Reborn
Niven peered through Cat’s spyglass but at Isle Calinda. A gray smudge on the gray waters, set against a gray sky. The seas were choppy, whipped by the wind of the encroaching storm. Cat’s seamanship had been miraculously good; after three days of sailing, they were only a few hours behind the Bazira ship. The frigate had also been a mere smudge on the horizon ahead of them, and Cat managed to keep it that way despite the Black Storm’s infirmities. The crew had been wary of Cat, both for her duplicitous disguise and for her purpose: to capture their beloved captain. But Niven knew she had earned their respect, regardless.
Cat ordered the crew to drop anchor and they did so without hesitation, just as they had obeyed every other command since Isle Saliz.
“We’ll sail under the cover of night,” she said. Ilior’s impatient pacing thumped around the quarterdeck behind her. “I’m not going to take her into a Bazira hold-out in broad daylight. Who knows what kind of numbers they have? We could be blown to bits by cannon before we even make landfall.”
Ilior didn’t argue but didn’t cease to pace either. Niven wanted to comfort him, but that would entail actually speaking to Ilior. No one wanted to speak to him. The Vai’Ensai’s mood was like the thunder that rolled in from the east; he appeared ready to break at any moment.
The anchor was dropped to a loud rattle of chains and the crew settled in to wait.
Grunt stayed close to both Cat and Ilior, his nervous gaze going between them. Niven thought he was waiting for the right time to plead his case. But he said nothing. Neither did Cat. Niven cleared his throat.
“I believe, now that we have…that is, there is some time to wait. I believe you owe us an explanation.” He looked at Grunt and Cat. “Both of you.”
The woman smirked and shrugged, but Grunt nodded. “Aye, lad. That’s so, that’s so.” He swept off his cap and ran a hand through his gray hair. “My name is Marcus Bailey. I met Sebastian four years ago. On the Isle of Lords. I was a merchant. A wealthy one with a large fleet…and lots of rivals.” He cast his gaze to the planking under their feet. “Sebastian was hired by one of those rivals to assassinate my family. And me.”
The pain in Marcus Bailey’s eyes and in the gruff timbre of his voice made Niven’s heart clang with dread. Behind him, Cur, Spit and Whistle climbed up to the quarterdeck to listen. Marcus took in his audience and cleared his throat.
“He killed them. Sebastian did….my wife, wife’s brother, my…son. And then he found me. I knew he was coming and I was packing. Books. My life was forfeit but I lingered in the ruins of my home and was stuffing books instead of food or coin into my bag.” He smiled tremulously, his gaze distant. “The stories, you see. That’s all I had left. The histories my wife loved. The adventure tales my son adored as a youth…I tried to take them with me. That and a long black coat.
“He recognized the coat, Sebastian told me. It had belonged to my son who he killed the night before. I stopped stuffing books into the bag and said, ‘You’re tall, like my son. This will fit you. It’s cold out tonight and you’re so thin.’
“Sebastian had been sick. What he was doing, it was making him sick. I handed him the coat and when he reached out to take it, I stabbed him with a knife he never saw me draw.
“‘You killed them all,’ I told him, ‘and so what do I have left? Only stories. Memories.’ I twisted the knife in his side and brought him to his knees. But he had been trained to handle pain. He’d sailed all over Lunos, learning the arts of death. I knew he could have twisted free and used my own knife, still wet with his own blood, to end me.
“‘This is your memory’, I told him. ‘All of them like this. Bloodstained. Have you had enough yet? I think you have, and pity that you didn’t start with me. I might’ve saved my son. My wife…’
“I held the knife a moment more and I almost…I almost stabbed him over and over. And he would have let me. He would have let me kill him, I’m sure of it. But instead I pulled it free and said, ‘Come. They’ll be here soon to take what’s left, those who hired you. My rivals. They’ll kill you and I’m too old to run alone. Get off the floor, you little shit. We’re going to start over, you and me.’ Then I threw the coat over him and hauled him to his feet.”
Marcus Bailey glanced up as if seeing those around him for the first time. He jerked his chin defiantly. “When we arrive on Calinda, we must focus on the rescue. Of both of them. Selena and Sebastian. Him too, lass,” he said to Cat. And then again to Ilior. “Him too.”
