The King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Brisa came and sat next to him, and looked at Nakor and Harry, both of whom were trying to conserve their depleted energy by sleeping.

  She turned to Nicholas. “Can I ask you something?”

  He nodded. “What?”

  “Marcus…” she began, then fell silent.

  “What about him?”

  “You know him well—” she started again.

  Nicholas cut her off. “I hardly know him at all.”

  “I thought you were brothers,” she said.

  Nicholas said, “I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?” she asked.

  “Who Marcus is.”

  “He’s some Duke’s son, or so Harry told me. I didn’t know if I should believe him.”

  Nicholas nodded. “He’s not my brother,” he said. “He’s my cousin.”

  “But you said you hardly know him,” she said.

  “I don’t. I met him for the first time a few weeks before I met you. I don’t live on the Far Coast.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “In Krondor,” he answered.

  She nodded. “I was hoping you could tell me about him.”

  Nicholas felt sorry for the girl, since he realized that her teasing preoccupation with Marcus now masked a deeper emotion. “I don’t know what to tell you. Most of us are from Krondor. Maybe one of the soldiers…”

  She shrugged. “It’s all right. We’re probably not going to get out of here, anyway.”

  Nicholas said, “Don’t say that.” His tone was sharp and commanding.

  She looked at him with eyes wide and Harry sat up, half-asleep, and said, “What?”

  He realized he had spoken loudly. “I mean, don’t say it, even if you think it. Despair is a plague. If we give up here, we’re going to die. There’s no choice but to move ahead.”

  Brisa lay back, beside the snoring Nakor, and said, “I know.”

  Nicholas glanced up and down the beach, realizing it was too soon for either Marcus or Calis to return. All they could do was wait.

  —

  NEAR SUNDOWN, CALIS came into view, and a few minutes later, Marcus approached from the other direction. Calis said, “There’s nothing that looks remotely like a trail or even a difficult climb.”

  Marcus said, “Nothing to the south, either.”

  Nicholas said, “Then we either climb here or move farther to the south.”

  “Why south?” demanded an exhausted Marcus. “I just said there was nothing there.”

  “Because south is where we are heading anyway. If we’re going to face an arbitrary choice, we may as well move toward our eventual goal.”

  Amos nodded. “If we’re going to do something, that’s as sound a plan as any I can suggest. Let’s get some sleep and start at first light.”

  Nicholas said, “Good. Eat what we can’t carry so we’ll have as much strength as possible.”

  Nakor and Anthony approached in the failing light, carrying some wood. “We left these up on the rocks to dry,” said the little man.

  Anthony said, “If you can get a flame started, they should burn.”

  Calis gathered together the remnants of the previous night’s fire, small pieces of wood that hadn’t completely burned, and hacked away at the char, creating a small pile of splinters and kindling. He took his belt knife and a flint he kept there and struck sparks. Soon he had a small flame, which he carefully fed with larger pieces of wood until he had a substantial fire going. Then the wood carried by Anthony and Nakor was carefully placed atop the flames, and soon a good-size blaze held the cold night at bay.

  The sailors gathered around and Anthony took a brand and started a second fire a short distance off, so that more could feel the warmth. He and Nakor moved the sicker men closer to the heat, and they settled in for the long night.

  Nakor sat beside Nicholas. No one was in the mood to talk; most either tried to rest or ate what they could of hard biscuits, dried apples, and half-cooked fish. Without preamble, Nakor said, “Water is a problem.”

  Nicholas said, “Why?”

  Nakor said, “We’ve not seen any source of fresh water nearby. We have the skins we salvaged from the ship, but not enough of them, and we can’t haul casks very far.”

  Amos said, “Certainly we can’t haul them up the cliffs.”

  Nicholas sighed. “What do you suggest?”

  Nakor shrugged. “Have everyone drink as much as they can before we start off. That will help. If we find a place to climb close to where Marcus stopped, we can send some men back to refill the skins. If we’re a long way down the coast, we make do with what we have.”

