Woodro gave Ren good news over the card game they were playing. “I spoke to someone who claims Captain Urro is in Sheld, despite everything that’s happened. He’s the only man I’d have bring us across the waves on a venture this… foolish.”
“Foolish?” Ren asked, examining the cards he’d been dealt.
“Never mind our… encounter with whatever powers govern that place, but every sailor knows not to approach the Isle of Dusk,” Woodro said. He raised a hand when Ren tried to argue with him. “I’m behind this plan, Ren, and I’ve been behind madder plans than this one. I simply mean, no other captain would do this for us.”
“We disappeared for a year the first time,” Bran said, tapping the tabletop. “Are you certain this is the only way?”
Ren grimaced, and played the next card.
“Ren, Woodro,” Igo said, shoving through the tavern door. “Someone’s coming up the road. It’s not the Brethren.”
“Then who?” Ren asked, hand on his hilt.
Igo shook his head in disbelief. “It looked like Gharo,” he said. The side of his head was bandaged still, but he’d let one of the barmaids draw a pattern of blue and yellow flowers onto the white parchment. He spun away and led the way to the door.
“Vanci!” Ren said. A handful of them burst onto the deck in time to see an old man climbing up the steps toward the tavern.
Though the year of Ren’s yet unexplained absence had been unkind to him, Gharo was easily recognizable. His broad shoulders and dark grey hair were visible from afar, and his whiskered face-full of wrinkles became visible as he strode closer to them. He paused for a moment as he neared the Rogue River’s front porch. “What a surprise! Thought you were both dead.”
“Where have you been?” Ren asked, stepping down from the deck.
His father grinned. “In High Raena, running an inn. Great business—much more peaceful than running you lot! And where were you, son?” He held out his hand and Ren clutched it.
Vanci spoke up, stepping up beside Ren. “On the ship… Delayed near the Isle of Dusk apparently… though none of us detected a year passing. One minute we were there, the next here.”
Gharo squinted his eyes. “Interesting…”
“You’re telling me,” Renado muttered. He was still staring at his father in disbelief.
“Let’s get a drink,” Vanci said. “There’s lots to talk about.” Ren led the way, and Woodro held the door open for the Family’s father to enter. Igo pulled a few extra chairs over to the largest table in the house and removed the candle-holder from its center. Ample light streamed through the windows, despite the clouds of water droplets from the adjacent waterfall. “What can I get for you all?”
“A cider,” Ren said. He preferred light drinks to heavy ones, despite recent trends in his diet.
“A barley beer, if you have it,” Gharo said. “Use to get my favourite from the Emerald Eye, but I saw there was nothing left there but the walls. Took me a few days to find a contact to point me this way…”
Igo nearly dropped a bottle near the bar and Gharo used the opportunity to look around the common room. Woodro and Bran had picked up the cards that Ren had held, while Omma, Karsef, and a couple other loyalists were sitting near the door still. Gharo looked back to his brother. “This is all that’s left?”
Vanci nodded. “I was a captive too, up until a few days ago. Free now, thanks to Ren.”
“I guess I owe you a thanks then,” Gharo said, smiling to him. Ren returned the smile—positive feedback from Gharo had always been rare, but it still meant something to him. Igo served their drinks, and then Vanci spoke up again.
“What are you doing back in Sheld? Come to see what’s left of our home?”
Gharo scoffed. “I figured somebody would have to come back to run things again.”
“There’s really nothing left to run,” Ren said, turning his cider mug in his palm. “The Grey Brethren are still at large in the city, so we’re not even safe here. If you care so much about running things, why did you even leave in the first place?” Tass had already told him exactly how it had happened.
Instead of a direct answer, his father smiled. “I left thinking people would be more competent in my absence.” Vanci nodded to his brother’s words.
Despite what he had heard, Ren could not say for certain whether it was a lie or not. “I don’t know what happened, how it got this bad,” he said, “but I know we need to finish it.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Gharo said.
“But what options do we have?” Vanci asked. “There’s not enough loyal soldiers to put up a reasonable fight back.”
