By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles)

by Houpt, David

  Without hesitation, Lian grabbed a rope and belayed it with two pins on the railing. The two soldiers who answered his call held the rope for him, and the prince lowered himself over the side to the aid of his subordinate. “Steady, there, lad,” he said, his eyes tearing at the incredible relief Kess’ survival brought.

  “Sorry I missed the rest of the fun, Mr. Alan, sir,” Kess said shakily, his skin clammy to Lian’s touch.

  Lian called to have blankets ready and took hold of the slightly smaller man, gripping him tightly in a fierce embrace, ignoring the mass of deadly poisoned tentacles below him. “Pull! Pull, damn your eyes!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and cracking slightly. The strain on his right arm was tremendous, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and the strain, and walked the two of them up the side of the ship and into the waiting arms of half a dozen sailors, who cheered when they saw Kess’ face.

  Cedrick let the men clap the nearly unconscious man on his good shoulder before issuing orders to drop the sails. He had no intention of moving Searcher until he knew how badly the ship was fouled by the sea creature, or how many of his rapidly dwindling crew he was going to lose to the vampire. He signaled Lian to continue his assignment, and one of the sailors said, “I’ve got ‘im, Mr. Alan, sir. I’ll look after ‘im.” Lian smiled his thanks.

  Lian returned to his job of lighting more lanterns, and managed to be near the vampire by the time she finished her meal. Arden, flanked by the two goblins, stood by, waiting for her to turn her attention to them.

  “Peace, mortal,” she said in a softly accented voice, rising from her bloody repast as if the scene meant nothing to her. “We have no quarrel as yet.” Her motions were swift and fluid, as if her skeleton was pliable. The vampire’s movements belied the tremendous strength that she had demonstrated. Her face was soaked with the blood, slime, and gore of the lizard creatures, and her belly was slightly distended from the vitae which filled it.

  “What business have you here, my Lady Sileth?” Arden asked, revealing his knowledge of Greythorn’s legends. The Tiny Companion, as Sileth was sometimes called, was often mentioned in the legends of the vampire kingdom, and was unmistakable.

  “My own, mercenary,” she replied, wiping some of the blood from her mouth onto her hand and flicking it aside. “I believe I’ve just earned my passage several times over.”

  Arden shook his head, mastering his fear of the child-like creature. “Forgive me, Lady, but I cannot let it go at that. Your aid in the battle is deeply appreciated, as well as the fact that you brought your own provisions on board. But this is my ship, and I would know why you are here.” The two goblins were tensed behind him. Lian thought that they were likely praying the vampire wouldn’t take offense.

  High above, in the crow’s nest, Yarek stood unmoving, apparently unaffected by the winds that whipped the loosened sails below his feet. His bow was drawn to full extension, and Lian knew that his target was the heart of the vampire. Lian could see no sign of exertion on the face of the bowman, and marveled at his self control.

  Behind Lian, Reidar stood. Lian moved to a position beside two of Arden’s swordsmen to protect the mage should the vampire try to attack him. Lian knew that to be a futile gesture, for the vampire had shown literally supernatural speed in her assault on the lizards. She could strike the mage past Lian’s guard and be back out again before Lian could begin to react.

  For an endless moment, Sileth considered the question, motionless. Lian found himself focusing on her blood-stained neck, vainly trying to see a pulse beating there. “Very well, Captain Arden,” she said without drawing breath or blinking. “I will answer your question.”

  Lian noticed that she did not say questions, but didn’t feel it wise to point that out.

  Sileth continued, “I seek passage across the Kyr-ella to your destination. One whom I seek is there.”

  “Kyr-ella?” Arden asked, and was answered not by the vampire, but by the little navigator Ylen, who had emerged from the cabin, and was holding his bleeding head.

  “Kyr-ella is one of the more archaic names for the Kyrian Sea, Arden,” he said, his nasal tone even more unpleasant than usual because of the pain of his injury.

  Sileth nodded once and said, “Forgive my antique wording, Captain Arden.” A ghost of a smile played briefly on her lips before fading into the expressionless mask she wore.

  “Why not purchase passage, Lady? We could hardly refuse you, and the accommodations would have been much more comfortable—” he paused, interrupted by her gesture.

  “These comforts of which you speak hold no interest to me,” she said, “nor does begging the permission of a mortal, however likely it is that he would grant it.” Rising in a single movement, she turned to the passage which led into the depths of the ship.

  “I will remain in my current lodgings, and you will not disturb me,” she said, a pronouncement as flat as doom.

  “As you wish, Lady Sileth. You will see no one, I assure you,” Arden said, bowing to her with a flourish.

  Ignoring his decorum, she replied as she faded away into the darkness of the passage, “Neither is that my concern, Captain, though the fate of the curious is often harsh.” Her words dropped to whispers and then hints of whispers, but every man and woman on deck understood every word. Lian observed more than a few shudders at the Companion’s words, and had to suppress his own.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  “The Pelorian nobility boasted a heritage of Power, yet not every son or daughter was gifted with the voice required to use it. Many was the peasant whose voice was stolen by Pelorian rituals, to bestow song on those who did not deserve it.”

