Chapter 8 : Passage to Maltoon
Even at night, the city of Sirin-Hal glowed with stubborn life.
Lanterns swayed in the warm breeze, casting golden light over narrow alleys. Music drifted from rooftop cafés, and street vendors still called out to passersby, their tables loaded with roasted chestnuts, skewered meats, and trinkets that sparkled under the moon.
Mikael sat silently inside a closed horse-drawn carriage, the kind used by nobles who preferred discretion. The curtains were drawn halfway, offering slits of view through the cloth. Opposite him sat Sayra, arms crossed, staring out of her window.
> "You'd think a city this noisy would sleep eventually," Mikael muttered.
Sayra gave a smirk.
> "You'd think a man with your sword arm wouldn't whisper like he's afraid of waking someone."
> "I'm not whispering."
> "You are."
Outside, the cart rolled through the lower district toward the hidden docks where their ship awaited. Rayan, Sayra's father, sat beside the driver.
But across the rooftops... shadows moved.
Three figures, cloaked in patched cloth, kept pace from above. They leapt silently across tiles and balconies, never straying far. One of them leaned toward the other.
> "That's the old noble. The exiled one," he whispered.
> "And he's loaded," the other replied. "Tonight we follow. Tomorrow we strike."
---
The carriage arrived at the harbor's eastern end, past the main gate where knights still patrolled. Here, silence ruled, broken only by creaking ropes and the soft lapping of water.
Their ship waited—slim, with a single triangular sail. No name. No banner. A shadow among shadows.
Rayan hopped down first and helped Sayra step out.
She glanced around, then whispered to Mikael,
> "This feels too quiet."
> "You say that like it's a bad thing."
> "Quiet in Sirin-Hal is always suspicious."
They boarded quickly. Mikael kept his hood up, eyes scanning the misty docks. No sign of the figures that had followed.
---
By midnight, the ship drifted from the city, cutting across the sea with barely a sound. The lights of Sirin-Hal shimmered behind them like distant stars.
Mikael stood at the rail, staring out at the moonlit water.
> "Still with us?" Rayan asked, stepping beside him.
> "I owe you more than thanks," Mikael said.
> "I don't help people for thanks."
He paused.
> "I help people because justice is rare. And when it passes you by, someone has to drag it back where it belongs."
> "And in Maltoon?"
> "A man I trust. And a chance to rebuild what was broken."
---
Below deck, Sayra sat cross-legged near the cargo. She was tying small pouches of herbs with methodical care.
> "You really don't ask many questions," Mikael said as he sat nearby.
> "I ask plenty. I just ask them in my head first to see if they're worth asking out loud."
> "You don't trust me?"
> "I don't trust anyone. Not until they've proven they bleed the same color."
She glanced up with a crooked smile, then went back to tying herbs.
---
Far behind them, hidden in fog, a smaller vessel left the Sirin-Hal dock. It bore no lights, no signal. The cloaked men from the rooftops now huddled near the bow.
> "The ship's fast. But we'll catch them before they reach Maltoon," one of them said.
> "And this time, there's no guards to interfere."
---
The next night, the wind was calm and the stars clear. Then came the shout.
> "Boarders! Port side!"
Grappling hooks clanged. Shadows leapt from the fog onto the deck.
Five men, blades drawn.
> "Defensive line!" Rayan barked.
His guards rushed forward, swords clashing against the intruders. Mikael moved instantly, intercepting a raider aiming for the helm.
Steel met steel.
Sayra grabbed her small blade, ready but cautious.
> "I hate this part," she muttered.
Two attackers closed in on her.
> "I really hate this part."
Mikael finished one opponent and turned—Sayra was holding her ground, knife ready. One raider lunged, and Mikael slammed into him mid-strike, driving his blade cleanly into the man's shoulder.
The other turned just in time to catch Mikael's fist full in the face.
Both went down.
> "Behind the crates," Mikael said.
> "Fine. But next time, you're the distraction," Sayra grumbled, blushing despite herself.
The rest of the raiders fell back. One leapt overboard. Another barely made it to the ropes. The rest were subdued or wounded.
> "Status?" Rayan called out.
> "All clear!" a guard replied.
Mikael leaned on the railing, catching his breath.
Sayra joined him, arms crossed.
> "You didn't have to help me," she said softly.
> "I know."
She stared at the sea.
> "You're fast with a blade. Too fast."
> "I've had to be."
She gave a dry laugh.
> "Figures. I finally meet someone useful, and he turns out terrifying."
There was a silence.
> "I'm watching you," she said.
> "You're not the first," Mikael replied.
> "You're not that special," she shot back.
Mikael smiled faintly.
Sayra leaned against the railing beside him.
> "Just so we're clear — next time, I save you."
> "I'll be counting on it."
To be continued…