The Crimson Spark, page 1
part #1 of Vagabond Legacy Series
Contents
1 - Tooth and Nail
2 - A Face in the Crowd
3 - Mercy
4 - Reflection
5 - The Vagabond
6 - Binding
7 - Lionheart
8 - Down Vagabond Road
9 - Conscripted
10 - Growing Pains
11 - Steel Grip
12 - Kokaleth
13 - Captain Cain
14 - Gathering Dark
15 - The Spook Legion
16 - Licking Wounds
17 - Flowers of the West
18 - Sounds of the Forest
19 - Beneath Holy Stone
20 - Devil in the Dark
21 - Den of Sin
22 - Patches
23 - Loyalties Lie
24 - Nesting In The Hollow
25 - Dishonor Bound
26 - Familiar Faces
27 - Blood and Water
28 - Boiling Point
29 - Boil Dry
30 - The Vagabond Way
31 - Strung Up
32 - The Ferryman
33 - The Briar Patch
34 - Crossing The River
35 - All Hope Abandoned
36 - Amontillado
37 - Arms and Legs
38 - Ante
39 - Back in Chains
40 - Lost Boys
41 - Rekindling
42 - First Impressions
43 - The Architect
44 - Omnivorous
45 - Red
46 - No More Secrets
47 - Broken
48 - Last Words
49 - The Call
50 - Winds of Change
51 - Nea and Nico
52 - Where Birds Tread
53 - The Lost House of Lambert
54 - Atone
55 - Second Chances
56 - Kings and Vagabonds
57 - Knight and Squire
58 - Portrait In Starlight
59 - Fist of Fortune
60 - Under the Traveler’s Sky
61 - Ghost of a Chance
62 - Old Man Winter
63 - One for One
64 - Sins of the Father
65 - Delving Beyond
66 - Blood of the Lamb
67 - Prodigal
68 - At One
69 - Dancing in the Calm
70 - The Change
71 - Shackles of the Mind
72 - All For Nothing
73 - By Wind and Water
74 - Tooth and Knail
75 - Ashes of the Rainbow
76 - Dulcinea
77 - By Deed of the King
78 - Diamond Dust
79 - A Vagabond’s Legacy
About the Author
The Crimson Spark
William Hastings
The Crimson Spark
©2019 William Hastings.
All Rights Reserved.
This work may not be reprinted, in whole or in part, for profit or not, without prior express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious; any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover art by alhexz/jervy bonifacio
Map by Cédric Hamon
https://thefantasymapsforge.pb.design
Edited by Kat Rocha
https://KnightEditor.com
Proofreading by Heather Fitt
https://overviewmedia.co.uk
Interior design by Kevin G. Summers
https://kevingsummers.com/
Fonts used in this work:
Body: Adobe Garamond Pro
Headline: Metamorphous
For Christopher, this book is part of your legacy, sewn upon the hearts of your kin, that you may walk the green road forever.
1
Tooth and Nail
The ship rocked back and forth in the churning sea, carried up one wave and hurled down on another, creating a sickening rhythm even in the bowels of the great wooden beast. A beam of rich evening sunlight shone down through the solitary porthole, barely illuminating the ship’s hold and the crumpled forms within.
There were at least three hundred of them inside. Children, shackled and packed together in neat rows like livestock. The ship took on more and more at every port, gorging itself on this horrible cargo. They had been at sea for over two weeks, headed north to the Kengean Archipelago and their new life in chains.
Leo had been flitting between the strange moments where one is neither awake nor asleep. Though his entire body hurt, he dared not close his eyes. He didn’t trust himself to wake up. His stomach gave a small groan, but he ignored it along with the chill that filled the hold.
Huge shadows clung around Leo’s dark eyes and his olive skin had turned a sickly pale. His bandaged right arm hung from the tatters of his shirt in a sling he’d made himself. With every jolt of the ship a fresh wave of pain shot through it. Crippled as he was, the slavers had only shackled his ankles. The metal had chafed his flesh, leaving his feet caked in dried blood. He shivered like a frightened animal and when he stood, his shoulders were forever hunched in submission. Leo was broken. They all were.
Throughout the hold the children lay, discarded playthings, defeated. Their stories were all the same. The slaving companies, the grassers – they would find you. Any lost child wandering the Southern Isles was easy prey for them, so long as you were small enough and poor enough that nobody would miss you. And though at first you might resist them, no matter how brave you were, how strong you were, the grassers would drain your spirit until you were an obedient little husk. Did he think it would be different for him?
In the months since he’d run away, Leo felt his personality being broken down piece by piece. The only thing keeping him sane were his memories of Nico. Dreams of the endless exploring they used to do together through the abbey. Chasing each other through the church and library, whispering after lights out, getting scolded by the nuns. That had been their whole word.
