To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (27 page)

“It’s been there for hours and no one has come on or off,” Mira said. She’d been on the rooftop, watching since daybreak. Griff and Serv loitered around the docks, wandering up and down and looking for any signs of the smugglers. Merrick was near the water on the east end of the docks with a small boat at hand, ready to follow in case the ship left unexpectedly. Sumara had a spot atop another warehouse a few buildings away, giving them another viewpoint. Cecily had insisted Edson stay behind, in the Quarry, despite his protestations. She didn’t want him in harm’s way. Callum had assured them he would meet them as soon as he could. One of his messengers had pressed a note in his hand as they were preparing to leave, and he’d run off in a hurry, muttering curses under his breath.

“Stellan is earning his pay,” Cecily said. “He’s certainly keeping the inspectors and the tax collectors away.” She peeked through the spyglass again, wondering if the cargo hold actually held people. The thought made her stomach turn. She was too far away for her Awareness to cut through the mass of activity to give her any clarity on the contents of the ship, but the idea of finding it full of slaves was unnerving.

Cecily shivered and hunkered down in her cloak. The air was cold but it was blessedly dry. A low bank of gray clouds hovered over the city, but it hadn’t rained since the day before. Atop the warehouse roof, fresh air mingled with the pungent scent of fish wafting up from the docks.

The day passed with mind-numbing slowness. Sumara, Griff, and Serv checked in at regular intervals. They had all observed the same thing; the ship sat with no activity save that of the occasional sailor on deck.

As the sun set, the docks began to quiet. The bustle of activity slowed to a trickle, a handful of sailors making their way into town for the night after securing their ships. A massive riverboat churned its way past the line of ships, finally tying up at the westernmost dock. The waves made by the huge wheel lapped against the shore and made the docked vessels rock back and forth.

Griff, Serv, and Sumara climbed the ladder to the roof. The temperature dropped quickly as the sun set, and they rubbed their hands together and breathed on them to keep warm.

“They seem to be staying for the night,” Sumara said. “Perhaps it’s best if we come back in the morning. If we’re here at first light, we might see something.”

Cecily glanced back over the docks, gray and faded in the waning light. She shook her head. “They might start unloading at night. If they actually have people on that ship, they’ll need the cover of darkness to get everyone off.”

A sharp whistle carried over the still air.
Merrick.
It was the all-clear signal. Cecily shivered. The last time she’d heard that call, they’d been fighting a war.

“Where in the name of the gods is Callum?” Griff asked as he produced a steaming loaf of bread and tore off thick chunks.

Cecily took a piece of bread. The crust was crisp, the inside warm and soft. She was starving. They’d brought provisions, but it was no substitute for a decent meal. “He didn’t show up. He left in a hurry this morning after getting one of his notes.” She took a bite of the bread, and the soft insides melted in her mouth. “Where did you get this? It’s amazing.”

Griff laughed. “Oh, I have my sources. You forget, this is our neighborhood.”

Serv walked over to the edge of the roof. “We won’t be able to see anything from here in the dark. If we want to keep watching, we’ll have to move in closer.”

They agreed and made their way down, cutting between the warehouses to keep out of sight. Serv led them upriver, where they still had a clear view of the dock activity. The river meandered in huge curves, and just east of the docks they had an unobstructed view of their target.

Fatigue set in as Cecily leaned back against a stone building. Across the river, the massive city wall jutted straight up out of the water, an impenetrable facade of thick stone. The water looked inky black and the hypnotic sound of the flowing river made it hard to stay awake.

“Cecily.” Serv’s voice was an urgent whisper. “Something’s happening on the ship.”

He crept out onto the rocky sandbar and motioned for her to follow. He paused, peering through the spyglass, then jogged toward the water, partially bent over to stay low. Cecily followed, staying as low as she could. She stubbed her toe on a rock and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Serv handed her the spyglass and pointed. “Look—on the far side of the ship.”

Cecily raised the spyglass to her eye and looked. A smaller row boat, long enough to have five or six rows of benches, was tied up on the river side of the larger vessel. She crept closer to the water to get a better view. A lantern swinging from the deck above bathed the side of the ship with a weak yellow light, illuminating a man in the smaller vessel. He put down his oars, and as he turned toward the larger ship, he raised his arms.

