Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

With oars held high, they all sat as still as statues. Arista found herself in command of the skiff as it floated along in the current. She quickly learned how the rudder affected the boat. The results felt backward to her. Pulling right made the bow swing left. Terrified of making a mistake, she concentrated on keeping the boat centered and straight. Up ahead, something odd was being lowered from the bridge. It looked like cobwebs or tree branches dangling. She was going to steer around it when she realized it stretched the entire span.

“They draped a net!” Etcher said a little too loudly.

Wally and Hadrian back paddled, but the river’s current was the victor and the skiff flowed helplessly into the fishnet. The boat rotated, pinning itself sideways. Water frothed along the length, threatening to tip them.

“Shore your boat and don’t move from it!” A shout echoed down from above.

A lantern lowered from the bridge revealed their struggles to free themselves from the mesh. Etcher, Wally, and Hadrian slashed at the netting with knives, but before they could clear it, two imperial soldiers descended and took up position on the bank. Each was armed with a crossbow.

“Stop now or we’ll kill you where you stand,” the nearest soldier ordered with a harsh, anxious voice. Hadrian nodded and the three dropped their knives.

Arista could not take her eyes off the crossbows. She knew those weapons. She had seen Essendon soldiers practicing with them in the yard. They pierced old helms placed on dummies, leaving huge holes through the heavy metal. These were close enough for her to see the sharp iron heads of the bolts—the power to pierce armor held in check by a small trigger and pointed directly at them.

Wally and Hadrian maneuvered the boat to the bank and one by one they exited, Hadrian offering Arista his hand as she climbed out. They stood side by side, Arista and Hadrian in front, Wally and Etcher behind.

“Remove your weapons,” one of the soldiers ordered, motioning toward Hadrian. Hadrian paused, his eyes shifting between the two bowmen, before slipping off his swords. One of the soldiers approached, while the other stayed back, maintaining a clear line of sight.

“What are your names?” the foremost soldier asked.

No one answered.

The lead guard took another step forward and intently studied Arista. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Look what we have here, Jus. We done caught ourselves a fine fish, we have.”

“Who is it?” Jus asked.

“This here is that Princess of Melengar, the one they say is a witch.”

“How do you know?”

“I recognize her. I was in Medford the year she was on trial for killing her father.”

“What’s she doing here, ya think?”

“Don’t know … What are you doing here?”

She said nothing, her eyes locked on the massive bolt heads. Made of heavy iron, the points looked sharp. Knight killers, Sir Ecton called them.

What will they do to me?

“The captain will find out,” the soldier said. “I recognize these two as well.” He motioned to Wally and Etcher. “I seen them around the city afore.”

“Course you have.” Wally spoke up. “I’ve piloted this river for years. We weren’t doing nothin’ wrong.”

“If you’ve been on this river afore, then you knows we don’t allow transports at night.”

Wally did not say anything.

“I don’t know that one, though. What’s yer name?”

“Hadrian,” he said, taking the opportunity to step forward as if to shake hands.

“Back! Back!” the guard shouted, bringing his bow to bear at Hadrian’s chest. Hadrian immediately stopped. “Take one more step and I’ll punch a hole clear through you!”

“So what’s your plan?” Hadrian asked.

“You and your pals just sit tight. We sent a runner to fetch a patrol. We’ll take you over to see the captain. He’ll know what to do with the likes of you.”

“I hope we don’t have to wait long,” Hadrian told them. “This damp night air isn’t good. You could catch a cold. Looks like you have already. What do you think, Arista?”

“I ain’t got no cold.”

“Are you sure? Your eyes and nose look red. Arista, you agree with me, don’t you?”

“What?” Arista said, still captivated by the crossbows. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and barely heard Hadrian addressing her.

“I bet you two been coughing and sneezing all night, haven’t you?” Hadrian continued. “Nothing worse than a summer cold. Right, Arista?”

Arista was dumbfounded by Hadrian’s blathering and his obsession with the health of the two soldiers. She felt obligated to say something. “I—I suppose.”

“Sneezing, that’s the worst. I hate to sneeze.”

Arista gasped.

“Just shut up,” the soldier ordered. Without taking his eyes off Hadrian, he called to Jus behind him. “See anyone coming yet?”

“Not yet,” Jus replied. “All of them off dealing with that fire, I ’spect.”

Arista had never tried this under pressure before. Closing her eyes, she fought to remember the concentration technique Esrahaddon had taught her. She took deep breaths, cleared her mind, and tried to calm herself. Arista focused on the sounds around her—the river lapping against the boat, the wind blowing through the trees, and the chirping of the frogs and crickets. Then slowly she blocked each out, one by one. Opening her eyes, she stared at the soldiers. She saw them in detail now, the three-day-old whiskers on their faces, their rumpled tabards, even the rusted links in their hauberks. Their eyes showed their nervous excitement and Arista thought she even caught the musky odor of their bodies. Breathing rhythmically, she focused on their noses as she began to hum, then mutter. Her voice slowly rose as if in song.

“I said no—” The soldier stopped suddenly, wrinkling his nose. His eyes began to water and he shook his head in irritation. “I said no—” he began again, and stopped once more, gasping for air.

At the same time, Jus was having similar problems, and the louder Arista’s voice rose, the greater their struggle. Raising her hand, she moved her fingers as if writing in the air.

“I—said—I—I—”

Arista made a sharp clipping motion with her hand and both of them abruptly sneezed in unison.

In that instant, Hadrian lunged forward and broke the closest guard’s leg with a single kick to his knee. He pulled the screaming guard in front of him just as the other fired. The crossbow bolt caught the soldier square in the chest, piercing the metal ringlets of his hauberk and staggering both of them backward. Letting the dead man fall, Hadrian picked up his bow as the other guard turned to flee. Snap! The bow launched the bolt. The impact made a deep resonating thwack! and drove the remaining guard to the ground, where he lay dead.

Hadrian dropped the bow. “Let’s move!”

They jumped back in the skiff just as the wherry approached.

It came out of the darkness, its long pointed shape no longer slicing through the water. Instead, it drifted aimlessly, helpless to the whims of the current. As it approached, it became apparent why. The wherry was empty. Even the oars were gone. As the boat passed by, a dark figure crawled out of the water.