Fuse by E.L. Todd

Twenty-One

“If we steal a ship,we’ll have to move quickly.” Bridge stood beside Flare in the shadow of the outpost building. Massive ships bobbed in the harbor, riding the tide as it moved in and out. The moon was bright overhead, reflecting off the black water.

Flare scanned the harbor, noting the guards on the tops of the walls surrounding the city. “Even if I kill these guys, it’ll only buy us a day. The ocean is a big place, but they’ll find us eventually.”

“Then what do you propose?” Bridge leaned against the wall and remained hidden in the shadows. “Give up?”

“I said no such thing.” Flare’s eyes were glued to the wandering guard. He held a crossbow in his hands as he paced his station. “But this plan might not work. If they chase us and we never find the island, we’ll be food for the sharks.”

“I guess.”

“Besides, it’ll be difficult to commandeer a ship of that size. We’ll need more than two men.”

“We can steal a smaller boat.”

Flare pondered their next step quietly. His arms were crossed over his chest as he thought through their next move. “We can buy a smaller ship and leave without any problems.”

Bridge shook his head like the idea was preposterous. “We don’t have any gold.”

“No.” Flare pulled up his hood so his face was hidden. “But we can steal some.”

* * *

Bridge walked up to the guard with an empty bottle of rum in his hand. “Eh, sir. Did you see a hot little number come this way?” He slurred his speech and staggered in a drunken stupor. “Because I’ve been looking for her.” He held up his bottle. “And when I find her…” He staggered again.

The guard didn’t draw his weapon or seem suspicious at all. “Sounds like you can’t hold on to your woman.”

“Who can?” Bridge threw his arms down. “Just when you get a hold of them, they slip away.” He staggered on the cobblestone road and fell to the ground. “Woe is me.”

“You alright?” The guard hunched down then grabbed him by the arm. “You should head on home. The streets aren’t safe for an intoxicated man.”

Flare emerged from the shadows then slit open the guard’s coin purse. He shoved all the gold into his pockets then returned to his hiding place in the darkness. He released a quiet pigeon’s coo.

“You’re right.” Bridge immediately got to his feet when he heard the signal. “I really should lie down… Have a good evening, Your Highness.” He held up the bottle as he moved down the street.

When he was out of sight, he turned into the alleyway. “You there?”

Flare emerged from the other side. “I got it.”

“How much do we have now?”

“Two hundred gold coins.”

Bridge’s eyes widened. “Why did I ever become a historian? It pays nothing compared to that.”

“Picking pockets is no treat. I just make it look easy.” Flare had learned the trade a long time ago, and with his dragon companion, he was able to move silently.

“It looks like we have more than enough for a boat,” Bridge said. “Let’s head to the boat master at the harbor. I’m sure he’ll hand one over without asking any questions for a price like that.”

Only suspicious people operated under cover of darkness. “We’ll wait until morning.”

“What do we do until then?”

“Sleep.” Flare moved to the ground and leaned his back against the wall. “I’ll keep the first watch.”

Bridge settled down on the ground. “I hate sleeping on stone. I miss my bed.”

Flare chuckled. “You remind me of Cora.” His thoughts were on her constantly, hoping she made it to her destination without any problems. She was a strong woman who could handle herself, but sometimes, the paranoia would sink in. As much as he hated to admit it, he cared for her.

He never wanted something bad to happen to her.

* * *

After the boat master was paid, they headed down the dock until they reached their medium-sized ship. The sun had barely crested the horizon, and the guards were switching shifts.

“It already has fishing poles, so we’ll be able to find lunch on the journey.” Bridge explored the inside of it, checking the integrity of the masts and the wheel. Fifteen people could fit inside the boat easily, but only one man was needed to operate it. “There’s some water stowed under here, but we’ll have to collect rainwater on the way.”

Flare hopped inside and drew up the masts. “It’s perfect. It’ll get us there in one piece.”

“And hopefully back in one piece.” Bridge untied the massive boat rope from the dock so they could shove off. “You know, if you weren’t a dragon, I never would have agreed to this.”

Flare chuckled. “I get that a lot—” He stopped in midsentence when a peculiar sound came to his mind. Twisted and warped, the broken voice was full of heartache—and hopelessness.

Death, come for me.

Bridge turned to Flare when he didn’t finish his words. “You alright?”

Flare heard the words again, sounding more feminine and familiar.

Death, come for me.

He’d heard that voice before, but he couldn’t identify it.

Bridge studied Flare with concern. “Flare—”

Flare held up his hand. “Silence.” He looked out to the horizon, feeling something deep in his core. There was a connection there, to something or someone. It reminded him of his relationship with the dragon, their ability to communicate with thoughts and feelings.

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

A man’s face emerged in his sea of vision, dressed in blood-red clothing. He was a soldier of the Steward of Easton. That was unmistakable. He was beating someone, on the verge of killing them. “Tell me what I want to know, Cora. The torture will stop.”

Blood pounded in Flare’s ears, and his entire body tensed with rage. His hands formed fists that cut into his skin. Every vein in his body expanded as adrenaline coursed through him. Bloody rage blurred his vision, making him see red spots in place of the blue sky. While the world was silent, a war raged inside him. Pain seared across his skin, and his heart turned black.

Instantly, he transformed into his dragon counterpart, becoming ten times bigger and stronger. His wings opened violently, prepared to carry him wherever he needed to go. His wing was still sore from the injury, but Flare didn’t notice it.

The dragon’s voice came into his head. She hurts.

Yes.

The same rage burned inside the beast. She cries.

Yes.

She must be saved.

Yes.

Bridge rolled to the side of the boat as it prepared to sink under the weight. “What the hell are you doing?” He gripped the edge so he wouldn’t fall into the water.

Sail to the hideaway. Both dragon and man spoke. I will meet you there.

Flare leaped up into the sky and used his powerful wings to propel himself high into the air. Keeping his identity a secret was negligible to the pain he felt in his heart. With a blood-curdling scream, he roared across the city, terrifying everything and everyone who heard it.

Then he flew to Easton, prepared to burn it to the ground.