  “What about food?” asked Nicholas.

  “There won’t be much by tomorrow,” answered Anthony as he sat down near the fire, weariness etched on his features. “A man died a few minutes ago.”

  Amos swore. Calling a pair of sailors to him, he said, “Get some canvas. We can’t sew him into a shroud, but you can wrap him in sail and tie rope around it. Then tomorrow we’ll carry him out to the rocks and bury him at sea, or as close as we can get.”

  The two men nodded and left to do as they were bid. Amos sounded old as he said, “There will be others.”

  No one spoke after that.

  —

  FOR THE NEXT day and a half they trudged down the coast. Nicholas called for a halt regularly, for the lack of food, scant water, and heat were taking their toll. Late in the second day, Marcus said, “This is where I stopped my search before.”

  Nicholas felt a sense of despair. It had taken almost two days to get those sick and injured down the beach as far as Marcus had traveled in a half day by himself. Nicholas forced aside his dark mood and said, “You and Calis scout ahead.” Silently he added a prayer that they quickly find a way up.

  Marcus and the half-elf both turned and jogged away from the resting sailors. Amos motioned for Nicholas to walk ahead with him, and when they were out of earshot of the others he said, “We’re going to have to start up the cliff tomorrow, no matter what.”

  Nicholas said, “We’re going to start dying soon.”

  Amos said, “We’re dying already. In two or three days, even if we find a clean ascent, half the men won’t have the strength to make the climb.” He flexed his hand as if it was stiff, and he said, “I might be one of them.” Glancing around, he said, “My hand is throbbing. There’s a weather front heading this way.”

  “Storm?”

  Amos nodded. “Usually. Sometimes just a break in the weather.”

  Glancing at the darkening eastern sky, Nicholas said, “It’s going to be dark in a couple of hours. Let’s call it a day and rest. We’ll need it.”

  Amos nodded and they returned to the others. Amos ordered the meager stores passed out among the men while Nicholas went to where Harry was sitting, massaging his aching feet, with Brisa beside him. The girl had her knees drawn up under her chin and was hugging her legs, as if cold already.

  “How are you doing?” Nicholas asked.

  Harry said, “My feet hurt and I’m hungry.” Then he grinned. “Makes me something unique around here, doesn’t it?”

  Nicholas couldn’t help but smile. Harry was the last person who would lose his good spirits, he knew. “I want you to bring up the rear tomorrow,” said Nicholas. “We’re going to have to attempt the cliffs and I need someone at the rear who can make sure no one falters or loses heart.”

  Harry nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Turning to the girl, Nicholas asked, “How are you?”

  Sourly she said, “My feet hurt and I’m hungry.”

  Nicholas laughed. “You two are a pair.” He rose and moved over to talk to some of the other men.

  Brisa watched him depart, staring after him a long minute, then said, “He really tries, doesn’t he?”

  Harry said, “I guess. It’s in the blood, I think. Born to service and obligations of the nobility and that.”

  “You?” she said, half-mocking.

 
; “I’m not a prince. I’m a second son of a minor noble, which means I have fewer prospects than your average ale merchant, unless I can hook my fortune to one of the mighty.”

  Brisa said, “Him?”—indicating Nicholas with a thrust of her chin. Her tone was disbelieving.

  “Don’t scoff,” said Harry. “Nicky’s a lot more than you’d think. He’s going to be a very important and powerful man someday. Brother to the King, you know.”

  “Right,” said Brisa, her tone clearly disbelieving.

  “I’m not joking,” said Harry. “He’s Prince Arutha’s youngest son. Truly. And Marcus is the son of the Duke of Crydee.”

  “Scruffy-looking bunch for nobles, if you ask me.”

  “Well, believe what you want. But he will be an important man someday.”

  Brisa snorted. “Assuming we live that long.”

  Harry had nothing to say to that.

  Brisa leaned in to Harry. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m just trying to stay warm.”

  Feigning hurt, Harry said, “Oh, I’m a substitute for Marcus, is that it?”