There was a silence among them all as the man’s story finally settled over them. Then Cat snorted loudly, breaking the spell of thick emotion Marcus had woven. Niven sucked in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Rescue?” Cat rested an elbow on the wheel. “The Bazira Vicar sent Vaas to kill Selena. He doesn’t need rescuing from his employers.”
“What about that, old man?” Ilior demanded, though Niven could see the Vai’Ensai’s ire for Marcus had cooled slightly after the telling of his tale. His hatred of Sebastian had not. “I can’t fathom why you’d choose to tether yourself to that murderer after what he did to you, but the deeds of men will never cease to baffle me. You say he changed. You started over. Then why did he go to the Bazira? Why did he agree to kill her?”
“He never could,” Marcus said. “I swear it. I knew he could never do it. And I was right.”
“That’s a pretty big gamble, old man,” Cat said.
“He loves her,” Marcus said simply, and Niven saw instantly that was the wrong thing to say.
Ilior’s already pale skin paled further. “A filthy lie,” he seethed. “A monster like him cannot love.”
“He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t think he can…” Marcus said, shrinking back.
“He can’t,” Cat said. “But Selena can. She fell in love with him and he let her. Disgusting.”
“No,” Niven said. “She doesn’t….love him.”
Cat shrugged. “While you’re busy praying to your god, I watch. And listen. She slept with him, I think. That night of the attack on the keep.”
Niven whipped his head up at this as Ilior sucked in a breath.
“No, she didn’t,” Niven said. “No, no, no. She’s Aluren, he’s not. She wouldn’t…”
“Aluren,” Cat sniffed. “Your Temple has made her an outcast. She’s been alone for ten years. You think that kind of solitude is easy to take?”
No, Niven thought, I know it’s not.
“It’s a lot easier to forsake some stupid vow than live alone for so long.” Cat shivered. “I can’t even imagine it. And I’d wager you a thousand gold that Bloody Bastian used that loneliness to get to her. And then he made to kill her but the Bazira siege on the keep interrupted his plans.”
“No,” Marcus said. “He fought them. You saw it.” He turned to Niven, pleading. “You saw him. He killed Gareth…He’s changed.”
“Changed?” Cat barked. “A cold-blooded killer like that? I’ve lived all my life in the Eastern Edge. The stories of his deeds were used to frighten little children into behaving or else ‘Bloody Bastian will come for you.’ He once hung a victim by his ankles and bled him like a goat to slaughter while the man’s wife watched. You think a man like that can change?”
“I know he can,” Marcus said. “I know he has.”
“Then why did he take the commission from the Bazira?” Niven asked quietly.
“Money.” Marcus smiled sadly. “Why else? For the ship. For us, his crew. He hadn’t worked in four years because he kept his promise. To me. But the gold…” He sighed and shook his head. “He thought he could do one more. One last job. I tried to talk him about of it but he parleyed with the Vicar anyway. I thought he’d broken his promise to me, and I suppose he did in a way when he agreed to take the job. But once he told me who his mark was—a woman who’d killed the Zak’reth and ended the war, I knew he’d never go through with it. Even before he met her, I knew…”
He looked up at them all, Niven, Cat and Ilior, the crew. Pleading.
“The Zak’reth were his enemy. They killed his father. Raped and murdered his sister, right before his eyes. They made him watch. Can you fathom it? That’s how he earned his bloody name. The victims that came after—gods know I don’t forgive him for those that came after. The gods know I can’t.”
The old man’s eyes were shining and staring at nothing, at memories only he could see. Then he shook himself out of it.
“The victims that came after the Zak’reth… he killed them clean. No suffering. That’s no consolation, I know, but do you see? His wrath was for the Zak’reth and to them he showed no mercy. It was on their blood that he earned his reputation.”
“A hired killer is a hired killer,” Ilior said in a low, rasping voice. “Your excuses sicken me.”
“I don’t excuse him,” Marcus said wearily. “I can only try to help him. To let go of the pain and help him to change. To do some good. If I don’t do that, my wife and son…what’s left of them? Only memories. If I can make them a part of something better…”
“It’s a little late for that,” Cat said. “I aim to make sure Vaas starts paying his dues.”
“Yes, well,” Niven stammered, “I’ve been wanting to ask…Who are you?”
Marcus looked fearful but anger smoldered in his eyes too. “Aye, who are you, missy, to sneak aboard and pretend to be one of us?”
