by Mel Odom
Jherek glanced at the mage, already willing the bracer into a shield again.
“Pray to your gods, whelp,” Iakhovas said in a cold, hard voice, “that you never meet me again.”
Jherek wasn’t planning on it, but he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t break eye contact. If any of his friends had been hurt, it would have been a different matter.
Iakhovas turned, gestured, then walked into what appeared to be a solid wall, the elf woman at his heels.
When the mage had gone, Jherek left Vurgrom with one of Tarnar’s men holding a sword to his throat. Tarnar’s sailors flooded into the cave. Their captain cowed, the surviving members of Vurgrom’s pirates surrendered easily enough.
Jherek sprinted to the pool where koalinth battled his friends, Tarnar at his heels. Two of the creatures lay dead, silent testimony to Glawinn’s skill. The paladin was on the floor, his sword locked against a koalinth’s spear and his shield holding the creature’s savage jaws from his face.
Changing the shield back to a hook, Jherek hooked the koalinth’s shoulder from behind and yanked the monster off the paladin. The young sailor kicked the sea hobgoblin in the face, driving it back into the pool. He offered the paladin a hand up.
“Hail and well met, young warrior,” Glawinn greeted him in a strained voice.
“Hail and well met,” Jherek replied.
“The helping hand was appreciated,” the paladin said with a crooked smile, “but I’d just gotten him where I wanted him.”
Glawinn’s sword flashed, engaging another koalinth’s trident. He shoved the tines aside, then slid back through and slashed across the creature’s stomach, mortally wounding it.
Jherek shifted the hook back to a bracer and swung his arm out to slap aside another koalinth’s spear. The young sailor chopped the cutlass into the koalinth’s neck, nearly beheading it. He stepped around the falling corpse, moving toward Sabyna.
When he saw her, the copper tresses framing her face, Jherek felt as though he’d been hit in the heart with Vurgrom’s great hammer. Eighty-three days they’d been apart, and not one of them had passed that he didn’t think of her with both longing and trepidation.
Now she was there before him, bent over in a knife-fighter’s stance, a blade in each hand, battling for her life against a koalinth. The creature struck with its spear but Sabyna turned it to one side and darted in to score a wound on her attacker’s arm. The wound wasn’t life threatening, but it bled heavily.
The koalinth howled in pain, then shoved its head open, the massive jaws aiming to bite her head.
Jherek thrust the cutlass forward, not willing to attack the creature from behind. The blade settled between the creature’s jaws and it snapped its fangs on steel instead of flesh.
“Lady,” Jherek said softly as the koalinth withdrew, “I am here.”
Sabyna glanced at him and said, “You’re alive.”
“Aye.”
Jherek stepped between her and the koalinth as another joined it. Despite the stench of wet leather, the closed-in stink of the cave, and the smell of blood, he caught the scent of the lilac fragrance she wore. Just one breath steeled his arm in spite of the beating he’d taken and the fatigue of racing across five miles of rugged terrain to reach the cave. He felt calm and centered.
“I thought you were dead,” Sabyna said.
Jherek batted away a spear thrust, riposting and slicing the koalinth on the forehead so that blood ran down into its eyes.
“As I feared you might be before I returned,” he told her.
“I wasn’t sure you cared about that—even cared enough to come back from wherever you’d gone.”
Her words hurt Jherek more grievously than any wound he’d received. He grabbed the next spear thrust in his free hand, held the haft, and stepped forward to pierce the koalinth’s breast with the cutlass.
He yanked his blade free and turned to her, full of anger and pain. He kept his words as calm as he could, not understanding how she could doubt him.
“Please, lady,” he said, “I have told you I would lay my life down for you. I would never desert you in troubled waters without seeing you home.”
“You’ve told me that,” Sabyna agreed, “but there’s much you haven’t told me.”
Jherek gratefully turned back to face the koalinth he’d wounded.
“Perhaps we could talk about this another time,” he said.