  Brisa sighed. “No, I just feel the need and you’re safe.”

  “Now I really am hurt,” said Harry. “Safe?”

  Brisa kissed him chastely upon the cheek. “You have charms, Squire, in a clumsy, boyish way. Don’t take it too hard. You’ll grow out of it.”

  She snuggled down into the crook of his arm, and he enjoyed the feeling. But he still felt stung. “Clumsy?”

  —

  CALIS AND MARCUS did not return that night.

  At sunrise, Nicholas had them up and moving. An hour later, Marcus came into view, waving his hand above his head. Nicholas hurried to meet him and said, “What did you find?”

  “Calis marks a spot about a half-mile from here. We think it’s a way up.”

  Dropping his voice so that those approaching behind couldn’t overhear, Nicholas said, “We must try today. Many of the men aren’t going to make it as is. We can’t wait any longer.”

  Marcus looked at the ragged band of seamen and nodded once.

  It took them some time to reach Calis, as the sick and injured could not easily make it across the sand. Nicholas hurried across the deep sand to where the efling waited. Calis indicated a ledge about ten feet above them. He made a stirrup with his hands, and Nicholas stepped in. With a boost, Nicholas climbed up on the rise to discover a large outcropping of rock, with a small cave leading off into the cliffs. Marcus boosted Calis up, and then Calis dropped his hand for Marcus to leap and grab. When all three were on the ledge, Nicholas said, “The cave?”

  “No,” said Marcus. It’s shallow and goes nowhere. It’ll provide protection for those who stay behind.”

  Nicholas said, “No one stays behind. Anyone we leave will die.”

  Marcus’s voice grew harsh, but it was with frustration, not anger, as he said, “Nicholas, some of the men can barely walk with help. They’re not going to be able to climb that!” He pointed upward and Nicholas’s eyes followed.

  Near the entrance to the cave, two faces of stone met in a V. Along one face a narrow path rose, following along until it switched back. From where Nicholas stood he couldn’t see what became of the ledge after that. “Have you been up there?”

  Calis said, “I have. It moves halfway up the face of the cliffs, then stops, but about six feet above the end of the ledge a stone chimney rises. From what I could see, it can be climbed to the top of the cliffs.”

  “How?” asked Nicholas.

  “It’s the hardest part. But if two or three of us can work our way up there, bare-handed, we have enough rope to lower down a line from the cliffs to the top of the ledge and pull up those who need help.”

  Then Marcus said, “But the seriously injured and ill won’t be able to make it—whoever’s coming up that chute will need to work hard. We can’t dead-haul ten or fifteen men more than three hundred feet up. Those makeshift ropes won’t take it.”

  Nicholas felt a sense of helplessness flowing over him, and angrily shoved it aside. “We’ll do what we can. The first thing is to get everyone up here.”

  The stones on which they stood were growing hot with the midday sun, so the Prince instructed everyone who could to shelter in the cave. He took Amos aside and said, “As soon as the sun is off the cliff face, I’m going up with Calis and Marcus.”

  “Why you?” Amos demanded.

  “Because unless I’m completely off, we’re the three most fit here.”

  “But you’ve never tried anything remotely like this before?” said Amos.

  “Look, sooner or later everyone’s going to have to try, or rot on this beach. If I’m going to fall and get splattered on the rocks, I’d just as soon do it discharging my duty as having someone try to haul me up on a rope.”

  Amos swore. “You’re getting more like your father every day. Very well, but once that rope’s secured, I want Ghuda up there.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we certainly don’t need his sword down here, but who knows what’s up there!” he said impatiently.

  “Very well. But you’re coming after him.”

  “After my men,” insisted Amos.

  Nicholas put his hand on Amos’s shoulder. “Some of them aren’t coming. You know that.”

  Amos turned away, looking over the ocean. “I’m their captain. I must be last to come up.”

  Nicholas was about to argue, but something warned him off. “Very well, but you are coming.”

  Amos nodded and went away. Nicholas returned to the cave mouth and sat, waiting for the sun to move off the rocks.