“Us? You are not of these men.” Cat nodded at the crew. “You’re just as much imposter as me. You used them to keep Vaas’s secret while pretending to be charitable. Giving mute men gainful employment. Make them feel useful.” She snorted indelicately.
Marcus looked nervously at the three crewmen who shifted on their feet and exchanged glances.
“No,” he said. “Sebastian hired them for their silence, that is true. But he cared for them as a captain does.” The old man stood up straight. “And they know it.”
There was a pause and then Spit and Cur nodded, but Whistle, tears in his eyes, made angry, slashing signs.
“He would never hurt her, lad,” Marcus told the boy. “I promise you.”
Whistle hesitated and then nodded, tears coursing down his cheeks. Cur slung an arm around his shoulders.
Cat snorted again and Ilior looked ready to kill.
“Paladin Koren told me you’d had your tongue cut out,” Niven said to Cat. “That Jul—that Sebastian saw it happen. You were attacked by men on Nanokar, by crewmen who learned you were a woman posing as a boy on their ship. Obviously, that wasn’t entirely…genuine.”
“Obviously,” Cat said with a laugh. She regarded her audience as if deciding on how much to say. “I’m a bounty-hunter,” she said finally, with obvious pride. “I’ve been tracking Sebastian Vaas for three years.”
“The Raven,” Marcus said, twisting his cap around and around. “You’re the Raven, aren’t you?”
“Heard of me?” The bounty hunter smiled. “Aye, some call me the Raven. Some, the Lady of Faces. My marks call me various other names, none befitting a lady.” She laughed and ran a hand through her cropped hair. “Ah, but that’s why I’m the best.” She leaned on the wheel and gave Marcus an arch look. “Vaas has many names too, doesn’t he? Appropriate that Lunos’s most notorious assassin should be caught by its best bounty-hunter, don’t you think?”
“You know nothing, lass.”
“I know plenty. I’ve been tracking you and Vaas since you wintered on Juskara three years past.”
“He hasn’t taken a job in four years,” Marcus said. “He’d already quit his bloody business when you started after him.”
“The Justarch on Isle Parish doesn’t care that Bloody Bastian took time off. And neither,” Cat said dryly, “do the families of his victims.” Marcus said nothing; she waved a hand. “I was on Juskara, having just finished a tough job—my toughest up until then—and heard about a captain who carried an entirely mute crew. Odd thing, that, given how difficult it is to sail a ship without a proper relay of commands. My curiosity was piqued. Something that strange…it sends up red flags to someone in my business. Who would hire a mute crew? Someone with secrets. Obviously.” She winked at Niven. “My suspicions paid off.
“I followed you to Isle Kabak where my suspicions were confirmed. Then on to Uago. I almost had him there, playing the damsel in distress. He killed three of my men and I was brutally reminded of whom I was dealing with. I thought I’d learned my lesson. On Nanokar I set four men against him, two hidden to ambush. I set the trap so carefully and still…” She shook her head. “Bloody Bastian does not go down easily.”
Niven frowned. “So…your losing your tongue? Why…?”
“Because although I underestimated his capacity for violence—again—I was smart enough to have a back-up plan. The pretended rape was to get his blood up, to get him so enraged he’d make a mistake. Everyone knows Sebastian has little mercy for rapists.”
“His sister,” Marcus said sadly.
Cat shrugged. “That part was easy. But if my attempt to capture him went to shit—which it did—I damn well wasn’t going to lose him again. He’d never buy that a mute sailor girl just happened to be waiting around Isle Nanokar for a captain to come around and give her a bunk. A boar’s tongue worked for my purpose, though it tasted bloody awful.” She laughed sourly.
“Helm and Cook?” Marcus asked quietly.
Cat’s laughter died. “I had to create a need for me. I made sure you were stuck short-handed.”
“You killed them?” Niven asked.
The bounty-hunter’s eyes flared as she swiveled to him. “I lost three men on Uago to Vaas. Three good men. I lost four more on Nanokar. Pate and Sam, Ulren…” She shook her head, her jaw working. “Consider it payback.” She quickly mastered her emotions, all cool confidence again. “So that’s my story. I’m going to Calinda, I’m going to capture Sebastian Vaas, and I’m going to take him to the Stoneyard Prison on Isle Parish and collect my bounty.”
