Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) (36 page)

Her blood iced when the slight figure of Jiao Wu came dancing into view.
 

“Captain Sterling!” the girl said when she reached Rachel. “It is wonderful to see you in…” Her eyes swept up and down the captain’s dirty, torn, and bloody appearance. “Good health?”

Tiredly, Rachel sighed. “I’ll survive, and we will most definitely be discussing your presence here when we’re back aboard. For now, gather your father’s forces. There’s another exit in the far end of this room. I recommend staying to the wall. It’s a bit messy in the open area.” Glancing to where she’d left him, Eddie stood, looking dazed and a little worse for the wear. “Take Mr. Maclaren here with you.” Grabbing him by the arm, Rachel dragged Eddie towards Jiao and gave them both a severe “or else” look.

The children behind her and dealt with, Rachel searched for the young crewman she charged with the boatswain’s pipe. As she went, she gave directions to the exit. Eventually, the milling crowd filed towards it. It didn’t take long for the exclamations of horror and disgust to reach her, but she pushed them out of her mind. The crewman calling the “All Hands” looked relieved to see her. He reported most of the crew returned and, save for three he knew to be dead, few remained unaccounted for. She gave a stiff nod of recognition and sent the man away, relieving him of Danton’s pipe.

The shuffle of men continued as the crowd thinned. Two stragglers brought news of several deaths as they limped to safety. Rachel paced nervously. If they didn’t leave soon, what was left of the Brotherhood might return and she was woefully outgunned now. As the last of Yong Wu’s men disappeared into the great hall, Rachel chewed her lip indecisively. Was that the end of them?

She heard footsteps behind her, but something didn’t feel right about the sound. Perhaps it was the tap of hard soles against the floor, or the surefooted steps. Regardless, Rachel only moved when she heard the clicking of a hammer pulling back on a pistol.

“Rachel!” Iris screamed. The sound of a single shot engulfed her warning.

Rachel spun around, first catching sight of Mortimer Cross, a long-barreled pistol pointed out in front of him. Her gaze followed the line of fire. Dread bubbled in her stomach. That bullet, meant for her, found another target.

When her eyes rested on the form of the first mate, the world closed in, reduced to a singular event of any importance. Rachel’s head reeled from shock as Iris stood there, mouth agape, trying to comprehend what had happened. She stared at Rachel, eyes already glazing over as a scarlet stain bloomed in the center of her chest. Unaware of anything or anyone else, Rachel ran to the open doorway of the gathering hall. Her arms closed around Iris as the woman’s legs collapsed beneath her.

“No no no no no!” Rachel repeated as she sank to the floor with her. “Stay with me, Iris. Look at me!” Her hand pressed on the wound uselessly, blood seeping between her fingers.

Iris lifted her eyes to Rachel’s and gave a weak smile. “It was always you, you know.”

Rachel blinked back tears as Iris touched her face. “What do you mean, always me? No, don’t answer that. You shouldn’t speak.”

“You…” Iris began. She coughed, choking on the blood pooling in her lungs. “You were the reason Danton never stood a chance.”

“What—” Rachel’s question was broken as Iris pressed her lips against hers.

The kiss lasted only a moment. Iris released her, whispering against her mouth, “No one shines as brightly as you.”

Stunned, Rachel struggled to find words for her friend. As she searched for something, anything, to say, Iris went limp in her arms, one last exhale brushing Rachel’s neck, and Iris’s head rested on her shoulder. Rachel was paralyzed as she clung to her friend’s lifeless body. She pulled back and studied Iris’s face. She looked peaceful, as though she were only sleeping for a moment. A surge of sorrow threatened to devour her sanity.

That’s when she heard his laughter.

It started as a low chuckle, but soon Mortimer Cross laughed loudly and heartily. Shaking with rage, Rachel’s resolve solidified into a single, piercing thought: this man will suffer greatly before he dies.

She propped Iris against the doorframe. A single, smoky purple vial remained on the harness strapped around the first mate. She placed a loving kiss upon her forehead and palmed the tube. No matter what the liquid’s purpose, it would undoubtedly cause pain. She stood and turned to face the cackling madman. When she took two paces toward him, he raised his gun.

