Dust's boots pounded against the wooden planks of the harbor pier as he ran toward the Sea Witch. Behind him, he could hear Garrett's men shouting to each other, coordinating their pursuit. They were spreading out, trying to cut off his escape routes, but the pier was long and narrow—there was only one way forward.
His lungs burned with each breath, and his legs felt like they might give out at any moment. Three days of running, hiding, and poor sleep had taken their toll. But the sight of the Sea Witch pulling in her dock lines gave him strength born of desperation.
"Cast off the bow line!" Captain Aldrich's voice carried clearly across the water. "We sail with the tide!"
The ship was already beginning to drift away from the pier, carried by the current and the evening breeze filling her sails. Dust could see sailors moving efficiently across her deck, securing gear and preparing for open water. In minutes, she would be too far from shore for anyone to board.
"Stop him!" Willem's voice boomed from behind. "Twenty silver to the man who brings him down!"
The promise of reward put fresh energy into his pursuers' legs. Dust risked a glance back and saw them gaining ground—five men at least, led by Willem and the scarred man from Clara's house. They were older and stronger than him, but they were also carrying weapons and wearing heavy clothes that slowed them down.
The end of the pier was approaching fast. The Sea Witch had drifted perhaps ten feet from the wooden platform—not an impossible jump for someone young and desperate, but far enough that failure would mean a plunge into the cold harbor water.
And probably death, since Dust had never learned to swim.
"Wait!" he called out to the ship, waving his arms frantically. "Captain Aldrich! Wait!"
Several sailors looked in his direction, pointing and calling out to their captain. Aldrich appeared at the ship's rail, his weathered face creasing into a frown as he took in the scene—Dust running toward the pier's end, pursued by armed men who were clearly not harbor officials.
"Hard about!" Aldrich shouted to his crew. "Bring her back to the pier!"
But the ship's momentum was already carrying her away, and fighting the wind and current would take precious time. Time Dust didn't have.
The wooden planks beneath his feet were slick with evening mist and fish scales. Dust nearly lost his footing twice as he sprinted the final hundred yards, his arms windmilling for balance. Behind him, the sound of pursuit was getting closer.
"Give it up, boy!" Willem shouted. "You've got nowhere left to run!"
The pier's end rushed toward him like the edge of the world. Beyond it, dark water stretched toward the Sea Witch, which was now nearly twenty feet away and still drifting. The gap was widening with each second.
But there was something else—a smaller boat tied to the pier's end. A fishing dinghy, probably belonging to one of the local fishermen. It wasn't much, but it was floating, and it was closer than the Sea Witch.
Dust changed course slightly, aiming for the dinghy instead of trying to jump directly to Aldrich's ship. As his feet left the wooden planks, he heard Willem curse behind him.
The leap felt like it lasted forever. For a heart-stopping moment, Dust was suspended in air above the dark water, his torn cloak spread like broken wings. Then he crashed down into the small boat with a impact that nearly sent him tumbling over the far side.
The dinghy rocked wildly under his weight, shipping water over its low gunwales. But it stayed upright, and more importantly, it stayed afloat.
"Clever boy," he heard Captain Aldrich call from the Sea Witch. "But you're not safe yet!"
Dust looked up to see Willem and two other men at the pier's edge, knives drawn. One of them was already untying another boat—a larger fishing vessel that could easily overtake the small dinghy.
But the Sea Witch was coming about, her sails catching the wind as Aldrich's experienced crew brought her back toward shore. The captain himself stood at the bow, a coiled rope in his hands.
"Can you swim, lad?" Aldrich called out.
"No!" Dust shouted back, fighting to keep the dinghy steady as small waves rocked it back and forth.
"Then you'd better catch this rope and hold on tight!"
Aldrich's throw was perfect, the rope arcing through the evening air to land across the dinghy's bow. Dust grabbed it with both hands just as Willem's boat pushed off from the pier behind him.
"Pull away!" Aldrich commanded his crew. "Full sail!"
The Sea Witch gathered speed quickly, her rope pulling the dinghy through the water like a cork behind a whale. Dust held on with everything he had, spray flying around him as the small boat bounced and skipped across the harbor's surface.
Behind him, Willem's boat was giving chase, but the larger vessel couldn't match the Sea Witch's speed once her sails caught the full wind. The gap between pursued and pursuers began to widen.
But they weren't safe yet. The harbor mouth was still ahead, and Dust could see other boats beginning to move—Garrett's network extended throughout the docks, and word of the chase was spreading.
"There's a patrol boat coming from the north!" one of Aldrich's sailors called out. "Three points off the starboard bow!"
Dust looked in that direction and saw a sleek vessel cutting through the water toward them. It was flying harbor authority colors, but he suspected its crew was in Garrett's pay. Corruption ran deep in Lower Ashmark, especially among those whose wages barely kept them fed.
"Can we outrun them?" Dust shouted up to Aldrich.
"Not pulling you behind us," the captain replied grimly. "You need to get aboard. Can you climb rope?"
"I'll have to!"
The Sea Witch slowed slightly, allowing the dinghy to drift closer to her hull. A rope ladder tumbled down from the deck above, its bottom rungs trailing in the water just ahead of Dust's position.
This would require perfect timing. If he let go of the tow rope too early, he'd miss the ladder entirely. Too late, and the dinghy would crash into the ship's side.
The ladder rushed toward him. Dust released his grip on the tow rope and lunged forward, his hands closing around the rough hemp just as the dinghy veered away beneath him.
For a terrifying moment, he hung suspended over the dark water, his arms burning with the strain of supporting his full weight. Then his feet found the ladder's lower rungs, and he began climbing toward the deck above.
"Hurry, lad!" Aldrich called down. "They're closing fast!"
Dust climbed with desperate speed, his fingers cramping around the rope. Below him, the patrol boat was indeed closing the distance, its crew shouting orders that didn't sound like standard harbor authority business.
He reached the Sea Witch's deck just as the patrol boat came alongside, close enough for its occupants to leap aboard if they chose.
"Heave to!" the patrol boat's captain shouted. "Harbor inspection!"
"What's the charge?" Aldrich called back, though he didn't slow his ship's progress toward the harbor mouth.
"Harboring a fugitive! Stand down or we'll consider you pirates!"
But the Sea Witch was already passing between the twin lighthouses that marked the harbor entrance. Once in open water, she would be beyond the patrol boat's jurisdiction—assuming they were actually harbor authority and not just Garrett's men in borrowed uniforms.
"Decision time," Aldrich murmured to Dust, who stood dripping beside him on the quarterdeck. "Once we pass those lights, there's no going back. You sure about this, lad?"
Dust looked back at Lower Ashmark, its buildings growing smaller in the evening light. Somewhere in that maze of streets, Clara was probably wondering what had happened to him. Somewhere else, Marcus Garrett was planning revenge for this humiliation.
But ahead lay open ocean and the promise of a different life entirely.
"I'm sure," Dust said quietly.
The Sea Witch cleared the harbor mouth just as the patrol boat's crew gave up their pursuit, unwilling to follow into international waters. Behind them, Lower Ashmark faded into the gathering dusk, taking with it everything Dust had ever known.
"Welcome aboard," Captain Aldrich said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Though I suspect that's not the last we'll hear of this business."
Dust nodded, still catching his breath. He knew the captain was right—men like Marcus Garrett had long memories and longer reaches. But for now, at least, he was free.
And sometimes, freedom was enough to build a future on.
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The threads of fate have been woven. The pattern emerges...
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