  —

  NAKOR CAME TO sit beside Nicholas. The Prince was watching the shadow that had crept about an inch or so from the face of the rocks. “You go soon?” asked the little man.

  Nicholas nodded. “A few more minutes, to get the sun off all the rocks. They’re still pretty hot to the touch.”

  “How do you feel?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “Hungry, tired, and not a little worried.”

  “Worried?”

  Nicholas stood and motioned for Nakor to move outside with him. Making a show of looking at the angle of the sun, he lowered his voice and said, “There are a half-dozen men who can’t make it up those cliffs, Nakor, maybe more.”

  Nakor sighed. “Everyone dies. We know that. Yet the death of one close to us is always troubling, even if it’s someone whom we’ve said no more than a few words to in a few minutes.”

  Nicholas turned his back to the cave, looking down at the beach and the ocean beyond. An afternoon breeze had risen and blew his shoulder-length hair behind him. “I’ve seen a lot of death recently. I don’t know if I can get used to it.”

  Nakor grinned. “That’s good. One can be philosophical in the ease of a comfortable room, with a glass of fine wine in the hand, a log upon the fire, but in the heat of the moment, when lives are at risk, one doesn’t think. One acts.”

  Nicholas nodded. “I think I understand.”

  Nakor put his hand upon Nicholas’s arm. “Do you know why some men will die today?”

  “No,” Nicholas answered bitterly. “I wish I did.”

  “It is because some spirits love life while others grow fatigued.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Nakor moved his hand in an all-encompassing circle. “Life is stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  “The stuff everything is made out of.” He looked out at the ocean. “You see all that, water, clouds, you feel the wind. But there’s stuff you can’t see, too. Stuff that fools like Anthony insist is magic. All of that, from your boots to the stars in the heavens, it’s all made of the same thing.”

  “This ‘stuff,’ as you call it?”

  Nakor grinned. “If I could imagine a more elegant name, I would call it something else. But whatever this basic stuff is, it is something you can’t see; it’s like glue—it holds everything together. And one of the ways it manifests itself is what we call life.”
He looked Nicholas in the eyes. “You have gone through much in a short time and you are not the boy who left Krondor so recently.

  “But you are not yet the man you will be. So understand this: sometimes death comes unexpectedly, and those it takes to Lims-Kragma’s halls go unwillingly. That is fate. But when the spirit has a choice, as these men here have, then you must accept that choice.”

  “I’m still not clear about your meaning,” said Nicholas. His expression showed he was trying to understand.

  Motioning with his head back toward the cave mouth, Nakor said, “Some of these men’s spirits are ready to die. It is their time to move on. Do you see?”

  Nicholas said, “I think so. That’s why a man with injuries more severe will make it while another will die?”

  “Yes. You must not feel responsible for this thing. It is a choice each man makes, though he may not know he does. It is beyond the realm of princes and priests. It’s between a man’s spirit and fate.”

  Nicholas said, “I think I understand. When the ship went under the water the second time, I was choking on seawater. I couldn’t breathe and was being pulled farther and farther down, and I thought it was my time to die.”

  “How did you feel?”

  “Terribly afraid, but then at the last, before I was cast upward into the air, I felt a strange calmness.”

  Nakor nodded. “It is a lesson. But it wasn’t your time. For some of these men, it is time. You must accept that.”

  “But I don’t have to like it.”

  Nakor grinned. “That is why you may be a good ruler someday. But for the moment, you need to climb that cliff, don’t you?”

  Nicholas smiled, and it was an expression of relief and fatigue. “Yes. I must lead now, or I never will.”

  Nakor said, “Have you thought of the amulet?”

  Nicholas nodded. “Pug said to give it to Anthony, and he’s to use it only against the greatest need.” He stared into the cave, as if he could see Anthony back at the rear, tending the injured and wounded. “I trust he’ll know what is the greatest need. For now, I think anything we may survive without aid doesn’t meet that description.”

  “You must go.”