The bullet slammed into her left shoulder, and she spun as it caught her, throwing her to the floor. He smiled as he watched her lift herself up to a crawling position, waiting for her to stand again. She faced him a second time, hands clenched at her side. This time, she did not advance on him, opting to stare at him with an intensity that made him balk. He raised the gun again.

She heard the click of the firing pin striking ammunition, but rather than a controlled blast came the grinding of metal. He pulled the trigger again, yet this time even the click was absent. Energy erupted from the weapon as it exploded and bent around his hand. Mortimer Cross screamed in agony as steel burrowed into his flesh, ripping at the tendons and cracking through bone. Sinking to his knees, he shot a terrified look at Rachel. His mouth gaped in fear as she approached in measured, steady paces.
 

Rachel towered over him as he cowered, clutching his hand. She clicked her heel and the thin, silver blade emerged from the toe of her boot with a quiet
snick
. Oblivious to everything but her penetrating stare, he made no move to stop her or defend himself as she pulled back her foot and kicked the knife into his groin. He pitched backwards, howling in pain. Rachel ripped her boot free, but did not return the weapon to its concealment. She sneered as he rolled onto his side, grabbing this new wound. She kicked at him again. The blade plunged into his back and sunk deep into bone. As the Brother gasped and choked for air, she bent over him and shoved the purple vial into his gaping mouth. With a ferocious grunt, she smashed her heel into his chin. His eyes bulged as the glass shattered, releasing the violet fluid. It poured from his mouth as his screams turned into gurgling, panicked cries. The chemical ate through his skin, dissolving the tissue into pink ooze, melting his face. Wild eyes danced in a sea of sheer, unadulterated torture.

“May you find all the peace in Hell that you bestowed upon me.” She spat on him.

He was still writhing when she turned away, slipping the ring back into her pocket.

She couldn’t leave Iris behind. Though wounded herself, even if demons were chasing her she would have found a way to bring her friend back to the surface. More than once she stopped to rest. Rachel refused to cry, however. Many tears would be shed, but not in this dark place. Her sorrow had to wait.

With one last burst of effort, she stumbled into the dying sunlight of dusk. Someone familiar caught her as she fell, but exhaustion overtook her before she determined who. She awoke the next afternoon in her own bed.

The days marched on in a numb haze. On her orders, explosive charges were placed in the caves accessing the underground ruins. She didn’t stay to see the blasts. The
Antigone’s Wrath
pulled away from the island of Yonaguni, leaving both the ruins and her lineage buried in the rubble.

Silas proved to be of more use to Danton than what little the ship had for medical treatment. As there was no way to remove all of the machinery fused to his arm without performing an amputation, Danton decided to make the best of it. He spent hours in Silas’s workshop having adjustments done and streamlining the bulky parts. With the inventor’s help, the arm was reduced to almost-normal size over the course of the journey back to Singapore. There was some discussion on possible weapon additions to the appendage, but Rachel couldn’t work herself up enough to feign excitement in the conversation. Rachel considered Danton lucky for having something to distract him from the loss of Iris.

Her despondency even extended to the matter of the headstrong Jiao Wu. She couldn’t muster a proper scolding for the girl for putting herself in the incredibly dangerous situation that was Yonaguni. When Jiao asked for permission to stay aboard after the Singapore port visit, Rachel at first told her no. When the girl insisted, Rachel sighed and capitulated on the condition that her father give expressed written consent signed and witnessed by a third party. It would be an apprenticeship contract. Rachel was confident there was no way Yong Wu would agree to any such thing, no matter how large a tantrum Jiao threw. This proved to be true. Jiao’s possessions were spirited away along with the young mistress. A letter arrived soon thereafter, thanking Rachel for the safe return of Yong Wu’s eldest child, along with the guarantee of safe passage through the region whenever she wished, so long as it did not involve docking anywhere near the new location chosen for Jiao’s continued education. As she had no plans to entangle herself with the precocious little princess any further, this was a more than reasonable request.

