Page 4

Brynla

“This is as far as I’ll take you,” the man says. His voice is as gnarled and rough as his hands that grip the oars.

I stare at his pockmarked face for a moment, my stomach pinching with unease at the thought of this mission going even remotely wrong.

“This wasn’t what we agreed upon,” I say. Beside me Lemi shifts on his haunches, casting a wary eye at the boatsman.

“I said I’d take you to Fjallen Rock,” the man says, and nods past me at the hazy shape of land shrouded by smoke in the distance, backlit by the orange glow of the Midland volcanoes. “That’s it right there.”

I give him a tight smile. I don’t want to start arguing with my only ride back to Esland and a stranger at that. “You know I meant past the wards.”

“You should have been more specific, then, girl,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Because that’s not what you said. There’s no law against coming this far. There is a law against going through the wards and to the Midlands.”

“The last boatsman—” I begin.

“Your last boatsman is no more,” he says, flashing me a smile of missing teeth. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be using me now, would ya?” His salt-crusted lips curl into a smirk.

I live more in each second of the day than you’ll ever live in your lifetime , I think as I try not to scowl at him.

It’s hard for me to rein in my temper, but tonight I don’t have the luxury of letting it loose.

I’m about to be dropped off at the most dangerous place in the world and I’m counting on this asshole here to pick me up.

If he doesn’t, my dog and I are as good as dead.

“Also, most boatsmen wouldn’t allow a hound on the vessel,” he says, eyeing Lemi, who eyes him right back. “You’re fortunate I’m such an animal lover.”

I roll my eyes at that. On the two-hour boat journey he’s done nothing but try to spear every turtle, dolphin, and whale that’s come in passing distance.

I take in a deep breath to quell my mounting frustration, hoping I can reason with him. “But if you don’t go through the wards and bring the boat to shore, how am I supposed to come back with the egg?”

“That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem,” he huffs and sits back, crossing his arms until I get the point.

I sigh. It is my problem, and I don’t have the luxury of trying to figure out a solution with him.

My plan was to be dropped off at the rock and, if I was lucky, I’d find an elderdrage nest. If not I’d head farther in to the other islands.

But elderdrage eggs are at least three feet tall and they weigh a ton.

It’s hard enough to carry them back across the rugged land and then swim them over to the boat, even with Lemi’s help.

Which means that now I’ll have to find either sycledrage or blooddrage eggs, and both are significantly smaller and harder to find in an unattended nest, let alone any nest at all.

But going back to the Banished Land empty-handed isn’t an option either.

I need to come back home with something or I might be paying for it with my own blood.

I’ve been too sick over the last few moons to come to the Midlands, so I already owe Sorland’s syndikat, and they aren’t the types to let a few absences go.

Not only that, but the faster I get my coin, the faster I can hire a healer so that my monthly pains don’t continue to take me out of the game.

I swear every month, every year, the pain gets worse, like it’s some punishment for being both a woman and alive.

Even surgery from the discredited doctors in the Dark City costs more than I have saved so far.

Lemi lets out a whumpf of air through his nose, bringing my focus back to him. Of course more money would pay for more food for him and for my aunt Ellestra.

Staying alive is infinitely expensive.

“Fine,” I say to the boatsman, hating how right he is.

My last boatsman disappeared while I’d been recuperating.

People disappear all the time in Esland, especially those who have dealings with the Freelanders—the exiled such as myself—and the more likely you are to visit the Banished Land, the more likely it is that you are an unsavory character to begin with.

My last boatsman might have been knifed during a card game gone wrong, or he might have been captured by the Black Guard and taken to the capital for execution.

If it was the latter, they would know he’d been helping a Freelander steal dragon eggs to sell to House Dalgaard, Sorland’s syndikat, which means they’d be looking for me.

But they’ve been looking for me for the last nine years, ever since I escaped the convent. And, somehow, I’m still here.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I get back,” I implore the new boatsman. It’s awful having to put your trust in someone you don’t even know.

