Hannah Capps
Let the Redeemed of the Lord Say So
- Joined
- Jan 29, 2006
- Messages
- 1,063
This is a Peaky Blinders Six of Crows AU Crossover Story
This story will be updated monthly, as I'm the most creative during my menses. Enjoy the ride!
Chapter 1: Unknown Soldier
Starving, sucking on nothing, struggling to ignore the shrieking rodents. There was a parched ache in his throat. Hours passed since his previous conversation. There they were again. Like corroded nails on a blackboard or a fork on porcelain. Instead, Kaz needed all his energy to keep from boring a hole in the dirt.
All of it set his teeth on edge. He had not crossed that sacred line of sanity yet, but nothing felt as awful as the demonic scratching. It was as if they were hosting a tea party outside the dirt walls—endless chatter within the trench dividers behind rocks with their tiny nails scraping.
“Klei,” he whispered. There was moist black and brown mud mixed with clay. Kaz had never seen such a diverse terrain before leaving Lij. “See this, Kasper,” Jordie grinned. Holding out a hand filled with nothing but soil. It was dark as night and fertile. “This is the kind we need for the new orchard.” “Ma will love our surprise.” Four-year-old Kaz nodded with enthusiasm. Jordie was too self-absorbed and Kaz was overly sensitive.
They’d found a sapling with fresh pink blossoms from their old neighbor, Mrs. Vendome. Those flowers would be just the kind that would make their mother smile again. She spent years withering away behind the worn farm curtains. The modest gift of nature's shades was healing for her. “The colors,” his mother would whisper. “They’re nodding like the tones of home.” Kaz agreed.
The women would find fault with anything, Kerch. They’d never done what Ma did. They’d never traveled in a caravan. They’d never crossed through different countries. How could anyone understand her? “Borders mean nothing,” Ma would say. “Then why did you marry Da?” Little Kaz said:. He learned to not ask those kinds of questions anymore.
It only brought grief; perhaps Ma would not sing to them at bedtime. “Will we get weddy for our birthday?” Kaz lisped. “Have I ever let you down, little brother?” Jordie grinned. Later, they were drowning in the gutters of Ketterdam There’re so different from Lij Earth. The city had canals, masonry and cobblestones. Kaz would look at his brother and think, "Yes." “You’ve only let me down since Ma died.”
Jordie lost himself in the bottle, just as Da had done. “I know I am a disappointment, little brother.” “Don't remind me.” Kaz inherited his mother’s slanted eyes—punishment enough. He would’ve forgotten how it felt to dig in the soil. This was not a sandcastle built on a rare sea outing, but the kind built on despair.
“Build your own damn tunnels.” He was expected to be thankful. This should have been Jordie’s place. But his brother was with their dad in Ketterdam, trying to make it while playing bookie. Jordie was unsuited for the military and his pockets were lined with kruge. Meanwhile, Kaz got the one-head-a-family draft notice.
Saints knew where their da was, gambling and whoring about. Scamming upstanding citizens in a million ways. Kaz scoffed as he ignored the worms and cockroaches. His cuticles would probably never be clean.
It was enough to make me claustrophobic and start panicking. But Kaz just kept scooping with his hands where the small shovel couldn’t reach. Filling the bucket while extending it back to Joost. The younger man dumped dirt, while Matthias heaved the load heavenward.
The bucket returned in an unending repetition, similar to a serpent biting its tail. They were consuming themselves; there was no salvation but death. A loud exhale from Joost caused Kaz to stop. He looked over to check if he was still upright. Kaz could read simple farmhand in the way Joost carried himself. Did he and Jordie ever look like that?
They were all endlessly hungry. Joost had a shy smile, not knowing how to act in mixed company. His ruffled hair moved whenever he spoke. His plain brown eyes were watery from unsettled rubbish. They were all tall and thin. Their freckles were fading. How long had it been since they'd seen the sun? A sudden, dull thunk caused them to hold their breath. The voices were closer than before.
Glancing over his shoulders, he confirmed Matthias and Joost had heard as well. Kaz was both comforted and disappointed. Playing the ignorant simple, he was just a cog in this insane war machine between the Ravkins and Kerchmen. Recognizing he wasn’t brain-sick was less complex but came with obligations. Reporting to the higher-ups, preparing to take lives and letting restless anxiety filter through. Both were asinine in the end. And death is always the result. Kaz turned to his companions when they felt banging. Joost mouthed, “What do we do now?”
Matthias shrugged, usually prone to quick assumptions but never the first with a plan. Both faced Brekker. He was the most experienced among them. Wordlessly, they always thought he'd already killed someone. Kaz didn't convince them otherwise. His family became notoriously cruel after leaving Lij. Making an awful name for themselves. His Da with the underground fighting ring, his brother rigging the races in Belendt and Kaz behind every crooked deal.