The sound of raised voices caught his ear. A boy was hurled down the stairs and into the hold. A few of the children opened their eyes to see what was going on, watching him crash to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, trying to run. But there was nowhere to go. A pair of grassers descended behind him, seized him by the arms, and dragged him down the line of slaves. The boy kicked, screamed, bit, and swore. Fighting to get away but he had no chance. They slammed him down across from Leo, shackling his legs tight and giving him few kicks in the gut for good measure.
“Amount of bloody trouble you caused us!” growled one man. “I ought to break your fingers.”
He spat at the man’s feet, still thrashing. They laughed, the other grasser rattling the chains with his billy club. Leo flinched and crawled away as far as he could.
“Next time we have to chase you down, we might not be so nice!” he said as the two disappeared up the stairs.
The jeers stayed even after they had gone, hanging in the air like a foul odor. Muttering a few more choice threats, the boy brushed himself off and glared at their retreating backs. Leo didn’t recognize him, he must’ve been one of the more recent arrivals still working above deck.
He was taller than Leo, and in the dim light seemed a couple of years older. Fourteen or fifteen at most. His filthy tunic hung loose on his thin shoulders and the boy’s brown hair was short and jagged, as if he’d cut it himself with a rusty knife. Lines of experience crossed his young face. Still, his bright brown eyes burned with defiance. Those eyes — there was something familiar about them.
He flashed a look at Leo.
“What you staring at?”
His voice was raspy, and he spoke with a strange accent. Leo looked away, recoiling as if someone had struck him.
“Whoa, it’s all right,” said the boy, his words losing their harsh edge. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Grassers got my blood boiling you know?” he smiled.
It was small, but it warmed Leo down to his core, as if reminding him his heart was still beating.
The lad drew a water skin from a pocket of his ragged pants eyeing it like a prize. He took a swig of its contents and Leo became acutely aware of just how dry his mouth was.
“Thirsty?” he asked, as if reading his mind.
Leo said nothing; nobody had spoken to him like this in ages.
The boy tossed him the skin. “It’s okay, take it.”
Leo reached out his good hand, grasping the skin. He drained it, the cold water falling on his throat like rain on a desert. It was so perfect, the beginnings of tears started forming as gratitude threatened to overwhelm him.
He wanted to say something; all he could manage was, “How?”
“I stole it off one of those grassers when they brought me in,” the boy whispered rather proud. “Christ knows, you look like you needed it more than me.” He looked Leo up and down, squinting through the dark. “You Infernian?”
“Half,” Leo hadn’t known his parents, but the nuns had told him that since his skin was darker, his mother or father must have come from the eastern most nation of the Kengean Archipelago. The endless desert
The boy’s eyes homed in on his mane of crimson hair. “I figured. That’s not red is it?”
“Yes, it’s red.” Leo shrugged; it had always earned him a share of strange looks.
“Bet they don’t have that in Inferno,” said the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Leo.” The word sounded alien. He hadn’t heard it in months.
“I’m Nea.”
Leo didn’t know what else to say, it had been so long since he’d talked to anyone, finally he decided on, “Did you … did you try to escape?”
The boy nodded, grinning. “Yeah, again. Grassers had me working top side, and I made to scarper, you know how it is.”
“Sorry they caught you.”
“Don’t be, happens all the time. Haven’t you ever tried?”
Leo shook his head.
“Not even once?” Nea pressed him.
Leo glanced at his sling, Nea followed his gaze, eyes fixing on the long scars that ran up his arm. “Did they do that to you?” he asked, some of his fire returning.
“No it’s been like this for a while, it was bad when they caught me, got worse along the way.”
“Sick bastards like to throw us around don’t they?” Nea scowled. “When did they get you?”
“Two months, maybe three.” Leo glanced out the porthole. “I can’t really keep track of time anymore.”
“Yeah, I had that problem at first,” Nea shrugged. “Got you headed to the mine in Fortuna?”
The words sent a chill down Leo’s spine. Fortuna, the second nation in the Archipelago. The final destination for all the vagrant children snatched by the grassers. It was there that the great opal mines were found. A hoard of wealth and prosperity locked away so tight in the earth that only the smallest could reach. It was because of this that child slaves were the among most sought-after products in the country.
“I don’t know. They said I might not be able to. What happens then?”
Nea’s face darkened, and he changed the subject. “Where are you from, anyway?”
“Meridus,”
“Not surprised, I hear that place crawls with them bastards?” Nea shot a sidelong glance at Leo. “Any family?”
“No … no, I …”
Nea’s smile slipped and he reached forward, Leo winced and made to draw back but the boy just ruffled his hair, like Nico used to. The contact was familiar and gentle; he hadn’t felt that in so long. Leo let himself smile, he’d no idea the last time he’d managed one.
“I lived in a …” He paused, looking for the right words.