  -- “Songstealing,” forbidden text from Volume IX of Kommath’s work

  Clearly, Arden and Cedrick wished to confer about the vampire’s presence, but unfortunately there were more pressing matters to be dealt with first. A storm was blowing in, not a serious matter under normal circumstances; however, Searcher was entangled and listing even with her sails down.

  “I’ll need some of your men!” Cedrick said, and Arden nodded, quickly assigning a half dozen of his warriors to Cedrick’s command. Armed with axes and partially protected from the stinging tentacles in their armor, the warriors chopped at those nearest to the ship, held from above by tether lines.

  Lian, the only officer remaining other than Ylen, accompanied Arden forward to investigate the obstruction which held them in place. The waves were already swelling ahead of the oncoming storm.

  They looked over the forward railing and found the huge body of the man o’ war draped across the bow of the ship at the waterline. The impact had crushed its relatively fragile balloon-like body, and the remains were folded around the ship like a leathery, glistening white veil. Behind the ship, the tentacles trailed for hundreds of yards, clearly visible in the strobe-like flashes of lightning heralding the oncoming squall.

  “Gods, what a monster!” remarked Arden, voicing Lian’s own horror. To Lian he added, “So, do you have any ideas about how we can get that thing off the ship?”

  Lian had been considering this already, and nodded. “Yes, sir. We need to clear the rudder then get the ship turned side-on to the wind. After that, she should slip free. The tentacles aren’t really entangled with the ship, they’re just being dragged behind her.”

  Arden, pleased at Lian’s suggestion, said, “Run aft and inform Cedrick of your plan. If he likes it, put it into effect.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lian replied, heading astern. As he approached the back of the ship, one of the swordsmen who had been slashing tentacles was being hauled back up on his tether rope with a sting on one hand. It was rapidly swelling and turning purple, reminding Lian of a viper’s bite. Snog seized the screaming man’s arm with surprising strength, expertly carving the wound with his enchanted dagger. Blood, mixed with a clear fluid welled from the cut, and the goblin immediately put his mouth to the wounds and sucked hard, spitting the venom onto the deck. This completed, with relie
f reflected on the face of the soldier, he withdrew a small tuber from the belt pouch where he carried his tobacco. Breaking it open, he rubbed the contents into the wound, driving the man almost into convulsions from the new pain.

  “He’ll be fine, but fer the scar,” Snog pronounced, rising from his handiwork with a satisfied smile. He untied the writhing man from his tether and wrapped it around his own waist. Lian longed to ask the goblin what he was doing, but instead headed towards Cedrick, who was observing the activities on his ship with a keen eye.

  “Captain Arden’s compliments, sir,” Lian began, describing the situation at the prow of the vessel as well as his plan for freeing her.

  Cedrick clapped him on the shoulder approvingly, saying with a grin, “You’ve got the right of it there, lad. We’ll make a sailor of you, by the gods!” Shouting orders, he summoned Reidar.

  “We need you to clear the rudder and steering chains, and to keep them clear. It’s too dangerous to risk more men on that,” Cedrick said.

  Reidar nodded thoughtfully, flashing Lian a grin. “I do have a spell for it, but I can’t keep it up for very long. The notes are right at the edge of my range, and I just can’t hold them.”

  The ship captain nodded curtly. “We’ll be ready,” he pronounced, placed a sailor on the wheel and ordered the jib-sail raised and trimmed. As the sailors began unfurling the jib, he turned to Reidar and said, “You’d better get cracking. Searcher will capsize if that squall line reaches us before we’re freed.”

  The mage didn’t reply, instead summoning his reserves of power and concentration. Uttering a gull-like cry, he began to sing a spell which first dried out the tentacles, as if they were lying in a blazing desert sun, or perhaps upon a hot iron skillet. The desiccating appendages cracked under the strain, but so did Reidar’s voice. As he had promised, the spell’s notes were high indeed, and he was already having trouble maintaining them.

  The black line of clouds and lightning drew closer, and the wind caught the jib and began to pull Searcher over to port.

  “Should I help him?” asked Lord Grey very quietly, his voice pitched so low that Lian alone could hear it over Reidar’s strained chanting. As the spell progressed, it became clear that the mage simply wasn’t able to fulfill the musical demands of the magic.

  Before he could respond to the skull’s inquiry, Arden joined Reidar’s song, sustaining a single note which wasn’t particularly harmonious with the magesong. As he fed power into the magic, Arden’s efforts, off-key as they were, eased the mage’s strain enough that he managed to recover control over his spell.

  “Will wonders never cease?” Lian whispered in amazement. Arden’s song was monotonal, no more than a mantra really, which accomplished nothing more than to channel power from himself to Reidar, but the magical strength behind it was impressive, as well as unexpected.

  He’s tone deaf, I think, Gem mused. He started that on a fifth minor, a bit flat. Reidar’s lucky it didn’t throw his whole spell off, but he seemed to be expecting it.

