Assassin's Edge

by Juliet E. McKenna

  “When I’m one of three mages standing and Elietimm enchanters are knocking everyone else out of the game. Back in Hadrumal, I’m just a middling fish in a busy pond.” Disappointment lent a strained note to Naldeth’s offhand answer.

  Parrail nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  “I thought I could make more of a splash in Kellarin.” Naldeth’s talkative nature won out over any impulse to discretion. “It’s all very well endlessly debating theory and speculation but it’s nice to have ordinary folk glad of your help, not looking as if you’ve got two heads, if you offer to light wet firewood.”

  He would have said more but the sailors’ calls rose to a new urgency. Master Gede bellowed a sudden command and the Tang heeled round on sweeping canvas wings to dart into the sound. The rolling swell of the open ocean gave way to calmer waters between the two islands, glassy smooth where they reflected the bright sun, crystal clear in the shallows of a frowning cliff, dark skerries visible just beneath the surface.

  Naldeth spared a wary glance for passing sailors before urging Parrail to the side rail. “Let’s get a look at this place.”

  The ship followed the curve of the shore past a precipitous cliff. Below a hollow in the hills some way ahead, a shingle spit offered a gently shelving anchorage. The shore of the lesser island broke into shallow promontories hiding little bays, with folds of land beyond rising in green swells.

  Parrail sniffed. “Is that meat smoking?”

  “They did it!” Amazed, Naldeth pointed to a vessel beached on the strand, masts lopsided as the retreating tide left it unsupported. It had the same long hull as the Tang, suited for open or inshore waters, square rigged on fore and main masts, shallow fore- and aftcastles in the most recent style and rails guarding the waist of the ship, low to ease the loading and unloading of cargo carried in the capacious hold.

  “Den Harkeil’s ship?” Parrail squinted but no flags flew.

  “I can’t tell.” Naldeth shook his head, visibly annoyed. “Just because this lot got lucky, that doesn’t mean anyone else will.”

  Parrail sought a better view. “Perhaps it’s a Kellarin ship?”

  “Sail ho!” Looking up at the shout, both saw the lookout in the crow’s-nest was pointing astern.

  “Another ship?” Naldeth wondered aloud.

  “Master Mage, Master Scholar!” The captain’s harsh summons set them hurrying for the sterncastle.

  “Have either of you had word of other ships?” demanded Master Gede as Naldeth reached the top of the stairs.

  “No one’s bespoken me.” Naldeth shook his head.

  “Nothing from Bremilayne?” Gede peered aft, trying to identify the newcomer. About a quarter as long again as the Tang with the same long lines, it carried a formidable weight of sail rigged for speed and attack. Fore- and aftmasts carried three courses of canvas compared to the Tang’s two and that wasn’t counting the square-rigged bowsprit and two lateen-rigged mizzens on the aftdeck. Fancy carving adorned rails and the wales and the beakhead at the bow was carved into a threatening shark. As it closed, the boldly painted name below was plain: Spurdog. “Master Parrail?”

  “I’ve heard nothing but Artifice isn’t always effective worked over the ocean,” Parrail hastily qualified his reply.

  “Ware sail forrard!”

  Gede gauged the speed of the rapidly approaching vessel behind before looking to the front where a second ship emerged from concealment behind a curve of the shore. The newcomer could have been built from the same plans as the Spurdog but a sterner shipwright had fashioned the plain rails ringing the crow’s-nests and deck castles. The bow was unadorned but for a brass spike and the name Thornray carved and painted black beneath.

  “Dast’s teeth, it’s a god-cursed trap!” spat Gede.

  “We’ve barely steerage, this slow,” the helmsman hissed, testing his whipstaff with a leathery hand.

  “All sail!” Gede bellowed. “Wizard, raise us a wind!”

  “Flag astern!” The lookout clung to the rope stays at a perilous angle.

  As the Spurdog ran a vivid scarlet pennant up its mainmast, the Thornray answered with its own.

  “That’s no Tormalin insignia,” said Parrail dubiously. “Who raises snake flags?”

  “Pirates,” said the captain with loathing. He narrowed his eyes to judge the course of the Thornray now intent on blocking their path. Naldeth didn’t look up from a spark of blue light he was cherishing between his hands. He drew his palms a little wider and the light grew into an iridescent sphere, azure threaded through with brightness painful to the eye.