“Not on this ship,” Marcus vowed. “You’re outnumbered.” He glanced up at Ilior. “Both of you.”
Cat snorted. “You think me stupid? My men—what’s left of them—have been following us since Uago. When I learned Isle Saliz was the goal, I ordered them to meet me on Huerta. And after Calinda, that’s where we’ll go.”
“I say again, not on this ship,” Marcus said.
Cat raised a dark brow. The raven black color was seeping through the orange of her hair too. “Where else are we going to go? This ship needs repairs. Getting this far was a miracle. Huerta is the only option.” She squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips to glare at Marcus. “He murdered your family. How can you defend him? Defend him, shit, how can you stand to be in his presence without opening his godsdamn throat?”
Niven shifted. “Cat…”
But the old man only smiled sadly and shrugged. “What else can I do? He’s my son, now. As close to as can be, I reckon. Does it matter if we share the same blood or not?”
Cat shook her head. “That’s sick. I should take the both of you to Parish. Let the Justarchs decide if aiding a known assassin instead of turning him in merits your own time at the Stoneyard.”
There was a silence that was long and deep, and Niven realized Ilior had stopped pacing, deep in thought. His stillness was almost worse.
“Too much talk,” the Vai’Ensai said finally, his voice low and grim and full of stones. “When we get to the island, I will kill him.”
“The bounty is double if he’s alive,” Cat said. “Let me take him. I’ll give you a cut if you help me subdue him. I admit I could use the help.”
Niven held up his hands. “Now wait. Let’s think this through. We have so many other obstacles to contend with…”
“I care not for any bounty,” Ilior told Cat. “He was there to kill her. I will kill him.”
“The Stoneyard Prison will kill him,” Cat said. “I promise you.”
“Listen to yourselves!” Marcus said. “You barter with a man’s life as if it were nothing. A pile of gold,” he said to Cat, “or vengeance,” he told Ilior. “Tell them, lad,” he said, turning to Niven. “Tell them about the Aluren, about forgiveness. About leading poor souls out of the darkness.”
Niven bit his lip, thinking of the Aluren catechism, the Fourth Principle in particular. But Sebastian Vaas? “He never hurt Selena,” he told Ilior. “He had hundreds of chances. Thousands. And he never took them. He made a blood oath with Svoz, to save her.”
“To steal the sirrak away from her, you mean,” Cat said. “Svoz protected her and Vaas took away that protection. How convenient.”
“That makes no sense!” Niven said. “He could have just let her drown!”
Cat shrugged. “Maybe he needed to get her closer to Calinda. To Accora.”
Marcus hung his head. The crew looked fearful, watching and waiting.
Niven was out of arguments. “But…Julian—”
Cat sighed irritably and turned her gaze to the horizon. “There is no Julian,” she said. “There never was. He’s Sebastian Vaas. That’s all we need to know.”
And what of Selena? What of the Bazira and Bacchus? Niven wanted to shout but realized it was useless. They don’t know the Bazira like I do, he thought, watching as Marcus Bailey and the crew slunk off the quarterdeck. They silently welcomed him back into their fold; years of companionship and the mutual desire to save their captain breeding forgiveness, Niven guessed. He was left on the quarterdeck with Ilior and Cat. Ilior nodded and Cat nodded back. They’d reached no accord save one: Sebastian would leave Calinda a prisoner or a corpse.
Niven turned away, to stare at the sea passing beneath the ship.
If Bacchus is as dangerous as Accora says, all of us will leave Calinda as prisoners or corpses. All of us.
Night fell and Cat ordered the anchor up.
“Slowly, now,” she commanded the crew, and readied them to sail. Short-handed, she commanded the men and helped to carry out those commands at the same time. Ori did not keep idle. She was no sailor, but her ability to navigate the ship while blind was uncanny. When Cat ordered the fore and mainsails to be unfurled and Ori, who’d remained belowdecks nearly the entire voyage, appeared and shimmied up the foremast to untie the sheets with quick efficiency.
The storm thickened overhead and obscured the moon now and then, but had yet to unleash itself over Isle Calinda. As they sailed closer, they saw the Bazira ships, like dark smudges, anchored close to shore.
“We’ll sail to the other side of the island,” Cat said, “and give those frigates a wide berth.”
