The Brigand's Promise
“Make sure you play your part, Woman, and don’t give us away.”
Avalon Kearney shot an angry glare over her shoulder at the arrogant young man sitting behind her and narrowly avoided the temptation to swing her heavy oar at his head.
“Don’t call me ‘Woman,’ Richard!” she spat.
He started to chuckle, to her chagrin.
“I have a name, and you shall use it! And don’t think for a minute that you’re going to get these explosives on board that ship without me!”
“Ava, calm down,” Thomas Kearney scowled at his younger sister as he pulled steadily away at the oars of the sturdy rowboat the three were sitting in. “Richard only says things like that to get a rise out of you. Stop responding, and he’ll leave you alone.”
Muttering under her breath, Avalon resumed rowing, matching the regular rhythm of the two young men.
“What time should the ship be passing?” Thomas asked his friend.
Richard released one oar long enough to draw out his pocket watch and check the time. “We’ve got about half an hour. We need to be a good four miles or so from shore, or the Queen Myrhiadh will miss seeing us entirely. An excellent target, don’t you think: one named for a Zandorian traitor?”
He smirked.
“Besides convenience, that’s the reason Cullen chose her,” Thomas agreed. He glanced over at Avalon. “Don’t forget to act pregnant.”
Avalon rolled her eyes and lightly patted her padded belly: a quilted bag containing three sticks of dynamite concealed under her dress. “How could I forget? You try walking around with explosives in your clothes.”
Richard grinned. “Be glad we didn’t try to do this ten years ago. You’d have had nitroglycerin and gunpowder in there.”
“If I was an idiot, yes,” Avalon replied witheringly. “And I’d have looked rather odd, pretending to be pregnant when I was seven.”
“Do you have any idea how unstable that stuff was?” Richard continued, somewhat condescendingly, in Avalon’s opinion.
“You needn’t think that I know nothing, just because you are studying at the University of Grymwalde, and I am not,” she returned coldly. “If the university would admit women, I could beat you in every class!”
Richard snorted.
“Would you two quit?” Thomas sighed. “We have to work together if we’re going to get this job done, and you hardly look the happily married couple, expecting your first child, when you’re at each other’s throats.”
“Couple?” Avalon repeated angrily. “I’m no couple with him!”
“Well, you can hardly be your brother’s wife, can you? And do you want the crew of the Queen Myrhiadh thinking you’re an unwed whore?”
Avalon scowled. “You might have mentioned that before we started out.”
Thomas grinned. “You wouldn’t have come along. Like you said, we’re not getting those explosives on board without you. I wasn’t about to give you an excuse to drop out.”
“Cullen was impressed,” Richard offered, “at our idea of using you. He’s looking forward to meeting you later when all this is over.”
Avalon snorted. “Am I supposed to feel privileged that the great and mighty Cullen Ulliac wants to meet me?”
“Maybe he’ll let you sit in on one of his engineering classes as a reward,” Richard teased.
“He teaches mining engineering. I have no interest in that.” Avalon tossed her dark-brown braid over her shoulder with an indignant shake of her head. “Besides, people have been successfully mining this island for centuries without Cullen Ulliac teaching them first. It’s a pointless science.”
“There’s always a better way to do things,” Richard returned. “Come on, Ava. It’s 1876—we can’t mine the way they did in the middle ages.”
“Law and Speculative Philosophy for me,” Avalon said slyly. “That’s where I would excel, no doubt.”
“You’re just aching to compete with me,” Richard scolded lightly. “Ava, you don’t have to push yourself. Be useful when you’re needed and quiet when you’re not, and we’ll get along fine.”
“Ava!” Thomas scolded as Avalon swung her oar at a wild angle in Richard’s direction, splashing water into the boat. “Leave her alone, Richard. We need all three of us for this, and if you keep antagonizing her…”
He left his sentence unfinished and pointed to the eastern horizon. “Look! Here she comes, right on time!”
Off in the distance, a ship, looking like a child’s toy bobbing on the waves, belched a puff of steam into the clear, evening air.
“Oars down, Ava!” Thomas ordered. “Let’s get this job done!”
Avalon stashed her oars under her feet and tried to look weary and pregnant while her stomach tied itself in knots with excitement. This opportunity to assist Thomas’ group of student rebels, seeking to restore autonomy, and possibly the Crown, to the Protectorate of Zandor, was a high honor. She would not let them down!
She glanced over at Richard, who also had tucked his oars away, feigning the appearance of having drifted some distance aimlessly. Richard, several years older than she, decidedly handsome and definitely proud, was working on his master’s degree in law, and Avalon held him in a high level of awe, though she would have died before she let him know it. Richard was intelligent and cunning, not to mention descended from Zandor’s royal family.