Ren shook his head. “And this is why no one on board your ship liked you that much.”
“I don’t care,” Vanci said, shrugging. “Our fighters could be worth ten of theirs for all I know. We’re still out-numbered fifteen to one.”
“And I’d take those odds any damn day, Uncle,” Ren retorted. Vanci could be such a knob.
Gharo sighed. “I think we need to remember that no matter what, we’re at a disadvantage here and must act accordingly. How many safe houses do we still have? Where do the Grey Brethren stand?”
Vanci filled him in. “Just the inn here, and any other citizens in the city who may or may not be loyal. At last count, there’s still over a hundred enemy soldiers, and they staying put.”
“And there’s still loyal soldiers we may not know of,” Ren clarified. “After all I met a handful the other day when we attacked the prison transport to rescue Vanci and Lerran.” Without missing a beat, Ren tried to cover his last word with, “Igo, another round please!”
But Gharo heard the name. He blinked and leaned forward in his seat. “Why’d you bother rescuing him? He’s the one who wasn’t competent enough to hold this together.”
“At least he did have a few loyal friends before all of this,” Vanci pointed out, on topic of their advantages and disadvantages.
Ren held up his hands. “I can’t believe you two. We’re the only ones left of the Family!”
“… because of him,” Gharo said. Ren remembered how many times he’d hated this old fool. His father drawled, “We wouldn’t be all that’s left, if it wasn’t for Lerran’s rebellion.”
“Are you certain, Father? The Grey Brethren must have been planning this long before, in order to pull off such a decisive attack.”
Gharo guffawed, beer spittle dripping into his beard. “Risks are commonplace when you run a Family such as ours. Lerran couldn’t handle it.”
“Enough!” Vanci said. “We have what resources we do and what people we do. We’re not in a position to set our standards.”
Gharo took another drink of his beer. “Let me see if I can contact some of my past contacts.”
Motion near the inn corridor made Ren sit up straight. Tassina had walked into the common room. She froze when she recognized Gharo, sitting profile to her. Ren bobbed his head back, hoping she’d take the hint and hide once more, but Gharo cut off whatever his next sentence was going to be when he spotted her. Tass collected herself and stepped slowly into the room.
“Damn rebels,” Gharo mumbled, looking into his beer horn. He glared at Ren. “You didn’t tell me Tassina was alive too. Is Gadra hiding around a corner too?”
“I tried to convince Gadra to come to safety, but she fought to the end trying to hold the estate.” Ren took a drink in remembrance. He still wished he’d been able to save more than just one life that day.
Tass ordered a cider at the bar, while Gharo raised one eyebrow to the others and patted his belly. He’d noticed. Meanwhile, Tassina turned back to the table. “Welcome back to Sheld,” she said, dryly.
Gharo laughed and tugged on his greying beard. “I’m sure you’re happy to see me.”
Tass shrugged and leaned on the table near Renado. “Seems Ren’s the only one around here accomplishing anything, but I’ll wait and see.”
“Wasn’t my fault they captured me,” Vanci said, defensively.
“Yes, it was your own damn fault. I didn’t get captured!” Ren exclaimed.
Vani turned to his brother. “If you’re wondering, it is Ren’s fault that the port burned down.”
“Yes, it was my fault,” Ren said. “But look how many of the enemy I killed there!”
Gharo slammed the tabletop with one hand and everyone fell silent. “This isn’t helping at all. We need to do something more than sit around bickering.” Takes a drink, “As far as I’m concerned, everyone is at fault.”
“Including yourself?” Ren asked, heatedly.
Gharo shook his head with a grim face and said, “No, I did my part in setting up this whole Family to succeed, and everyone else tore it down.”
Ren laughed obnoxiously loud and leaned back in his chair.
“Enough of this,” Vanci said, as Tass took a few steps toward the bar again, waving her hand dismissively. Ren’s uncle sighed. “We have to work together.”
Gharo tapped the table, and then blinked as Tass stepped closer and buried a knife in his shoulder. The chair that held him toppled as he shoved away from her, and the knife slid out of her fingers as the old man broke the chair on the floorboards. Everyone sprang to their feet as Tass stepped away.
