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Chapter 12

On February 20th, 1218 AV, two hours before sunset, we spotted her: the Twilight Promise, a single-mast sailing ship with two broadsides and a crew of doubtless veterans of the sea, at least a quarter of them probably marines. The broadsides were the biggest issue: the second we came alongside her, the Promise_could start blasting holes in us if we weren't careful. But we kept our quarry a dot on the horizon as night fell, only opening up the sails after sunset and banking north first so when we raced up from the west, the setting sun would blind them to our approach. Even still, the _Sea Fang wouldn't be within spitting distance until well after nightfall.

As dark settled on the world, I sat next to my twin sister in our cabin, my metal paw clutching the mattress and my flesh-and-blood paw laced in hers. "When the fighting starts, I'll come for you," I whispered. Even now, while the rest of the crew prepared for a boarding action, Annabelle stood sentinel outside our door. "Have the twins ready."

"I know," she whispered back irritably. Val crawled about in her lap while his sister slept soundly in the crib. "I hate this."

I nodded miserably. "I know. But Mom keeps shockingly meticulous notes, and her notes say the Promise has a captain'sgig with a small mast. We slip across during the fighting and take it. We can hit Cornugon Isle in three days if this wind keeps up."

"And nobody sees us leave," she added dryly.

"And that," I admitted.

"And the wind doesn't pick up into a full-blown storm."

"I know--"

"And we don't starve or die of dehydration on the way."

"I know, okay?" I growled. I glanced sheepishly at the door, then lowered my voice again. "I know. It's a lot. We have a little hard tack and a pair of waterskins. I know it's not much, but it'll have to be enough."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Nollie said morosely.

"Not a clue," I murmured, and kissed her. She hadn't kissed me in weeks, and I wasn't sure she wouldn't deck me, but she returned the gesture, albeit a little stiffly. "We'll make it. All four of us."

"How can you be so sure?" she whispered miserably.

"Because we have to," I replied, squeezing her paw. "I couldn't survive it if I lost any of you."

Nola looked at me with some cross of pity and annoyance, but all I could do was stare at those electric blue mirrors in return. It wasn't much for reassurance, but it was all I had. She sighed and nodded. "Be safe, Leon," she murmured, kissing me gently. "I can't lose you, either."

I couldn't make any promises, so I just squeezed her paw and leaned my head against her shoulder.

* * *

The breath between one moment and the next stretched for a thousand years. I inhaled, and dark silence reigned on both ships. I exhaled, and the world was light and sound and blood. Torches burst to life across the deck of the Sea Fang, Anthros roared a challenge, and bodies swung on rigging across the ten-foot gap between our ships, landing on the enemy's foredeck with cutlasses and daggers in hand. Twist cut down two sailors before they even had a chance to draw steel, but more sailors poured out from below-decks like a swarm of angry bees.

Itsuo fired two arrows in rapid succession. One planted itself in the watchman's eye socket, the other shattered his lantern, spilling black oil across the poop deck, which instantly burst into flame. The burning puddle was small, but it could spread quickly depending on how long ago the deck had been swabbed.

As the madness ensued, I spared one last glance at Itsuo. His soft, serene face, the shimmering strands of silver fur sprinkled across the sea of brown, his wrinkled eyes alight with the focus of battle. His long arms nocked, drew, and fired his bow with the speed and skill of an angel of death, but his visage was nearly cherubic in its soft serenity. I wondered if this would be the last time I ever saw him. If he was lucky, it would be.

Itsuo didn't even glance at me as I slipped away toward the aft deck and the door to my cabin. With luck, Annabelle wouldn't even be posted. It was all hands during a raid, after all. I crept around the corner, doing my best to make no noise despite the screaming, bellowing, clashing ruckus behind me. I slipped up to the door and reached for the knob, but stopped and ducked as my nerves screamed a warning.

The hilt of Annabelle's cutlass swished through the air where my temple had been only moments before. She must have been waiting around the other corner for me to try something. I whirled on her and took a fighting stance, swallowing loudly.

"Please, Annabelle," I yelled to be heard over the din of battle. "Don't do this!" As if to punctuate my plea, the dual starboard broadsides of the Twilight Promise erupted with the sound of a hundred thunderclaps, and the Sea Fang rocked away from the blow. Belle and I weaved in place to keep our footing as the ship settled back to stasis.

Annabelle smirked, cutlass down at her side, supremely unconcerned. "Cap'n said to keep you from doing anything stupid," she yelled as the shouting and clanging on the other side of the cabin intensified. "She was unspecific as to how. You been hauntin' this ship long enough, little ghost. Time to put you in your place." She raised the cutlass and rushed me.