“That will take hours,” Ilior said. “The other side might be just as bad or worse. Let’s just take our chances—”
“Absolutely not. We’re short-handed enough as it is. We can’t outmaneuver any threat with so few hands. And once on land, we’re without Svoz or Selena or even that Bazira witch and her magic.”
“Or Sebastian and his swords,” Niven put in.
Cat gave him a tired look. “The best we can hope for is an empty stretch of water to anchor down and an empty beach to land on. We have no numbers; we need stealth. And it won’t take hours. Calinda is small.” She gave the Bazira ships another look. “We sail on.”
Ilior didn’t argue but then he had no choice.
They sailed an easterly route parallel to Calinda until Cat commanded the crew to head the ship north, toward the island. The storm clouds were thicker now and Niven thought they’d open at any moment and the rain would come down. The wind had picked up, and the Black Storm plowed through swells bearded in white.
Cat peered into her glass. “Now what in the bloody Deeps…?” Niven watched her frown, lower the glass to watch the island with her naked eye, and then raise the glass again.
“What is it?”
“I thought they were logs or some other kind of flotsam,” Cat murmured. “But now…”
“What?”
Cat’s eyes looked haunted. “You’ll see soon enough.”
A deep silence fell over the crew as the ship sailed closer to Calinda and the first corpses thudded against the hull. Niven felt his stomach roil to see the water littered with hundreds of them—merkind and men, both—bobbing obscenely on the choppy sea.
“The god have mercy,” Niven breathed. “This is where the sickened merkind have come to die.”
“No, it’s where the sickness is born,” Ori said in a quiet voice. “The poison of the darkpool.”
“The darkpool?” Niven asked. “The water Accora gave us?”
“Yes,” Ori said, inclining her head in Ilior’s direction ever so slightly. “Dangerous and deadly. Especially in the hands of the Bazira.”
“Bacchus will use that foul water on Selena,” Ilior said. His voice was low—none dared to speak too loudly as if they feared to disturb the dead—but a bright anger burned behind it. Bright like fever. “Your witch lied to Selena, didn’t she? She sent her to her death…to die like these…” he waved his hands at the corpses surrounding the ship. “It was a plot all along, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, a plot,” Ori said. “I do not deny it. And I’m certain that Accora hasn’t denied it either. But the plot was not for Selena’s death, but Bacchus’s.”
“But what of Selena? Does her wound remain?”
Say no, Niven thought. Say no! His heart plummeted when Ori only shrugged and said, “Impossible for me to say.”
Ilior curled his lip. “She’s been lied to by everyone around her since the beginning.”
Ori cocked her head. “Including you.”
The Vai’Ensai fanned out his lone wing and Niven thought for sure he would throw the Haru overboard.
“Something’s happening on shore,” Marcus called from the main deck. “Big commotion.”
Cat put her glass to her eye. “Looks like someone kicked over an anthill. I see ice and steel flashing. A battle.” She snapped the glass shut. “Someone is fighting the Bazira.”
“So…what does that mean? What do we do?”
She smiled. “We help.”
Cat barked orders at the crew to speed their arrival on Calinda, but there weren’t enough hands to sail the Black Storm efficiently. She was tossed on the choppy seas and fought the wind at every turn. By the time the ship neared Isle Calinda, the battle was ending. They heard the clang of steel and even the calls by the Bazira for ice, and then the storm broke. The sky tore open and rain fell in sheets. Between flashes of lightning, they saw the beach was empty but for the dead.
Cat ordered the anchor dropped and the skiff lowered.
“You will not leave us here,” Marcus told her. Rain streamed down his face and dripped off his salt-and-pepper beard. “We must be permitted to come. To fight for Selena…and for Sebastian.”
Ilior rounded on him. “I should rip your throat out, old man, for all the lies between you and Vaas.”
Marcus smiled sadly at the dragonman. “Such hatred is not in your nature. You fear for the girl. That fear is speaking, not you.”
“You deserve my hate,” Ilior loomed over the man. “You and Vaas both.”
Marcus shook his head. “He needs her in a way you can’t understand…”
Ilior roared, his voice as loud as the thunder that boomed in the sky. Marcus cowered. “He needs her? To the Deeps with him!” He raised his sword and Niven thought he would slice the old man to ribbons.