Cecily squinted to make out what he was doing. Mist built around the smaller boat and a large circle in the side of the ship shimmered, the grain of the wood almost sparkling to translucency. She focused the spyglass on the circle and could see the side of the ship fade, revealing the cargo hold inside. A man stuck his head through what was now a hole and Cecily nearly jumped back in shock. She handed the spyglass back to Serv and used her Awareness. Quickly plotting the structure of the ship, she could sense a massive disruption on the river side. The hole was like a gaping wound in the ship itself, the flows of energy stretched and distorted.

Inside the ship, a knot of people were jammed together in the cargo hold. Narrowing her focus, she could feel the ropes tying their wrists. These were not free passengers; they must be slaves.

A man inside the boat pushed people, one at a time, through the unnatural hole. He grabbed them and lowered them into the vessel waiting outside.

“Do you see this?” Cecily asked, her voice low. “They’re masked. Like the ones who took Daro.”

“I can’t see much through that mist, but it looks like one of them opened up the side of the ship,” Serv answered.

Cecily had never heard of a Wielder who could do such a thing. It was almost like the melding of a Wielding ability and a Shaper talent. “It’s like he made it insubstantial. He’s holding it open, I can feel it.”

The others had crept up behind them. Serv passed the spyglass to Mira and they all took a brief turn, watching the slaves being unloaded into the smaller boat.

“Can’t see a blasted thing through that mist. What do we do?” Griff’s attempt at a whisper made Cecily cringe at the noise.

She turned to Serv. “Signal Merrick. They must be going upriver. We need to be ready to follow.”

Sumara held the spyglass to her eye. “They aren’t going upriver. They’re going across to the wall.”

Cecily swung her attention back to the ship. Sumara was right. Though the mist made it hard to see, the smaller vessel had disengaged from the larger and rowed across the river. Two men pulled oars while their cargo of slaves huddled down in the center.

“Where are they going?” Griff whispered. “There’s nothing over there.”

“Up the wall?” Mira suggested. “Maybe they have someone at the top who will lower ropes.”

The group crept down the riverbank, closer to the docks, and watched the boat row across the inky black water. Cecily locked the ship in her Awareness and expanded her circle to check the wall. “The wall is empty. There’s no one up there.”

Cecily probed the wall near the water. “There’s a stormwater drain over there. I bet it’s big enough for the boat.” As the boat neared the wall, she felt the shimmering effect of the strange Wielder’s power. “He’s dissolving the iron bars of the grate. They’re going to go right underneath the city.” She paused and took a quick look up and down the riverbank. “Signal Merrick. We need to follow.”

She dashed down the riverbank, heading toward the docks, and heard the sound of her friends’ footfalls behind her. Her mind raced, trying to formulate a plan, but she couldn’t think clearly. The thought of letting the boat out of her sight made her panicky. These men might lead her right to Daro.

She reached the docks and skidded to a halt. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she thought she could see the faint outline of Merrick’s boat gliding through the water. The other boat was already disappearing into the storm drain. Merrick wouldn’t reach it in time. She thought about trying to disrupt the Wielder, but her accuracy was poor at such a distance. The river was too wide.

“Damn it, where is Callum?” she asked, speaking more to herself than anyone else. If anyone might know where that storm drain went, it would be Callum. She looked up at the Merchant Span, high above, and thought about how long it would take to get to the north side of the river.

The ground seemed to explode and Cecily flew forward, sand and rocks flying. She landed on her stomach with a groan. As she rose to her knees, her back stung where rocks had pelted her. Out of instinct, her Awareness flew open and she checked on the others. Griff, Serv and Mira were moving, struggling to their feet. Sumara appeared to have taken the brunt of the attack; she remained sprawled on the sand, and although she didn’t move, Cecily could sense her breathing. Another figure loomed behind. She turned and got to her feet as the figure walked toward her.

Her heart caught in her throat and her adrenaline surged as the figure emerged from the darkness, dressed in black, a mask obscuring the face.

“Cecily Graymere?” the figure said. It was a woman, her voice sneering with contempt. “This is a surprise. You should have stayed dead, little bird.”

