She shook her head. "That was our mistake. Clans do not grow strong through simple raiding and eating. They must also know the art of diplomacy. Many clans came together to fight us. In one battle, we lost a third of our fighters.
"But eventually, we succeeded. With Brynorm's guidance and my powers, we unified several tribes on Kalva, and forced the rest to give us a wide berth. The clans were weakened after years of fighting, but I had a vision. I had been sent to the Kalvamen not just to lead them, but also to guide them to a better place. A place where there is always enough to eat and the spirits of the land are strong."
"The Ironbound Archipelago," Jendara whispered.
"The islands," Kalira agreed. "Few tribes on Kalva are boat-builders, and the ones that had come raiding south and taken me had paid the price, as other tribes had attacked while half their warriors were off raiding. Yet I knew that ships were the way to power. Just thinking of my old home filled me with hope, and it was then that Quorna and I had our other great idea. Had there not been witches on the islands in ancient days who had the power to change men to beasts? Who better than myself to bring back those magics?"
"Skinwalkers!"
Brynorm lifted the branding iron from the flames and spat on it. It sizzled for a second. The man grunted and lowered it back into the brazier.
"What's he doing?" Jendara wiggled her toes again and felt some of the tingling subside. She struggled to sit up and watched her vision dance with blue shimmers, just as it had when the serving girl had entered.
"Brynorm is helping you," Kalira said. She undid the top buttons on her gown, revealing the bones of her upper rib cage, and a blackened, lumpy image of a crow's wing. "See? We've all taken a brand."
Brynorm grunted, turning his neck so Jendara could see the clawed paw print seared into his flesh. He reached for the metal bowl she had seen earlier. While Kalira had talked, he had filled it with something black and tarry. It smelled powerfully of herbs and earth and faintly of rotting flesh.
"Don't worry, Jenny," Kalira assured her. "I mixed the solution myself. There are herbs to encourage healing. And just enough of my blood to let the crow spirit into your heart." Tears winked in her eyes. "I couldn't be happier. My sister! Becoming one of my people."
Brynorm grabbed Jendara by the wrist. Jendara tried to pull away, but his blacksmith's grip was incredibly strong.
"You'll be one of us," Kalira whispered. "You won't be able to hurt me. Never again..."
Brynorm's free hand snatched up the glowing brand and brought it down.
Jendara smelled her own scorched flesh and gagged.
He ripped off the branding iron and plunged her hand down in the bowl. For a moment, it felt cool and soothing, and then the damaged flesh prickled and crawled, as if something burrowed into it. The Kalvaman closed his eyes, smiling beatifically.
Jendara wrenched her hand free and pushed off the bed, knocking over the brazier as she somersaulted across the floor. She tumbled into the chest, feeling its corners scrape her ribs. Beside it, a scabbard spilling out of the pile of pillaged goods caught her eye. She snatched up the weapon and felt a surge of disbelief. It was hers, and still attached to her sword belt. No one had even bothered to remove her pouch or the axe lashed onto it. She raced out the tent flap.
She didn't hesitate: she ran to the right, toward the island's dark center. From the glimpse of the ocean that she'd gotten, she had to believe they'd taken her to the northernmost point of the island. She wanted to put some distance behind them while she made a real plan.
She crashed through the brush, hearing shouts behind her. She smelled smoke and realized the brazier she'd knocked over must have started a small fire. Good. Anything that slowed down Kalira was a blessing for Jendara.
Despite the lack of moonlight, the sullen glow of the Kalvamen's campfire provided enough light for Jendara to make her way through the brush. Instinct told her to watch her step, but fear pushed her faster. She leaped a fallen tree and came down hard on something that bleated anxiously and threw her off. She tumbled into the bracken, hitting her head on a tree root. She lay still a second, letting her head settle. The creature bleated again.
She sat up, rubbing her temple. "Just a goat." Her nose crinkled at the familiar smell. Whoever had owned the burnt house back by Kalira's tent had apparently started a homestead.