There was almost no room to maneuver at the far stern of the ship, maybe six feet between my cabin and the gunwale. I had a fraction of a second to react before the Equus and her insane reach were upon me. I clutched my right shoulder as I brought up my metal arm and deflected her blade, then reared back and sent a right hook directly at her face. I telegraphed it from a mile away. Annabelle raised one hand and stopped my Meridian steel fist with her mind--the knuckles gleamed dully in the flickering firelight of the burning merchant ship a full inch away from her palm. She sneered at me. "Idiot."

I smiled, winked, and pressed the latch to release my prosthetic arm. It detached with a hiss, and she stumbled from the sudden lack of force against her palm. I kicked Annabelle as hard as I could in thearm holding her cutlass. I dunno if you recall, but we Lepids are really fucking good at kicking. The cutlass sailed through the air and over the gunwale. Belle reached out a hand, despite the cutlass being easily fifteen feet away, and stopped it with her mind. I was about to strike out at her to break her concentration, when the door to my cabin burst open and Nola did it for me. Well--about sixteen Nolas, to be precise.

Fifteen Nolas collapsed as the Equus brought the cutlass careening back like a bullet to embed itself in my sister's torso. On the sixteenth, I rushed her as well, splitting her focus. She ended up sendingthe blade at me instead of my sister, but I dropped at the last second and slid under it. Nola launched herself at Belle, mule-kicking her so hard that the Equus toppled over the gunwale with her mouth in a silent "O" of surprise. A dull splash as she hit the water, and it was over.

I felt my stomach clench at the thought of my prosthetic arm sinking to the bottom of the Kastigan Sea. I felt like I lost my arm all over again, but in a way, it wasn't mine anymore. Belle had taken it from me when she'd nearly killed me with it. I hated every second it was attached to me now. It was best left as a trinket for the Carcharadons. As to Belle, well...

She could fucking drown for all I cared. She'd violated my sense of self in a way she'd never even begin to comprehend. Let the sharks get her.

Nola bent down to help me up. She looked like she was going to throw up. It wasn't the first time she'd been able to tap into my Gift, but she always came out of it looking a lot more miserable than me. "Come on," she gasped. "Let's grab the twins and get out of here." In the cabin, she had two makeshift slings. She draped one over each of us and lifted the kittens into them. They slept like the dead against us. I glanced worriedly at Nola; there was no way they were sleeping through this noise, yet here they were, out like lights. She gave a sheepish shrug. "I uh... might have rubbed a little grog on their gums to help them sleep. Can't have them making noise, and any alchemical concoction would be strong enough to kill them. I made do."

Icouldn't help but grin at her. "Great, making our kids alcoholics by less than a year."

Nola snorted. "Their parents are brother and sister, they were probably gonna wind up alcoholics anyway. I just sped up the process. Now come on."

She gave me a gentle push toward the door, but it made me wobble and stumble a step. Nola frowned at me, and I growled in frustration. Already my balance felt off from losing my prosthesis. Nola gaveme such a pitying look that I glared at her reflexively. "It's fine. I don't need it. Come on." Valerian flopped against my chest as we made our way onto the aft deck. The jostling caused Val to stir, but he whimpered once and then quickly drifted back off to sleep. With his eyeless sockets, the only way to tell he was sleeping was by his steady breathing and randomly spasming perky ears. His draconic tail curled against his chest, and he clutched it like a comfort blanket with his tiny paws.

I took a deep, steadying breath and led the way to the port side of the Fang.

It couldn't have been two minutes since the battle began, and it was still raging full-tilt. The crew of the Sea Fang were hardened killers to a one, but the sailors of the _Twilight Promise_clearly had experience fighting pirates, because they rallied hard and fast, setting up a line of defense that held against the onslaught of their recidivistopponents. Only the occasional arrow from Itsuo's bow seemed to ever soften the line, and not every shot was a kill-shot. He had to fire around constantly moving allies, making his arrows few and far between.

They might not make it, I thought with a hitch of breath. They might all perish in this venture. And I steered them here.

I reminded myself they were criminals, and vicious ones at that. They killed and stole for a living--mostly slaves. If they died doing what they did, it wasn't because of me. They would have struck a ship they couldn't handle eventually, either this one, or the next, or the one after. That was the nature of piracy.

Nothing to do with me. Not my fault. Another mantra that didn't work.

I leaned over the gunwale to stare at the ten-foot gap between our ships. The gangplanks had already been dropped to give the crew a path over, but we couldn't use them. Even in the throng of battle, Geist would see us running across the planks amidships. We had to cross at the stern, where the poop deck would at least partially obscure her view of us. But ten feet was a Hell of a jump.

