The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 19: Massenqa: Section III: Bree

Bree: The Docks: Qemassen

"Why have you brought me here?" Bree glared from her seat at Princess Himalit sitting across from her.

Instead of answering, Himalit turned her head, as though she'd spied something outside Bree's litter. It was clearly pretense. The curtains were closed; there was nothing to see.

Bree tightened her fingers around the small dagger hidden at her side. A hundred questions coursed through her heart.

Why had Himalit stopped Bree's litter on its way uphill?

Why had she turned the litter around in the direction of the dockyard?

Why the retinue of soldiers marching alongside, as though to stop Bree from leaving?

Qemassen was under siege. Bree was supposed to be shut up in the palace for her own protection.

All Bree's instincts told her to run.

"I thought your women were accustomed to battle?" Himalit asked. She still didn't look Bree in the eyes.

Bree frowned. "That's not an answer."

The litter jogged to a halt, and Himalit immediately ducked beneath the entrance and hopped outside. Bree waited to exit long enough that it was obviously in protest, then slowly followed.

They were inside the huge round harbour where her Feislanda ship had entered so many months ago.

At the time, she'd searched for Aurelius along the wharf, hoping to find a sign of her poor sailor. It might have made her laugh if her nerves weren't so frayed. This was no place to be when the remnants of the Massenqa navy were preparing for battle.

The enclosed shipyard was as impressive now as it had been all those months ago—perhaps even more so, now that Qemassen's fleet poured in its entirety from the multistoried shipyard with its sluices and canals. The command tower where the Qabira stood watch bustled with activity. Horns trumpeted signals to each other from its many balconies and the shouts of men echoed off its walls in a garland of sound. Himalit had spent most of her time over the past few weeks inside that tower, but it was clear they were headed aboard ship today.

The Myrpalma, one of Qemassen's best remaining ships, sat waiting for them at the dock.

Bree was still waiting for an answer as to why she was here, when Himalit marched briskly toward the Myr. Instead of leaving Bree alone, Himalit's guards nudged her onwards.

The Myr wasn't the largest ship remaining to the Massenqa, but she was the fastest, and after the loss of the Ziphax, she was the jewel of the fleet—Hima's pride.

She looked ready to set sail. All the ships were vacating the harbour to face the threat outside Qemassen's walls. Once they'd done so, the city gates would remain closed until either Kemassen won or her sailors were lying dead at the bottom of the ocean.

Bree shuddered as the guards marched her up the gangplank. The rocking of the ship on the waves brought back the sick feeling in Bree's stomach from when she'd been stricken ill on the voyage from Atlin. She could feel the furs Eaflied had forced her into bristling against her shoulders.

Without a glance in Bree's direction, Hima began barking orders to her sailors, her shouts punctuated by obscure maritime signals.

Bree slipped to the right of the guards, watching as Himalit stalked the deck, hopeful the heq-Damirat might turn her ire on the guards and distract them so Bree would have the opportunity to escape.