He parried a spear, knocking sparks from the weapon.
“Do you swear?” Sabyna pressed, stepping up beside him to engage another koalinth.
Her knives flashed as she blocked the spear thrust, then one of the blades flew from her hand, burying itself in her opponent’s throat. Crimson sprayed over her and Jherek.
Jherek hesitated, blocking the spear twice more, then stepping in as he formed the bracer into a dagger and punched it through the wounded koalinth’s heart. Even as the creature fell, another shouldered up to take its place.
“Promise me,” Sabyna said.
“Lady, please.”
Jherek tried to turn the koalinth’s attack, but it was too savage, too fierce. It drove him back as he tried to find an opening.
“I will not be denied, Jherek,” Sabyna said.
“Now,” the young sailor said, thrusting and breaking his opponent’s attack, “is not the time.”
“Your secret, whatever it is,” Sabyna said, “is holding both of us back. Neither of us can be happy until we know where we stand.”
“Lady, I care deeply for you.”
The conversation and the emotion that went with it distracted Jherek. He missed a parry and watched as the spear streaked toward his chest. He managed to turn at the last moment, letting the iron point graze his ribs. He willed the bracer into a hook and tore out the koalinth’s throat before it was able to withdraw.
“Pretty words,” Sabyna said. “Jherek, I wouldn’t ask this if I knew you weren’t confused, scared, and hurting, too.”
He faced her, his chest heaving from emotion and exertion, and said, “Lady, I have never known any other way.”
He was only dimly aware that the last of the koalinth were being beaten back by Glawinn, Azla, Tarnar, and the sailors from Steadfast. Skeins had claimed one of the koalinths, wrapping the creature and using it against the others.
“I have never known pain like this,” Sabyna replied. “Never known confusion like this. My world was far simpler before I knew you.”
Jherek was silent for a moment as the sounds of the battle died down. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper when he said, “Lady, I’d never known my world was as small as it was before I knew you.”
“If you feel that way,” Sabyna asked in frustration, “then why have you put up all these walls?”
“Walls are a part of my life, lady.”
“I won’t have them in mine.”
Sabyna gazed at him fiercely. The fact that he’d pushed her into such a position shamed Jherek. His heart ached and a lump that he could scarce swallow filled his throat.
“What is there to risk?” she demanded.
“The friendship that we have between us.”
“But it could be more.”
That she’d voiced the possibility of something more both embarrassed and terrified Jherek even more than getting hit with the lightning bolt only moments ago.
“Lady,” he said, “I have treasured every moment of it, and if that friendship was all that would ever exist between us—ever could exist—I would be happy.”
“Jherek,” Sabyna’s voice was thick with emotion, “it’s been hard these last—what, nearly three months—never knowing if you were alive or dead. I truly don’t know the depth of my emotions for you. I’m not sure if I’d know true love, but I do know that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Even as tense as things have been between us since we arrived in the Sea of Fallen Stars, I still remember the meals we shared aboard Breezerunner.”
“Aye,” he said.
; “That was the reality that could exist for us, Jherek, but we’ll never know unless whatever shuts the door on that possibility is revealed. If I could, I would tear it down with my own hands.”
“You don’t know what it is you ask.”
Her eyes were sad. “Maybe you can live with what we have and never know anything more than that, but I can’t. I can’t limit myself the way you do. I’m not that strong.”
“Lady, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Please don’t think you’re weak because of me.”
“Then trust me, Jherek. Whatever it is you’re hiding, trust me with it.”
Tears welled in the young sailor’s eyes and the pain in his throat and chest was almost unbearable. He tried to speak but couldn’t.
Sabyna lowered her voice, and it was as if there were only the two of them in the world. “You believe in love, Jherek. I heard you say it, and I saw the strength of your conviction bind a spell that was very powerful. That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t mean it. As you believe in love, believe in my love for you.” Tears ran down her cheeks, tracking the blood and dirt on her face. “Tell me what holds us apart.”
