“No,” she said and thrust back with her power. They weren’t exactly speaking the same language, but when he winced, she knew he’d gotten her message. He lowered his hand and sat staring at her.
Behind her Zimran shifted anxiously.
Revic’s eyes rose to pin him. Tyla felt the force of the Delphi’s thought assault the Wryn. Zimran bowed his head, pressing his hands together. Again Revic directed the full force of his communication on the Wryn. Zimran made a strange noise and lowered his head further. He was nearly bent over at the waist.
Tyla followed the exchange, then moved back to stand beside her friend. She could feel the edge of Revic’s power and could only imagine how it felt to Zimran. Suddenly, he collapsed to his hands and knees, his head hanging between his shoulders, the white stripe of hair standing on end.
“Stop it!” Tyla demanded, kneeling beside the Wryn and placing her hands on his back. He was trembling. Whipping her eyes to Revic, she released her power, causing the benches to roll with it. “Stop it now!”
Revic’s assault cut off, but Zimran didn’t rise. He pressed his head against the tiles of the arena, his breath coming in a pant. Tyla stroked a hand across his white hair and tried to soothe him. Reaching out, he groped for her hand and she gave it to him. His fingers squeezed hers in a motion of communion, a gesture where no words were needed.
Tyla slid her free hand around his upper arm, prepared to help him to his feet, but suddenly two Delphi loomed over them. Tyla’s gaze shot to their implacable faces, the pale ivory of their skin gleaming pearlescent in the dim light of the arena. They reached down and grabbed Zimran under the arms, hauling him to his feet.
Tyla still had his hand and he clutched her, his expression shifting to panic. “Let him go!” she shouted, but they dragged him backward toward the door, his heels sliding across the tiles.
Tyla followed them, clinging to Zimran, but they were too strong and she was afraid to hurt him. Tearing her away from the Wryn, they pulled him up the incline and to the tunnel before the door. Tyla followed, prepared to do whatever she needed to save her friend. His eyes were wild with desperation and fear, and he struggled against them.
As soon as they neared the door, it swung open. They went to the edge of it and thrust Zimran outside with such force that he lost his footing and fell on his backside. Tyla tried to go to him, but the Delphi turned and blocked the entrance with their bodies.
Tyla caught one last glimpse of Zimran as the door closed.
* * *
The island of Delure rose up out of the mist, a mass of stone cliffs and verdant jungles with a narrow stretch of beach right at the shore’s edge. Kalas gripped the railing and stared out at it, stunned by its massive size. How would they begin to search for his sister in this alien place?
Around him, the ship’s crew spun in frantic, chaotic motion. He heard numerous comments about rocks and shallow draft. The ship tracked parallel to the island, never dipping back into the fog that surrounded it, but never going closer to shore. Kalas wasn’t sure, but he felt fairly certain they’d sailed around the perimeter of it at least once in the half-day that had passed.
Parish appeared at his elbow, watching the sheer cliffs slide away along the starboard bow. “Captain says there’s no way to get any closer. There’s a spot further along where we can row a dingy into shore. It’ll take a few trips to get us and our stores over there, but the spot he’s picked has a beach where we can camp. It was the only beach access he’s found.”
“Will he wait here for our return?”
“That’s the agreement, but every day the cost goes up. They’re missing some prime fishing.”
“I don’t care what it costs. I just want them to wait while we search the island.” He glanced over his shoulder where Allistar was hugging the railing. “Tell Allistar to get his men ready to disembark.”
“Done,” said Parish, then he turned to go. Hesitating he came back to the rail. “I don’t suppose…”
“No.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“I do and it will always be no.”
“We have no way of knowing what’s on that island. We can’t prepare for anything because we don’t know what we face, yet you are insistent you have to risk yourself to go.”
Kalas turned and put his back to the rail. “Since I hate these arguments and we seem to have them so often, let me try a different approach with you, Baron. Whenever you think to challenge my decision, ask yourself the following. What would my father want me to do? Would my father want me to go to this island and look for my sister?”
