"Father?"
The wind blew past her cheek like a caress. "I'm here, Jendara."
She shook her head. "I can't see you. Where are you?"
The wind rustled in her ear and she heard his familiar laugh, but with it, interwoven, the sounds of other voices, some chuckling, some scolding, some chattering idly. She screwed up her eyes, trying to focus on the voices. Their voices remained distant, like a conversation heard echoing across a long distance.
"You'll hear—"
"—them some—"
"—times."
She turned to face the norns. "Who are they?"
"Your ancestors." The norns dipped their heads, smiles twitching at the corners of their lips. Here on the beach, they looked even less human than they had in the confines of their strange home. Their height was more pronounced, their thick skin more hide-like. Their heavy cloaks obscured the details of their bodies, and Jendara couldn't help wondering what they must really look like. They were not creatures of this world.
Jendara frowned. "But I heard my father just now."
"He's an ancestor, isn't he?"
"I...guess so." Jendara pointed at the spear still waiting on the sand. "Did you do that? Send that elk and the spear? Was that what my offering paid for?"
They each raised an eyebrow.
"Did it—"
"—solve—"
"—your problem?"
Jendara raised her hand. "There's still a black spot. What does that mean?"
"Your sister is—"
"—powerful. Your ties to your people are—"
"—strong as well, but—"
"—they are fighting each other."
"You will be in danger—"
"—as long as she lives."
The norns turned to face the sea. Their shoulders rose and fell as they breathed in a unison so exact Jendara had to look away. She bent to recover her sword, and a glint of gold caught her eye. She realized one of the norns held a sack in her hands. A golden light rose up from the bag.
"What's that light?" she asked.
"Your fate, Jendara."
"Today its threads—"
"—touch your ancestors'."
"I have to stop Kalira, but I don't know how to fight her magic. What do I do?"
The wind gusted against Jendara's back. She glanced over her shoulder, unsurprised by the wall of fog that had formed on the beach behind her. Voices sounded within the fog, growing louder, then louder again.
"Fight!" her father's voice called out in her ear, and the voices in the fog cheered.
"But how?" she asked. "I don't even know where she is."
The norns tipped their heads to the sky. "Not yet," they agreed. They watched something overhead intently.
Jendara followed their gaze. Her hand fell to her belt for her handaxe and closed on nothing. She grabbed her belt knife instead. A bird flew above, its black shape outlined against the clouds.
She relaxed her grip. "Just a cormorant, not a crow." Her eyes widened. "Crow's Nest. Of course that's where she'd set up camp next." That's where all of this had begun for Kalira: the nightmare of her torture, the destruction of her clan. What better symbol for her success than rebuilding her new people on the ashes of her old?
Fog began to curl around Jendara's feet and gather itself above the spear in a thick mass of white swirls. The fog's edges pulsed for a few moments and then it sank onto the weapon, soaking into the wooden shaft. A pattern of blue spirals appeared along it.
Jendara stooped and lifted it. The wood was warm in her hands. Her stomach felt suddenly heavy. This was no ordinary spear, not any longer. This was a gift of the ancestors. To get this spear, she had lost one of Besmara's marks—the last and strongest memory of her pirate's life she still had. To get this spear, she had given up her father's handaxe. But if it kept the islands free, it was worth it. If it helped Kran, it was worth anything. Maybe that was what ancestor magic was all about: giving up the past to serve the future.
"Trust your gut," her father's voice said. The steel spear tip gleamed blue for an instant. The wind stopped.
Jendara gave the spear an experimental twirl and then planted it in the sand. Her eyes narrowed. "Kran," she murmured, "I'm coming for you."
paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas
Chapter Twenty-One
Inside the Crow's Nest
Jendara was unsurprised by the dock leading out into the cove, even though it hadn't existed earlier. Change seemed to be the nature of this island. She glanced over her shoulder at the steep and rocky grade leading into the valley. There might have been a small gray cottage hunkered down at the edge. But then again, it might have been a very large boulder. Shaking her head, she made her way down to Fambra's boat in soft midday sun. Fambra leaned over the side of the boat, watching the water with fierce concentration. She stood up and stared at Jendara.
