’d become impenetrably calm again.

‘I’ll need my craft, and my crew,’ said Frey. ‘And I’ll need my navigator back too. How did she find you, by the way?’

Samandra Bree had wandered over by this point. She tilted back her tricorn and smiled disarmingly. ‘She told us she’d made the acquaintance of a very important fellow called Air Marshal Barnery Vexford at a party at Scorchwood Heights. Apparently, she had to do some quite appalling things to him to secure an audience with the Archduke’s representatives at such short notice. He is quite a filthy old man.’ She patted him on the shoulder. ‘You do have an admirably loyal crew, Captain.’

Frey could only imagine how loyal Jez had needed to be.

‘Once they heard where you were, they sent us,’ said Drave. He looked around himself, at the dead lying on the ground. ‘By the Duke’s reaction, I’d say her story and yours have some truth in them.’

‘I want pardons,’ said Frey. ‘In writing.’

‘You’ll get them,’ said Drave. ‘When you’ve led us to Retribution Falls. Not before.’ Frey opened his mouth to protest, but Drave held up one metal-gloved hand. ‘Pardons can be revoked. Makes no difference if you have a piece of paper or not. If you’re telling the truth, and you do what you say, then you’ll get what you want. But you double-cross me, and there’ll be no place in the world that’s safe for you.’

Frey met his gaze steadily. Threats couldn’t faze him now. ‘Then I suppose we’ll just have to trust each other, won’t we? Now get my men out of that cage.’