The shoulder wound wasn’t enough. Gharo’s sword scraped free of its scabbard as he lumbered up to one knee. Ren knew he wouldn’t act sensibly and stepped forward to restrain him, while a string of curses polluted the air and Ren’s on-looking comrades dropped their card games and drew closer.
By the time Ren got a hold of Gharo and shoved him toward the bar, Vanci was holding Tass’ arms behind her back. Of course he’d get Gharo’s back, not Ren’s. Even after years on the ship together.
“I’m just trying to stop him from killing her!” Ren blurted. He grabbed Gharo’s sword and wrested it free while Gharo held his shoulder with his off-hand. “Let Tass go.”
Vanci glanced around. Woodro stood near their table with a drawn sword, while Bran and Karsef stood a few paces behind Vanci and Tass. Ren’s uncle shook his head. “What’s to stop anyone from killing us?”
“Tass,” Ren muttered, looking at her. “No harm will come to them from any of us, got it?”
Gharo held out a hand drenched in blood. “That’s still not proof of our safety… Vanci, don’t let her go.”
“Gods,” Ren said. He stood between Gharo and Tass, while everyone, Igo included, waited for the slightest move from anyone else. “Tass, why did you stab him?”
Tass opened her mouth, but it was Gharo who spoke next. “No,” Ren’s father said, “I’ve had more than enough of backstabbing…”
Gharo marched forward, his sudden elbow knocking Ren off balance. The old man drew a knife from his belt and barrelled toward Tass as the warriors surrounding them surged forward. In the midst of all the chaos, Vanci made the most important decision of all. As Gharo approached, Vanci spun to the side and shoved Tass out of harm’s way. She sprawled onto hands and knees behind Woodro as two warriors slammed into Gharo and knocked him back against the bar. Someone collided with Vanci from behind.
“No,” Ren said, righting himself from the table upon which he had reeled. Gharo sent Karsef reeling with a fist to the nose, and got his hand on Bran’s knife as they grappled. When Bran collapsed onto a chair, holding a puncture wound, Gharo stepped toward Tass once more. Ren grabbed his father’s shoulder, but Gharo twisted to the side and slashed at him. The knife clipped the back of his forearm.
When Gharo turned back toward Tassina, Woodro was standing in front of him. He lifted his sword in front of him, and thrust it forward. Blood spread through the back of Gharo’s beige tunic, and a rasping, incoherent word left Gharo’s mouth.
Everyone froze, as Woodro glared at the old man. With a twist, he pulled his blade free and Gharo collapsed to his knees. “Crazy old man,” Woodro muttered.
Ren stepped forward, as his father’s legs buckled and his head hit the floor. Gharo gasped one last time, as blood surrounded him, and then he lay still. Bran had lost consciousness in the chair, but was still breathing, as Omma checked his wound. Ren stared at his father’s body as Tass stood up. “Ren,” she said. “Lerran would have wanted it… for our safety.”
“I…” Ren didn’t know what to say.
“Vanci’s done too,” Karsef mumbled, standing up.
Ren shook his head and looked over. “What?” he asked. Vanci’s own hand was clutching the knife that had buried itself in his chest.
Karsef sighed. “We thought he was going to hurt Tass, and when I knocked him down he drew a blade on me.” Everyone had been ready to stop Gharo and Vanci, apparently. Ren was glad to know he had their support, but his family seemed to be shrinking day by day.
“Will Bran be alright?” Ren asked, as he stepped past Omma. He got a shrug, and then sat down at the bar to reach beyond and pour himself something stronger than cider. “Treat him as best you can,” he said. “One way or another, we’re leaving tomorrow morning… we can’t delay any longer.”
Tass ran a hand through her hair and nodded to Renado. The floor was littered with blood and broken furniture, but Ren had thrown his support in with her when he decided to stay in Sheld. With a frown, he raised his whiskey to her, and to the one or two fond memories of his father he had. He took a sip as he watched his Gharo’s blood pooling around him.