Jherek spoke the words he knew would doom him to unhappiness for the rest of his life. “As you wish.”
XXIII
8 Marpenoth, the Year of the Gauntlet
“Are you going to tell her then, young warrior?”
Jherek gazed at his hands as he toweled himself off once more. He’d never seen them shake that way. Except, perhaps, for the night he’d chosen to leave his father’s ship and leap into the sea, not knowing if he would live.
He glanced up at Glawinn and said, “I promised her.”
The paladin nodded slowly. “There’s a case to be made for the fact that she coerced you.”
They were in the warrior’s quarters aboard Azure Dagger. Returning to Azla’s ship in the dark with Vurgrom and his pirates as prisoners—and with the weakened prisoners the koalinth had held as livestock—had taken hours.
During that time Sabyna had concerned herself with the prisoners they’d rescued from the koalinth and given Jherek time to think. Unfortunately, all he’d been able to think on was this moment. When they’d reached the ship, he’d begged off time to bathe and tend his wounds, hoping the words he needed would come to him.
He’d drawn a bucket of fresh water from the ship’s stores instead of bathing in the salt, wanting to be at his best even though he felt everything was going to end at its worst. He’d washed with lye soap, then groomed himself as best as he could, borrowing Glawinn’s shaving kit to scrape the sparse stubble from his chin like he was a man in danger of raising a beard. When he was finished with the task, with his hands shaking the way they were, he guessed that he’d drawn more blood than Vurgrom and the koalinth had.
“As much as I don’t wish this,” Jherek said, “I know she needs—and deserves—to know.”
“And you? Could you love her from afar if it comes to that?”
Jherek looked at his friend and mentor. “Aye,” he said, “without hesitation.”
“Ah, but you’ve got Lathander’s heart in you, young warrior.” Glawinn’s voice turned husky and his eyes shone brightly. “Then you will never lose her, no matter how this goes.”
“And her?”
Glawinn shook his head. “I cannot speak for the lady, young warrior. The thing that crosses the two of you is strong. It’s not just her, it’s you, too. She’ll look at you and think of her brother, but you’ll look at her and think of your father.”
“No.”
“You will, and you need to face that.”
“My father will not be a part of my life forever,” Jherek objected.
“No,” Glawinn responded. “I don’t think he will, but for a while longer yet, he will be.”
Jherek folded the towel and looked around for his clothes. They weren’t on the bunk bed where he’d left them when he’d gone to bathe in the crew’s head.
“I took the liberty of seeing to your breeches,” Glawinn said, taking them from the built-in chest of drawers. “I washed them while you were tending yourself, then dried them in the ship’s galley.”
Jherek took the breeches, amazed at how clean they were. He’d never gotten real clothes while on Black Champion or Azure Dagger, and the things he’d traded for while on Steadfast remained aboard her on the other side of the Whamite Isles. Azla sailed Azure Dagger around to the south of the island, intending to stop briefly at Agenais to replenish the ship’s stores before returning Tarnar and his crew to their ship. “Thank you,” Jherek said.
“I knew you’d want to look your best. Here are your socks.”
Jherek took them and pulled the pants on, then his socks and boots.
“I’m afraid there was nothing that could be done about the shirt,” Glawinn said, kneeling and taking his kit from under his bed. He opened the kit and pulled out a sky-blue shirt with white ruffles and belled sleeves. “I thought perhaps you could wear one of mine. The breadth of our shoulders are about the same.”
“That’s far too fine.”
Jherek loved the look of the shirt but he couldn’t imagine himself wearing something like that. Velen had been a simple sailors’ town and he’d established early in his relationship with Madame Iitaar that he wouldn’t accept charity. She’d accepted that, but she’d also cared for his clothing.
“Perhaps something else?” Jherek asked.
Glawinn didn’t look in the kit. “There’s nothing else.” He held the shirt up and said, “Unless you’re prepared to walk out there with your father’s tattoo showing for all to see, I’d suggest accepting the loan.”
