They were all looking at a body.
Jendara walked down to it. Someone had turned it over, and a waterlogged face stared up at the sky with black-hollowed eye sockets. Eyes never lasted long in the ocean.
"One of our clan," Fambra said. "Raik. A good man. There were two others on his boat."
Jendara remembered Raik. He'd come in the other faering, a new-looking model from the Battlewall boat yards. She remembered the smoke she and Hazan had seen, out in the water, and the bit of wood that might have been an oar port. It must have been from Raik's boat.
She brought her attention to his wounds. A jagged hollow glistened where his throat had once been. "Looks like something's ripped out his throat. A wolf'll do that if it gets a chance."
"A wolf at sea," someone murmured, fear heavy in their voice. "Like the ones that got those fishermen."
Jendara looked for the source of the voice. "Yes. Just like them." She broke off, catching a glimpse of Hazan huddled in the back of the group. She leaped to her feet and stalked over.
"You." She dug her fingers into his shirtfront and yanked him up close. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Wait." Fambra laid her hand on Jendara's shoulder. "What's going on? Hazan said you two split up."
"He's a liar," Jendara spat. "I ought to kill him right now. Probably a spy for the Kalvamen!"
"No!" He shook his head, hard. "I'm a coward, yes, but no spy. I swear it!"
She gave him a rough shake. "I don't believe you."
"It was the squid!" His voice cracked.
Jendara scowled. "The squid?"
"Look at my arm." He raised his arm and the sleeve fell back. Puckered round sores showed all along his forearm. "It came out of nowhere. I think it smelled your blood when you fell overboard. Its tentacles burst out of the water. I was trying to grab you, and that's when it got my arm. I stabbed it with my belt knife and got loose."
She narrowed her eyes. "Convenient."
"It grabbed three of their men. People were screaming. I thought you were dead, Jendara. I went to the oars and rowed like crazy." He indicated his side. "It hurt like blazes. Don't row when you have three broken ribs."
She shoved him away and he fell back on his backside. "You thought I was dead. So why did you tell Fambra we split up?"
He pushed himself back up to his feet. "We're in the middle of nowhere, and there are monsters out there. They already killed my brother. Do you think I want to be alone if they come back? And do you think Fambra would let me stay if she knew I left you?"
Fambra cuffed him across the ear. "You coward."
He rubbed the side of his head, wincing. "I already said I was, didn't I? But I came out here to help you people. Maybe I should have just gone back to Battlewall, but I didn't. I want to fight these things, Jendara. I can't do it on my own. But if anybody can beat these things, it's you."
She didn't have an easy answer. If she could remember more of what happened out there, maybe she could be sure. He had certainly been attacked by a squid, which had to count for something. She pinched the bridge of her nose and wished Vorrin was here to talk over this kind of decision. But it was all on her.
"All right," she said, finally. "You can stay. If you're telling the truth, then we've got another fighter. If you're lying, at least I can keep an eye on you." She gave him a cold smile.
"I know you're just thinking about your people," he said. "But I want you to think about my brother and what he looked like when you found him. If that's not reason to be on your side, I don't know what is." He turned away, folding his arms across his belly.
Jendara scowled at his back for a moment, then turned back to the rest of the scouts. "Let's tend to Raik, and then I'll tell you what I've learned about our enemy."
∗ ∗ ∗
The search party, somber now after sending their friend's body out to sea, gathered on the other side of the island. Someone found enough driftwood to make a fire, and food and drink were brought up from the boats. The sun came up as they breakfasted.
Jendara tried to eat, but her promised examination began while her mouth was full of porridge. Gerda prodded the back of Jendara's head. "This bump looks ugly."
"Ow." Jendara pushed away the probing finger.
"You'll feel better after I'm done."
Jendara winced and let the woman continue. Fambra caught Jendara's eye and sat down beside her.
"Tell us what you discovered."
Jendara began to explain about the Kalvamen and the rise of their new prisoner-turned-leader with her eerie powers, leaving out only the part about the witch being her sister. She wasn't ready to talk about that yet, and it didn't matter to their plans.