After Ma died, Jordie and Da decided to travel to Ketterdam, while Kaz followed. Why could they not have stayed put? “We wait,” Kaz whispered, his voice grainy as trench gunk filled his every pore. “They could just be passing by.” All of them rested. It was time for a break anyway.
Upturned crates functioned as desks and storage. Kaz plopped down on his soaked blanket. It was too hot for him to bother dressing. Regardless, it would make him ill with phenomena. Wiping oily, sticky hair from his face, Kaz followed the trail of an insect above him. “Where are you going?” Craning his neck to maintain eye contact, he was envious of its freedom.
Joost had his tongue bitten between his teeth. His young face was coiled in concentration. He was writing another love letter. Matthias sipped from his flask, his ear angled to the wall. They all heard the Ravkans within reach. Only Kaz perceived the rats in the walls. “Will you read it over?” Joost asked in a quiet voice, waving the letter around.
Kaz dozed because the boy had written a page and a half. He sat up with a dull groan and took the crinkled paper. Rotating it over a small oil lamp, rereading, and correcting mistakes. He took Joost’s pencil and added a couple of apostrophes and commas, changing then to than while squeezing in a forgotten ‘H.’ Kaz was uncertain of the contents. But sharing close quarters for months on end blurred the lines between initial doubt, faked bravado, and a need for privacy.
“Is it any good?” Joost asked, wringing his hands. Kaz took his time correcting the mistakes. “She did not reply to my last letter.” Matthias spoke further down the shaft, but they both ignored him. His absurd ideas regarding socialist politics were wasted on men like them.
“I did not know she worked as a healer,” Kaz murmured. “She helps unfortunate girls in difficult positions,” pride evident in his voice. “They enlisted her, or that is what she told me.” “I have not heard from her since.” The boy’s emphasis on difficulty was telling. Illegal. This could work to his advantage.
Grisha gifts were worth more than kruge in the right hands. However, what might make ‘right’ was debatable. “You worry,” Kaz stated, and he understood that. He detested his family. The family unit was a gift from Ghezen himself. But he could not stop worrying either. None had written, save Nina. Only to call him a moron for not taking the easy way out, like Jordie.
She told him she knew he wanted to die. Beloved Nina was forced into society’s straitjackets, which women were expected to wear. Kaz was the only family member who could tolerate her outspoken opinions. He would have admitted that she was probably the smartest of them all if it hadn’t gone straight to her head. She was already confident enough to flirt her way through 12 tits on a Sunday afternoon. “Course, I worry." Joost interrupted his thoughts. “I love her. She’s the one.”
Kaz would never understand blind, guileless devotion. That true belief in love—he thought he could never give it. He was not foolish, like his companions. But Joost was barely 18, and Kaz would not be the one to tell him the truth. Kaz inhaled when they all heard an obvious Ravkan swear. He opened his mouth to reassure them. They were caught off guard and the rats were forgotten.
Vervloekte Ratten!
Matthias pulled out his loaded revolver while the other two ran for their firearms. Kaz reached for his shovel, realizing his powder was drenched. Though there was not much space, the instrument was small enough to use as a weapon. This shovel was capable of shattering bone. Even when out of use, the blistering edge heaped boiling wood. Its obvious function is to dig and, more accurately, bury them alive.
“Idiots,” Kaz thought. The first rule of trench drilling was to avoid the riverbed. Now everyone would drown. With difficulty, Kaz stood, his ears full of clay and water as his vision blurred. A sudden boot to the face left him defenseless, tumbling to the ground. He was on the verge of passing out. His numb fingers struggled for the purchase. He abandoned his shovel and felt only fabric, slippery skin, and sludge.
His spinal cord felt paralyzed. “Cold suddenly?” Auntie Anika asked. “You know what that means?” Kaz remembered it like it was yesterday. He would have Jesper earn his living for once by obtaining a small cast iron stove. “Hmm,” he replied. Holding his hands in front of the stove after dismissing Jes’ with a lazy flick of his fingers. He was only a couple of years younger, but pretense was easier than acknowledgment.
Kaz recalled his half-brother, Jordie. One of the reasons Ma stopped smiling. “I need to get some carpeting.” Anika tsk’ed. “I always told you to not skimp on things like that.” “We could use the money.” To settle Da’s gambling debt, he doesn't need to say it aloud. “Anyway,” she continued as if there weren't an issue, “I know this girl, Imogen, a really hands-on kind of girl.” “What does that mean?” “Well, when a boy meets a girl that he might like..." Anika said it teasingly as Kaz grumbled in annoyance.
She was almost as bad as Nina, trying to set him up with one of her friends. “Gooey shivers, Vickie.” Anika turned her focus back to the knitting needles and wool in her hands—another ugly sweater nobody wanted to wear—and took a minute before replying. “It means someone passed your grave.” “I don’t have one yet.” “Jordie and Da might dream about it, but I’m still alive.”