“There’s no time for this!” Cat pushed between them, shouting to be heard above the storm and Ilior both. “Ori will come with us but no one else. We’ll need her light weaving and healing. You, Spit,Whistle, and Cur, you need to stay with the ship. Ilior’s right,” she said. “You knew who he was. We can’t trust you.”
“Aye, but you can trust us with the Black Storm if it suits you?” Marcus countered.
“If the four of you can sail her by yourselves with only one voice and a storming sea, then you deserve her.” She jabbed her finger at Marcus when he started to protest again. “You made me captain when you were desperate and needed me. So now I’m the captain and I’m giving you an order. You will stay here and man the ship until we return, savvy?”
She didn’t wait for a reply but snapped at Spit and Cur to ready the skiff. Marcus fell back into the silence he’d adopted for so long. Niven patted his shoulder.
“It will be all right,” he said. “I think.”
Marcus’s eyes shone under his bushy brows. “I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter, lad. If our girl has learned the truth about Sebastian from the Bazira instead of from him, it’s too late for him.” He patted Niven’s cheek with a calloused hand. “Best get on now, and bring Selena back safe. If you can.”
Ilior rowed the skiff ashore as fast as the choppy waters would allow. Niven winced every time the boat or an oar struck a dead body but the Vai’Ensai paid no mind. He pulled hard and when it ran aground, he jumped out and hauled it onto the beach. The foul water lapped at his boots but he didn’t seem to notice or care. The others were careful not to let it touch them as they leapt out of the skiff and ran up the beach. The rain no longer came down in sheets but showed no signs of abating either. The sliver of a moon hid behind the storm and the beach was cloaked in darkness but for the occasional tear of lightning across the sky.
“Ori,” Cat said, “light.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Niven glanced about. The bodies of the dead were dark lumps amid the stands of dried grass, while the merkind corpses tumbled and rolled against the shore with the tide.
“No one is safe here,” Cat answered. “Can’t you feel it? There’s a heaviness to the air. Like the stench of the dead, only something…more. It makes my hair stand on end.”
Niven had to agree. Hatred, pain, and fear. The Bazira triumvirate. This place is poisoned with all three.
Ori moved to sand beside Cat and murmured, “Luxari.” A small globe of light materialized in her hand. Cat knelt beside one of the dead men.
“He wears the Bazira cloth.” She turned over his palm that was gray with cold. “Aye, more proof.”
Niven knelt with Ilior over another corpse. The man’s arm had been severed and he also wore the red and black.
“A Zak’reth blade did this.” Ilior nudged the man’s arm that ended above his elbow. “Look at the burnt flesh. Only Zak’reth blades burn as they cut.” He stood up and scanned the area, his sword in his hand.
Cat, with Ori as her lantern, inspected a few more bodies. “There are no Zak’reth warships in the water, and there are no Zak’reth dead here.”
“Where did they go?” Niven asked.
“Inland?” Cat wiped orange-tinted rainwater from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “And just because they slew the Bazira doesn’t make them our chums. They kill for the sport of it. We’ll have to be on the watch for those bloody bastards now too.”
Niven pulled the collar of a coat Marcus had given him around his neck while Ilior sniffed the air. For a few moments, the rain pattering on gritty sand was the only sound.
“I can’t scent the Zak’reth on the wind,” Ilior said. “They’re gone. Or maybe the rain washed their stench away. But Selena…She went into the forest.” He gestured with his sword at the line of birch trees that stood like slender white sentries along the beach’s northeastern edge.
The trees are like ghosts, Niven thought and wondered if Selena was a haunted by this place as he. She must be. This is where it all began for her.
“Hold up,” Cat ordered Ilior. “Let’s not traipse into the woods without a plan.” She bent and picked up a curved sword that had belonged to a Bazira adherent and thrust it at Niven.
He bobbled and nearly dropped it. “No, no. I keep trying but…I can’t. I’m only a healer.”
“Not tonight,” Cat said. “Ori, what of Bacchus? Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“Accora spoke of a rough-hewn temple with much of it dug beneath the earth,” Ori said. “Like a rat’s warren. She said the above-ground structure served mostly as an altar or place of worship. The darkpool will be there, I’m certain. As to where this temple lies, I can only guess somewhere in the interior. Isle Calinda is very small. I have no doubt we will find it.”’