Although the king and his direct heirs had suffered beheading at the hands of King Andrew of Langdon in 1603, the king’s younger brother and his family had escaped the gruesome death. Richard always liked to say with a smirk that his own ancestors were the poor country cousins of the royals, who had been fortunately missed when the roll was called for the executioner’s block. Still, whenever he introduced himself with his last name of Zandor, people hesitated a moment to stare.
Living descendants of Zandor’s first king, Adrian, were not numerous, but they were reasonably wealthy still, and they had been smarting under their loss of power for the past two hundred and seventy-three years.
Zandorians could hold grudges. That was certain.
The tiny ship in the distance closed the gap between itself and the apparently-stranded rowboat, growing in size to become a three-hundred-foot-long, ironclad Caledonian warship, sporting a set of two giant smokestacks in addition to three sturdy masts, with the blue and gold standard of Caledon fluttering from the rear one. Gunports lined her sides, and an ominously large gun loomed on her forecastle, blatantly warning would-be attackers not to tangle with the Queen Myrhiadh.
“Send up the flare,” Thomas ordered tersely.
Richard drew a flare gun from his coat pocket and fired straight up, releasing a rocket that exploded fifty feet above their little rowboat with a bang and a flash of red light that lingered in the evening air for a few seconds before fading away. The three waited breathlessly for an acknowledgment of the signal, but the ship seemed not to have noticed.
“Again,” Thomas said tightly after two minutes had passed.
Richard repeated the shot, and this time, the approaching vessel answered with three short blasts of its foghorn.
“She’s seen us.” Thomas nodded, satisfied. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Avalon watched the ship approach, closing the distance between herself and the tiny rowboat with speed. About half a mile from them, she cut her engines, slowing her pace to approach without swamping them.
Thomas maneuvered their tiny craft carefully as the Queen Myrhiadh drew alongside.
“Ahoy!” came a shout from the deck far above them. “Are you in trouble?”
“Aye, sir,” Richard shouted back. “We were on a vessel bound for Caledon from the continent, but she suffered an accident and foundered. Please, help us. My wife is expecting, and we have been adrift since last night.”
“What vessel?” the man’s voice queried.
“The Lavinia,” Richard supplied, without hesitation. There was silence above, and Avalon concluded that the man must be consulting with his crewmates.
“Please, sir,” Richard shouted up again. “My wife desperately needs water and something to eat. We have no idea where we are. We throw ourselves upon your mercy.”
A face peered down at them from above. “We are at war with the Nation of Langdon. We will bring you all aboard, but you will be treated as spies.”
Avalon Kearney shot an angry glare over her shoulder at the arrogant young man sitting behind her and narrowly avoided the temptation to swing her heavy oar at his head.
“Don’t call me ‘Woman,’ Richard!” she spat.
He started to chuckle, to her chagrin.
“I have a name, and you shall use it! And don’t think for a minute that you’re going to get these explosives on board that ship without me!”
“Ava, calm down,” Thomas Kearney scowled at his younger sister as he pulled steadily away at the oars of the sturdy rowboat the three were sitting in. “Richard only says things like that to get a rise out of you. Stop responding, and he’ll leave you alone.”
Muttering under her breath, Avalon resumed rowing, matching the regular rhythm of the two young men.
“What time should the ship be passing?” Thomas asked his friend.
Richard released one oar long enough to draw out his pocket watch and check the time. “We’ve got about half an hour. We need to be a good four miles or so from shore, or the Queen Myrhiadh will miss seeing us entirely. An excellent target, don’t you think: one named for a Zandorian traitor?”
He smirked.
“Besides convenience, that’s the reason Cullen chose her,” Thomas agreed. He glanced over at Avalon. “Don’t forget to act pregnant.”
Avalon rolled her eyes and lightly patted her padded belly: a quilted bag containing three sticks of dynamite concealed under her dress. “How could I forget? You try walking around with explosives in your clothes.”
Richard grinned. “Be glad we didn’t try to do this ten years ago. You’d have had nitroglycerin and gunpowder in there.”
“If I was an idiot, yes,” Avalon replied witheringly. “And I’d have looked rather odd, pretending to be pregnant when I was seven.”
“Do you have any idea how unstable that stuff was?” Richard continued, somewhat condescendingly, in Avalon’s opinion.
“You needn’t think that I know nothing, just because you are studying at the University of Grymwalde, and I am not,” she returned coldly. “If the university would admit women, I could beat you in every class!”
Richard snorted.
“Would you two quit?” Thomas sighed. “We have to work together if we’re going to get this job done, and you hardly look the happily married couple, expecting your first child, when you’re at each other’s throats.”
“Couple?” Avalon repeated angrily. “I’m no couple with him!”
“Well, you can hardly be your brother’s wife, can you? And do you want the crew of the Queen Myrhiadh thinking you’re an unwed whore?”
Avalon scowled. “You might have mentioned that before we started out.”