“They don't.” Auntie Anika sighed. “It is your future grave.” “My future grave?” he scoffed. “Buried next to my future wife?” “And will that be a mercher grave or an unmarked one in Fifth Harbor?” “The only one they would allow is a dog.” “Do not call yourself that." Giving him the stink-eye. “It is meant more as an omen.” “Shu nomad sayings,” he snorted. “Empty words.” “Mind your tongue, Kasper Kheree Rietveld!”
“It’ll come back to bite your pale arse!” “I don’t look for signs.” “I make my own.” while pulling a card from behind his ear. “Do not come crying when your death draws near and you’re not able to avoid it.” Kaz squeezed her knee in consolation. “When is the last time you saw me cry?” “Not even when Ma died.” “It is our Shu eyes,” she joked. “Our tear ducts are exceptionally small.” Kaz roared with laughter.
Somebody was on top of Kaz, holding him by the throat—jokes and laughter aside. Something soggy and hairy scampered by—ratten—his mind was spinning in terror. Strange how he saw flowers in the muck. He should definitely tell Nina.
Did she enjoy such absurd shite at the most ill-timed moments, or did his shell-shocked head finally fail him? Nina was right; he did want to die. Kaz could already see how that conversation would go.
“So let me get this straight,” Nina would huff, hands at her sides, green eyes comically wide, as if she were speaking to a toddler. “You dug your own graves and expect me to feel sympathy?” “S’pose not,” he would say. “I just thought you’d find it funny.” “You came back," he said, snatching his smoke from between his fingers.
Both would be silent, hoping Auntie Anika wouldn’t bustle in and throw an epic fit upon seeing Nina smoking while Kaz did nothing. “Shoulda dug deeper.” “I tried,” he would say, waiting for his smoke. “Try harder.”
Water slipped between his clamped lips. Kaz pivoted sharply and dislodged a man on top of him. The Ravkan turned to one side as two enormous hands gripped his wet shirt. Kaz was driven further back. Somebody was screaming. He was scratching his eyes, attempting to restore sight. "Bloody muck."
Kaz missed Nina. Perhaps he was not dead. “Are you okay, Demjin?” Matthias yelled. His attacker was face down, pinned in place. Kaz could finally breathe after hacking up what felt like half the tunnel’s soil supply. His throat was raw after being throttled. “I’m fine,” he replied. Matthias gave one hell of a stink-eye. They were decidedly not OK.
Kaz was pushed aside. The damn rodents were everywhere. Someone was drowning face-down, never to resurface. “Look out!” Matthias yelled, shoving Kaz aside. He grew tired of the way people shoved him aside. In Ketterdam, many preferred to throw themselves beneath a carriage to avoid him. Here, the opposition and an insolent fugitive treated him like a rag doll.
Another roared, drawing them into the fray. Kaz was an idiot; he should’ve seen this coming. But his panic produced clarity. Only two more. Matthias saw one militant rolling around in the mire.
Another dropped into the mud with barren eyes. A fourth was drowning between the intersecting ditches. Where is the third one? Matthias was a strong ex-Fjerdan officer. Kaz turned his attention toward Joost. He screamed, kicking without direct impact. Kaz’s soggy clothes stuck to his bones. He was slipping in the quagmire on unsteady legs.
Kaz threw himself at Joost’s attacker. The man let out a surprised noise, turning swiftly. Kaz tightened his fists around a thick neck in a vortex of blood, water and black spots.
Fat fingers scraped his neck, trying to dislodge him while Kaz was breathing harshly. His tendons and cartilage felt pliable beneath his skin. That scratching—that diabolic scrapping. There was no distension between hands or rats. In the commotion, the foe struggled out of his grip. Joost was able to sound the alarm as he bit back a sob.
Those Bastards.
Kaz flattened his back against the enemy. “Step away,” he heard in broken Kerch. Kaz rotated his forearm. He would post that goddamned letter himself.
Matthias grimaced at the fourth Ravkan standing in the entrance. Joost was waist-deep in muck as he heard a pistol. “Get back.” Click. “Let him go.” Matthias growled, grabbing the enemy and producing a split nose and cracked ribs. “Release him," he said, breathing hesitantly. A slug ripped through Matthias’s arm. Joost was screaming. “Get a hold of yourself!” Kaz yelled.
Their time was up.
Thoughtlessly, Kaz broke someone’s neck. Dead. He finally killed someone yet he only felt numb. “Nina, you did tell me to try harder.” Kaz limped through the muck with ruddy, crusted nails. This was it. “Danke!” He was wiping blood from his mouth. The foe could barely see through his swollen eyes. Another shot rang out as a body fell from view.
The bullet narrowly grazed Kaz’s midsection, piercing another set of lungs. Moist fingers clutching tissue. Kaz stared into shocked eyes. Friendly fire was disorienting, but not as awful as a broken nose and ribs courtesy of an unhinged Fjerdan.
