***
Tarifa was a sprawling mix of permanent buildings and large tents. An ancient stone castle stood like a watchman to the North, the Spanish flags positioned at its turrets a stark contrast to its dull grey facade. Vessels of all sizes, from rowboats to giant ships, were docked at the harbor. People of all shapes and colors mingled at the edge of the beach where locals and traveling traders offered their wares. Zander heard African dialects and various versions of English interspersed with Spanish, and his weary mind was tempted to get lost in the myriad of sounds, smells, and sights that confronted him at the busy trade port.
Zander spotted a woman selling clothing and stopped to buy a pair of socks to replace his still-damp ones. Theo acquired wrappings from another merchant for his injuries, and Yarrow traded some of the herbs they’d foraged for a small bottle of oil, which they made Zander rub on his blistering soles before he wrapped his feet and swapped his rancid socks for the new, dry pair. As he pulled on his boots, he noticed a small pile of leatherbound journals stacked nearby on an artisan’s blanket. With Theo’s attention focused elsewhere, he bought one small enough to fit in his coat’s outer pocket. Once this was all over, he’d give it to Theo as a gift, so he could begin writing his book.
All that remained was to purchase food and passage to Malaga, the port that lay South of the Sanz estate, and Ace’s old home. On a regular merchant ship rather than a pirate ship, the three would be able to disembark without drawing too much attention from potential spies for Sanz.
Zander was feeling refreshed, hopeful even, with dry feet that smelled like grass and a full stomach, as they turned their attention to the line of vessels at the shore.
“With as much gold as we have, we should be able to charter one of these to Malaga and get our girl,” Theo said.
Yarrow nodded, pointing at a sailboat where a few men were unloading their wares. “That one looks promising,” they said. “The crew is young, but they look experienced. I imagine they wouldn’t be averse to leaving right away.”
As Theo and Yarrow debated the merits of the sailboat against other nearby vessels, Zander’s eye caught on a far-off ship he hadn’t noticed before. He stood staring at it, the many people milling about crossing in and out of his line of sight, occasionally brushing against his black jacket. It was so far off he couldn’t be sure, but it appeared to have black sails.
“What do you think, mate?” Theo asked.
Zander opened his mouth to reply, intending to tell them he didn’t give a damn which boat they took as long as it sailed quickly, when a broad-shouldered man with blonde hair that was nearly white emerged from the crowd. Upon seeing them, Andrew’s eyes widened in recognition.
He couldn’t hear the pirate’s voice over the crowd, but his lips curled into an unmistakable ‘You!’ as he pointed at the three of them. That’s when Zander noticed the dozen or so other pirates with him.
“Zander?” Theo said, snapping his fingers in front of Zander’s face as if to wake him up. Zander looked at him, then back at the pirates, his eyes wide.
“Run!”
They took off into the crowd, the pirates screaming curses behind them. Zander dodged carts and donkeys, leapt over steaming cauldrons of food, and slipped between tents, mindful of Theo and Yarrow’s presence like shadows as he ran. They moved further inland, zigzagging through the crowd in an attempt to lose the pirates, canvas tents and clouds of spices blocking their vision as they ran blindly away.
When they came to the edge of the crowd, Tarifa’s commerce district flattened from tall tents and administrative buildings into squat houses and farmland.
“There!” Yarrow said, pointing ahead of them to a large stable.
They continued to run, and as they got closer, Zander looked behind him to see nearly a dozen pirates emerge from the crowd and look around, their weapons unsheathed.
“Go!” Yarrow said, pointing to Zander and Theo, then to their left and right, signaling for the men to split up and circle around the back of the property. Zander did so wordlessly, turning left and making a wide arc around the fenced property while Yarrow approached the man at the main gate, wailing loudly and speaking French.
While the bewildered man tried to calm down the seemingly hysterical person at his gate, Zander met Theo at the back of the stables. They nodded at one another silently, then slipped inside, where they knocked two young men on the back of the head and another across the face, leaving them unconscious on the straw-covered floor before securing three horses. Zander dropped a handful of gold coins on the ground near the front door as they bolted out of the stable toward Yarrow, who pushed the unsuspecting man to the side to save him from being trampled by his own livestock.
Then, like a vision from the pages of a storybook, Yarrow crouched, balancing on the balls of their feet, before jumping up and grabbing the reins of the horse Theo led beside his own, swinging themselves expertly into the saddle. The whole thing happened in a matter of moments, and Yarrow was spurring the horse forward before it even had time to slow down.
The three pirates rode past the open gate at a furious pace, veering North, away from the ocean. Zander looked back to see the pirates chasing them reach the edge of the fence surrounding the stable. They drew their weapons, but before they could shoot, Theo had turned himself around in his saddle. With the calm focus of a man standing at a shooting range rather than riding backward on a stolen horse, Theo drew the pistols from his vest one by one, ringing out seven shots in the direction of the pirates. One by one, seven pirates fell to the ground.