Then again, neither of us were weak. Nola had spent a whole lot of her boundless time cooped up doing calisthenics, keeping her muscles strong--especially her legs. Without a word or whisper of hesitation, she rushed the edge and leaped off the gunwale, landing in a controlled tumble on the Promise's stern, arms folded around Kiba to protect her.

I swallowed, staring at the gap. I didn't have two arms to balance or control my roll. I had to do this absolutely perfect, or I could hurt myself--or worse, Val. Nola turned to face me on the opposite deck, and saw my face. Her own quickly drooped, and she shook her head vigorously. I blinked, swallowed, and closed my eyes, reaching for my Sight.

Pain rocked my brain as I tore apart the future into over a hundred possible realities. I felt something vital slip away, and I wept as one hundred sixty-seven Leons leaped across the gap, slipping on the gunwale or slamming into the side of the Promise's keel and plummeting with my son into the cold, churning dark. Once I actually managed to tear my face off on the barnacled underbelly of the ship as I fell--I honestly could not tell you how I managed that.

But I finally found my path and took a running leap off the gunwale.

Here's the thing about Sight. Remember how I said you have to follow the path of the vision precisely or you change the results? Yeah, in my panic I stepped an inch to the right, where the rail was slicker. I didn't slip and fall, but it alteredmy balance just enough to throw off my trajectory, and I knew halfway across the gap that I wasn't going to make it. My left arm pinioned frantically in the air, and I knew it was hopeless. I was at least a foot short of clearing the gunwale on the opposite side. As I began cresting, I did grim geometry and realized I wasn't just going to miss clearing the gunwale--I was going to fall completely short.

My paw reached out for the railing, but my fingers scraped it uselessly. A pair of powerful paws snatched my wrist, and Nola braced her big feet against the gunwale to hold onto me. I slammed hard against the keel, and Val slammed with me. The sash jostled loose, and my son tumbled out. I had no second arm with which to grab him.

Val woke, mewled irritably, and floated against my chest, curling himself back up and shivering against the sudden cold. I looked up at Nola, who stared in pained concentration at our kitten who should have fallen to his death. Instead, his reptilian tail flicked fitfully as he tried to bury himself in his father's shirt. Nola had altered his gravity. I felt my own stomach lurch, and my son and I lifted up and over the gunwale of the Twilight Promise.

As soon as we were over solid wood, Val floated easily down to the ground. I, on the other hand, flopped unceremoniously onto the deck. Nola picked up our son gingerly, as if he might explode at any moment, and nodded at my vest. I struggled to my feet and tore it off without preamble, then unbuttoned my white low-collar blouse and let it hang open. She gently placed Val in my shirt, which was cinched closed by my rope belt at my waist. It wasn't as secure as theslinghad been, but we had to make do. The moment Val was snug against my chest, Nola wobbled and nearly collapsed. I held her up with my one hand. She gave me a grateful smile, then stood on her own--though I noticed a tremor in her legs. She'd need to eat, and soon. We hurried around the Promise's poop deck to approach the port side, where a gigwas waiting to take us away from our watery prison and into the dark unknown of Autocracy lands.

Thegighung over the port side on pulleys, which Nola worked quickly. Despite almost two dozen bodies swarming across the midships deck and foredeck not ten feet away, nobody stopped trying to kill each other long enough to question the two Lepids about what they were doing. Within minutes, Nollie had lowered Val and me down to the surface of the water. She grabbed a pulley rope, tied it off, and hopped over the rail, sliding down to the boat, the overstuffed pack on her back jingling and clanking with almost every single possession we owned.

We didn't have time to set up the sail at the moment, so it remained lashed down to the short eight-foot mast. Instead, Nollie grabbed the oars and started rowing off into the dark. I turned to look at the_Twilight Promise_, flames licking up its mast, its helm already aflame, lighting up the night sky. While a few sailors still battled the crew of the Sea Fang, most were dead now. Several of the_Fang's_ crewmen came up from below-decks with barrels and crates, one carrying a struggling feline figure that had to be the captain. And silhouetted against the bright flames at the port side gunwale was a beautiful Lepid woman in pirate colors, cutlass in one hand and flintlock in the other.

She pointed the pistol at me, and I knew if Momfired she'd put that bullet right between my eyes, even at this distance. The light flickered across her face for a moment, and in the fraction of a second I could see her, I saw hurt and panic and fear and anger and longing, all wrestling for control on her features.