An unusual acceptance settled. With ghoulish curiosity, Kaz stared. Drowning seemed the worst was to die. The body sagged and Kaz was hypnotized. His foe wearily exhaled. He expected calm to settle, but there was a restlessness, even in death.
Joost threw himself against Kaz and away from his morbid fixation. The momentum flung both into the mire. It was a moment of grace, a beautiful free fall amid the chaos.
Muted expletives and more gunshots, but Kaz was deaf to it all. His mind was suspended above the fray. Matthias bashed the final attacker’s head in. Kaz hardly noticed. Shallow, empty eyes glazed beneath the filth. The weight of two bodies pulled him down. Disoriented, he couldn’t feel his legs.
Kaz forgot Auntie Anike, Nina, Jordie, and his fellow soldiers. Kaz would never see Ma again. Someone was hauling him up but he was exhausted.
Fuking Rodents!
“Do you understand the mission?” Looking up, Inej flipped her long braid over her shoulder. Pekka Rollins was a bright, cunning man. His reputation wasn’t one of ruthlessness. She found it hard to believe he was inept. Surprised he’d even bothered to help her, still her captures knew her location.
Inej was 12 when she was stolen. The slavers spat in her face, saying, "You'll make us rich, girl!" The voice in her head whispered, “Never reveal anything.” Her parents owed Pekka, and the Suli took their debts seriously. “You have the remainder of this week to get ready,” Rollins said. He reached for a small notebook in his breast pocket. “I'll open a shop account for you to buy anything you need.” “Clean and attend to her wounds.”
A muscular girl of only 18 raised her delicately. “It's okay,” the young woman whispered. “Anya's my name.” “What's yours? "Inej," she mumbled. “Please give me some more.” "More?” “sir,” “I think she's been drugged.” “They intended to force her into prostitution!” Anya cried. Pekka looked at them and said, “It's just business.”
“I’ll be ready by the end of the week, sir.” Inej would need new clothing, underwear, and possibly modest jewelry. “They took me from my caravan at only 12.” “Ma, Da, I’ll find you.” “You’re dismissed, Miss Ghafa,” as Pekka carelessly wrote in his notebook. “I appreciate it, sir.”
Calling out Pekka said, “Inej.” "Be careful." His sharp eyes turned soft. She found all males repulsive, but not Pekka. It was instantly clear to Inej that Ravkan hated the Suli. "We'll need a place to stay so we can see the Little Palace healer." Mikhaela grimaced. "Those Shevrati." "They banned traditional songs and forbade us from wearing our silks, and now this!" "They're trying to kill us like vermin."
Inej was abducted the following year. Her parents left, even though Pekka bought her. She didn't make it in time. Inej sobbed, "I lost my parents." "I expected this might happen," he replied. Pekka was a diplomat, and as such, they were always on the move.
She contemplated life before the Great War. “How does this benefit the Kerch?” “It’s a large country with plentiful resources but they’re still in debt!” said Pekka.
In public, others spat on the Suli. “They’ve labeled us rebels!” “When you were seized, your parents sought aid.” Inej knew her parents would ask first, then blame the government if no help arrived. Backing away, Pekka glanced at her. It was similar to a cow at auction. Her freedom hinged on Rolliens. "You're only 16." “I don’t bargain with minors.” “I’m not a child!” Her captors saw to that.
Anya helped her rid herself of an unwanted infant. “You might not be able to have children,” she whispered. "Are you certain?" "Remove it." said Inej. What actions could be taken? It went against all she had been taught to place a young one in an orphanage. She made the right choice; Pekka wouldn’t have helped her otherwise. He taught her many languages, including Fjerdn, Kaelish, Kerch and Ravkan. When the Great War started, Inej became his best spy.
“You have potential, I admit,” "However, everything has a cost." Pekka was a conman, but at least she had company. "Whatever it takes, I'll pay for it." Inej said. Approval lit up his face. "You'll require training and female counsel," Pekka said. She was the most lethal weapon he owned.
Other Suli families encouraged a suitor. The attention that used to please her now disgusts her. It was bearable, though, provided it led to her parents. "Could you mail this letter after you leave?" Anya said. It had been months since Joost had heard from her. There were no questions asked when Inej mailed the letter. Anya was weary. "Are you alright?" asked Inej. Though Anya pretended to be courageous, Inej wasn’t fooled.
"Just be careful." "He has evil intentions," Anya said. The Ravkans hit a riverbank, flooding their tunnels. Negotiations were underway, and the Kerch held the upper hand. Inej hated the Kerch for starting the Great War.
Sewer Rats—The Lot of Them!
“New plan?” Inej asked. “I doubt I will be able to." "Pekka brought a sick boy, and I can't." “Anya!” Pekka yelled. “Make preparations.” “Yes, sir!” “I’ll write to you,” “Good luck, Inej!” They would not see each other for months. “Goodbye,” Inej muttered. Prolonged adieu’s were cruel. With squared shoulders, Inej grabbed her luggage. She’d save her parents, get the information and weaken Kerch. More importantly, she trusted Pekka.
