Pathfinder Tales: Skinwalkers

by Wendy N. Wagner

  The boy grinned. I like pastries. He squeezed past Jendara into the kitchen. He took down a cutting board, and without being asked, began cutting onions. Jendara gave him a grateful look and went to sit beside Vorrin.

  "Aren't you at all curious about the man in that boat? Don't you want to find out what happened out there?"

  "Not enough to miss sailing in this weather." Vorrin reached for the poker and adjusted the logs in the grate.

  "But...the creatures in the dark? The animal hair in the younger man's belt?"

  He raised his eyebrows. "That man who survived had a concussion. He's just lucky his skull is in one piece. And those could have been dog hairs, Dara. Plenty of big dogs around."

  Jendara blew out her cheeks, frustrated. "I don't believe in coincidences, Vorrin. Not finding those two so soon after that attack at the quarry."

  "Fine." He dropped the poker on the hearth and got to his feet. "How about you go take a look at the guy's boat while Kran and I work on dinner? If you find anything strange, then you're right. And if all you find is a busted-up boat, then..." He shrugged. "Anything could have attacked that guy, Dara. Even another party of raiders. People with head injuries aren't exactly the most reliable witnesses."

  She reached for her jacket. "You're right." She shrugged on her outer gear and grabbed her spare lantern. "But it bothers me."

  "It's not our business," he called, but she was already closing the door on him.

  A salty breeze blew down her jacket collar, surprisingly chilly after such a sunny day. She buttoned the top button and wondered if Vorrin was right. Maybe none of this was her business. What was her business was the journey to and from Varisia. After all, she'd spent all summer building up that cargo. If it didn't sell—well, it would be a long hungry winter with no money.

  "I've got to get focused on this trip," she muttered, kicking a stone ahead of her. The words fell flat in the wind.

  She frowned, thinking harder about the winter clawing its way south. In just six or seven short weeks, Sorind's first snowstorms would be battering its shores, the snow carried by wild winds no sane captain wanted to maneuver his ship through. Vorrin was right to be worried. No matter how intriguing this new mystery was, she had to admit that.

  Jendara scowled at the injured man's boat. In the twilight, it didn't look nearly as battered or bloody. But standing alone beside it, surrounded by shadows, the boat's timbers creaking as they rubbed against the fenders of the dock, she understood just what had piqued her interest in this craft and its story. "You're connected somehow," she murmured. "You've got to be the connection between Crow's Nest and Alstone Quarry that I just can't see."

  The injured man had been attacked by growling creatures. She'd shot a strange beast she would have sworn was a man. What had they both really seen?

  Thinking hard, Jendara ran her hand over sailboat's prow. The wood was sleek and well maintained.

  She scoured the outside of the boat first. If they'd been caught at sea by another boat, the attackers would have used grappling hooks to bring the two vessels together, then tie them tight. That left signs. She wished she'd looked over the boat while the sun was up. Her lantern wasn't half bright enough.

  She stepped inside the cabin and took a moment to orient herself. The sailboat wasn't very big, maybe twenty feet long, the single mast pressed up close to the foredeck and a wooden slat in the stern for seating. A couple of crates were lashed underneath the seat. Despite the boat's small size, she'd seen plenty of this kind of boat used as raiding vessels—they were a nice size to stash in a cove someplace while the owner raided a sheep or smokehouse. Odds were good that the injured man and his dead friend had been on the same kind of expedition, just two idiots hungry for a little action before the winter freeze. She'd seen plenty of their kind.

  Hell, she'd been their kind, only the professional model.

  She nudged the bloody pile of canvas that she'd found the men hiding beneath. It was heavy stuff, and oiled on one side. They probably used it as a cover while they slept—there was just enough room in the bottom of the boat for two people to sleep awkwardly, head to foot. Jendara thought a moment, then crossed to the crates. Their lashings were nice and snug, and when she undid them, the supplies inside looked neatly sorted and carefully packed. There was a jug of schnapps, but it was nearly full.

