‘This was a mistake’. The realization that I’d somehow chosen to board a military vessel was a cold weight in my chest. As I backed away from the box, my gaze darted to the door of the cargo hold, wondering with dim hope if I could open it before the ship moved. The sudden lurch of the ship, the groan and grind of machinery, informed me it was too late for that. The airship was pulling away from the dock, and I could only hope they wouldn’t find me before they made port in a new city.
Gritting my teeth, I turned away from the ominous crates, knowing I still needed to conceal myself if I wanted to survive. I expected there to be tightly packed crates at the back of the cargo hold, perfect places to squeeze in out of sight; it was alarmingly empty, a space of empty floor surrounding a chillingly familiar chest crafted of copper and gears. My steps faltered for a moment before I dashed across the floor.
I’d seen several designs of that machinery, but never one this size; it was several feet long, its lid on level with my knees. Breath catching, I brushed my fingers against the complicated mechanical lock. I knew it required a precise combination of motions across the gears to unlock it; my hands worked quickly, fingers sliding the metal fastenings before I completed the pattern. The lock came open with a hiss of steam and a solid thunk, releasing the top of the chest to slowly rise.
The hiss turned to a sharp, shrill, pulsating whistle; an alarm that no doubt echoed through the whole ship.
I should have hurried to hide, but my attention was on the contents of the chest. Small, opalescent black crystals were carefully stored in tempered glass bottles, neatly arranged against the padded cloth which lined the chest. There were hundreds of them in tidy lines, streaks of iridescent rainbow colors cutting through the black shards. My hands trembled as I reached for one...
Just as my fingers were about to brush the cold glass, thudding footsteps sounded from behind, followed by a heavy weight crashing into me. The breath was crushed out of me as rough hands slammed me down against the wood floor; a pained grunt left me as my assailant kept me pinned in place, a knee driving into the small of my back.
I fought back desperately, and managed to turn my face enough to see the man who’d tackled me to the floor. He had dusky skin, dark hair falling across his face as he leaned over me; his green eyes were narrow, teeth bared in a snarl as he caught my arm before I could reach him. His fingers squeezed my wrist, grinding bones together as I hissed in a breath against the flare of pain. While I had expected a uniform, I saw a glimmer of gold in his ears, a shimmering chain laid against his chest where a loose white shirt was half unbuttoned, before his other hand wrapped in my hair and slammed my face down against the floor.
I froze, ending my struggle as I felt the cool barrel of a pistol at the back of my skull. “You move, and you’re dead, thief,” a hot breath said in my ear, the air reeking of tobacco. “Understand?” the man shouted louder, making me flinch and close my eyes.
My voice was caught behind the fear for a moment, and I had to swallow hard to get past it. “I understand,” I rasped, my hands pressed against the floor so I wouldn’t seem like a threat. My thoughts were spinning, searching for a way out, but I had a feeling I was in way over my head. It didn’t stop me from trying to appeal to him, my voice shaking as I said, “I wasn’t planning on stealing anything, I swear. I just needed safe passage out of Nighbrook.”
The man sneered as he yanked me back by the hair. “The fuck you were. Just need safe passage? The hell you doing snooping through our cargo, you little rat–”
“Tarren!” A softer voice called from somewhere in the shadows, making the man detaining me stop. Though I couldn’t see her, I could tell she sounded calm and sincere as she said to her crewmate, “Enough. We need to take him to the Captain.”
The man she called Tarren kissed his teeth in displeasure, pressing his knee harder into my back before he grunted in a savage tone. “Fine! We’ll take ‘im to the Captain. But who do you think he’s going to blame for letting the fuck’n rat aboard?” Without restraint the man put away the gun quickly before he clasped my wrists behind my back in heavy, rusted irons. Yanking me to my feet, he stayed behind me out of sight, the gun once again pressed to my neck for persuasion as he demanded through clenched teeth, “Don’t try anything.”
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