This story will be updated monthly, as I'm the most creative during my menses. Enjoy the ride!
Chapter 1: Unknown Soldier
Starving, sucking on nothing, struggling to ignore the shrieking rodents. There was a parched ache in his throat. Hours passed since his previous conversation. There they were again. Like corroded nails on a blackboard or a fork on porcelain. Instead, Kaz needed all his energy to keep from boring a hole in the dirt.
All of it set his teeth on edge. He had not crossed that sacred line of sanity yet, but nothing felt as awful as the demonic scratching. It was as if they were hosting a tea party outside the dirt walls—endless chatter within the trench dividers behind rocks with their tiny nails scraping.
“Klei,” he whispered. There was moist black and brown mud mixed with clay. Kaz had never seen such a diverse terrain before leaving Lij. “See this, Kasper,” Jordie grinned. Holding out a hand filled with nothing but soil. It was dark as night and fertile. “This is the kind we need for the new orchard.” “Ma will love our surprise.” Four-year-old Kaz nodded with enthusiasm. Jordie was too self-absorbed and Kaz was overly sensitive.
They’d found a sapling with fresh pink blossoms from their old neighbor, Mrs. Vendome. Those flowers would be just the kind that would make their mother smile again. She spent years withering away behind the worn farm curtains. The modest gift of nature's shades was healing for her. “The colors,” his mother would whisper. “They’re nodding like the tones of home.” Kaz agreed.
The women would find fault with anything, Kerch. They’d never done what Ma did. They’d never traveled in a caravan. They’d never crossed through different countries. How could anyone understand her? “Borders mean nothing,” Ma would say. “Then why did you marry Da?” Little Kaz said:. He learned to not ask those kinds of questions anymore.
It only brought grief; perhaps Ma would not sing to them at bedtime. “Will we get weddy for our birthday?” Kaz lisped. “Have I ever let you down, little brother?” Jordie grinned. Later, they were drowning in the gutters of Ketterdam There’re so different from Lij Earth. The city had canals, masonry and cobblestones. Kaz would look at his brother and think, "Yes." “You’ve only let me down since Ma died.”
Jordie lost himself in the bottle, just as Da had done. “I know I am a disappointment, little brother.” “Don't remind me.” Kaz inherited his mother’s slanted eyes—punishment enough. He would’ve forgotten how it felt to dig in the soil. This was not a sandcastle built on a rare sea outing, but the kind built on despair.
“Build your own damn tunnels.” He was expected to be thankful. This should have been Jordie’s place. But his brother was with their dad in Ketterdam, trying to make it while playing bookie. Jordie was unsuited for the military and his pockets were lined with kruge. Meanwhile, Kaz got the one-head-a-family draft notice.
Saints knew where their da was, gambling and whoring about. Scamming upstanding citizens in a million ways. Kaz scoffed as he ignored the worms and cockroaches. His cuticles would probably never be clean.
It was enough to make me claustrophobic and start panicking. But Kaz just kept scooping with his hands where the small shovel couldn’t reach. Filling the bucket while extending it back to Joost. The younger man dumped dirt, while Matthias heaved the load heavenward.
The bucket returned in an unending repetition, similar to a serpent biting its tail. They were consuming themselves; there was no salvation but death. A loud exhale from Joost caused Kaz to stop. He looked over to check if he was still upright. Kaz could read simple farmhand in the way Joost carried himself. Did he and Jordie ever look like that?
They were all endlessly hungry. Joost had a shy smile, not knowing how to act in mixed company. His ruffled hair moved whenever he spoke. His plain brown eyes were watery from unsettled rubbish. They were all tall and thin. Their freckles were fading. How long had it been since they'd seen the sun? A sudden, dull thunk caused them to hold their breath. The voices were closer than before.
Glancing over his shoulders, he confirmed Matthias and Joost had heard as well. Kaz was both comforted and disappointed. Playing the ignorant simple, he was just a cog in this insane war machine between the Ravkins and Kerchmen. Recognizing he wasn’t brain-sick was less complex but came with obligations. Reporting to the higher-ups, preparing to take lives and letting restless anxiety filter through. Both were asinine in the end. And death is always the result. Kaz turned to his companions when they felt banging. Joost mouthed, “What do we do now?”
Matthias shrugged, usually prone to quick assumptions but never the first with a plan. Both faced Brekker. He was the most experienced among them. Wordlessly, they always thought he'd already killed someone. Kaz didn't convince them otherwise. His family became notoriously cruel after leaving Lij. Making an awful name for themselves. His Da with the underground fighting ring, his brother rigging the races in Belendt and Kaz behind every crooked deal.
After Ma died, Jordie and Da decided to travel to Ketterdam, while Kaz followed. Why could they not have stayed put? “We wait,” Kaz whispered, his voice grainy as trench gunk filled his every pore. “They could just be passing by.” All of them rested. It was time for a break anyway.