Theo shot until they were out of range, whereupon he holstered his pistols and turned himself back around on the horse like a trained acrobat. Zander marveled at him. His mouth hung open slightly as he beheld his two remarkable friends, riding proudly side by side against the glorious backdrop of rolling Spanish hills, like two gods among men. Theo, fully aware of the aesthetic appeal of he and his partner’s many talents, looked sidelong at Zander and winked.
18
Zander didn’t remember horseback riding being such a literal pain in the ass.
It had been years since he rode a horse, the last time being when he was sixteen, just after his sister Martha was married to her husband, Philip. Philip had a stretch of land in the countryside, and one day a carriage showed up unannounced and took him to visit his sister. As it turned out, her husband had left the country for several months, and Martha used his absence as an opportunity to steal her brother away from the city for a few weeks.
His father had been furious when he got back home. Zander’s explanation as to why he’d failed to show up to his apprenticeship was met with a belt, but he didn’t care. He’d spent two weeks with his favorite sister, drinking wine and riding her wealthy husband’s horses across his lush estate in the countryside. It was two of the best weeks of his life, and the last time he ever saw Martha.
Now, having ridden hard and fast along the coast for nearly an hour, then veering North, he didn’t feel like a carefree teenager. He felt like a crotchety old man with a severely chapped ass—perhaps due to the distinct lack of expensive wine.
He was grateful when Yarrow found a spot they deemed suitable to begin the off-road portion of their journey, announcing they’d be venturing into the forest up ahead instead of remaining in the open. He longed for shade, the afternoon sun having made him drowsy enough to nearly fall off his horse.
He occasionally glanced at Ace’s compass as they traveled, but it was more for comfort than function. He truly had no idea where they were without a map, and he’d only ever learned to navigate on the water, by the stars. But Yarrow seemed to know what they were doing, and they were undoubtedly more well-traveled than he, so he followed Theo’s lead and trusted Yarrow blindly as they entered the thick wall of trees.
The horses picked their way slowly through the dense forest, and Zander passed the time with a mix of sightseeing and crippling anxiety. The open countryside they’d ridden through provided beautiful scenery—rolling hills, flowers in bloom, and the occasional group of wild pigs—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that each time he turned around, he’d see someone chasing them. Here in the forest, the sights were squished into smaller spaces—insects, fungi, tiny birds—at first, he felt relatively safe in the cover of the trees.
That is, until he saw a spotted cat the size of a bloodhound with pointed ears and long patches of fur that hung down on either side of its face like jowls. It lay prostrate at the base of a tree, its legs flexed as if to pounce, its long teeth peeking out of its mouth as it snarled silently at the passersby. A chill ran down Zander’s spine at the sight of the beautiful animal. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, and he was glad to put distance between himself and it before they stopped for the night.
They made camp in a clearing next to a stream with enough room for the horses to graze before they slept. A small waterfall, tucked behind a tangle of trees and bushes, fed the stream.
Once they’d all drank their fill and settled the horses, Theo announced he’d be walking the perimeter to ensure they weren’t near any predators’ dens or other unforeseen dangers. Yarrow began removing various herbs and flowers from their pockets, then got to work on their satchel, from which they produced a veritable abundance of green things. Zander had no idea how they fit so much in that little bag.
“Well,” Yarrow said, crouching over the materials laid out before them and assessing their merit, “it’s not much. At least, nothing filling. But we could scrape together a decent broth. I’ve got a sturdy leather pouch we can string up to boil water in, courtesy of our former captors.” They looked up at Zander and shrugged. “We’ll be hungry come morning, but at least we’ll be able to sleep with something in our bellies.”
Zander nodded, then looked at the stream behind them. His stomach rumbled loudly, and he put a hand against his torso as if to quiet it.
“Maybe we could catch some fish?”
“We could try if you fancy spearfishing. I don’t have anything to fashion as a hook.”
Zander mentally scolded himself for not taking the sailmaker’s needle from the pirate ship with him. He imagined himself trying to spear fish out of the stream, and in his exhaustion, he almost laughed out loud.
“Perhaps it would be easier to find some mushrooms or roots. I can help you look.”
Yarrow nodded and stood, and Zander followed them into the trees. For the next several minutes, Zander listened as Yarrow pointed out various plants, explaining their use in remedies or recipes, occasionally warning him against a poisonous variety using some version of a rhyme or acronym, usually in French. When they came upon a large patch of watercress, Zander busied himself gathering the leafy green vegetable while Yarrow cleaned the dirt off a handful of thick roots in the stream.