“I can find it,” Ilior said. He sniffed the air again. “Selena is very close and we waste time.”
Cat met Niven’s eyes. “Very well, we’ll follow you, Ilior. Most likely to our deaths but maybe we’ll get lucky and find the Zak’reth have already slaughtered the Bazira.”
Niven didn’t hold much hope that was true. Ilior trudged ahead, and through the rain and darkness Niven could see the place where his other wing had been, now a scarred tangle of exposed bone.
It’s their war all over again, his and Selena’s, Niven thought. He peered up at the sky to where the moon was a slit in the sky, spilling silver light. A Bazira crescent but waxing. There is hope. Isn’t there?
The quartet marched in silence through the birch forest. Rain patter on the leaves and Ilior’s heavy tread were the only sounds. No one spoke. Niven tightened his grip on his new sword for the hundredth time. The rain made his palms slick—or that’s what he told himself.
Be brave. For Selena’s sake and your own, if you wish to get off this island.
Ilior held up a hand and motioned for everyone to get down behind a tangle of fallen trees. They did so in silence, and gathered around the Vai’Ensai. He pointed at a dead campfire and then another some spans beyond. Niven could smell the remnants of the charred wood and roast meat.
“This camp was cleared out quickly.” Cat pitched her voice under the rain. “Don’t see any sign of battle. Maybe they got wind that Zak’reth were coming.”
“There are no Zak’reth here,” Ilior said.
Cat looked dubious. “Better to be cautious—”
“They are gone.” Ilior’s reptilian face was craggy with shadows and dripped with rain. “I do not forget their smell. Like burnt leather. It’s a smell that filled my nose as they surrounded me and took my wing. I will never forget it. They were here but now they’re gone and all that matters is that we find Selena.”
They followed Ilior into the camp with weapons at hand and their eyes on the shadows. Ori did not weave light to see by but Niven knew she was ready with the sacred word on her lips. They passed by dozens of campfires. Some still smoked and hissed as rain doused the embers. Booted footprints churned the soil and remnants of dozens of dinners were strewn about.
“Wait. I—”
Ilior had no chance to finish his words as the shadows around them shivered and the clearing was suddenly beset with Bazira. At least fifty men in black and red came at them with curved blades and missiles of ice. They descended on Ilior who made a large target and on Ori, who answered their Baziran ice with Aluren light.
Niven did the only thing he knew to do. He grabbed at Cat who was nearest him and dragged her to the ground behind a stand of birch trees. She gave a small shriek that he stifled with his hand, and then dragged her by the collar away from the camp. Panic lent him strength and his blood thundered between his ears as he expected to feel a blade slip between his shoulders at any moment. Cat twisted out of his grasp and crawled and then ran with him.
“Oi, there!” came a call from behind, and Niven whimpered to hear the sounds of pursuit.
They ran for half a league at least, and the Bazira gave chase until one sent a bolt of ice at Cat and she went down with a cry. She clutched her leg and Niven bent to haul her up when their pursuers found them. Three Bazira, each with curved blades, ringed them.
Only three, Niven thought and would have laughed if he weren’t so frightened. May as well be a hundred.
“Drop the blades,” said the adherent, slender in all black and with darting eyes. He jerked his chin at another of the two without taking his eyes off Niven and Cat. “We’ll hold them. Bring some more boys, eh? Can’t take any chances. Not anymore.”
One of the three nodded and turned back to the camp.
“Help me, Niven,” Cat breathed and then her hand was a blur. She reached into her vest and hurled the knife she retrieved from it at the retreating Bazira. They all heard the sound of her blade tearing into flesh, and the man dropped to the ground soundlessly.
Without thinking Niven shouted, “Illuria!” and felt the healing glow infuse him. He threw himself front of Cat just as the adherent, screaming his own sacred word, sent three bolts of ice at her, while the other Bazira sliced at her his sword. The cold stabbed Niven’s gut and the sword sheared skin off his left arm to the bone. Drunk with pain, he pitched forward and the ground rose to meet his cheek with a rough welcome that rattled his brain. His eyes found the sword Cat had given him while above him the bounty hunter’s grunts of battle were mingled with that of the Bazira.
