Chapter 44: Bargaining Chip

Lord Aedan Byrne walked out onto the ice floe, seething as he stared across the frigid waters separating them from Deep and Troubled Waters. Their quarry was there, hiding behind walls of wood and ice. His fingers unconsciously curled around the pommel of the Sanguinary Blade resting on his hip. He would get the other two pieces, even if he had to burn the whole place to the ground. He would sacrifice every single mercenary he had hired, every Inquest scientist, every grunt, if it meant he could hold the blade in his hands and finally get their revenge for the slights against their family.

“Morrow!” Aedan barked.

Further in from the edge of the floe, Captain Morrow had been warming herself next to a small brazier. She looked over at Lord Aedan and frowned. She was tired, and her patience with her employers was starting to grow thin. She hadn’t expected to sacrifice so much, nor did she anticipate the length of their contract to take this long. The way the Byrnes explained the job, it should have been a relatively easy snatch and grab. It was quite obvious now that they hadn’t been given a clear picture of what they were up against, nor informed of their popularity with the Order of Whispers. Their targets were damn lucky that airship showed up when it did and saved their hides. She considered breaking contract, but then they risked a tarnished reputation if word got around. They also needed the money. As their losses increased, her remaining mercenaries demanded extra compensation. If she was going to keep them around, she needed a shiny carrot to dangle in front of them.

Morrow slipped her gloves back on and strode across the ice floe to see what he wanted. She took her time, eying Lord Byrne and trying to determine what sort of mood he was in. His temperament had been a little more erratic these days, so she couldn’t be sure if he just wanted a chat or if she was in for something worse.

“Yes?”

Lord Aedan flexed his hand before resting it back on the Sanguinary Blade’s pommel. “You and your mercenaries have already taken a pass through that kodan dump, correct?”

“Sanctuary,” Morrow reflexively said, but then froze, realizing that she had just corrected an unstable lord wielding a weapon capable of turning her into a mindless ice minion. She took a step back, keeping the concealed dagger on her hip in mind. A bad reputation didn’t matter if she was dead—or worse.

Aedan flashed her a dagger-like glare. “It’s a primitive hovel at best, but we can’t expect an animal to live in anything else.” He cleared his throat and relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the sword pommel as he turned and looked back across the water. “What can you tell me about it? How easy will it be getting back in there?”

Morrow frowned. “More difficult than you would think. I lost five good fighters on a raid for supplies. We barely made a dent in their numbers and didn’t walk away with much to show for it. We shouldn’t underestimate them; they’re not simple animals. They are warriors with teeth, claws, and weapons, and they will defend their sanctuary with everything they have.”

Unsatisfied with her answer, Aedan grumbled a curse under his breath. “You need to do better than that. We’re losing time. Have they finished building the catapults?”

“Almost. They’re having trouble finding supplies. Not much grows up this far north.”

“Unacceptable. I think you’ve forgotten what I’m paying you for. Get them to work faster. I need them done now.”

Morrow bit back a snarky comment she desperately wanted to sling at him, but now was not the time. Especially not with that wicked weapon in his possession. “They’re working as hard as they can. It’s been a long journey, and they just got through a hefty fight.”

“I don’t care.” He spun toward Morrow, his face twisted in displeasure. His knuckles started to turn white from his grip tightening on the Sanguinary Blade. The air around them grew bitter cold, and she could see frost forming up his sword arm. “You tell them if they don’t have the catapults completed by sundown today, they’ll meet the end of my blade. They’re sure to listen then.”

Morrow could feel her anger start to rise, but she swallowed it down for fear of his retaliation. Rarely did she let anyone talk to her in such a manner, but he had a weapon with a dangerous power she did not understand. So, she kept her mouth shut for the time being and did what she could to keep her people alive. No more contracts with crazy, rich people, she told herself. But oh, did they pay the best.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied and then left to check on the status of the catapults.

On her way, she spied Lady Eira Byrne walking in her direction. The woman was looking a little worse for wear these days. Morrow remembered when she had first met Eira when the couple hired them on. They were the cleanest, most put together people she had ever seen. Not a lace nor hair out of place, and they carried themselves with such pride. Now, Lady Eira’s curls, which were usually meticulously pinned, hung down in a tangled mess past her shoulders. Her dark purple coat was worn along the edges, and one of her boots had lost a heel a few days back. Morrow had helped her saw off the other heel so they’d match and she wouldn’t have an unbalanced gait.