She got to her feet. She had to slow down if she wanted to be quiet. They were certain to have found her trail by now.
She picked her way a few more feet and stopped, head spinning, her body first very hot and then very cold. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. She remembered the black goo Brynorm had burned into her hand. What kind of herbs had Kalira added to that sick potion? Shivering, she crept forward a few more feet.
Behind her, the goat shrieked.
Jendara leaped forward. She had almost forgotten she wasn't dealing with ordinary men or women, but beasts. Skinwalkers. Wolves and bears and animals with senses far superior to her own. A twinge of fear spiked her heart, lending her speed.
A crashing sounded in the bushes just feet away, and she pressed herself harder, pumping her legs faster. But something flew through the air, slashing her shoulder even as it passed over her head. She caught a glimpse of a long whippy tail and a cat's gleaming eyes—and then with a horrified shriek it disappeared.
Jendara skidded to a halt. The ground fell away in front of her, opening into a creek bed. She gasped for air, thankful for the cougar-skinwalker's warning cry.
A wolf howled in the distance.
She studied the shallow ravine. At the bottom, maybe ten or twelve feet down, a good-sized creek raced. She would have heard the creek's gurgling if she and the cougar-thing hadn't been making so much noise stupidly crashing through the undergrowth. She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. But that wouldn't last long.
Jendara sank down onto her butt, feeling the top of the bank for handholds. She sighed, relieved. There were plenty of tree roots and a few sturdy rocks. She couldn't count on them continuing all the way down to the ground, but she didn't have much choice. She grabbed the largest of the roots and swung herself over the ravine's edge. Time passed strangely, possibly a side effect of the drug Kalira had given her. Each fumbling scrabble for a handhold felt like a lifetime.
But she could have only been climbing for a few seconds before the wolf appeared at the edge of the bank. It lowered its head and growled at her.
From the far side of the creek, a cougar snarled in reply. Jendara risked a glance over her shoulder. The sodden cougar shook itself and growled. She wondered how long it would take the beast to get back across the creek. It didn't seem to be injured. Unlike her.
Cursing under her breath, Jendara kicked her foot for the next hold. The wolf trotted a few yards farther along the top of the bank and then leaped down onto an outcrop of rock. Jendara couldn't believe she hadn't noticed that easy path.
She scrambled down another foot of bank. She didn't have time to look for the best path. She needed solid ground, right now.
The rock beneath her hand broke free and she tumbled down the slope.
The air went out of her as she landed. She hadn't fallen far, and she'd fallen well, without taking any knocks to her injured head. But the wolf was already leaping down to the creek side.
Jendara jumped to her feet and grabbed her handaxe. She didn't wait for the wolf to charge. She launched the axe at its misshapen head.
The axe cleft its shoulder instead. The skinwalker yelped in pain.
"Shit," Jendara hissed. She unsheathed her sword and ran forward. She couldn't afford to let this thing catch her.
Teeth flashed as the wolf plunged toward her. Her sword came down on a thickly furred shoulder instead of its throat, and now it was too close for another thrust. She kicked it in the ribs. It reared up on its hind legs, ready to slam into her shoulders and slash at her face.
The wolf-thing never saw the blade coming. Jendara's momentum sent the sword's blade right through
its torso. The blade caught in the ribs on the far side, and she kicked the skinwalker aside. Its body fell limply to the rocks.
Something splashed behind her. The cougar must be crossing the creek.
Jendara dropped to her knees and yanked her axe from the wolf's shoulder blade. At the top of the bank, someone shouted. Still in the center of the creek, the cougar snarled.
Jendara turned and ran toward the big cat, axe ready.
She hadn't counted on the current. It yanked her legs, hard. Her feet went out from under her, and she could only struggle to keep her head above the water and her grip on her axe.
The creek rushed onward, out through the forest and toward the sea.
After a tumbling eternity, the icy current pushed her beyond the beach and into open water, and she made herself sink below the surface. She held her breath until her lungs screamed, then breached the surface to snatch a quick gasp of air. Waves pummeled her head and shoulders, pushing her in a new direction, up the coast of the island and past the still-massive bonfire. Her heart leaped at the sight of two small canoes pulled up and overturned on the beach.