  “Quick as you like, wizard.” The helmsman glanced over his shoulder as the Spurdog’s sails stole what little breeze the Tang could hope for between the confining islands.

  The lookout yelled with fear and fury as a shower of arrows rattled among the Tang’s sails. Several sailors cried out, arms or legs bloodied. One unfortunate thudded heavily to the deck; screaming and clawing at a vicious shaft piercing his belly.

  Parrail knocked Naldeth clean off his feet. The mage’s curse went unspoken as he saw bright arrowheads biting deep into the planking where he’d stood. Master Gede was dragging the helmsman beneath the inadequate shelter of the stern rail, the man choking on his own blood, an arrow deep in his chest. Shocked, Naldeth’s magic scattered in a haphazard flurry of feeble gusts.

  Master Gede knelt on one knee by the whipstaff, the other booted foot braced and his hand steady. “We need wind, Master Mage.”

  “Can you use the water to slow them?” Parrail’s voice shook.

  “It’s too antithetical.” Naldeth fought to steady his hands as a faint sapphire glow suffused the empty air between them. He’d done this before, he reminded himself. If he was ever going to be the equal of Kalion or Otrick, he had to meet challenges like this. If he lived that long.

  A second deadly wave of arrows came from the rigging of the pursuing ship. “They’re looking for magelight.” Parrail cowered by the stern rail trying to help the helmsman.

  “Curse it!” Raw power burst from Naldeth’s hands. At the last moment, he managed to fling it up at the main mast and the Tang lurched as the sails suddenly filled, dragging the vessel bodily through the water.

  “Ware rocks!” A sailor high on the foremast pointed urgently off to one side.

  “Ware boats!” The cry came up from the waist of the ship, frantic sailors gesturing ahead and astern. A flotilla of long boats was darting out from the lesser island’s hidden bays where they’d been lurking for the Thornray’s signal. Parrail risked a glance over the stern rail and saw a second hungry pack come fanning out on either side of the Spurdog. Sweating rowers leaned into their oars, each boat full of raiders, swords in hand. In every prow, a man swung a menacing grappling iron.

  Naldeth’s face contorted as he struggled to master the gusting currents of air buffeting him. Livid glints of magic swirled around him but at last a steady wind billowed the Tang’s sails. The pirates astern hurled abuse as the ship pulled away, the enchanted wind stronger than the toiling men at their oars. Shouts of alarm ahead sounded beneath the questing prow, splintering sounds of wood drowning them an instant later.

  Gede shook his head at Naldeth. “Stop or we’ll ram her!”

  The Thornray was dead ahead, her rails lined with pirates. Her captain was steering directly into the Tang’s path, confident his heavier hull would withstand the impact.

  “What can I do?” Naldeth stood stricken with indecision.

  “Lend a hand to turn her!” Gede was struggling to steer his ship past the predatory pirate’s stern.

  Parrail cowered beneath the rail, trying to staunch the helmsman’s wound. “Zistra feydra en al dret.” His voice cracked as he tried to work the enchantment. The helmsman coughed a gout of scarlet blood and drew a deep shuddering breath before falling limp beneath Parrail’s hands.

  Thuds sounded all along the ship’s sides. The long boats had reached the Tang. Pirates flung their grapnels with
practised precision and for every rope a desperate sailor cut, two more gripped with irons claws biting deep with the weight of men climbing the lines below. The pirates swarmed over the rail, sailcloth jackets soaked in pitch to foil the few blades that the sailors could muster. Once on the deck, every raider drew short swords or daggers in either hand, hilts wrapping round into brazen knuckles for a brutal punch if close quarters foiled a stroke with a blade.

  “Zistra feydra en—” Parrail choked on his enchantment as a grappling iron soaring high over the rail hit a sailor at the bottom of the aft castle stair. The man shrieked, razor sharp points ripping open his face and chest.