  Jendara plopped back onto the seat with a groan. Nothing. Not a damn thing. She'd been hoping for some kind of real clue, maybe a talon or a fang that she could identify, or a bloody bootprint. If she wanted to be really honest, she'd hoped she'd find something that directly linked this attack to Kalvamen. She'd been ridiculously optimistic. More than that: the oiled canvas suggested the men had been asleep. Even if the boat's owner woke up feeling fine, he wasn't going to have much of a story.

  She climbed out of the boat, shaking her head. She was too eager to see monsters and cannibals to be objective anymore. It was time for her to get back to sea.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Jendara put her arm around Kran. It was good to have him with her on the deck of the Milady, close beside her and surrounded by crew members who had practically raised him. Sure, the time he spent on Sorind was good for him. She couldn't deny that he had gotten stronger and faster and that Yul had taught him a number of useful skills. But this was where he belonged. Where he was safe.

  She looked back over her shoulder at the island, diminishing behind them with the power of a good wind. It had seemed safe, too, once. When she had first decided to build a house on the island and use it as her winter home, she had been certain there was no safer place in all the world. But now she had her doubts. Those men working at Alstone Quarry had probably felt they were pretty safe, too.

  Kran wriggled out from under her arm, leaping over piles of rope and fishing nets to reach Glayn's side. The gnome patted the boy's shoulder—a stretch these days, Jendara realized with a pang—and sent him up in the rigging. Some mothers would have worried about letting their children clamber up and down a eighty-foot-tall mainmast, but Jendara didn't. Kran had been born on this ship. He could leap from spar to spar like a regular monkey.

  Jendara gathered a pile of netting and stowed it in its place belowdecks. The crew did a lot of fishing when they traveled, but today was no day for it. They were moving too fast. Vorrin had the bit between his teeth and the wind agreed with him.

  Kran slid down the ladder to land with a thud on the deck. He beckoned at her.

  She hurried to join him. "What's wrong?"

  He pointed back to the north. A small craft moved in the distance, headed back toward Sorind.

  "It looks like a longship to me," Jendara mused.

  Kran nodded. While he had been up in the rigging, he must have had a good view of the vessel, especially if he was carrying her spyglass.

  "Did you get a look at the crew?"

  He reached for his slate. Too far away, he wrote.

  "Hmmn." Jendara held out her hand. "May I use the glass?"

  He handed it to her. She brought the longship into focus. She couldn't quite recognize the figurehead. It was some kind of animal, its mouth opened in a twisted snarl.

  She shook her head. "I don't see any crew."

  Kran tapped her shoulder. Maybe they have the boat cover pulled up? he wrote.

  Jendara looked again. "I think you're right." She looked around for her partner. "Vorrin! Come see this!"

  He crossed the deck quickly. "What's wrong?"

  She held out the spyglass. "Look at that boat. Kran noticed it, and that they've got the boat cover pulled up even though it's morning."

  Vorrin took a look. "It's headed right for Sorind." He passed the spyglass back to Kran. "I don't like that." He shouted to the navigator and the Milady swung around in a quick change of course.

  Kran pounded Jendara's shoulder.

  She snapped her head back around and saw what he did: something spilling out of the approaching longship like a narrow black cloud. She gripped the deck railing, sq
uinting at it. The cloud rose up, widening, swirling. It shrieked.

  "Crows?" she wondered.

  And then the wind from their beating wings pressed over them, a stinking carrion reek. Their cawing pierced Jendara's ears.

  "Get down!" she shouted, pushing Kran down to the decking. Talons raked her scalp. Jendara swiped at the blood.

  "I've never seen so many crows!" Vorrin shouted.

  Kran smacked at a crow battering his head. Jendara snatched it from the air and dashed it against the railing. She drew her sword and struck down another.

  "They're in the sails!" someone shrieked, and Jendara spun around to see. The black cloud had settled into the rigging, pecking at ropes, clawing at canvas.

  Kran leaped to his feet, keeping his head ducked as he darted across the deck. Jendara hurried after him, swiping at the birds that dove at her head. Black feathers filled the air like rain. She put a burst of speed into her legs and reached the mast just behind Kran. She tried to catch his belt, but he was too fast.

  "Damn it," she growled. She jumped into the ratlines and ran up them like a ladder. Kran swatted at a crow and it tumbled down the mast, its wing slapping Jendara's face and blinding her momentarily.