"What are you doing? You just jumped into the bay a minute ago. And where did that dock come from? Why are you dry? What's that spear?" She blinked a few times. "Where did all the fog go?"
"Would you believe me if I told you the fog's in the spear? Or that I spent all afternoon chasing goats and elk to get it?"
"No. Maybe?" Fambra pointed at Jendara's formerly branded hand. "What happened to your hand?"
"It was healed. We don't have time to talk. We've got to get a war party to Crow's Nest as fast as we can, before Kalira can regroup."
Fambra cast off from the previously nonexistent dock. She looked down uncertainly at the rope in her hands, one that hadn't been there moments ago, then shrugged and began coiling it. "Crow's Nest? Are you sure?"
Jendara reached for an oar and pushed them out into the open channel. "It's familiar ground and easily defensible. It's where I'd go."
Fambra eased the boat into the inlet cutting through the cliffs. She eyed the rocks for signs of the sea serpent that had attacked them earlier, but Jendara didn't spare them a glance, gut-sure that the creature wouldn't show itself. She'd passed her tests back there on the island. She was welcome here, now.
The fishing boat slipped into the open sea. "But why didn't she set up on that island first? And what were they doing at Alstone Quarry?"
"She's been scouting things out for a while," Jendara said, more to herself than Fambra. "She's been probing our weak spots."
"So killing my clan was just a test?" Fambra slapped the tiller with the flat of her hand. "What kind of monsters are these?"
Jendara's lips tightened. "That's just what they do on Kalva. They get strength from savaging whatever they can. And," she paused to glance at the spear the ancestor spirits had given her, "Kalira's chosen to be a Kalvaman."
A lump formed in her throat. She had known it was true, but it hurt more to say it out loud. Kalira had chosen her path.
She brought her two fists together and studied the marks on the backs of them, the faded jolly roger and the silver circle containing the last of Kalira's poison. There were three paths there: the way of the islands, the way of a pirate husband, and Kalira's way.
"I choose a path," she murmured. "Mine."
She adjusted the rigging and sat down with her sword and whetstone. It was a long trip. She would use her time wisely.
∗ ∗ ∗
Jendara emerged from the tiny sleeping cabin with mugs of tea and a pocket full of hardtack. She gave Fambra a mug.
Fambra gave her an abstracted nod in thanks. "Do you see anything off to starboard?"
Jendara frowned. Specks broke up the horizon line, small enough to be indiscernible. "Maybe. You have a spyglass?"
Fambra jerked her head toward the sleeping cabin. "In its box, lashed to the wall."
Jendara hurried to get the glass. As a pirate, she would have kept her spyglass in her belt pouch to check the horizon at routine intervals. But then again, as a pirate, she was usually searching out a particular moving target, a vessel she'd researched for its particular cargo. Honest folk saw spygl
asses as an expensive luxury, not a necessity.
She put the glass to her eye and trained it on the specks. "Ships. Three good-sized ones and a smaller vessel trailing behind a bit. Hard to make out the details, but I'd guess they sailed out of Halgrim. They've got those triangular sails the newer ships are using."
"I'm going to approach them, then," Fambra said, adjusting the tiller. "They might have news." She flashed a grin. "Normally I'd avoid any ships coming out of the capital. I like to do my Halgrim business quietly, usually under the cover of darkness. Funny how the taxman hates the dark, isn't it?"
It was as obvious an admission that she was a smuggler as Jendara was likely to get. She wondered how much of Fambra's lawbreaking came from a genuine desire to avoid tariffs, and how much was just pure orneriness.
She braced her elbows on the railing, waiting for the gap to close between their boat and the approaching ships. "It's funny, you and I working together like this. Neither one of us has too honest a background."
"Why do you think I didn't go with you to the palace?" Fambra laughed, and the wind suddenly filled their sail with a snap. The boat flew toward the other vessels.