She looked around the group. There were nods, here and there, and revolted expressions. But no one looked doubtful or dubious anymore. Not when these people had seen their clan members killed, attacked by things that looked like wolves but moved like men.
"She can change them into animals," Sven mused.
"Skinwalkers," someone said. "Kalvamen. It's like we're living in the old tales."
"The worst of them." Fambra muttered, as she poured another mug of tea.
"So what do we do?" Tam asked. Jendara was glad to see his face among the others. "Can we just get together enough fighters and wipe them out?"
Jendara shook her head. "I don't know." She held out her hand. "They branded my hand and put some kind of black potion on the wound. I think it's part of some kind of ritual." She took a deep breath. "It sounded like they were trying to turn me into one of them. I don't know if they can do that, but I get the feeling Kalira's magic is pretty powerful."
"That means we'd better move, and quickly," Fambra said. "Witches are bad news."
"I agree." Jendara looked around her group. Hazan offered her a crooked smile. She refused to smile back. "Speed being our top concern, Hazan's faering is the fastest boat we've got. I say we take it and go see the king. She's the only one who's got the kind of manpower it'll take to knock out those Kalvamen before they cause any real harm."
"Our boat's fast, too," Fambra said. "And I've got family down in Battlewall. A cousin in the Iron Shields. He might be able to help us."
Jendara nodded. "An Iron Shield? If you can get the Halgrim city guard on our side, we'll be in much better shape." She bit her lip. "The rest of you...well, I think the neighboring islands should be warned about what's out here. I don't think these Kalvamen are going to sit still. Everyone needs to be prepared."
Tam stiffened. "Sorind. It's the biggest population center to the east."
He was thinking of Vorrin and the rest of the crew, just like Jendara was. Their eyes met, both unhappy.
"There's also Flintyreach. It's just as close," Sven reminded them. "I think the bulk of the group should head there."
"This is a good plan," Jendara agreed. "We break up, we warn people, we mobilize troops. We're not going to stand by and let these barbarians eat us alive."
Someone shouted agreement, and the rest of the group took it up. Sven had to lean close to Jendara to be heard. "You're a natural leader."
She shook her head. "Not me. I'm just good in an emergency."
He opened his mouth as if to argue, but another man tapped him on the shoulder and distracted him with questions about restocking supplies. Jendara closed her weary eyes for a moment. Making a plan was one thing. Following it through was another.
Gerda pushed a chunk of driftwood over and settled onto it, her dark eyes pinned on Jendara's face. Strands of her silver hair twisted out of her braids and billowed on the wind. She thrust a mug at Jendara. "Drink."
Jendara raised a hand. "I'm fine."
Gerda pushed the hot mug against her palm. "You're not. You're exhausted, you're injured, and you're upset about something you're not willing to talk about. This is just honey and ginger and willow bark."
Jendara took the mug and sipped. The willow made her screw up her face. "Could have used more honey."
Gerda igno
red the jibe. "You have no interest in the spirit realm or the ties of clanship, but you should not mock all my wisdom." She crossed her arms. The blue spirals on her cheeks settled around her frown lines.
Jendara sighed. "Look, you're a fine herbalist—"
"Much of the suffering of this world happens in the spirit. Some people comfort their spirit with religion, others good works. Some turn to drink. But I can help, Jendara. We of the Wise don't just make altars and encourage people to remember the past." She reached into her belt pouch and brought out a silken bag. "We can speak to the spirits of our ancestors and ask them for assistance."
She shook out a handful of small discs of bone or ivory, a rune incised in each one's face. She tossed the rune discs into the air, catching them neatly in the berry-colored folds of her skirt as they fell.
The network of wrinkles around Gerda's mouth deepened. "You are nearly to your crossroads." She ran her fingers through the discs, thinking for a moment. "The Kalvamen are growing stronger. They stand as a wave of darkness poised to drown us all."
Jendara leaned closer to the old woman. "Can we fight them?"
"Without their leader, they are nothing. She must be destroyed."