  Instinct brought blazing fire to Naldeth’s outstretched palm. He threw it full in the face of the first pirate to set foot on the deck by the screaming man. Crimson with magic, flames wrapped around the pirate with a furnace roar. Hair blazed in a passing flash then the man’s naked scalp blackened and split, face beneath contorted in tortured shock. Raw flesh oozed for a scant breath before the all-consuming fire scoured the man’s silent scream to the rictus grin of a skull. He fell, head charred and naked bone, arms scorched and blistered, booted legs untouched. Sparks took hold of the pitch in his smouldering jerkin and the magical fire ran greedily across the deck leaving barely a scorch mark. It leapt to the grappling iron, melting it into a shapeless lump before consuming the rope as it went in search of fresh victims in the boat below. Unseen screams lifted above the ear-splitting din of the vicious struggle aboard.

  “Wizard, yonder!” Master Gede waved at a new sail. A gaff-rigged ship, deft and manoeuvrable was swooping down the anchorage. Barely two thirds the length of the Tang, the single mast carried triangular headsails rigged to the bowsprit and cut back all the better to spill wind and turn the ship in its own length. The square topsail and fore-and-aft mainsail drove her on and a bold red pennon streamed from the masthead, a black snake writhing down the length of it.

  Frenzied, Naldeth snatched at the roiling air around him but a hail of slingshot thudded all around, bruising him cruelly. He wove a frantic, fragile shield but it was too late. Master Gede was down, bleeding from a gash to the head, the Tang drifting forlorn without his guiding hand.

  Parrail had been vomiting but struggled towards the captain on his hands and knees. Tears poured down the scholar’s face but he gritted his teeth and mouthed the measured syllables of a charm.

  Naldeth looked wildly into the waist of the ship where the crew fought with pirates swarming aboard from all directions. Gede’s boatswain went down to a slashing blade, the shipwright beside him struggling to defend himself with a belaying pin at the same time as stretching a hand to his fallen comrade. The pirate hacked it from his arm and raised his weapon for a killing blow but the sailor who’d fallen first kicked out with his last breath. The one-handed sailor smashed the pirate’s face to a bloody pulp with his length of solid oak but another raider cut him down, stamping for footing on the bodies of ally and prey alike.

  “Nis tal eld ar fen.” Parrail wiped bile from his chin. He knelt beside Master Gede but his eyes were fixed on the murderous pirate below. The man yelled and clapped his hands to his face, swords forgotten as he swung this way and that rubbing at his eyes.

  “I have him!” Naldeth exulted. He pulled a shaft of lightning from the confusion of grey and white clouds overhead and seared the man dead but a blue echo of his magic flashed all around him drawing several arrows. Worse, pirates below made a concerted move towards the rear deck.

  Parrail grabbed at the mage’s tunic. He drew a deep breath, enunciating an incantation with meticulous care. Naldeth was simply frozen with fear until he saw the pirates intent on his death had halted, confused like a pack of questing hounds who’d lost their scent. Faces turned to the aftdeck seemed to be looking straight through him.

  Parrail’s eyes were hollow with consternation. “What do we do now?”

  “Take hold.” Naldeth held out a shaking hand, hoping he was equal to his sudden inspiration.

  Parr ail snatched at it like a drowning man. “But Master Gede—”

  Too late. An azure spiral of power bound his arms to his sides, his feet leaving the deck for an instant before he was plunged into darkness. Parrail groaned with misery as his abused stomach sought to empty itself once more. Then he realised they were in the dimness below decks. Panicked voices rose in the broad hold where those hoping for a life in Kellarin had been waiting out the long days at sea among their hammocks and chests of treasured possessions.

  “What’s happening?” demanded a man’s voice.

  “It’s pirates!” Naldeth replied, anguished. “They’re killing everyone!”

  The consternation that provoked threatened to turn to outright hysteria but everyone fell silent a few moments later when a hatch at the far end of the deck opened to the white and terrified faces below.

  “Out!” A swarthy Gidestan beckoned with a bloodstained glove.

  The hapless youth at the bottom of the ladder looked around wildly for guidance but everyone else dropped their gaze.

  “Out, all of you.” The Gidestan sounded menacing.

  The lad climbed slowly up the ladder, yelping as his head reached deck level and unexpected hands hauled him bodily through the hatch.

  “And the rest!” What little patience the Gidestan had was plainly exhausted.

  Someone else was half pushed, half urged up the ladder and others followed. A surge of bodies carried Naldeth and Parrail closer to the shaft of pitiless daylight, whimpers of fear and ragged breaths of distress all around them.

