The Sea Thief

Chapter VI

Tora had never run so fast in her life.

Her feet slipped outwards on the ice as she rounded the corner, the frosty air shocking her throat when she inhaled deeper, faster. Each footfall sent a jolt of pain from her ankle to her knee, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to stop.

She knew all too well that if she stopped, even for a second, the guards would catch her.

And that was something she didn't even want to think about.

Tora tightened her grasp on both the Lavellan and the fish in her hands. Behind her, she could hear the jeering of the people and the baying howls of the wolves that the guards had brought with them.

If her heart hadn't been rattling so much, Tora might have grinned. The merchant had sent guards after her, had sent wolves after her, but within seconds, she would be gone without leaving a single trace. All she needed to do was run between the rocks, throw on her seal coat, and get the hell out of here.

Waves of turquoise lapped up against Tora's feet as she tucked the Lavellan and fish into her belt. Then, she threw herself at the rocks and stuck her hand into the fissure between them.

The guards were getting closer. She could smell them – all sweat and smoke.

Worse yet, she couldn't feel her seal coat beneath her fingers.

She tugged all the rags out of the nook and fumbled through them. She found the woollen coat, the strappy dress, the lapelled shirt, the copper goggles, the tweed jacket, the wooden belt-

Tora swore.

The seal coat was gone.

In that second, the silence felt as cold as ice. Tora strained her ears – she could hear the soft crunch of footfalls only metres away, could hear the screech of metal on metal.

Bloody hell.

All of this over a rat. A lousy, short, stubby rat.

Tora pulled the Lavellan out of her belt and raised it to her face. It stared back at her, its eyes as dark as wet mud, its whiskers quivering with fear.

Maybe the guards would spare her if she returned it to the merchant. Maybe they wouldn't notice the fish buried in her belt. Maybe-

The Lavellan made a small sound. The squeak alone was enough to tear at Tora's heart – it was a cry of desperation, a cry of sorrow.

Tora pressed the Lavellan carefully onto a rock.

"Go," she told it. "At least one of us should be free."

It blinked at her. Once. Twice.

The second it started running towards the cliffs, Tora pulled herself back onto her feet.

She had to get out of here.

Just as she turned, though, she found a girl in her path. Tora's gaze darted over the girl's clothes – a blue doublet, faded and worn, a baldric worked in gold, and a handkerchief over her mouth.

Definitely a guard.

"Hand everything over, thief," the guard called out.

Tora didn't dare move. Instead, she observed.

The guard was toying with a knife in her hands, twirling it deftly in her thick fingers. Every now and then, though, her gaze flickered to Tora's shoulder, so quick and sharp that Tora almost missed it the first time.

Then, Tora heard the footfalls from behind her, and it all made sense.

They were trying to surround her.

And if the wolves were not with the guard in front of her, that must mean-

Tora risked a glance behind her and felt her heart stop.

There were two more guards behind her, each holding a wolf on a leather strap.

"Hand everything over," the first guard repeated slowly. "Now."

Tora's hands shook as she pulled the fish out of her belt and stepped forward. Her head reeled as she moved closer and closer to the guard, her eyes darting around the snow, desperately hoping that her seal coat was somewhere within sight-

Nothing. There were only white sheets of snow.

Had wolves found it while she was gone? Had Emil Blacach come here to play some sick joke on her by taking away her coat?

"Hand it over."

Tora scowled at the guard. There was something disgustingly familiar about her, something that made Tora's insides squirm.

"Did you not hear me?" the guard snapped. "For the last time-"

"I heard you. Give it a rest, will you?"

The guard arched her brow but said nothing. Tora took one final step towards her, so that she was only an arm's length away from the guard.

She didn't brave another step forward. Not while the knife was still gripped tightly in the guard's fingers.

"What are you even going to do with the fish?" Tora asked, waving it in the air. "It's just fish."

"Return it to the merchant, of course."

Tora snorted. "Really? You're not going to stuff it into your own pockets? Feed them to your wolves?"

"The wolves are hungry," the guard confessed with a grin. "They haven't been fed since yesterday. But it would take far more than three fish to please them."

The words rang in Tora's head as the guard spoke.

The wolves are hungry. They haven't been fed since yesterday.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Tora took a small, final step forwards. "Here. You can take the fish."

"I'm not stupid, thief. I want you to put the fish in my hand. One at a time."

The guard extended a gloved hand. Ever so slowly, Tora pried one fish from her left hand and inched it closer and closer to the guard.

Then, she threw the fish straight into the guard's face.

The guard stumbled back, her shout renting the air as she ordered the others to release the wolves. Tora turned only for a second to see the wolves pounce at her, their fur as white as snow, their claws as sharp as daggers.

Tora threw the remaining two fish at their snouts. Nothing – not even the throbbing of her muscles – could stop the relief from spreading through her body as the wolves stopped to sink their fangs into the fish.

Her relief was short-lived, though. The main guard was hot on her heels, her fist buried in Tora's cloak. Tora tried to shrug it off, tried to yank herself free, but the guard's grip was as tough as iron.

"You're not going anywhere," she hissed into Tora's ear.

Tora protested and reached for the ocean, but the guard had already seized her arms and pinned them to her side.

It was then that Tora had a good look at the guard. She reminded her so much of Emil Blacach – they had the same dark, wiry hair, the same iciness in their eyes, the same cruel twist to their smiles.

The thought of Emil was enough to make Tora want to spit at the guard's face. She tried to scratch her, kick her, bite her, pull her hair out in handfuls-

"If you move one more time, I will feed you to the wolves," the guard said, her voice as rough as gravel. "If you stay still, then there's a chance that my father – the chief of Narenji – will spare you and let you go. Do you understand me?"

Tora froze.

She understood all too well.

If this guard was the daughter of the chief, it would be her word against everything.

So, with her heart in her throat, Tora sagged into the girl's grip and let the guards lead her towards her own execution.