Jendara brought up the spyglass again. "We're in luck! That looks like the Iron Shields' flag!"
"Jorgen came through for us."
Jendara put the spyglass back in its case. "He did. I'm so glad you asked him to help. But now I need you to do something else for me. For all of us."
Fambra raised an eyebrow. "Whatever it is, I can handle it."
Jendara eyed the horizon. There was still no sign of the islands ahead, and the afternoon was fading fast. It was going to be a long night. She hoped whatever magic sped Fambra's ship along was in full working order.
"The question is," she said, "can your boat handle it?"
∗ ∗ ∗
Starlight danced on the wind-stirred surface of the sea. Jendara wished she could just stand at the bow and admire it, but the same wind drove Jorgen's ship—now carrying Jendara as well—toward the little island at a breakneck pace. With luck, it helped Fambra on her journey to Sorind, too.
Sunset had long passed and the moon was not yet up, giving them the perfect opportunity to sneak into Crow's Nest's harbor unobserved. She had the unnerving feeling they had already been seen by some kind of animal spy. The island looked too quiet for a place hosting an invasion force. No smoke plumes rose over the rocky bluff, no boats stood watch. It could have been abandoned.
Or a trap.
Jendara gripped the spear tighter. Every instinct told her Kalira was ready and waiting for her on this island. She tried not to think about what her sister might have done with Kran. Thinking about him was a sure way to lose this battle.
The crew dropped anchor and began the lengthy task of lowering the boats. The volunteers broke up into small groups, the first teams to head toward land. Jorgen led Jendara and two men bristling with armaments toward the nearest dinghy. No one spoke as they lowered gear into the boat, took their places, and began rowing for shore. Jendara winced. The splash of their oars sounded very loud.
Jorgen tapped her shoulder. "Look," he whispered, pointing off the port bow. A sharp triangle broke the water's surface, racing away from the boat.
"A shark," one of the volunteers whispered. Jendara watched it sink beneath the water.
Jorgen frowned. "But it's not acting like one. I saw fish jumping on the other side of our ship just a minute ago. What shark would swim away from its dinner?"
"I don't like that." Jendara narrowed her eyes and reached for the spyglass case lashed to her belt. She was glad Fambra had made her take it. It was too dark to see detail, but she could just make out a figure racing down the beach toward the pilings at the end of the harbor. She lowered the spyglass.
"Someone's seen us," she announced. "Let's ready the archers."
Jorgen snatched the glass from her hand and scanned the shore. "It's just one man. He's wading into the water, wearing some kind of robe."
Jendara squinted at the shore, wishing for more light. The man waded farther out, paused when he hit waist-deep water, and then went rigid. Jendara reached for the spyglass, but Jorgen didn't notice. He gasped.
"He's changing into a shark!"
Jendara didn't need the spyglass to see the silver shape leap forward through the air, hitting the water with hardly a splash. For a second after, all that showed were ripples, and then a sharp triangle appeared in the water, streaking straight toward their boat.
"A skinwalker..."
"Skinswimmer," Jorgen said, his voice grim, and handed back the spyglass. "That other shark is probably one, too. And we're in a dinghy."
"Row!" Jendara shouted.
The boat rocked as the shark slammed into the side. The stout oaken wales held. Jendara gripped her spear between her feet and put her back into rowing. That thing would circle back in a moment or two.
"The other one's coming," one of the Iron Shields said.
Jendara eyed the shore. It looked impossibly far. "We can make it," she said, not sure if she believed it herself.
"They're going to try to crush us between the two of them," Jorgen warned. "We can't risk that."
"If they try, I'll kill them," Jendara said. "I didn't come here to be eaten by sharks." She loosened her sword in its scabbard. If it came to a fight in the water, she didn't dare lose the spear of the ancestors.
"Cut starboard!" Jorgen snapped.
The boat banked right and a gray fin streaked past them. But the second shark followed, closing in fast. It pushed itself out of the water, its teeth snapping on an oar.
