The docks of the industrial district were a labyrinth of rusted cranes and rotting timber. Kaelen and her men moved like shadows through the sulfurous mist, their boots thudding against the damp wood of the piers. Every splash of a wave against a pylon sounded like a struggle and every creak of a mooring line sounded like a scream.
"Spread out!" Kaelen hissed, her eyes darting across the dark water of the canal. "Look for any vessel moving without lights or with lights. If they have her, they'll be heading for the deep water."
They searched for an hour, their desperation mounting with every passing minute. They checked the low-slung coal barges and the silt-covered skiffs, but the port seemed dead. There was no sign of the kidnappers, no trace of the black boat, and most terrifyingly, no sign of Sakina. The fog seemed to swallow their hope, turning the world into a gray, suffocating void.
"Commander," one of the guards whispered, wiping soot from his brow. "There's nothing. If they were here, they're gone. We're chasing nothing in the dark."
Kaelen growled, her jaw set so tight it ached. She was about to order a retreat back to the city to regroup when a sudden force slammed into her side.
Kaelen spun, her hand instinctively flying to her sword hilt. Her guards reacted instantly, the rasp of drawing steel echoing across the pier as they leveled their blades at the intruder.
"Easy! Easy, you lot!" a voice wheezed.
It was an old man, dressed in a tattered, salt-stained coat that looked older than himself. He had collided with Kaelen in his frantic rush, and now he lay on the wooden planks, huffing and puffing with a strange, manic energy.
Kaelen signaled for her men to sheathe their weapons, though their eyes remained wary. She reached down, grabbing the old man by the arm and hoisting him to his feet.
"What's the hurry, old father?" Kaelen asked, trying to keep her voice level despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "The world isn't ending tonight, is it?"
The old man didn't look frightened. Instead, he grabbed Kaelen's forearms, his milky eyes bright with a terrifyingly pure joy. He was shaking, but not from cold.
"Ending? No, boy! It's beginning!" He let out a wet, raspy laugh, his chest heaving. "She's coming! Can't you hear it? Can't you feel the water waking up? The Old Queen is coming home today!"
The word 'Queen' hit Kaelen like a physical blow. The guards behind her went rigid, their hands returning to their hilts. They looked at each other. The word old queen made sense to them because the last time they saw the queen, she had her hair turned partially white and maybe that's why old man was calling her The Old Queen. But it was strange though, no one knew queen's whereabouts, and in this nowhere an old man who looked older than the city was hailing for the old queen.
"Where?" Kaelen demanded, her voice dropping to a low, urgent rasp. "Where is she? Is she hurt? Is she in a boat?"
The old man laughed again, a sound like that felt like dry leaves skittering on stone. "Hurt? Her? She's stood the test of a thousand winters, son! She's frail in the ribs now, aye, but she's survived storms that would swallow the Hegemony whole! Never once has she betrayed us. Never once has she stayed in the dark when we called!"
Kaelen's heart hammered against her ribs. Survived the storms... never betrayed us. It sounded like a code, or perhaps the way a loyal subject spoke of a monarch who had survived a coup.
"The cargo," the old man continued, his excitement mounting as he looked toward the mouth of the canal. "She brings the cargo. The only things that matter in this soot-stained world."
Suddenly, a deep, mournful lowing sound cut through the fog… someone behind her had let out a sad sigh …and then a massive horn came that shook the very planks beneath their feet.
The old man broke into a frantic, limping dance. "She's here! She's here! To the Old Queen!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs, "TO THE OLD QUEEN! PREPARE THE ANCHOR! MAN THE WINCH!"
As if by magic, the empty port suddenly hummed with life. Doors to warehouses creaked open. Dozens of laborers, soot-faced and weary, emerged from the shadows with lanterns and heavy ropes. The silence of the industrial district was shattered by the sudden, warm presence of a hundred people rushing to the water's edge.
Kaelen watched, bewildered, as a massive shape began to loom out of the fog. It wasn't a sleek, black kidnapper's boat. It was a gargantuan, rust-streaked freighter, its hull scarred by decades of salt and labor.
As the ship pulled alongside the pier, the lanterns illuminated the peeling letters on its prow:
PORT TALOS CARGO
The old man, it turned out, was the Port Master. He wasn't talking about a woman. He was talking about a ship, a supply vessel that had been on voyage for months, presumed lost to the Cinder blockade.
Kaelen felt the hope drain out of her, replaced by a cold, hollow despair. The "Old Queen" was nothing but wood, iron, and cargo.
"Commander," the lead guard whispered, stepping close to Kaelen's side. "It's a coincidence. Just a ship."
Kaelen watched the laborers cheering as the heavy iron anchors dropped with a deafening splash. He looked at the old man, who was now weeping with joy. The celebration felt like a mockery of his own failure.
"We're in the wrong place," Kaelen said, her voice sounding dead even to her own ears. "The 'Queen' they're looking for is a ghost of the sea. Our Queen... and Sakina... they're still in the dark."
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