She jammed her axe into her waistband and hoped it would stay in place as she swam hard for the boats. When she felt sand beneath her feet, she knelt in the waves and watched the beach for a long wary moment. Kalvamen and beasts kept racing into the woods on the other side of the creek, shouting to each other. The focused attention on that side of the island suggested that was where their real ships docked.
Her mouth twisted. Once she finally got a boat in the water, they could track her down all too quickly. Her only advantage was the cover of night.
Jendara crept forward. A woman sat on the sand, head down, totally relaxed. A spear rested across her lap next to a half-gnawed bone. The scent of roasted meat made Jendara's stomach growl. Then she remembered Kalira's dinner. With disgust, she wondered just what kind of meat this guard was eating.
The woman didn't stir. Moving in a crouch, Jendara crossed the open beach, her axe in her hand. The woman suddenly looked up.
"What?" she murmured, eyes blinking blearily.
The axe smashed down on her head. The woman jerked and spasmed. Jendara averted her eyes as the woman's heels dug in the sand, sending up a little cloud of dust.
Jendara wiped the axe off on the woman's leather vest. There was no honor in this killing; the guard had barely been awake. The half-chewed bone rolled onto the sand.
Dishonorable death or not, the world was not going to miss another Kalvaman. Jendara hurried toward the canoes. She righted one and began to push it toward the waves.
For a second, she thought about chopping a hole in the bottom of the second canoe to slow any followers, then discarded the thought. A hollow canoe would resound like a drum when she struck it. A better idea came to her.
She darted back to the spare canoe, rolled it onto its side and found its paddles. It would be easier to steal these than wreck the boat.
She dropped the paddles into her own vessel and pushed out into the water. Though the sky was moonless, no clouds obscured the stars. In moments, she was paddling away from the island, the canoe's nose angled south.
paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter Thirteen
Followers
The sun's approach turned the whole sea gray. Gray sky, gray water, gray canoe. Jendara stretched her fingers and made herself pick up her canoe paddle again. It was just too cold to take a long break.
She scanned the horizon behind her. Not a single ship. The observation didn't give her any kind of comfort. Kalira wasn't going to simply give up on converting Jendara to her cause, just like the ugly brand on the back of Jendara's hand wasn't going to go away on its own.
Her eyes wandered down to her hand. Seawater hadn't helped it any. The scab on the burn was slimy and gray, the skin around it swollen. There was no way it would heal nicely. She wondered why Brynorm had branded her hand—her right hand—of all places. Was it just to serve as a constant, visible reminder of her sister and her sister's people? Or had he noticed the old tattoos in the shape of Besmara's sacred symbol and thought to close off that connection?
He needn't have worried. She hadn't made an offering to Besmara in years. Not since the day Ikran had died.
She brought her mind back to the sea around her. A few small islands dotted the eastern quadrant of visible waters. They had to mark the far edge of the fishing grounds. She hadn't really thought that they'd taken her all the way to Kalva—that trip would have taken days. Instead, she'd guessed the little island the raiders had set up camp on was one of the uninhabited rocks scattered across the northernmost tip of the Ironbound Archipelago. If that were the case, maybe she'd find one of her scouts soon.
And maybe she needed to pay more attention to her paddling. She sat up straighter. It was easy to become distracted by one's thoughts, but that was a sure way to get a body killed. Hadn't she already faced a giant squid in these waters? And of course there were always rocks to worry about, or simply the waves themselves. These waters could kill.
She looked back over her shoulder. Still no following ships. But plenty of seabirds moved through the skies. Kalira had shown a preference for crows, but given her ability to create all kinds of animal shapeshifters, Jendara worried any kind of bird might act as Kalira's eyes.
The wind stirred the salt-crusted collar of her shirt, and she shivered. What had the men called Kalira when they were taking Jendara to the ceremony? The Crow Witch? The name seemed a little too appropriate.