Thomas grinned. “You wouldn’t have come along. Like you said, we’re not getting those explosives on board without you. I wasn’t about to give you an excuse to drop out.”
“Cullen was impressed,” Richard offered, “at our idea of using you. He’s looking forward to meeting you later when all this is over.”
Avalon snorted. “Am I supposed to feel privileged that the great and mighty Cullen Ulliac wants to meet me?”
“Maybe he’ll let you sit in on one of his engineering classes as a reward,” Richard teased.
“He teaches mining engineering. I have no interest in that.” Avalon tossed her dark-brown braid over her shoulder with an indignant shake of her head. “Besides, people have been successfully mining this island for centuries without Cullen Ulliac teaching them first. It’s a pointless science.”
“There’s always a better way to do things,” Richard returned. “Come on, Ava. It’s 1876—we can’t mine the way they did in the middle ages.”
“Law and Speculative Philosophy for me,” Avalon said slyly. “That’s where I would excel, no doubt.”
“You’re just aching to compete with me,” Richard scolded lightly. “Ava, you don’t have to push yourself. Be useful when you’re needed and quiet when you’re not, and we’ll get along fine.”
“Ava!” Thomas scolded as Avalon swung her oar at a wild angle in Richard’s direction, splashing water into the boat. “Leave her alone, Richard. We need all three of us for this, and if you keep antagonizing her…”
He left his sentence unfinished and pointed to the eastern horizon. “Look! Here she comes, right on time!”
Off in the distance, a ship, looking like a child’s toy bobbing on the waves, belched a puff of steam into the clear, evening air.
“Oars down, Ava!” Thomas ordered. “Let’s get this job done!”
Avalon stashed her oars under her feet and tried to look weary and pregnant while her stomach tied itself in knots with excitement. This opportunity to assist Thomas’ group of student rebels, seeking to restore autonomy, and possibly the Crown, to the Protectorate of Zandor, was a high honor. She would not let them down!
She glanced over at Richard, who also had tucked his oars away, feigning the appearance of having drifted some distance aimlessly. Richard, several years older than she, decidedly handsome and definitely proud, was working on his master’s degree in law, and Avalon held him in a high level of awe, though she would have died before she let him know it. Richard was intelligent and cunning, not to mention descended from Zandor’s royal family.
Although the king and his direct heirs had suffered beheading at the hands of King Andrew of Langdon in 1603, the king’s younger brother and his family had escaped the gruesome death. Richard always liked to say with a smirk that his own ancestors were the poor country cousins of the royals, who had been fortunately missed when the roll was called for the executioner’s block. Still, whenever he introduced himself with his last name of Zandor, people hesitated a moment to stare.
Living descendants of Zandor’s first king, Adrian, were not numerous, but they were reasonably wealthy still, and they had been smarting under their loss of power for the past two hundred and seventy-three years.
Zandorians could hold grudges. That was certain.
The tiny ship in the distance closed the gap between itself and the apparently-stranded rowboat, growing in size to become a three-hundred-foot-long, ironclad Caledonian warship, sporting a set of two giant smokestacks in addition to three sturdy masts, with the blue and gold standard of Caledon fluttering from the rear one. Gunports lined her sides, and an ominously large gun loomed on her forecastle, blatantly warning would-be attackers not to tangle with the Queen Myrhiadh.
“Send up the flare,” Thomas ordered tersely.
Richard drew a flare gun from his coat pocket and fired straight up, releasing a rocket that exploded fifty feet above their little rowboat with a bang and a flash of red light that lingered in the evening air for a few seconds before fading away. The three waited breathlessly for an acknowledgment of the signal, but the ship seemed not to have noticed.
“Again,” Thomas said tightly after two minutes had passed.
Richard repeated the shot, and this time, the approaching vessel answered with three short blasts of its foghorn.
“She’s seen us.” Thomas nodded, satisfied. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Avalon watched the ship approach, closing the distance between herself and the tiny rowboat with speed. About half a mile from them, she cut her engines, slowing her pace to approach without swamping them.
Thomas maneuvered their tiny craft carefully as the Queen Myrhiadh drew alongside.
“Ahoy!” came a shout from the deck far above them. “Are you in trouble?”
“Aye, sir,” Richard shouted back. “We were on a vessel bound for Caledon from the continent, but she suffered an accident and foundered. Please, help us. My wife is expecting, and we have been adrift since last night.”
“What vessel?” the man’s voice queried.
“The Lavinia,” Richard supplied, without hesitation. There was silence above, and Avalon concluded that the man must be consulting with his crewmates.
“Please, sir,” Richard shouted up again. “My wife desperately needs water and something to eat. We have no idea where we are. We throw ourselves upon your mercy.”
A face peered down at them from above. “We are at war with the Nation of Langdon. We will bring you all aboard, but you will be treated as spies.”
|
(c) 2018 Christine Stobbe
|
The Brigand's Promise
|