Niven whispered the sacred word again, and inhaled the healing as if it were air. Warmth melted the icy pain in his gut and his arm went numb under his blood-drenched sleeve. He reached his right arm out and closed his fingers around the sword handle. Booted feet shuffled around him, grit sprayed his face. Cat cursed and her voice was full of pain. Niven gripped the sword and rose to his feet.
The figures of Cat and the two Bazira danced in the flashing lightning. She slammed the pommel of her sword across one man’s face, and sent him sprawling. The other closed and opened his fist just as she whirled to face him.
“Krystak!”
Ice lanced from the palm of the adherent and into Cat’s thigh. She cried out, the ice crippling her as she turned to block the sword of the other man. Her attack was weak and the man’s sword slid down her own in his downward strike. Steel sang against steel. Niven watched it all as if they were under water, slow and murky in the dark. The Bazira flipped his wrist and Cat’s sword flew out of her grasp. Niven watched in horror as the second man hauled himself from the mud and came at Cat from behind.
Niven scrambled to his feet, gripped his sword, point down, in both hands and raised his arms. He flew at the adherent and sunk his sword between the man’s shoulder blades. The blade scraped bone and the sword was jarred from Niven’s hands; he hadn’t the strength to hold onto it.
The adherent arched his back and let loose a scream into the storm. The sword jutted from his back and wagged slightly from side to side. Blood burbled from his open mouth as he drowned slowly in it, until finally pitching forward face first. Bones crunched as his nose flattened and then he was still.
Niven fell to his knees again and watched with a stupefied fascination as Cat rolled away from the remaining Bazira’s killing blow that would have swept her head from her shoulders. She scrambled on all fours to where her sword had tumbled.
She’ll never find it, Niven thought dully and he was right. The Bazira caught Cat by the heel and gave her a yank. She hit the ground with a whump and kicked as the bigger man wrenched her ankle, flipping her over. He attacked and from where he knelt, all Niven could see was the big man’s body over hers. He whispered Illuria and felt the glow clear his head. He rose to his feet and raced at the struggling pair, not sure what he would do when he got there.
There was a sickening sound, as a knife puncturing a fat wineskin. I’m too late. Too late!
The Bazira lay over Cat, unmoving.
“Niven…help me.” Cat’s voice sounded tight and strained from under the big man. Niven gripped the Bazira by the collar and rolled him off her. One of her other throwing knives protruded from the man’s throat another in his gut; his face bore a final grimace of complete and utter surprise.
Cat got to her feet and Niven let out a cry as lightning lit up the night. Her face was a mask of rain-streaked blood.
“It’s his,” she said, and wiped her face with her sleeve. The last of the orange coloring in her hair leaked off to stain her shirt. Her hair, though cropped messily, was thick and raven black. She looked him up and down. “You all right?”
“This isn’t good,” he muttered, indicating is left arm. “But I can heal it. You?”
“I could use some help.” She rubbed her thigh. “What you did…jumping in front of those men…”
“It’s the only thing I knew to do. It almost wasn’t enough.”
“But it was,” she said. She held his gaze a moment more and then chucked him on the shoulder before turning to retrieve her fallen sword.
“It wasn’t enough to save Ilior. Or Ori.” Niven shook his head. Water dripped from his hair. “I just…ran away.”
Cat sheathed her blade, wincing as her wounds protested. She limped over to the Bazira adherent. “The others were captured,” she said. “The three that chased us meant to take us alive. Ori and Ilior are alive too.”
“You sound so sure,” he said and shook his head. “Ilior would have fought them to the death.”
“Ilior will keep himself alive to find Selena,” Cat said. “And he doesn’t look so good lately, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Yes,” Niven said. “I noticed.”
She planted her boot on the back of the dead adherent’s skull and yanked the sword from his back. “This is yours, I believe,” she said with a wry smile. “Come on. Before others come looking.”
“Where should we go?” Niven whispered as they slipped away, southward.
“To find some cover. A place to rest and then you can heal us up.” Cat grimaced with each limping step. “Bastard iced my leg and twisted my ankle. After, we find that temple Ori told of. That’s where the others will be.”
Niven nodded. “Good. Yes. We will help them.” The words sounded right and true, and yet he could not shake the taint of fear off them.
I am no warrior, no matter how many swords I bury in the backs of my enemies.
He looked at Cat lurching grimly beside him, muttering curses.
But tonight I will be.