“I’ll have to be if I want my egg,” he says casually, splaying his calloused hands.

I swallow hard, still unsure if I’m making the right choice. I’m always paid handsomely for the services I render, often based on what eggs I end up stealing. If I don’t, I’ll be left behind. Another reason I can’t come back to the mainland empty-handed tonight.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” I tell him, glancing up at the dark sky.

It’s the cycle of the pink moon, the crescent shape barely visible through the smoke from the volcanoes.

Pink moon dragon eggs are mellower than the others, much like humans born under it, but beggars can’t be choosers in this case.

Some people prefer the softer side effects that come with consumption of pink moon eggs, though the Sjef, the head of the syndikat, Ruunon Dalgaard, would scoff at that. The syndikat is the opposite of soft.

“You bring me the finest and the strongest eggs,” Ruunon had said to me the one and only time I’d met him. It had been a heavily guarded clandestine meeting on the blackened lava fields outside the Dark City. “You do this consistently, and we will have a fine partnership.”

So much was implied with what he didn’t say.

That if I didn’t, then he’d kill me, Lemi, my aunt, and anyone else I knew.

That was the way the syndikats worked. I had never met any of the other houses from Vesland or Norland and their crime families, despite how regularly their hired thieves pilfered the Midlands, but I imagined they all operated in the same way.

With ruthlessness and violence and aversion to mercy.

But at that moment, when Ruunon offered me the job, I felt the first taste of hope since my father had died. It was dangerous to work for such men, but the promise that came along with it, the promise of a better life, sealed the deal.

“I’ll leave at dawn,” the boatsman says gruffly. “I’ll be here until then. You don’t show, I’ll assume you’re dead and you’ll be left in my wake. And no, I won’t give the dog a ride back even if he makes it.”

I try not to narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll see you before dawn,” I tell him before I say the wrong thing. Then I look to Lemi. “You okay with a night swim?” I ask him as I gather my empty bags and tie them to the holsters and straps around my leathered armor.

Lemi just wags his tail eagerly, knowing his fun is about to begin.

“Now don’t go disappearing on me. You’ll be towing me to shore,” I warn my dog, adjusting my two swords on my back, thankful that they’re made from ash glass forged in the depths of the Banished Land, weapons as light as they are strong.

Lemi seems to frown at that, his fluffy brows furrowing over his warm brown eyes.

I stand up, the boat rocking back and forth from my weight, and give the man one last glance, willing him to be here until dawn and not either chicken out or sell me out. Then I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the half-mile swim, and swan dive overboard.

Despite my armor and swords, I barely make a splash, the dark, frigid water engulfing me.

I take in a harsh gasp of air as I surface, just as Lemi lands in the water beside me.

Shivering already, I manage to swim over to him, grabbing ahold of his harness with stiff fingers.

I hear the man on the boat chuckle behind me but I don’t bother paying him any attention now.

All I can do is hope he’ll be there when I get back.

Focus on getting the goods and getting back before the sun rises.

Lemi pulls me through the water with ease, though I can tell he just wants to shift himself onto the shore already.

“Easy, boy,” I warn him. He’s shifted before while I’ve been holding on to him and it’s most unpleasant.

Even though I don’t end up traveling with him, there is a bone-rattling shock as I’m left behind and he shifts elsewhere.

Thankfully the wards are close now. They’re nearly invisible to the naked eye, save for the faint glimmer of rainbows when you look at them from your peripheral vision.

In the dark they’re harder to see but you still feel them, the faint hum and vibration of energy they give off, eons of magic condensed, a warning to those who may have strayed off path.

A warning that would work on anyone else except for me and any other egg thieves.

The wards are magicked walls that extend to the bottom of the ocean and high into the farthest reaches of the sky.

In the Old Text of Dragemor, the First Sorcerer—Magni—said it was akin to a dome, one that would prevent any dragon from escaping, whether they swam to the inky depths or tried to soar into the stars above.

The dragons can’t get out, but we can go in.

And, with any luck, come back out again.