Upturned crates functioned as desks and storage. Kaz plopped down on his soaked blanket. It was too hot for him to bother dressing. Regardless, it would make him ill with phenomena. Wiping oily, sticky hair from his face, Kaz followed the trail of an insect above him. “Where are you going?” Craning his neck to maintain eye contact, he was envious of its freedom.
Joost had his tongue bitten between his teeth. His young face was coiled in concentration. He was writing another love letter. Matthias sipped from his flask, his ear angled to the wall. They all heard the Ravkans within reach. Only Kaz perceived the rats in the walls. “Will you read it over?” Joost asked in a quiet voice, waving the letter around.
Kaz dozed because the boy had written a page and a half. He sat up with a dull groan and took the crinkled paper. Rotating it over a small oil lamp, rereading, and correcting mistakes. He took Joost’s pencil and added a couple of apostrophes and commas, changing then to than while squeezing in a forgotten ‘H.’ Kaz was uncertain of the contents. But sharing close quarters for months on end blurred the lines between initial doubt, faked bravado, and a need for privacy.
“Is it any good?” Joost asked, wringing his hands. Kaz took his time correcting the mistakes. “She did not reply to my last letter.” Matthias spoke further down the shaft, but they both ignored him. His absurd ideas regarding socialist politics were wasted on men like them.
“I did not know she worked as a healer,” Kaz murmured. “She helps unfortunate girls in difficult positions,” pride evident in his voice. “They enlisted her, or that is what she told me.” “I have not heard from her since.” The boy’s emphasis on difficulty was telling. Illegal. This could work to his advantage.
Grisha gifts were worth more than kruge in the right hands. However, what might make ‘right’ was debatable. “You worry,” Kaz stated, and he understood that. He detested his family. The family unit was a gift from Ghezen himself. But he could not stop worrying either. None had written, save Nina. Only to call him a moron for not taking the easy way out, like Jordie.
She told him she knew he wanted to die. Beloved Nina was forced into society’s straitjackets, which women were expected to wear. Kaz was the only family member who could tolerate her outspoken opinions. He would have admitted that she was probably the smartest of them all if it hadn’t gone straight to her head. She was already confident enough to flirt her way through 12 tits on a Sunday afternoon. “Course, I worry." Joost interrupted his thoughts. “I love her. She’s the one.”
Kaz would never understand blind, guileless devotion. That true belief in love—he thought he could never give it. He was not foolish, like his companions. But Joost was barely 18, and Kaz would not be the one to tell him the truth. Kaz inhaled when they all heard an obvious Ravkan swear. He opened his mouth to reassure them. They were caught off guard and the rats were forgotten.
Vervloekte Ratten!
Matthias pulled out his loaded revolver while the other two ran for their firearms. Kaz reached for his shovel, realizing his powder was drenched. Though there was not much space, the instrument was small enough to use as a weapon. This shovel was capable of shattering bone. Even when out of use, the blistering edge heaped boiling wood. Its obvious function is to dig and, more accurately, bury them alive.
“Idiots,” Kaz thought. The first rule of trench drilling was to avoid the riverbed. Now everyone would drown. With difficulty, Kaz stood, his ears full of clay and water as his vision blurred. A sudden boot to the face left him defenseless, tumbling to the ground. He was on the verge of passing out. His numb fingers struggled for the purchase. He abandoned his shovel and felt only fabric, slippery skin, and sludge.
His spinal cord felt paralyzed. “Cold suddenly?” Auntie Anika asked. “You know what that means?” Kaz remembered it like it was yesterday. He would have Jesper earn his living for once by obtaining a small cast iron stove. “Hmm,” he replied. Holding his hands in front of the stove after dismissing Jes’ with a lazy flick of his fingers. He was only a couple of years younger, but pretense was easier than acknowledgment.
Kaz recalled his half-brother, Jordie. One of the reasons Ma stopped smiling. “I need to get some carpeting.” Anika tsk’ed. “I always told you to not skimp on things like that.” “We could use the money.” To settle Da’s gambling debt, he doesn't need to say it aloud. “Anyway,” she continued as if there weren't an issue, “I know this girl, Imogen, a really hands-on kind of girl.” “What does that mean?” “Well, when a boy meets a girl that he might like..." Anika said it teasingly as Kaz grumbled in annoyance.
She was almost as bad as Nina, trying to set him up with one of her friends. “Gooey shivers, Vickie.” Anika turned her focus back to the knitting needles and wool in her hands—another ugly sweater nobody wanted to wear—and took a minute before replying. “It means someone passed your grave.” “I don’t have one yet.” “Jordie and Da might dream about it, but I’m still alive.”