“Home for strays?” Nea offered.
“Something like that.”
They sat for a moment, in a kind of happy silence. Then Nea leaned in and whispered. “How’d you like to get the hell outta here?”
Leo stared at him. “What? We can’t—”
“Yes we can.” Nea reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys, his smile widening with wicked glee. “I stole them from the grassers while they were tossing me around.”
He looked down at the chains that bound his bloody feet. Was it possible? “Then what?”
“I heard those drunken idiots talking, they say we’ll reach Fortuna in less than a week. If we pick the right moment, we can creep up on deck, snatch a lifeboat. Most of the grassers’ll be asleep. We paddle to shore and nobody’s the wiser.”
“You sound as though you’ve been planning this for a long time.”
Nea’s eyes darkened. “Very long. What do you say?”
“T… together? Where would we go?”
Nea beamed at him. “Conoscenzia.”
Conoscenzia the third nation in the Archipelago. Stories of its technology and civilization had reached even the abbey on Meridus. It was said that there was no slavery in Conoscenzia. Could they be free there? Free, what a strange idea. He had so many questions and it seemed impossible. But when he saw the confidence in Nea’s eyes, Leo thought he would believe anything the boy told him.
“Nothing will go wrong,” Nea insisted. “You don’t have to be afraid, Leo. That’s what they want.”
And despite months without hope, without contact, without joy, Leo nodded.
Nea beamed at him. “All right then, here’s what we’re gonna do.”
*
When night had fallen and the sounds of drunken reverie at last died out, Nea unlocked their bonds. Helping Leo to his feet just as the ship gave a lurch. Leo stumbled forward but Nea caught him before he fell, accidentally grabbing him by his wounded arm. It seized with pain but he refused to let himself cry out.
“Oh damn, sorry,” Nea whispered, eyeing the useless limb. “That’s in a bad way. Are you sure—?”
“Yes!” Leo said, not wanting to second guess himself. “Let’s go.”
Nea had a decent idea of the ship’s layout, the grassers had chased him around it all morning. Any useful supplies would be one level above on the orlop deck. Leo kept close behind him, following silently up the steep stairs. They passed through the crew’s quarters and into the galley. Nea stopped and poked his head around the door. Leo copied him. Only a few of the grassers were still awake, drinking and playing cards at a solitary table.
“I’ll go,” Nea hissed. “Keep an eye on them.”
Before Leo could say anything the older boy slipped off down the corridor, leaving Leo to cling to the wall and listen.
“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going ashore in bloody Fortuna,” said a younger man, his voice full of barely disguised fear.
“Oh what’s the matter?” teased his companion. “You believe all that guff do you?”
“Don’t chu?”
“No, I bloody don’t. I’ve been to Fortuna more times than I can count and I never saw anything strange.”
“What about all those stories a while back, bout the raiding party? Turned up with all their throats cut, still in the saddle, I heard.”
The grasser shrugged, taking a long draft from his mug. “Probably just bandits. Fortuna’s a rough place, opium, delvers, all kinds of ways to get killed.”
“Very reassuring.”
They continued their game as Nea reemerged clutching a bit of rope, some dried rations and gloves. They wouldn’t get far without those. One look at their left ring fingers would identify them as slaves, runaway or otherwise. Slaves were given a circular brand around that finger, binding them to the trading companies forever in a twisted marriage. It was from this that it earned its name, The Nuptial.
*
The other children barely looked up at them when they returned.
“What about the rest of them?” Leo asked. “Do you think they’d come with us?”
“We’ll leave them the key,” said Nea grimly, “but they’ve been here a long time and I’m not sticking my neck out for people who don’t want to be rescued. You get locked up for long enough, eventually you forget how to escape. Grassers don’t even need chains to keep them around.”
“Broken,” said Leo, remembering how close he’d been to that himself. “Like a horse.”
“That’s right. I’ve seen it before.” Nea’s face shifted, as if he was remembering something terrible. “You gotta look out for yourself,” he said, chaining their legs back up like nothing had happened.
They spent the next few days memorizing patrol routes, guard shifts, and docking procedure. All reports were that the ship would arrive in the dead of night. That meant they would have to drop anchor outside the harbor until it reopened at dawn. This would be their moment, Nea said.
While Leo’s heart raced with fear and anticipation, somehow he managed to keep it under control and push forward. Perhaps the older boy’s confidence was rubbing off on him. When they weren’t creeping about the ship, he and Nea would talk. Leo hadn’t talked so much to another person since Nico’s death, it was strange but wonderful at the same time.
“So,” said Nea after they’d locked themselves back up for the night. “You like old stories?”
“Old stories?”
“Yeah old stories, vagabonds, delvers, monsters, and heroes you know?” he grinned. “You seem like that type.”
Leo thought back to the abbey. “Yes, I used to read those all the time.”