Parish looked away, down the railing where Ellette and Dolan stood, staring out at the island. “You always use him against me, you know that?”
“Would anything else work?”
“Probably not.” With a last pointed look, he headed toward Allistar.
Kalas stifled the guilt that rose inside of him. He hated having to manipulate people, but they gave him no choice. He wasn’t staying on this ship, while they searched for his sister. He might be King of two realms, and he knew that their concern sprang from that fact, but in this he was just a man fighting to keep the only family he had together.
* * *
Jarrett cut the orb in half and hollowed out one side of it. Then he filled one of the cooking orbs with water and settled the hollowed half inside. It floated for a moment, then gradually it began to take on water, until it lost all elasticity and sank to the bottom of the pot.
He fished it out and stretched it in his hands. It was too porous this way, but if he dried it with the fire, it might harden enough to be used around the frame of a boat. Dropping it into the pot again and sitting back, he sighed. How long would it take them to dry enough of the skin to cover a boat big enough to transport both him and Tyla?
Reaching into the pouch on his belt, he pulled out the stone Kerrin had given him, passing it back and forth in his fingers. He hadn’t given much thought to returning and what it meant. Most of the time he’d been filled with a growing dread that they wouldn’t find a cure for Tyla’s illness. Now that they had, he couldn’t help but think of the future. And after the previous day, he knew that the future had to have her in it. Her and his son.
He wasn’t sure how they’d work out the challenges before them. He was still Nazar and she was leader of Temeron. He was fairly certain she would never agree to leave Temeron now, while he was more than willing to leave the Nazarien. And yet he wasn’t. The thought of turning them over to someone who would reverse the gains he’d made, the progress he’d forced on them, made him feel sick inside. He couldn’t just abandon them until he was sure the changes were permanent. And then, who would take over?
If his plan had worked, Tyne wouldn’t want to return to Chernow. He’d want to stay in Temeron, but Jarrett frankly couldn’t think of anyone else he’d trust with an order that wielded so much power and influence throughout Samar.
His thoughts fragmented as he spotted Avendale sprinting down the trail from the orchard. He came to a panting halt before Jarrett, bending over at the waist and fighting for his next breath.
“Jer-red, venir meca!”
Jarrett slipped the rock back into his pouch and rose to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
Avendale motioned back toward the road. “Venir meca! Venir meca!”
Although the words he knew in the Wryn’s language was limited, this phrase was one he recognized. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.
Avendale grabbed his arm and tugged on it. “Venir meca!” His agitation made Jarrett’s heart pick up speed. He looked back at the domes, but he didn’t think Avendale would allow him to search for Tyla and tell her where he was going.
Releasing him, the Wryn grabbed a rock from the fire ring and shoved it in Jarrett’s hand, then he frantically waved his arms toward the road again. “Lacert. Lacert.” He then made a claw motion with both hands.
Jarrett understood. The lizard creature had returned
to the orchard. “All right.” Loosening his sword in its sheath, he dropped the rock in the fire pit and motioned for Avendale to lead the way.
The Wryn raced off up the road and Jarrett had to jog to keep pace with him. As they hurried down the road toward the orchard, other Wryn passed them, each stopping to gesticulate wildly at Jarrett. He quickened his pace, following the fleet figure of Avendale until they reached the orchard.
At first, Jarrett didn’t see the creature, but he heard a low humming sound and peered through the trees. Avendale sprinted back to his side and tugged on his arm, pointing toward the middle of the trees where sight was hampered by low hanging fruit and heavy bows.
Jarrett bent over and gathered a handful of stones, hefting them against his palm. He wasn’t sure if they were the explosive rocks he’d found by accident before, but if it was the same creature, maybe it had sense enough to be wary of the man.