Jendara yanked on her own oar and slapped the shark's side. It twisted away. The boat rocked wildly.
"Row!" Jorgen ordered.
The shark snapped its teeth again, but the boat shot past it. Jendara felt the muscles in her shoulders burn with the effort. The shore looked much closer now.
The boat's bow bounced up in the air. Jorgen lost his seat and slid backward, losing his grip on his oar. The first shark had turned back and rammed them. It slapped the side of the boat with its heavy tail. Jorgen rolled sideways over the boat's side.
"Jorgen!"
Jendara dropped her own oars and caught him by the shirt collar. He flailed to catch hold of the boat, twisting aside to just miss the shark's bite. The thing tossed its head and lunged, but Jorgen lashed out with his heel, pounding its sensitive snout. Jendara dragged him back into the boat.
She caught a sudden darkness in the water ahead and remembered the constant danger of underwater rocks. "Hard a-port!" she shouted, but she was too slow.
The dinghy ground along the boulder with a horrible crunching. Jendara jammed her oar against the rock and they came loose, but water already seeped between the crushed planks. Jendara bent her back into her rowing. They slid onto the shore with half a foot of water in the bottom of the boat.
Jorgen leaped out of the dinghy first. "Are they following?" He stared wide-eyed at the water.
Jendara looked over her shoulder. "I don't think so. They don't swim well this close to land." She grabbed the spear and climbed out to help one of the men drag the boat up onto the sand. "But now I worry about the other teams."
She peered out at the sea. The second and third ships were just arriving and readying their utility boats. She hoped the sharks caused them no trouble. If she was right about Kalira's plan, they were going to need every warrior they could muster for this fight.
"Let's go," Jorgen said. "Our job is to find your boy while the next teams get into place. They're going to depend on the information we bring back."
Jendara nodded. That was his job. Her job was to kill her sister.
Stakes flanked the entrance of the path into the wood, each stake capped with a shriveled head. The pits of their long-gone eyeballs stared out at Jendara accusingly. Jorgen paused to examine one.
"These people are sick."
"Yes." Jendara picked up her pace.
The spruce forest thicke
ned as the path wound along. The heavy branches cut out the thin starlight, and Jendara wondered how long they had to wait until moonrise. It couldn't be long now. When it came, they'd have to move twice as fast and hit twice as hard. And Kalira's people would be watching for them.
"Do you hear that?" one of the volunteers whispered.
She cocked her head. Something creaked overhead. Any other night, she would have assumed it just a loose tree branch moving in the wind. But not tonight. She peered up into the branches.
Eyes blinked down at her.
"Crows," she hissed. "Lots of them. Keep moving and don't run. They're probably just spies. They won't hurt us unless she tells them to."
They moved forward slowly, Jorgen's companions keeping their bows low and arrows ready. Jendara wished she'd had the foresight to bring her own bow. Maybe Morul and his men—should Fambra succeed in bringing them tonight—would bring an extra. Jorgen reached the next switchback in the trail and beckoned. A twig snapped under his foot.
A crow hurtled at his head.
The crows fell like black rain, and the rustling of their feathers covered the sounds of sea and wind. One's beak scored Jendara's scalp. Another closed its claws around her wrist. The man in front of her shrieked as a beak jabbed through his cheek.
Jendara brought up the spirits' spear and spun it around her. The spirals on its shaft gleamed a pale blue. A crow flew into the spinning wood and ricocheted off with a cracking sound.
Shrieking, the crows flew away from Jendara. One group settled on the man in front of her, pecking and slashing. He screamed. She dropped the spear and ran to him. Tiny bones crushed as she beat at the mass of birds. He fell to his knees.
"Get away from him," she snarled. She ripped a crow off his head and flung it against a tree. One settled on her spear and she kicked it away, then snatched the spear closer.
Blood streamed down the man's face, but he still had eyes. She used her sleeve to wipe the worst of it off his face. "Are you okay?"
He nodded. "Ain't never seen crows act like that. Not natural."
Pathfinder Tales: Skinwalkers Page 26
