Kingdom's Fall

Chapter 15, Part 1

Aiden watched as Kara leaned out over the rail of the ship, her face turned forward to catch the wind and the salt spray. She had been reluctant about the prospect of sailing on the road east from Alyn, but just catching sight of the coastline had been enough to wake an interest in her. By the time they had reached the harbour town of Marr’s Cove, her building excitement had bubbled over into an interrogation on the ins and outs of a sailor’s life and in short order she had exhausted Aiden’s scant knowledge of nautical terms. He had never been much for the sea, preferring to stay below decks with his thoughts and a bottle of something sufficiently strong to keep down any hint of sickness. He could understand her excitement - was even a little jealous of it - but couldn’t bring himself to share it. Word of the king’s death had spread fast, and the shadow that the king’s death cast over him was carried with it. Most of his contacts had gone to ground, and the few that dared open their doors to him were wary to the point of indecision. The only stroke of luck he’d had was in finding the Sparrowhawk moored at the docks, and her captain relatively sober and short of employment. Most ships sailing out of Marr’s Cove were fishing boats, broad-keeled tubs barely fit for sailing beyond sight of land. The Sparrowhawk was different. She was a frigate, a fast runner that bore cannon and men and little else. She’d been built by the Carelians and, at Aiden’s request, abandoned on the coast south of Marr’s Cove. Aiden found a captain for her in Aradan Walker. Aradan was a good sailor; good enough to appreciate both the value of the ship and that the fates - like the sea - were changeable. Aiden had always known there might be a day he’d have need of a fast ship and a favour owed. The news buzzing around the docks had left the Sparrowhawk’s master unsettled, but he had not baulked when Aiden asked for passage to the north.

You should have gone south.

Aiden held himself very still, fighting down the urge to spit over the rail. The voice was not his own. He knew that now. It sounded very much like it, but then people always commented how like his father he’d become. Evert Baird. Dead half of Aiden’s life and yet he still carried the man like a blood-stained shadow. King’s Man before Aiden, he was never happy with the simple lie of the Kingdom’s existence. He’d played them off against one another, coaching Varion towards belligerence. Plate armor and pomp, the clatter of pike and sword and lance, and all of it just to improve his position with the High Council. When the Pinch fell, it all came tumbling down. He’d promised weakness, an army that would be driven like sheep. The Kingdom had dug in their heels and pushed into Carelia. They lost eventually but it was less a victory to the High Council than an embarrassment, and they had known exactly whose feet to lay it at. At the very least, they didn’t ask Aiden to kill him. They never found out who was responsible. One day, Evert had eaten something that disagreed with him, and that had been the end of it.

You should go south, to the High Council. They’ll want to know what’s happened.

Fourteen years old, and made a King’s Man over the body of his father. He’d known why. Varion knew, too. He’d made that ridiculous promise - sworn an oath on his sword - to protect the Kingdom and its people. No matter the cost, Varion had said, and with his hand on his heart Aiden had said the words back to him.

Best watch what you eat from now on.       

Evert Baird had treated his duty as a game, oaths as things to be said but never taken. Aiden’s vow would cost him, he knew, but to ignore it would be a higher price.

He crossed to where Kara stood and put his hands on the rail, looking out across the water. Along the horizon, set against the bright, clear sky, the coast was a grey-blue line. All it would take was for the ship to sail a mile or two further out, or for the weather to change just a fraction, and the Kingdom would disappear. If only everything else was that easy, he thought. The northern lords would jump at the throne, sure enough, but they would all jump at once. It would be a race between them, or a fight, and he couldn’t be sure that one or more of them wouldn’t pitch in on the queen’s side just to gain an advantage over the others. On the road east, Aiden had come up with a plan of his own - not better, but different - and it had risks of its own to think about. He watched Kara lean out, feeling the spray on her face, and felt the dry voice of his thoughts rising inside. What would she say, if she knew what you were planning? There was a twist to it, a sense that things had ended already. She’ll never forgive you, he thought. None of them will.