A Sea of Shields

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Reece marched up the long, narrow wooden plank, sloped steeply from the dock, heading straight up to the deck of the massive ship before him. The wobbly plank spanned a good fifty feet, and Reece hiked quickly up, his footsteps echoing on the hollow wood, which shook with every step he took. Up above, he could see the Upper Islanders, Falus’s men, all engaged in a flurry of preparation, untying ropes, raising sails, getting ready to depart the mainland for the Upper Isles. Reece, seething with rage and determination, steeled himself, forced himself to breathe deep and remain calm, to wait for the perfect moment before he wreaked havoc on them all.

Reece stepped foot onto the main deck and immediately turned looked at Falus’s soldiers, gauging their reaction. None looked at him twice. Reece breathed with relief: his disguise was working. Fully dressed in the armor of an Upper Islander, from his helmet down to his spurs, they all, as he’d hoped, assumed he was one of them.

Reece had done his job well. On the way here, close to the docks, he had knocked out an unsuspecting Upper Islander soldier when no one was looking. He’d dragged him into a back alley, stripped him of his uniform, and donned it himself. He knew he would be needing it if he had any chance of pulling off his plan.

Reece had galloped through the night, had ridden here to the shore, straight from Selese’s funeral, still mad with grief, his eyes still bloodshot. His fingernails still bore dirt from the fresh soil he had buried her in, and he could still feel her spirit with him, crying out for vengeance. After all, if it had not been for Falus’s trickery, Reece would have found Selese alive and happy, would have married her the next day. Such a wrong could not go unpunished.

Reece had found out when and where Falus was departing the mainland and had raced here, to this lonely dock on the edge of the Empire, determined to make sure he never departed. Reece knew he would be marching onto a ship of hostile Upper Islanders, and he knew it was an act he must do alone. This disguise, at least, had bought him some time.

Reece marched quickly down the deck of the ship, pleased he had caught the ship right before it departed. He marched amidst hundreds of soldiers, all busily getting ready to depart, determined to find Falus. Selese’s death could not go unanswered.

Reece saw a flurry of activity, saw more lines being thrown off the deck, and he knew the ship might depart before he could get off. He no longer cared. If he had to sail out to sea with these people, if he ended up being caught and killed by them all, it didn’t matter. As long as he killed Falus first.

Reece marched and marched down the endlessly long ship, secretly clutching the dagger at his belt, tightening his palm around the grip, his heart pounding in his ears. Finally, he reached a door that he knew would descend to Falus’s cabin below. His heart quickened, as he knew that Falus was behind that door. The man who had taken Selese’s life.

Two of Falus’s loyal soldiers stood outside it, guarding it, and as Reece approached, they stepped forward and lowered their spears.

“Where do you think you’re going?” one of them asked Reece derisively, blocking his way.

Reece had anticipated this. After all, Falus had many men at his disposal, and he knew some would be standing guard.

Without missing a beat, Reece, prepared, reached down and pulled a long scroll from his waist, holding it out toward the guards.

“I bring news from the morning’s falcon,” Reece reported in a matter-of-fact way, hoping they would believe him.

One of them eyed Reece suspiciously, then reached out to grab the scroll.

Reece yanked it back.

“Official business,” Reece said. “Do you see the seal?”

Reece turned it over and showed a wax seal.

The two guards looked at each other, unsure. Reece stood there, heart pounding, hoping they wouldn’t recognize that his uniform was ill-fitting, hoping they would believe the scroll, hoping they would step aside. If not, he felt the dagger sitting at his waist, and he would kill them both. But if he did, with all the other soldiers milling about, Reece might not ever make it inside the cabin.

Reece waited and waited, his heart pounding, the longest seconds of his life.

Come on, Reece prayed. Selese, please help. Please. Help me for you. I know I have been a terrible husband. You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to forgive me. Just help get vengeance, for your sake.

Finally, to Reece’s great relief, they stepped aside, raising their spears, one of them opening the door for him.

Reece hurried in, and the door slammed behind him.

Reece’s eyes adjusted to the dim cabin as he took several steps down into a long room. There was only one man in the room, Reece was relieved to see. He sat at his desk, his back to Reece, penning a scroll with a quill. It was probably a message of victory, Reece realized, a message to inform the others of his success. Of Selese’s death. Of his betrayal.

Reece’s body flushed with anger. Here he was: his wife-to-be’s murderer.

As Reece marched through the room, his spurs jingling, Falus finally turned, caught off guard.

He stood, indignant.

“Who are you?” he said. “I ordered that none of my soldiers should disturb me at this hour. Is that a scroll you bear? What news do you bring?”

He stared down at Reece, stepping toward him, scowling, and Reece continued to approach him calmly, then stopped just a foot away.

Reece raised his visor, wanting Falus to see his face.

Falus stared back, eyes opened wide in surprise, as he clearly recognized his cousin’s face.

“It is a message from your cousin,” Reece said.

As he spoke the words, Reece stepped forward, pulled the long dagger from his waist, and stabbed his cousin in the heart.

Falus gasped, blood pouring from his mouth as he stumbled backwards. Reece held on tight with his other hand, grabbing Falus’s shirt, grimacing, as he stuck the dagger deeper and deeper into Falus’s heart.

Reece, scowling, held the knife there, his face inches away from Falus’s, staring into his eyes.

“Look into my eyes,” Reece said. “I want you to see my face before you die.”

Falus, eyes bulging, unable to move, stared back.

“You took everything from me,” Reece continued. “You stole everything that I cared about in this world. And now, you will pay the price.”

“You’ll not get away with this,” Falus gasped weakly, as his eyes rolled back in his head.

His eyes suddenly closed, and he slumped down, his body limp.

Reece let him fall to the cabin floor, his dagger still inside him. Falus lay there, frozen. Dead.

“I already have,” Reece replied.