The canoe bumped against something beneath the waterline, and Jendara cursed. She probed the area with her paddle and flinched when she struck stone. Rocks. Big ones. And right now she wasn't doing the best job watching out for them.
She braced the paddle against the stone, holding the canoe in place. She squeezed her eyes shut. They stung with exhaustion. She'd been up nearly twenty-four hours. Her shoulders ached from their dislocation and Brynorm's brutal repairs. Every inch of her skin felt scoured or scraped. If she had an anchor, she'd moor right here and take a much-needed nap.
The shriek of a crow made her eyes snap open.
The black bird lobbed itself at her face. She twisted beneath it and lashed out with her paddle. The bird whirled away.
"Damn you!" she shouted. "Damn you and all your people!"
The bird circled her and she swatted at it again. The canoe tipped and lurched.
"I'll never join you, Kalira! Do you hear me?"
The bird screamed and streaked away, whether reporting to Kalira or just scared of the woman with the paddle, it was no longer interested in Jendara.
Jendara sagged. She rubbed her damp arms for a moment to warm them up, then turned her eyes to the skies. There were no other birds headed her way.
She wriggled her feet. They still felt cold and wet from her swim. She reached down to adjust her boot and touched an icy puddle.
There was water trickling into the bottom of her canoe. She must have scraped the side more than she'd known, or bashed it a second time when she was trying to strike at that crow. Her stomach twisted. She needed to find help, and soon.
Jendara paddled faster. At least there was some sign of land ahead.
∗ ∗ ∗
She'd stopped to bail several times, using her boot as a scoop. When the fishing vessel appeared, she resisted the urge to simply jump overboard and swim to it. She paddled toward it and cringed as her feet got wetter and wetter.
The boat adjusted its course toward her. A few yards away, a voice shouted: "Ahoy!"
"Ahoy," she called back. It didn't look like one of Kalira's raiding ships, but if it was, she'd deal with it.
"You a Sorinder?" someone called.
"I sure am!" she shouted, feeling a surge of hope.
"Jendara, is that you?" a woman bellowed, and Jendara recognized the voice.
Jendara grinned. "Aye-aye, Captain Fambra!"
They had her on bo
ard in moments. Jendara watched the canoe fall behind Fambra's boat and hoped it sank before any of Kalira's people discovered it.
"There's an island just a little south of here," Fambra said. "A bunch of our group headed there when night fell. We should reach it in about half an hour."
"Thank goodness. I have a lot to discuss with everyone."
Sven studied her, his eyes staying longest on her swollen hand. "I see you've not had an easy time of it."
Jendara sighed. "You've got that right."
"Gerda will give you the once-over once we've talked to the others," he reassured her. "You'll feel right as rain when she's done."
Jendara remembered Gerda's visit to the cottage back on Sorind. "I'd rather live with the pain," she mumbled, but Sven was already hurrying to check something in the boat's stern. Jendara sank into the bottom of the boat and closed her eyes. For now, it was safe to sleep.
Sven shook her awake all too soon. "Fambra's already gone ashore. She's waving to us, and looks upset."
Rubbing her eyes, Jendara followed Sven overboard. A mass of boats had tied themselves cleverly to the shore, smallest closest to land, and now Sven jumped from craft to craft until he reached an outcropping of island stone.
The sight of a familiar figurehead stopped Jendara in her tracks. That was Hazan's boat. How had he survived? And why hadn't he tried to help her?
Fambra ran toward them, her face hard. "You've got to see this! It's bad."
She looked so upset that Jendara followed immediately, despite instinct telling her to find Hazan first. Fambra led them over the little island's humped back. A few bunches of beach grass clung to the pockets of sand between the rocks, but other than that, nothing grew. The rocks were steeper on the east side of the island, with no beach to interrupt their descent into the ocean. The other searchers were gathered on these rocks, most sitting or crouching, some standing with their arms folded across their chests.
Pathfinder Tales: Skinwalkers Page 15