I raised one paw to her, but not to beg her not to shoot. Mostly just to wave goodbye, I guess. If she decided to kill me, I couldn't blame her. Part of me wanted her to. I'd been the final straw that shattered her psyche, drove her to madness and cruelty beyond which even a ruthless woman like her had been capable before. All because I'd given her what she secretly craved, what we had both craved. I died a little inside all over again looking at her. Might as well let the rest of me die, too. I felt a small twinge of guilt for Nollie, who'd have to raise the twins alone, but she could do it. She was the strong one, the clever one. I was just... me.

I never found out if Mom would have shot, because the flickering, shadowy silhouette of a Simian leaped through the growing flames to tackle her over the rail. I screamed. Geist dropped her cutlass as she tumbled over and grabbed the rail with her one free paw. Itsuo snatched her ankle before he could plummet into the dark waters.

They hung there as Nola rowed us farther away, the two figures dangling and shrinking, frigid winter water sloshing against Itsuo's legs as the waves rose and washed past him. Geist screamed something incoherent, and with growing dread I realized she was still holding her flintlock. She pointed it down at Itsuo's head and bellowed.

He turned, and I knew he was looking at me even in the darkness. Smiling that stupid zen smile, no doubt. I screamed again. Geist pulled the trigger.

Itsuo fell lifeless into the black waves, and the world fell apart.

I collapsed into the boat, sobbing and screaming, as Nola drove us away from the Sea Fang and toward the dark future.

* * *

The first day in the gig, I was useless. I mean, I was useless the whole time--I had one fucking arm, for fuck's sake, what was I gonna do? Row us in a circle?--but I was especially useless then. Nola took breaks to feed the twins and spent the rest of the time rowing us vaguely eastward, while I lay curled in a ball and sobbing. I went in and out of consciousness, only vaguely cognizant of the hot, angry breeze billowing our little five-foot square of sail or the violent rocking of the little boat against the angry ocean swells. My waking hours were spent feeling sorry for myself. My sleeping hours were spent watching my mother blow my lover's brains out and drop him into the dark water, over and over and over and over and

I threw up.

I cried. I begged Nola's forgiveness. I begged the gods' forgiveness. I begged Itsuo's forgiveness. I begged.

I fell asleep.

On the second day in the gig, a storm hit. There was still no land in sight, and the roaring waves threw us about like ragdolls. Nollie cinched our waists to the mast to keep us from being thrown out into the water to our deaths, our kittens tied against our bodies as tightly as we could without hurting them. The mast snapped in half after only an hour. After three hours, the boat crested a massive wave and plummeted fifteen feet to smash into another wave. I flew into the air, rope snapping from the force, and planted face-first into the seat. I didn't even have time to worry about whether Kiba, strapped to my chest, had been injured before I blacked out.

When I woke, I wasn't in a boat. I felt something soft and warmunder my back, and sun on my face. I opened my eyes, flinching at the sudden, powerful glare on my retinas, and rose to a wobbly upright position. It took my brain an embarrassing amount of time to take in my surroundings, muddled as it was from what was probably an impressive concussion.

The first thing I noticed, actually, was that Kibawas no longer in my shirt. A moment of groggy panic quickly died away when I saw Nola standing nearby, both kittens on her bosom eating noisily. Her hard, terrified gaze trailed off somewhere behind me, and I slowly turned to look.

We were on a sandy beach. It stretched as far as the eye could see in one direction, and easily four or five miles in the other before ending in an ocean horizon. My thick brain sluggishly worked to gauge the position of the sun and realized the beach traveled southward before bending east and out of sight, and the other endless side went north. That meant the beach faced west--it had to be Cornugon Isle. We'd been aiming for it of course, but it shocked the Hells out of me that we'd made it. Sure enough, not fifteen feet down the shore sat the battered, broken remains of the boat. It was so wrecked that I couldn't believe it had carried us safely to shore at all.

I finally followed Nola's gaze. Fifty yards past the shore, a nearly impenetrable line of jungle began. And standing some forty feet past it, between the jungle and us, stood a dozen Predator Anthros: Lupa, Vulpins, Canids, Vithia, even one Ursid. All of them had rifles pointed at us.

One Lupus, clearly in charge based on the number of badges pinned to his crimson-trimmed black uniform, strode forward. He had a saber instead of a rifle, which he didn't bother unsheathing. He clasped his hands behind his back, well-groomed silver-gray fur gleaming in the tropical sun, and smirked at us.

"Look what the tide dragged in," he growled. "Runaway slaves. And with cubs, to boot. Must be my lucky day." He turned to Nola. "You and your little ones will fetch a fine price in town." He turned to me, eyes hard. "You, though. You're damaged goods." He turned to his soldiers. "Take the female and the cubs. Kill the male."

Eleven rifles pointed at my head.

It just never ends, does it?