“They don't.” Auntie Anika sighed. “It is your future grave.” “My future grave?” he scoffed. “Buried next to my future wife?” “And will that be a mercher grave or an unmarked one in Fifth Harbor?” “The only one they would allow is a dog.” “Do not call yourself that." Giving him the stink-eye. “It is meant more as an omen.” “Shu nomad sayings,” he snorted. “Empty words.” “Mind your tongue, Kasper Kheree Rietveld!”
“It’ll come back to bite your pale arse!” “I don’t look for signs.” “I make my own.” while pulling a card from behind his ear. “Do not come crying when your death draws near and you’re not able to avoid it.” Kaz squeezed her knee in consolation. “When is the last time you saw me cry?” “Not even when Ma died.” “It is our Shu eyes,” she joked. “Our tear ducts are exceptionally small.” Kaz roared with laughter.
Somebody was on top of Kaz, holding him by the throat—jokes and laughter aside. Something soggy and hairy scampered by—ratten—his mind was spinning in terror. Strange how he saw flowers in the muck. He should definitely tell Nina.
Did she enjoy such absurd shite at the most ill-timed moments, or did his shell-shocked head finally fail him? Nina was right; he did want to die. Kaz could already see how that conversation would go.
“So let me get this straight,” Nina would huff, hands at her sides, green eyes comically wide, as if she were speaking to a toddler. “You dug your own graves and expect me to feel sympathy?” “S’pose not,” he would say. “I just thought you’d find it funny.” “You came back," he said, snatching his smoke from between his fingers.
Both would be silent, hoping Auntie Anika wouldn’t bustle in and throw an epic fit upon seeing Nina smoking while Kaz did nothing. “Shoulda dug deeper.” “I tried,” he would say, waiting for his smoke. “Try harder.”
Water slipped between his clamped lips. Kaz pivoted sharply and dislodged a man on top of him. The Ravkan turned to one side as two enormous hands gripped his wet shirt. Kaz was driven further back. Somebody was screaming. He was scratching his eyes, attempting to restore sight. "Bloody muck."
Kaz missed Nina. Perhaps he was not dead. “Are you okay, Demjin?” Matthias yelled. His attacker was face down, pinned in place. Kaz could finally breathe after hacking up what felt like half the tunnel’s soil supply. His throat was raw after being throttled. “I’m fine,” he replied. Matthias gave one hell of a stink-eye. They were decidedly not OK.
Kaz was pushed aside. The damn rodents were everywhere. Someone was drowning face-down, never to resurface. “Look out!” Matthias yelled, shoving Kaz aside. He grew tired of the way people shoved him aside. In Ketterdam, many preferred to throw themselves beneath a carriage to avoid him. Here, the opposition and an insolent fugitive treated him like a rag doll.
Another roared, drawing them into the fray. Kaz was an idiot; he should’ve seen this coming. But his panic produced clarity. Only two more. Matthias saw one militant rolling around in the mire.
Another dropped into the mud with barren eyes. A fourth was drowning between the intersecting ditches. Where is the third one? Matthias was a strong ex-Fjerdan officer. Kaz turned his attention toward Joost. He screamed, kicking without direct impact. Kaz’s soggy clothes stuck to his bones. He was slipping in the quagmire on unsteady legs.
Kaz threw himself at Joost’s attacker. The man let out a surprised noise, turning swiftly. Kaz tightened his fists around a thick neck in a vortex of blood, water and black spots.
Fat fingers scraped his neck, trying to dislodge him while Kaz was breathing harshly. His tendons and cartilage felt pliable beneath his skin. That scratching—that diabolic scrapping. There was no distension between hands or rats. In the commotion, the foe struggled out of his grip. Joost was able to sound the alarm as he bit back a sob.
Those Bastards.
Kaz flattened his back against the enemy. “Step away,” he heard in broken Kerch. Kaz rotated his forearm. He would post that goddamned letter himself.
Matthias grimaced at the fourth Ravkan standing in the entrance. Joost was waist-deep in muck as he heard a pistol. “Get back.” Click. “Let him go.” Matthias growled, grabbing the enemy and producing a split nose and cracked ribs. “Release him," he said, breathing hesitantly. A slug ripped through Matthias’s arm. Joost was screaming. “Get a hold of yourself!” Kaz yelled.
Their time was up.
Thoughtlessly, Kaz broke someone’s neck. Dead. He finally killed someone yet he only felt numb. “Nina, you did tell me to try harder.” Kaz limped through the muck with ruddy, crusted nails. This was it. “Danke!” He was wiping blood from his mouth. The foe could barely see through his swollen eyes. Another shot rang out as a body fell from view.
The bullet narrowly grazed Kaz’s midsection, piercing another set of lungs. Moist fingers clutching tissue. Kaz stared into shocked eyes. Friendly fire was disorienting, but not as awful as a broken nose and ribs courtesy of an unhinged Fjerdan.
An unusual acceptance settled. With ghoulish curiosity, Kaz stared. Drowning seemed the worst was to die. The body sagged and Kaz was hypnotized. His foe wearily exhaled. He expected calm to settle, but there was a restlessness, even in death.