Jendara nodded. "That's what I thought, too. The moment I saw them staring up at Kalira, ready to do whatever she told them, I knew she was the key to all of this."
"Kalira?" Gerda stared at Jendara. "Wasn't that your sister's name?"
Damn. Jendara really was tired, to let that slip so easily. Maybe she could try to play it off as a coincidence...but no. What was done was done. "Yes. The witch is my sister."
She prepared herself for the inevitable accusations—no doubt Gerda would think she was weak for leaving out such key information, maybe even call her a traitor. Yet the old woman said only, "How?"
"When she was taken, as a girl, she was rescued by one of the Kalvamen. Because of her powers. I can't even believe she's alive after all of this."
"But...if she's the leader..." Gerda trailed off. "Jendara, Kalira knows you. Your father raised you both. She knows how you'll think, how you'll fight. She'll use this against you."
Jendara swirled the bitter liquid in the mug. "I don't know. I'm not the same person I was when Kalira knew me."
Gerda put her hand gently on Jendara's shoulder. "Neither is she. From what you say, she lives as they live. She leads them. They wouldn't have come to our islands if she hadn't ordered them to." She looked deep into Jendara's eyes. "You know what you have to do."
Jendara put down the mug. "I know. Those people at the quarry...that's because of her." She covered her mouth, suddenly sickened. "Not just her. Me. This is my fault. If I hadn't gone off on my own, I would have been there to protect her."
"And died like your father," Gerda said firmly.
Jendara shook her head. "It was just me and her, growing up. After our mother died, our father's trading took him away a lot, and I had to look out for her. I would have done anything for her. Even though I never really let myself believe, part of me always hoped she'd survived. That I'd find her someday."
"And now you have."
Jendara nodded. "And I wish I hadn't."
Gerda squeezed Jendara's shoulder, the old woman's grip still iron-hard. "She's not your sister anymore, Jendara. She's not that little girl."
Jendara remembered the sweetness that had filled Kalira's face back in that tent. "I wish you were right, but a part of her is. A small part, but it's there. Trapped inside the monster she's become. I saw it."
Gerda sighed. She gathered up the rune discs and returned them to their silk bag. "Remember those men back at the quarry. The Kalvamen are evil, and Kalira has nurtured that evil and given it wings. She must be destroyed."
"I know," Jendara said. She picked up the mug and handed it back to Gerda. "That's why I'm going to Halgrim. Kalira has to be stopped, and if I'm not strong enough to do it, then I'll find someone who is."
Gerda held Jendara's gaze. "The ancestors will help you, if you wish them to."
"Will they?" Jendara got to her feet. She was too tired to do anything with the sudden flash of anger inside her belly. "Try telling that to Kalira."
Gerda didn't answer. Jendara was glad of that.
paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter Fourteen
Guarded City
Battlewall lay a full day's sail to the south, even at the speed of Hazan's faering. Fambra's fishing boat kept up surprisingly well—too well for an ordinary fishing boat. Jendara couldn't help wondering if the boat had some modifications Fambra wasn't revealing. If so, it wouldn't be the first "fishing boat" that made a little extra money carrying interesting cargo quickly.
Jendara sank onto the wooden seat and pulled a piece of jerky from her pocket. She knew she was hungry, but her stomach showed no interest in the stuff. She bit off a hunk and tried to remember when she'd last had a solid meal. Breakfast on that heap of rocks didn't count; she'd managed a few bites of porridge, but nothing else. Now she wanted a real breakfast, with mounds of scrambled eggs, fluffy pancakes—the kind of meal Vorrin and Kran begged for on winter mornings.
She sighed. She hoped she was doing the right thing, running for help instead of heading for Sorind to protect her family. She hoped she wasn't leaving Vorrin and Kran in danger.
"You look tired."
She hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes until Hazan spoke. She worked her eyelids open. "I don't want to talk about it. You're just here because I want to keep my eye on you."
He sighed. "You're right. You have no reason to trust me. But you're the one who got me out of that boat back when I was a bloody mess. The way I see it, I owe you. And I'm going to earn back your trust."