Yong Wu bestowed one final gift on Rachel. Some years ago, Iris’s parents were victims of a sudden tsunami, and she had no family to claim her body. As such, Rachel petitioned Yong Wu for permission to utilize the services of local monks and hold an open-air cremation. As the man wanted the
Antigone’s Wrath
to be away as hastily as possible, he arranged for an appropriate ceremony the following morning. In an uncharacteristic show of sympathy, Yong Wu sent a spray of orchids to the rite. He always fancied the first mate, and the gesture was touching, if in an unsettling way. Rachel waited at the site until the very last of the embers ceased to smolder. The sun set as the monks gathered the remains and presented them to her.

In the twelve hours she stood vigil, Rachel came to a decision.

“I’ve booked passage back to England for you and your apprentice.” She stared out over the ship’s railing, watching the lights of Singapore dance on the water.

Silas’s smile faded at this news. “Booked passage? I thought…”

Rachel sighed. “You thought, what?”

“I thought…” he trailed off and his shoulders drooped. “I thought I’d be traveling in your company a bit longer.”

“We’re headed in opposite directions, Mr. Jensen.” Rachel didn’t meet his eyes. “Captain Owusu has agreed to see you as far as Athens. From there you’ll need to contact a friend of mine, an olive exporter, who owes me a favor. I’ve prepared a letter for you to present to him.” She turned then, and produced an envelope from inside her coat.

He accepted the item and slid it into the interior pocket of his blazer. “That’s very kind of you. I know our original agreement did not include return transportation, Captain.”

She ignored the thanks and pressed on. “I’m also going to assume you’re in need of money for food, lodging, and expenses, and so I have this for you as well.” Rachel untied a purse from her belt and offered it.

Silas frowned at the money, as though it offended him. “That isn’t necessary.”

Rachel grabbed his hand and shoved the purse at him. “Consider it as payment for your services to my master-at-arms these past days. Without your assistance, his…” She searched for the appropriate phrasing. “Transition to his current state would have been considerably more difficult, if not altogether impossible.” Scowling, Rachel turned her attention back to the water.

“I see,” Silas replied softly and shifted his weight. “When are Eddie and I to leave?”

“First thing in the morning,” she said. “We’re shoving off at first light.”

He nodded. “As such, I should probably get what sleep I can then. Doubtful I’ll see such grand accommodations as these for a while.”

Rachel smiled a little. “She is grand indeed, Mr. Jensen. Doubtless she’ll be sorry to see you go.”

Silas gave a small laugh. He made to leave, but after only two steps, he turned back to her. “Do you suppose I shall ever see your sails above my city?”

“Depends.” She faced him and leaned on the railing. “Did you ever finish those schematics?” A wry grin turned up the corner of her mouth.

He coughed nervously. “Not precisely, no.”

Rachel graced him with a genuine smile and a knowing nod. He acknowledged the open-ended conversation with a grin and a shake of his head before disappearing below deck one last time.

Quito, Ecuador was little more than a colorful blur to Rachel. She made her excuses to Danton and left him with orders to find some sort of something in the way of a job. When he pressed her for a departure date, her only answer was, “When I return. No more than a few days at most.”

She didn’t have an exact location, but her Spanish was passable enough to procure a guide with a good understanding of where she wanted to go. The worn trail Pahuac led her on was barely wide enough for two carts to pass in opposite directions. Their mode of transportation, a stubborn pair of mules, carried both people and a small amount of camping gear. Aside from a few choice weapons, Rachel brought only one other thing with her; an ebony box inlaid with jade and gold tiles.

A day of travel, a night of camping, and a short ride in the morning saw Rachel to her destination. The guide smiled broadly as he pointed for her to proceed off the trail, into dense, lush forest. She pushed through giant foliage and flowering bushes for a few minutes before stumbling into a dream. As she cleared the last of the thick underbrush, the heady scent of flowers enveloped her and she came to a standstill. Giant white trumpets dripped from every tree branch. Hummingbirds flitted from one blossom to the next, disappearing within the petals at every stop. Rachel stood in the moss-covered clearing, gaping at the beauty surrounding her; it was even more awe-inspiring than the photo she saw as a child in Mrs. Tweed’s garden.

She returned to tell her guide this was indeed the place she was searching for. After informing him of her intention to stay a while, she retrieved a small chest. While he set up a campsite, Rachel would see to the thing she came to do.