Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

God knows where, right in the middle of one helluva storm gathering? Yeaaaaah,” Bryant drawled. “Can’t say as I see like them odds, partner. Whatever it is Miss Bourgeois has planned for me and Chidi, I reckon she’s seen something in them dreams of hers for you too.”

Garrett’s skin prickled at the knowing in Bryant’s voice. “What do you think she saw?” he asked, not realizing they were no longer alone inside the cabin until Marisa spoke up behind him.

“A great reunion, Garrett Weaver . . .” she said, approaching him with Chidi in tow. “A chance to see your family and friends again.”

Garrett rose from his chair to face her, leaving his blanket to fall free of his shoulders. He trembled at the sudden cold swooping in to replace the warmth that he gave up. And when he looked into the eyes of Marisa Bourgeois, Garrett felt colder still. “All of my family and friends are dead, taken, or else forgot about me . . .”

Marisa smiled. “Are you so certain your family is dead?”

“Since I remember everything that happened? I’d say yeah, I’m pretty certain,” Garrett sneered. “And if you’re talking about Makeda, I don’t care if she is alive or no. Not after what she did to my real mom.”

“The daughter of Orcin is alive and well, Garrett Weaver. Makeda prays for your safety now, just as she has done since giving the charge of you over to your adopted Selkie parents,” said Marisa. “But I spoke not of Makeda just now . . . I spoke of the family that you have known for such all your life.”

Garrett paled at the sincerity in her voice, the hopeful want to believe her rising within him as she spoke further.

“Aye, Garrett Weaver, son of Cursion White Shadow,” said Marisa Bourgeois, her dark eyes blazing. “Your blood father may have gone from this world now, but your other kin remain. For it is not only your blood mother, Makeda, lingering in the City of Pearls . . . it is Tom Weaver awaiting you too.”

33

LENNY

By the time Jemmy T woke him, Lenny Dolan could not say how much time had passed, only that his body warned no amount of sleep would be enough to rest him fully.

Jemmy T extended his hand in offer to help Lenny stand. “Come, little brudda. We be getting close, yeah? Tom Weaver and Brutus be wanting us on de front lines.”

Lenny accepted the offer, yanked to his feet and swaying with the combined upward movement and the rocking train car as he regained his footing. Yawning and wiping sleep from his eyes, Lenny followed Jemmy T through the shadowed masses in search of those who would fight against the Orcs when they reached the city.

They found Tom Weaver and Brutus three train cars up from theirs. Both of the giant men and others near as bulky as they had again adopted the stolen armor of Painted Guard soldiers that the Selkies had slain in Røyrkval. Despite their visors being up, Lenny shuddered at the dark gleam of their black-plated armor.

Lenny braced himself against Jemmy T when the train wheels began to screech, the car shuddering around him.

“That’s the signal,” Brutus muttered, clapping his visor down. “All right, lads,” he called to those sharing the car with him. “Same tricks as we ran before. There’ll be more Orcs waiting on us here, no doubt. Show them no mercy, for they’ll show us none. Better to die fighting them now, rather then let ‘em throw us back in chains again, eh?”

The others hooted and roared agreement.

Lenny took a deep breath as an armored Selkie walked among them with a crate full of broken manacles to choose from. Lenny took a pair from the heap, checking first to ensure the lock was well and truly fixed to not latch. Assured, he placed the metal bracelets over his wrists as he and the others had done in Bouvetøya in a show of prisoner status. He again placed his hands inside his Selkie pocket, comforting himself with the cold feel of his twin, hidden daggers as he shuffled through the Selkie masses to find his closest allies. With Vasili dead and gone, Lenny took the former little man’s position in guarding Tom Weaver’s flank.

As Brutus continued barking orders, Jemmy T and his group of archers abandoned the rest. Their grouping headed instead for the train car hitching points. The ladders attached to their wooden sides would again allow the Selkies to climb the cars and afford them better vantage points for firing lines.

But we got no Henry now, Lenny thought, the hairs on his arms raising at what the loss of his former crewmate and the majority loss of Henry’s Leper gang might mean for the remaining Selkie survivors when they landed in New Pearlaya. So, who’s to flank the Orcs if our show don’t work this time?

When the train car brakes squealed louder, Lenny was forced to shift his weight in counteraction of the train’s sudden slow. Had it not been for the cramped quarters, Lenny gathered his larger companions would not have been so fortunate to keep their balance. Aside from Tom Weaver and Brutus, many of the others dressed in Orc armor were pressed against their fellows, dependent on one another to keep them on their feet.

“Oi!” Brutus shouted over the continued wheel screech and the other Selkies’ confusion. “Pipe down, all of you! We’re near the end, now. Steady on!”

Lenny swallowed the lump in his throat when the train finally eased in. Coming to a complete stop, the engine hissed and spat its last breath of steam. Lenny tensed when heavy footsteps scraped along the wooden platform beyond the gate of his train car. Fear tightened its stranglehold upon him for each passing second that the door remained latched. His eyes widened at the thought that the Orcs in New Pearlaya might have somehow discovered their earlier ruse. That the soldiers did not