Crossing around the trunks behind Avendale, Jarrett searched for signs of the creature. The humming sound was getting louder, thrumming through the air like a large insect. Stepping over discarded baskets and orbs that had spilled out of their containers, he crossed between the rows of trees.
A sudden flash of motion on his left had him spinning in that direction. A dark, swift moving body skittered around the trunk of a tree, sliding into the cover of the grasses growing in a ditch between the rows. Behind him, the humming increased, turning almost into a growl.
Jarrett whipped the other way in time to see a lizard racing toward him, churning up the soft loam beneath the trees with massive, hooked claws. He cast the stones, but they glanced off the armored plate on the creature’s head.
Avendale made a strangled sound and tried to duck behind him, grabbing Jarrett’s arm and dislodging the remaining stones. Jarrett tried to catch them, but Avendale’s hold caused him to stumble backwards, nearly losing his footing.
Glancing up, Jarrett noticed the lizard was half a row away and coming on fast. A rustle of grass behind him drew his attention as a second lizard darted out of the grass and tried to close on his flank.
Jarrett threw Avendale off, and the Wryn toppled into the ditch between the rows. Ignoring the terrified cry of the Wryn, Jarrett wrenched his sword from the sheath and got it up in time to deflect the leap of the lizard advancing from the front. The impact knocked them both over, and Jarrett lay stunned for a moment, staring up at the branches overhead. Then he rolled to his side and got a knee under him. The lizard had landed on its back, its legs waving frantically in the air, trying to right itself.
The second creature leaped at him, but Jarrett was ready this time and dropped to one knee under it, swiping the edge of his blade across its stomach. A ropey length of entrails spilled out of its abdomen as it fell, but Jarrett didn’t have time to deliver a killing blow.
The first lizard had twisted onto its feet again and sprang at him. Jarrett swung his blade at it, catching it in the neck and loping its head off the body. It crashed into a tree trunk behind him and collapsed at its base. Swinging around, Jarrett crouched, prepared to battle the second lizard, but it heaved once and lay still, entangled in its own intestines.
Fingers flexing on the sword hilt, Jarrett shifted in every direction, waiting for more of the creatures to spring at him, but the humming sound had cut off as abruptly as it started. Avendale peeked over the lip of the ditch and surveyed the gory scene, then he crawled out and hurried to Jarrett’s side.
Jarrett lowered the sword tip and braced his hands on his thighs as he fought for breath. Damn, he hadn’t wanted to kill the creatures, but they’d given him no choice. Straightening again, he placed a hand on Avendale’s shoulder. The Wryn turned toward him, his strange dark eyes wide and filled with wonder. Then he clasped Jarrett’s hand and bowed before him, pressing the hand against his forehead.
* * *
Kalas climbed out of the dingy and landed in the water. He started to hold up a hand to help Ellette down, but the glare she gave him checked that impulse. He fought a smile as she sprang nimbly out of the small boat and landed before him in the surf.
As they waded toward shore, Kalas had to admit she didn’t struggle as he did. He would have claimed his shoulder injury made navigating through the surging waves difficult, except he wasn’t really using his upper body.
She made the beach with the fastest of Allistar’s Stravad, then turned and waited for him, her hands perched on her hips. He tried to control his panting as he came to a halt before her, but she wasn’t fooled.
“A bit of conditioning would not harm you,” she scolded mildly.
Kalas wanted to retort, but it would make his lack of breath more noticeable.
Dolan came up behind him. He was also breathing hard, but that didn’t comfort Kalas much. Dolan was more than twice his age. “We’ll get camp set and you can change into something dry,” he offered.
Kalas surveyed the beach and the hills rising above them in the distance. He couldn’t see an actual trail, but a thin line snaked its way to the summit. Certainly not well traversed or well-marked, it seemed. Glancing up, he noted where the sun was.
“We have a few hours of daylight. Shouldn’t we at least start searching?” he asked.
Parish’s soldiers were fanned out around them, making a cursory inventory of their immediate area, but Parish turned at his words and motioned around the sheltered spit of land.