Reluctantly, Jherek took the shirt. It felt incredibly smooth.
“Silk, young warrior, as smooth as a caress from Sune Firehair herself.” Glawinn smiled. “That shirt has seen me through many a difficult situation.”
“You wore this in battle?”
“In King Azoun’s courts, where the pecking order is oft determined by dress. Put it on.”
Jherek pulled the shirt on, amazed at the feel of it.
Glawinn took a mirror from his kit and hung it on a peg on the wall. “Let’s have a look at you.”
Feeling very self-conscious, the young sailor glanced at the mirror. The image he saw surprised him. His tanned face and pale gray eyes stood out against the sky-blue shirt. Sun streaks colored his light brown hair. The scar on his cheek lent him a roguish air. His gaze was direct, challenging. The past months had been hard, and they’d hardened him with it.
The look was all too familiar and disturbing. He turned from the mirror.
“What’s wrong?” Glawinn asked.
“For the first time,” Jherek said in a thick voice, “I see my father’s face in mine.”
Glawinn was silent for a moment, then he stepped behind the young sailor and held his shoulders. Gently but firmly, the warrior turned him back to the mirror and said, “Look deep.”
Jherek did, captivated by the unacceptable resemblance he now noticed. It was something about the set of his eyes, the square of his jaw. Maybe more, but at least those things.
“Young warrior,” Glawinn said, peering into the mirror over Jherek’s shoulder and still clasping him tightly, “you may find your father’s likeness in your features, but you’ll never find your father’s ways in your heart.”
Jherek nodded as if he accepted that, but he knew he didn’t.
“Thank you for the loan of the shirt,” he said. “I should be going. We agreed to meet on the forecastle. This time of morning, it’s the most private place on the ship.”
He took his sash from his bed and wrapped it around his hips, then shoved the newly acquired cutlass through it. At first he’d felt guilty about taking the weapon, but it had come from the destruction of Lathander’s disk, so he felt he owed it to the priests at Baldur’s Gate to take it to them.
“There is one other thing.” Glawinn took a small bottle from his kit. “Cologne.
Hold out your hands.” He pulled the cork stopper from the bottle and poured. “Rub your hands together and slap it onto your face.”
Jherek did, finding that it stung the cut on his cheek, but it had a pleasant, if bold, fragrance. “You make me feel like I’m suiting up for a battle.”
“All true affairs of the heart between two people who have the trials between them that you two have are battles, young warrior. Too often, in the right circumstances, a man’s—and a woman’s—dress is a weapon.”
“I’ve got to go.”
Glawinn put his hands on Jherek’s shoulders again and said, “Wear your heart on your sleeve that she may know your mind truly. All the worries, all the fear, as well as all the love. When you are done, should you need me, I will be here in this room.” He leaned forward and kissed Jherek lightly on the forehead. “Should I ever be blessed with a son, young warrior, nothing would please me greater than to see him turn out like you. May Lathander bless you.”
The lump returned to Jherek’s throat. It was all he could do to nod and walk through the door. He took the stairs from the nearly empty cargo hold that still stank of slavery and walked up on deck.
Morning tinted the eastern sky a rosy pink peering through wheat-colored clouds. Sabyna Truesail stood in the middle of it on the forecastle deck, peering east, in the direction Azure Dagger was headed.
Jherek gazed at her with longing. Though the rising sun behind her reduced her to a silhouette, he could picture every line and every rounded curve of her. No matter what happened from this moment on, he knew he’d never forget that sight.
He crossed the deck hurriedly and went up the steps to the forecastle.
“Lady, I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
She turned at his voice, and surprise lighted her eyes.
“So it would appear well worth the wait,” she said. “Had I known, I’d have dressed accordingly.”
She wore dark green breeches and a white shirt with her sleeves rolled to mid-forearm. She’d bathed and combed her hair, and the scent of lilacs was gentle around her. Jherek thought he’d never seen a lovelier woman in all his life.