Joost threw himself against Kaz and away from his morbid fixation. The momentum flung both into the mire. It was a moment of grace, a beautiful free fall amid the chaos.
Muted expletives and more gunshots, but Kaz was deaf to it all. His mind was suspended above the fray. Matthias bashed the final attacker’s head in. Kaz hardly noticed. Shallow, empty eyes glazed beneath the filth. The weight of two bodies pulled him down. Disoriented, he couldn’t feel his legs.
Kaz forgot Auntie Anike, Nina, Jordie, and his fellow soldiers. Kaz would never see Ma again. Someone was hauling him up but he was exhausted.
Fuking Rodents!
“Do you understand the mission?” Looking up, Inej flipped her long braid over her shoulder. Pekka Rollins was a bright, cunning man. His reputation wasn’t one of ruthlessness. She found it hard to believe he was inept. Surprised he’d even bothered to help her, still her captures knew her location.
Inej was 12 when she was stolen. The slavers spat in her face, saying, "You'll make us rich, girl!" The voice in her head whispered, “Never reveal anything.” Her parents owed Pekka, and the Suli took their debts seriously. “You have the remainder of this week to get ready,” Rollins said. He reached for a small notebook in his breast pocket. “I'll open a shop account for you to buy anything you need.” “Clean and attend to her wounds.”
A muscular girl of only 18 raised her delicately. “It's okay,” the young woman whispered. “Anya's my name.” “What's yours? "Inej," she mumbled. “Please give me some more.” "More?” “sir,” “I think she's been drugged.” “They intended to force her into prostitution!” Anya cried. Pekka looked at them and said, “It's just business.”
“I’ll be ready by the end of the week, sir.” Inej would need new clothing, underwear, and possibly modest jewelry. “They took me from my caravan at only 12.” “Ma, Da, I’ll find you.” “You’re dismissed, Miss Ghafa,” as Pekka carelessly wrote in his notebook. “I appreciate it, sir.”
Calling out Pekka said, “Inej.” "Be careful." His sharp eyes turned soft. She found all males repulsive, but not Pekka. It was instantly clear to Inej that Ravkan hated the Suli. "We'll need a place to stay so we can see the Little Palace healer." Mikhaela grimaced. "Those Shevrati." "They banned traditional songs and forbade us from wearing our silks, and now this!" "They're trying to kill us like vermin."
Inej was abducted the following year. Her parents left, even though Pekka bought her. She didn't make it in time. Inej sobbed, "I lost my parents." "I expected this might happen," he replied. Pekka was a diplomat, and as such, they were always on the move.
She contemplated life before the Great War. “How does this benefit the Kerch?” “It’s a large country with plentiful resources but they’re still in debt!” said Pekka.
In public, others spat on the Suli. “They’ve labeled us rebels!” “When you were seized, your parents sought aid.” Inej knew her parents would ask first, then blame the government if no help arrived. Backing away, Pekka glanced at her. It was similar to a cow at auction. Her freedom hinged on Rolliens. "You're only 16." “I don’t bargain with minors.” “I’m not a child!” Her captors saw to that.
Anya helped her rid herself of an unwanted infant. “You might not be able to have children,” she whispered. "Are you certain?" "Remove it." said Inej. What actions could be taken? It went against all she had been taught to place a young one in an orphanage. She made the right choice; Pekka wouldn’t have helped her otherwise. He taught her many languages, including Fjerdn, Kaelish, Kerch and Ravkan. When the Great War started, Inej became his best spy.
“You have potential, I admit,” "However, everything has a cost." Pekka was a conman, but at least she had company. "Whatever it takes, I'll pay for it." Inej said. Approval lit up his face. "You'll require training and female counsel," Pekka said. She was the most lethal weapon he owned.
Other Suli families encouraged a suitor. The attention that used to please her now disgusts her. It was bearable, though, provided it led to her parents. "Could you mail this letter after you leave?" Anya said. It had been months since Joost had heard from her. There were no questions asked when Inej mailed the letter. Anya was weary. "Are you alright?" asked Inej. Though Anya pretended to be courageous, Inej wasn’t fooled.
"Just be careful." "He has evil intentions," Anya said. The Ravkans hit a riverbank, flooding their tunnels. Negotiations were underway, and the Kerch held the upper hand. Inej hated the Kerch for starting the Great War.
Sewer Rats—The Lot of Them!
“New plan?” Inej asked. “I doubt I will be able to." "Pekka brought a sick boy, and I can't." “Anya!” Pekka yelled. “Make preparations.” “Yes, sir!” “I’ll write to you,” “Good luck, Inej!” They would not see each other for months. “Goodbye,” Inej muttered. Prolonged adieu’s were cruel. With squared shoulders, Inej grabbed her luggage. She’d save her parents, get the information and weaken Kerch. More importantly, she trusted Pekka.