Rhordyn’s soldiers pack in behind us, the sound of their loosening weapons music to my ears.
“I’m just impressed you beat me to it,” I say, shoving my cloak off my shoulders and pulling my own sword free, whipping it through the air as another guard dives forward.
Cutting through his belly like butter.
Seems the disguise was unnecessary after all.
* * *
Dressed in blood and seawater, I watch wooden dinghies ferry crewmen, women, and children from the whaling ships we came here on, dispersing them evenly across our newly acquired fleet.
Cindra steps onto the pier and makes for where I’m standing amongst the blood of the men we slew. Having ditched her blue garb, she boasts her Ocruth gear that tailors to her fierce curves—her pale hair splashed as red as the bloodlust in her gray eyes.
“There’s a barge stacked full of glass blocks farther around the harbor,” she says, pointing across the busy bay. “As well as another boasting acuriousred sail that’s stacked full of cedar.”
Interesting.
“I guess he’s trading glass for the logs he’s used to build his ships,” I muse, and she nods.
I knew Parith was receiving an abundance of glass-laden barges down the Norse, but I assumed it was being used in the thriving city—not traded off continent.
“I’m going to have a look around,” I murmur, stalking down the blood-soaked pier.
I pass a large wooden building at the end, built against the cliff. A dwelling we plowed through once we finished off the guards. It was mostly empty, apart from sleeping quarters, a shit ton of rum, and two young, black-haired, sparsely dressed females who appeared to be high on Candescence.Toohigh to do anything other than allow Cindra to lead them back to the ship where they could sober up.
Both of them bore bruises.
It didn’t sit well. Still doesn’t. There’s a rage toiling beneath my skin, and I’m not sure how to douse it.
The pier spills out onto a scooped shore that cushions the base of the cliff, taking me past piles of timber, wooden piers that jut out into the bay, and more looming ship hulls under construction.
Where are the builders?
I come to a jagged cleft in the cliff face, and realize I’m at the entrance to a cave, nose scrunching as I draw on a fetid blend of excrement and body odor.
Frowning, I pull a blazing torch from one of the holsters nailed to the wall and step into the shadowed interior, past wooden boxes overflowing with tools. The only sound is that of my footsteps as I ease deeper into the cave system, the rank smells thickening, until the stone wall gives way to metal bars.
Cells.
I look into their gloomy interiors, and my heart dives.
Droves of men, women, and even a few children are bundled together—filthy. Black and tawny garbs frayed at the hems, bearing holes the size of fists that betray the frail bodies beneath.
Therefugees—the people who have been fleeing to Bahari with hope in their hearts that they were stepping into a safer existence …
He’s been using them asslaves.
“Fuckingdog,” Cindra growls from behind me, and I almost leap out of my skin. I was so deep inside my head and aching heart I didn’t hear her approach.
“We need to find the keys,” I rasp, swallowing. Struggling to keep my upper lip from peeling back from my aching teeth. “Some might not want to come, since they came here to escape the Vruks, but we have to offer.”
I clear my throat, hating the emotion prickling the backs of my eyes. Hating that I failed so many of these people.
Some ofmypeople.
They came to Cainon for refuge, and he put them in cages.
I’m going to kill him.