  Another crow landed on the back of her neck. Its beak slashed at the unprotected skin above her collar. Jendara yelped. She hooked her sword arm into the ropes around her and grabbed at the thing with her free hand. The beak stabbed into the meat of her thumb.

  She smashed the bird against the solid oak of the mast. Its bones crumpled with a gratifying crunch.

  Kran struck out with a length of knotted rope. He whipped it into the cluster of birds pecking at the ropes around him, thick lines that ran up into the topsail. Jendara kept her eyes on the crows surrounding her boy even as she hurried up the lines toward him. Theyignored Kran's attack, slicing at the rope even faster.

  It was like they knew what they were doing, Jendara realized. Like they knew they could stop the ship if they could just disable its sails.

  She twisted sideways, keeping an elbow wound into the ratlines. A group of fishing vessels floated off to her left, just out of hailing distance. She ignored them and scanned the waters beyond them, eyes sweeping the seas around Sorind. She stiffened. On the far side of island, something moved. A second longship, streaking toward the island from the northwest.

  Then something struck the side of the Milady. Jendara brought her gaze down to the deck.

  While they'd been distracted by the crows, the original longship had crept up on them. A grappling hook gripped the starboard railing.

  "Boarding party!" she bellowed, and leaped for the nearest shroud line. She hooked her elbow around the heavy rope and slid down it at full speed. She could smell small fibers singeing off her coat. The deck rail flew up at her.

  With a last-second twist, she swung out far over the side of the boat, getting a better look at the raiding ship below, something dark and hairy yanking on the end of the grappling line. She scrabbled to spin around and jump down to the deck.

  Her boots skidded on slick wood for an ugly second, but she kept her mass low and came out where she wanted: by the railing where the grappling hook dug its iron fingers into the Milady's oak. She sheathed her sword and reached for her handaxe.

  "I've got your back!" Tam roared. She hadn't seen the big first mate approaching, but she was glad to see his massive figure appear beside her. "Watch out, Dara!"

  The ears of a bear appeared at the edge of the railing. With a huge roar, the rest of it launched itself on board, its shoulder hitting Jendara in the cheek and snapping back her head. She tumbled backward, grabbing on to the beast in a mad attempt to control its snarling, biting muzzle. She twisted her arm up under its neck and jammed her elbow into its strangely hairless throat.

  They hit the deck together, the bear's mass driving hard against her arm. It rolled away, growling. She hadn't hurt it much, but she'd given it reason to be wary. Jendara jumped to her feet, circling away from the deck railing.

  "Tam, cut that grappling line!" she called, without taking her eyes off the creature. Its face was somehow malformed, the muzzle too flat, the fur patchy.

  The bear reared up on its hind legs, its arms open and ready to slash her at any second. A fighter's stance.

  Jendara's eyes narrowed. Bears didn't take stances. Bears attacked or they didn't—they didn't take the measure of their prey. This bear moved like a man, like that beast back on Flintyreach. She drew her axe.

  Vorrin dropped out of the rigging behind the creature. The bear's head swiveled, but before it could turn, Vorrin thrust his sword deep into its spine. The creature's legs crumpled beneath it. With a grunt, Vorrin freed his sword. The bear toppled backward, but its forepaws slashed at the air. Vorrin brought his blade down in two crunching chops. Its head rolled a few feet, snout coming to rest against Jendara's boot.

  Jendara kicked it away.

  A thud shook the railing behind Vorrin, and he spun around. "They're trying a second grappling line!"

  Jendara raced to the railing, handaxe ready. "Got it." She chopped at the rope, glad for the good edge of her axe. Below, a big bear stood at the bottom of the line, holding it steady for a smaller creature to clamber up.

  "Shit." She chopped faster.

  The smaller bear scrambled up a few feet. The rope pulled taut, and Jendara's work proved itself. With a twang, the rope split and the bear tumbled into the open sea.

  Below, the big bear roared with fury. With a sudden screaming, the crows swooped down out of the rigging. The air around Jendara went black. Beaks gouged at her face. Claws dug into her scalp.

  She dropped to her knees, pressing herself into the sheltering curve of the railing. The snap and dry flutter of feathers drowned out the world.