  “We work no magic or enchantment.” Parrail dug painful fingers into Naldeth’s arm as the wizard opened his mouth. “We have to live long enough to get word out to Hadrumal or somewhere, anywhere.”

  The press brought the two of them to the ladder and they had no choice but to climb, Parrail first then Naldeth close behind him. Scrambling on to the deck, rough hands shoved them towards the motionless crowd clustered around the main mast. Homespun folk with the honest faces of craftsmen and farmers huddled together, watching the pirates casually tossing the bodies of the slain overboard. Parrail recognised the ship’s sailmaker, the helmsman, a farmer from Dalasor whose name he couldn’t recall.

  A few were looking wide-eyed at the forecastle where a bare-chested pirate was tying up the remaining sailors. A few struggled with the pirates restraining them, more went with sullen obedience but one man managed to break free. He hit out wildly, felling one and then kicking out to catch another in the groin, shouting some incomprehensible abuse. The defiance died on his lips as the bare-chested man smashed the back of his head with an iron bar. He twisted his fingers in the blood-soaked wavy hair and held the corpse up to warn sailors and passengers alike. “That’s what making trouble gets you!”

  Naldeth’s gorge rose at the sight of the dead man’s misshapen pate, bone gleaming white around grey pulp and gore. He swallowed hard and his terror unexpectedly receded in the face of desperate calm as he forced himself to assess his plight. At least he and Parrail were dressed much the same as the rest of the passengers. For the first time since his childhood he breathed a thanks to Saedrin. The showy robes and elemental colours fashionable in Hadrumal would have condemned him as a mage at once.

  With the unresisting sailors now bound, pirates were moving among the prisoners, cutting knives and purses from belts, ripping the few pieces of jewellery visible from necks and wrists, dumping all the spoils in a prosaic wicker basket once destined for a goodwife’s trips to market.

  “Your rings.” One gestured at a yeoman’s gold-circled fingers with a bloodstained knife and an evil grin on his undernourished face. “Take ’em off or I cut ’em off.”

  Naldeth offered no resistance as rough hands searched his jerkin and breeches pockets, his coin purse torn from the cord he wore beneath his shirt. Then the rat-faced man reached for Parrail’s hand.

  “The ring,” the pirate ordered.

  Parrail’s stricken expression was l
ittle different to those all around but Naldeth saw the added pain in the scholar’s eyes as he surrendered the silver emblem of Vanam, hard-earned symbol of long years of study and self-denial.

  That distraction left the mage slow to realise why everyone had fallen silent. All the pirates standing upright and ready, faces turned to the far rail. Naldeth saw the single mast of the ship that he’d failed to hit with any useful magic, snake pennon whipping to and fro in lazy mockery.

  A taller man than any Naldeth could recall climbed over the rail with a deftness belying his bulk. The pirates raised a loud cheer, boots stamping, swords smacked together in raucous celebration. The tall man swept a courtly wave to acknowledge those on the forecastle and Naldeth noticed he was lacking the little finger on his sword hand. He had black hair with a curl to it, long enough to fall below his shoulders if it hadn’t been pulled back into a merciless queue. Those shoulders looked broad enough to bear any burden but the man was dressed like a noble who’d never had to soil his hands.

  As he turned to share his approval with his pirates, Naldeth saw a delighted smile deepening creases beginning to claim a permanent place around the pirate’s eyes. He was a man in the prime of life, teeth white against the trimmed and disciplined beard that showed just a touch of grey. “Well done, my lads. Now, let’s have a little hush.” His voice was a carrying boom well suited to his barrel chest. The pirate approached the terrified colonists, heedless of his polished boots as he kicked some bloodied body aside.

  “Good day to you.” He bowed low with ostentatious politeness. “I am Muredarch and I am the leader of these—” His smile turned feral. ”We’re pirates. You’re prisoners, though you’ll get a choice about that. We’re taking everything we find on this ship. You don’t get a choice about that.” He grinned at a stifled squeak of protest. ”But we’ll be handing out fair shares because that’s the way we do things in my fleet. If you want a share, all you have to do is swear fealty to me and do as I say until I say different. Show a talent for our life and you’ll find it’s recognised. Birth means nothing here but ability counts for a lot.”