Lady Eira flashed Morrow a weak smile. “How is he?” she asked.

Morrow stopped and shot a glance over her shoulder. “Motivated.”

Lady Eira’s unfocused gaze floated past Captain Morrow to her husband. “I see.”

“If that’ll be all?”

Lady Eira looked back at Morrow, her gaze cloudy and unfocused for a moment until her senses slowly returned. “Oh yes, sorry. That will be all.” She continued on to join her husband, leaving Morrow to her business.

“He wants it done now,” she announced as she approached a partially completed catapult. It was an impressive piece of machinery, considering all they had to work with thus far were a few trees and two carts they claimed from Wayward Climb.

A stout man with shortly shorn dark hair spat at the snowy ground. He might have been a little rough around the edges, but he was Morrow’s best engineer. “Is he crazy? There’s barely enough out here to build one, let alone two. What does he expect us to do? Pull the wood out of our own arses?”

Morrow crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not amused with his snarky comment. “Well, you better reach up there and find some. The lord wants his catapults now, and if he doesn’t get them as expected, you and your fellow mates might get iced.”

“Iced?”

Morrow nodded aside to the frozen hoard on the edge of their temporary camp. Their numbers had grown since they first set out. It started with a few jotun but grew as they acquired new prisoners. A couple of her mercenaries were also turned as punishment for desertion, but seeing them up close—seeing how devoid of life they were—Morrow wondered if death would have been more merciful.

He grimaced and shuddered. “We’ll scout around. I’m sure we’ll find something else we can use. Tell the good lord he’ll have his catas, one way or another.”

“Good, get it done.” Morrow left it at that.

She aimlessly strode her way through the camp, giving a wide birth to the pen the frozen minions had been sequestered to. They unnerved her. They were reminders of the growing risk contracting with the Byrnes. The longer they stayed with them, Morrow worried more of them would end up iced-over and mindless.

She eventually found herself standing in front of the old cart the Byrnes had forcefully acquired on their way north. Sitting in the back between sacks of supplies was their prize prisoner: an earthen-haired young woman who the Byrnes saw as more important than her life and the lives of her mercenaries. The young woman hadn’t done or said much—a dramatic change from her initial capture—and that concerned Morrow. She knew what to expect when they had fight in them; they almost always tried to escape. The threat of losing their life had that sort of effect on most. It was when they got quiet that Morrow knew to worry, and this girl had been unusually quiet for far longer than Morrow liked.

“If you’re smart, you’re not planning anything that’s going to make my life more difficult,” the mercenary captain said.

Seren looked up from under the edge of the old blanket. One of the mercenaries had thrown it in the back of the wagon when she had complained of the cold. Now, she huddled under it with a heavy scowl. “Why don’t you uncuff me, and I’ll show you what I’m planning.”

Amused by the girl’s reply, Morrow broke out in a hearty chuckle. “You got spirit, I’ll give you that, but I’m no fool. You just stay right there ‘till it’s time to play your part.”

“My part?”

“As a bargaining chip, little girl. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Seren pulled the blanket tight around her chest as she leaned back against the cart’s frame. Her lips pulled into a smirk. “You underestimate them, you know. They aren’t going to give you what you want.”

Morrow strode over to the cart and stood next to the steps leading up. She leaned against the opening’s edge and placed a hand on her hip. “We’ll see about that. Sometimes all you need to do is to dangle the right thing in front of your opponent.” She jut her chin at Seren. “You’re just that thing.”

“You talk like you know a lot about this.”

Morrow nodded. “You learn a trick or two in my line of work.”

Seren looked away, off across the floe. “She’s smarter than your tricks. They all are.”

“We’ll see about that, kid.” Morrow tapped the top of the cart with her hand, flashing Seren a confident smile before walking off to make her rounds to ensure her people were getting things done and not being turned into mindless, frozen fodder.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Seren muttered under her breath and then fished out the nail she had been hiding in her boot and returned to working on her shackles.