She gave a dry laugh.
"Hey, watch me. I'll man the sails, you just sit tight and relax."
"You're in no shape—"
"And you are?" He snorted. "You ought to bind up that hand, you know."
She looked down at her hand. A scab had formed over the seared brand, but she must have bumped it at some point. Blood seeped from the scab's edges, dripping down almost to her wrist. She rubbed at it absently and cursed. "It hurts."
"Of course it hurts. It's a burn, ain't it?" He shook his head as if she were particularly dense. "There's bandaging stuff in one of those crates."
"Thanks." She reached underneath her seat and rummaged through the crates. A beautifully worked knife scabbard caught her eye, and she picked it up. Someone talented had tooled the name "Marga" down the side.
"Who's Marga?" she called back over her shoulder.
"Check the other crate," Hazan grunted. Jendara made a face at his tone, replaced the scabbard and began to dig in the other crate for first aid supplies.
"My girl," he blurted. "Got that as a present for her."
Jendara looked back at him, surprised. "That's nice," she said. "She'll like it. You going to try to see her when we get to Halgrim?"
He hesitated. "Probably not. She and Byrni were real good friends." His voice roughened. "Can't tell her what happened to him until I can tell her I killed the ones that got him."
"I'm sorry." Jendara could understand that. It had been hard enough just to tell all the islanders that the witch who'd killed their loved ones was her sister. Jendara turned away from his obvious discomfort and pulled out a white box. She didn't find any ointment inside, but there were bandages, and at the least the bandages would keep the salt spray out of her wound. That had to be the reason it hurt so much. Salt, finding its way into an open cut.
She used an end of the bandage roll to wipe the dirt and blood from her hand. It looked bad, everything swollen and off-color. The scab stood up from the jolly roger, looking less like a bird's wing and more like a thick slash through the old tattoo. Jendara studied it a moment, wondering what Besmara or her priests would say about it. It was impossible to know. Besmara wasn't the kind of goddess to stand on formality. She could be amused by the whole thing.
Jendara frowned. The wound still looked dirty. She reached for the cask of water nearby and trickled a little over the scorched flesh. The dirt didn't rinse off. She scratched at it with a fingernail, scraping off a bit of her scab. The dirt looked just as dark as ever, as if it had sunk beneath her skin.
She remembered the black sludge Brynorm had plunged her hand into. It must have been a dye that had absorbed into her wounded flesh. Her nose crinkled. She hurried to wrap the linen around her hand, covering every bit of the ugly scab and dark stain around it.
Maybe it wouldn't bother her so much if she couldn't see it. Maybe it would go away after the scab healed. Or maybe she could find something to bleach the stain out of her skin. But in the meantime, she had to get to the king.
∗ ∗ ∗
When the sun rose again, Jendara was glad to see the gray rocks of Battlewall off the port bow, still small, but growing. Fambra's boat passed by and she followed it toward the harbor. Halgrim, the capital city, crouched on the edge of the harbor like a big, smug cat. In a few short hours, they'd be ready to appeal to the court.
At the thought, Jendara's tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. It was easier to imagine fighting a troll without weapons than to imagine entering the palace and facing the king. There would be ministers and advisers thinking over her request. There would be courtiers sneering at her, men and women in fine furs studying her every move. None of them had spent the last week traveling around in boats dealing with cannibals. None of them would be covered in bruises and scabs or stinking of a dozen unmentionable stenches.
Jendara took a minute to wash her face and brush the worst of the dirt off her pants. She tried not to meet Hazan's eyes as she fussed over herself. No point in anyone else knowing how nervous she felt right now.
The boats stayed between the red markers that circumscribed the safe channel into Halgrim's harbor. Jendara studied the way closely. She'd spent very little time on Battlewall, the largest island of the Ironbound Archipelago. The island's stony face wasn't just a front. The rocks extended beneath the water as well. She'd heard that on a stormy night, this harbor was one of the deadliest in the world.
Pathfinder Tales: Skinwalkers Page 16