“I don’t think you want to get caught without a defensible camp come nightfall, Your Majesty,” he said. “Here we have the ocean on one side and the hills on the other. I think we need to approach this with a bit more caution since we don’t know what we’re facing.”
Allistar left his Stravad and approached the King. “If you’d like, I can send a few scouts out in each direction and report back by nightfall. That way we’ll have a better idea of the terrain.”
“And what action to take come morning,” finished Kalas, nodding. “A good idea. Have them take Attis.” He nodded at the Cult member standing off to the side. He figured Parish would rest easier if Attis was occupied by the Stravad.
Allistar returned to his men and began giving orders, then they dispersed in various directions, a group of three pointing for Attis to follow them. In moments, they’d disappeared into the landscape.
“While we wait for them to return, I suggest we set a base camp here,” offered the Baron.
Kalas shifted anxiously. The salt from the ocean was drying against his skin, but that wasn’t what bothered him. He didn’t want to go walking off into the unknown, but if his sister was here, he wanted to find her and leave. There was something about this island and its unknown secrets that made him edgy. He wasn’t going to tell the others, but he’d half hoped he’d find Tyla and Jarrett camping on the beach, waiting for him.
“Fine. Set camp.”
Parish and Dolan exchanged a look and he realized his voice had come out sharper than he intended.
“If you’d be more comfortable on the ship, I could have the sailors row you back out?” said Parish.
“I would not be more comfortable on the ship,” Kalas snapped.
Ellette cocked her head. “You did not believe your sister would be waiting for you, did you?”
Kalas was shocked by her perceptiveness. Reaching up, he rubbed his shoulder over the healed wound. “I guess I hoped they would be,” he said, forcing himself to moderate his tone. He didn’t want to sound petulant with her.
“I half hoped they’d be too,” said Dolan with a sigh.
Kalas shared a commiserate look with his second. “What if there are alien creatures on this island? What if the reports are true?”
Parish shifted and glanced up at the hills. “If the reports are true, we better damn well hope the aliens are peaceful because we’ve only got a couple dozen soldiers, we’re on strange terrain, and no one knows where the hell we are.”
Kalas gave Parish an arch look. “Marvelous comfort, you are, Baron. Ever so glad to have brought you along.”
Ellette frowned at Kalas in confusion, but Parish just gave him a mischievous wink. “Your dad would have loved it.”
Kalas held up a hand in acquiescence. “People always did say my dad was half-mad. Probably owing to the company he kept.”
* * *
The Wryn crowded around Jarrett in the orchard, patting his back and making a strange, high-pitched trilling noise. Jarrett recognized it for what it was, a cry of triumph over the death of the lizards, but the sound made him uneasy.
Carefully winding his way through the jubilant Wryn, he headed for the trail to take him back to the domes. Leaving Tyla this long contributed to his uneasy feeling. She didn’t know where he’d gone and she wasn’t well enough yet to make this trek in search of him.
Avendale jogged to keep up with him, along with a handful of Wryn who had attended his spear fighting classes in the last few days. They chattered happily amongst themselves, encouraging Avendale to act out Jarrett’s battle with the lizards over and over again.
Jarrett smiled in amusement, but quickened his pace. While their joy was infectious, he couldn’t deny the growing feeling of dread rising inside of him. It hummed along his nerve endings and made the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end.
He stopped on the trail and the Wryn circled around him. Holding his hands out from his body, he pushed back the sleeves on his tunic, noting the goose flesh up and down his forearms. The pressure in his head was becoming more pronounced, on the verge of pain. Suddenly the Wryn stopped gamboling and shifted toward the head of the trail as if they sensed something.
Jarrett started running, pushing through the crowd of Wryn. The pressure in his head increased, turning into the familiar buzzing of the Delphi when they communicated with each other. He skidded to a halt on the edge of the tree tunnel, blinking against the painful thrum of their collective thoughts.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 88