She knew that voice. She hadn’t been called “little bird” in years, but there was no mistaking it. “Isley?”

“No,” Isley growled. She held her hand in front of her and a knife coalesced, a shining blade with a narrow handle. It dropped into her hand and her fingers curled around the handle.

“What are you doing here, Isley?” Cecily asked and held her hands up in front of her. Isley had been a fellow student at the Lyceum. A Light Wielder, her specialty had been Illusion. They had worked together in the Lyceum of Power, collaborating on some of Hadran’s assignments. She looked at the knife in Isley’s hand. She knew it was an illusion, but it looked eerily real.

“That isn’t who I am,” she said, “not anymore.” She threw the knife at Cecily.

Instinctively, Cecily Wielded to Push the knife off course. Her Reach went right through. She jumped out of the way, even as she told herself it was only an illusion. The knife shot past and she heard the sound of fabric tearing.

Looking down at her clothes, she put her fingers through the hole the knife had made.
That’s not possible.
Her eyes flew back to Isley. There were knives in both of her hands. Cecily threw herself down onto the ground.

She looked up and saw Serv and Griff rush in to attack. The knives disappeared and Isley’s hands flew up in front of her, creating a stone wall. Griff slammed right into it and flew backward as if he had launched himself into solid stone. Serv sidestepped and turned, missing the wall, and it dissipated as Griff hit. Serv attacked, his curved blade flashing in the weak lamplight. A sword materialized in Isley’s hand and she blocked Serv’s attack. The blade vanished as it hit Serv’s sword. A stone block materialized in front of Isley and she pushed it toward Serv. It hit him in the chest and knocked him backward.

Cecily got to her feet as an arrow sliced through the air.
Mira.
Isley blocked it with a shield that scattered apart as the arrow pierced it, leaving the arrow to clatter onto the rocky ground. Mira shot several more, but Isley threw up shield after shield, blocking each arrow before it could reach her. Cecily Wielded, grabbing Isley’s knees with Pressure, but she had to let go as Isley threw more knives at her. One grazed her thigh and her leg blossomed with pain as blood trickled down and soaked into her leggings.

Isley created a massive stone boulder and sent it flying at Mira with terrifying speed. Cecily Reached, trying to Push Mira out of the way, but the stone smashed into her and sent her sprawling onto the sand.

Cecily Pushed air at Isley, trying to knock her off balance, but an axe came flying and she hit the ground again. She rolled back to her feet as a wall of rock rushed at her. She threw her arms over her head and turned so her shoulder took the brunt of the impact. The rock hit and Cecily’s back and shoulder exploded with pain as she crashed to the ground.

Coughing and gasping, Cecily struggled to fill her lungs with air. She tucked her right arm under her body and tried to get to her feet. Sumara was near. She pushed herself up with her arms and shook her head as if to clear it. Cecily turned to see Serv being thrown back by one of Isley’s impossibly solid illusions. Griff attacked from the other side, but Isley created another wall of rock and smashed it into Griff. He hit the ground and rolled to his side, struggling to his knees before he collapsed facedown on the ground.

Cecily met Sumara’s eyes and they nodded. If they could attack her together, they might have a chance. Serv went in for another blow, visibly limping. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder and thigh, Cecily Wielded, Reaching for Isley’s arms. She tugged them apart in opposite directions, hoping it would stop her from creating another illusion. She used Pressure to hold on, squeezing as Isley struggled against her.

“Serv, clear!” Sumara shouted. A bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips toward Isley. Serv jumped out of the way as the bolt hit and sent Isley flying backward. Cecily Wielded with all the strength she had left to Push Isley over the water. The lightning jolted around her body, and for a split second she hovered above the water, electricity crackling through her. Cecily let go and Isley splashed into the river, the aftereffects of Sumara’s blast making the water blink and glow in the darkness.

“I hope that was enough,” Sumara said, as she got to her feet. “I won’t be able to do that again for a while.”

She reached down and helped Cecily up. Despite the pounding he had taken, Griff ran to Mira and scooped her up in his arms. She had a bloody gash on her forehead and her eyes remained closed.