  Something pounded against her, thumped her back. Bird bones crunched. The onslaught slowed, but Jendara kept her head covered, not yet willing to uncover her face. Blood trickled down her temples and from uncountable cuts around her scalp.

  Kran's hand appeared, and Jendara grabbed on to it. Mounds of crow corpses lay on the ground around her. Glayn smashed one last bird down on the deck.

  "Look." Vorrin pointed over the side.

  Jendara wiped blood out of her eyes and peered down. The big bear snarled up at her, an arrow jutting from his shoulder. An arrow tip appeared in his chest, and he stumbled. Jendara found herself wondering at the strength it must have taken to shoot an arrow through a bear's chest.

  The bear sank into the bottom of his ship, and oars splashed into the water. There must have been some kind of crew hiding beneath the boat cover after all. The longship lunged away from the Milady.

  Another arrow shot across the deck of the retreating longship, and Jendara followed its path back to a fishing boat, where a woman with brilliant copper hair stood in the prow, longbow in hand.

  "Fambra!" Jendara called, then winced. The cuts on her face stung too much to smile. But she was glad to see the other woman.

  Jendara stopped waving. She had almost forgotten the longship she'd seen headed for Sorind. She darted to the mainmast and scrambled up the manlines. But she didn't need to make it even to the first spar to see the second longship moving away from the island as well, hurrying back northward.

  Where was it going? If it was indeed a raider, why hadn't its crew sacked the port while the first ship distracted the fishing fleet? Had its crew turned back because it witnessed its sister ship's defeat?

  She climbed down to the deck. This seemed like a bad time to leave Sorind.

  paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas , Aug 10, 2014

  Chapter Ten

  A Plan

  The fishing boats followed the Milady back to Sorind's harbor. Jendara tried to find Fambra's boat among them, but it was hard to focus with Vorrin dousing her crow-inflicted cuts and gashes with brandy. When he squeezed the deep gash on the end of her thumb, she hissed and jerked her hand away, nearly overturning the water cask she sat on.


  "I'll just tie it up," she grumbled. He yanked back her hand and pinned it to his ribs with his elbow.

  "It's deep," he warned her. "It might need stitches."

  "It's my left thumb. I don't use it for anything."

  He raised an eyebrow and then went back to examining the thumb. She gave up on escape and let her cheek rest against his side, her eyes closed. He felt warm and smelled faintly of the lavender she added to the laundry soap, but mostly of damp wool and fresh sweat. It was a nice smell, comfortable and familiar. She tried to remember what Ikran had smelled like and came up blank. She hadn't dealt much with laundry in those days; life aboard ship tended to wipe away such niceties.

  Vorrin was jabbing at her thumb with the curved sailmaker's needle, but the pain felt distant. She let it wash over and through her, letting her mind circle around old memories. Watching Kran take his first steps on the Milady's deck. Dancing with Vorrin while Glayn played the hurdy-gurdy. She smiled a little at that one.

  She felt him lift her chin and opened her eyes to look up into his. They crinkled in a smile. "You were humming."

  "Really?"

  "That song Glayn plays so well on the hurdy-gurdy." His eyes were still smiling, still holding hers.

  "It's a good song."

  "It is." He leaned closer.

  She winced and pulled away. "I think you're stabbing me."

  The smile died. He sighed and reached for the brandy. "I just put three stitches in your thumb and all you did was hum. Let the needle poke your palm a bit, and suddenly you complain?"

  She started to respond, then noticed Glayn and Kran approaching. She frowned. "What have they got?"

  Vorrin stiffened. "The bear's head."

  She'd forgotten about the dead creature, but of course the corpse couldn't be left in the middle of the deck. The head dangled awkwardly in Glayn's grip. Kran gave the thing a wide berth.

  "You ought to take a look at this." Glayn held it out.

  "Besmara's boots," Jendara swore. She stared at the thing. It had been a bear when it attacked her—she was sure of that. But this—this was no bear. The shaggy black fur wasn't attached to the twisted face beneath it; the head was merely shrouded in a bearskin hood. A man in a bear suit who looked and clawed and bit like a real bear."What is that thing?" Vorrin asked.