  Tone deaf or not, it’s working, Lian replied, as the tendrils that entangled the rudder continued to dry and crack under the desiccation spell.

  “Now!” Reidar cried, and the helmsman hauled the wheel hard to port, straining against the dried strands of tentacle that were still wrapped around the chains. With snapping noises reminiscent of crumbling sandstone, the rudder ripped free of the dried appendages, and the mass at the bow began to slip to the side. Cedrick held the turn until the ship was running before the wind and he could see the massive bulk of the man o’ war’s body sinking into the dark waters.

  “Well sung, Reidar,” Arden complemented, his voice a little hoarse from maintaining his own spell.

  “I’ve done better,” the mage admitted, clasping the arms of his captain in gratitude, “but I do believe you’re learning to sing, a little.” His earnest smile removed any possible sting from his words.

  With attention available for other matters, Lian spotted Snog fixing something to the deck with one of his daggers. As the prince neared the goblin, he could see that the “something” was the last of three thirty-foot sections of man o’ war tentacle. The goblin grinned at his approach and began to carefully roll up the first one, taking care not to trigger the barbed poison sacs as he did so.

  “Ne’er know when sommat like this ‘d be handy, milord,” he said. “That thing packed ‘isself quite a whallop. Bad as a big sh’rek, sir.” Sh’rek directly translated as “fang,” but it was also the term for “spider.”

  Lian nodded, “You just be real careful with those, right?”

  “’Course, milord,” he said, cackling in glee as he wrapped the deadly bundle in oilcloth. Beginning on the second, he was no less careful, and at least for the moment he was oblivious to his usual seasickness.

  Lian fired a bolt from each of the three ballistae out to sea, working his way around the ship. He preferred wasting the spears to dry-firing the weapons, and he couldn’t very well leave them cocked. As he went about his duties, the mercenaries seconded to Cedrick filled in as sail crew, exhibiting an expertise that surprised Lian. Arden’s men were very well trained, and worked without complaint for the Searcher’s captain.

  When he completed his circuit and once again reached the afterdeck, Cedrick and Arden were waiting for him, their hair whipped wildly by winds driven by the oncoming storm. “This won’t be a bad one, Alan of Staikal,” Cedrick yelled. “Nor will it last very long. Stay here with us until the front passes, and then we have business.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Lian replied, assuming a position next to one of his siege engines. He wanted to go below and check on Kess, but Cedrick’s order held him there.

  After awhile, Snog climbed to the stern deck, his work with the man o’ war tentacles apparently done; his pack bulged with the deadly bundles. “Kess ‘as two breaks, an’ the swellin’s bad ‘nough t’ keep me from settin’ it yet. Magic’d be better, o’ course, but I’m nay yer goblin fer that.” The goblin purposely spoke loud enough for the two captains to overhear him, and Arden approached the two companions.

  To Snog he ordered, “You’re drafted as healer until I can hire another one, and then you might draw duty as his mate. Just make sure that the herbs that work on goblins don’t kill my men.”

  “Aye, Cap’n, sir,” Snog said, revealing his pointed teeth. “They taught us real careful, that what’s bad for men.” This drew a chuckle from both Lian and the mercenary captain.

  “I’d best see to th’ other wounds, then, Cap’n, sir,” the scout said, taking his leave without asking for permission.

  Arden shook his head, “Quite a find you have there in your little friend.” He sat down next to Lian.

  “Yes, sir,” Lian replied. “He’s full of surprises.”

  “What do you know of the Companion? She came aboard at the same time you did,” Arden inquired, his tone even and his manner open.

  Lian shook his head. “I’ve heard of Sileth of the Silks, of course. But I have no idea why she’s aboard.” He was actually suspicious that he was the reason for the vampire’s presence, but he wasn’t about to broach the matter with any member of the crew, even the leader.

  Arden sighed, gazing out at the roughening sea. “Normally, I don’t delve into the pasts of those I employ, Alan. I respect their privacy. Sometimes, however, it becomes necessary to ask some probing questions.

  “One such time is when I’m hiring replacements during a campaign. As I’m sure you can imagine, I have to be careful what sort of man or woman I hire, since any applicant might be a spy. I won’t catch all of them, of course, but every spy I detect is potential working material.” Lian had to stifle a grin at Arden’s turn of phrase, for it mirrored something Elowyn had recently said. The amusement transformed quickly into a pang of grief, but Lian forced the feeling deep inside himself.

  “The other circumstance is when the company is at risk because a member’s past catches up to him. I’ve seen blood feuds turn into
pitched battles, when the injured party feels it necessary to hire another company to have a chance at reaching their mark. You can imagine, I’m sure, the kind of things that can happen,” he said, and Lian nodded agreement.

  “So I’ll ask one more time, and I expect a straight answer,” Arden said. “Do you have any idea why the vampire is aboard? Is anything in your past likely to have attracted her attention?”

  Lian answered with no hesitation, looking Arden directly in the eyes, “I have no idea, Captain. Neither I nor Snog have done anything to raise the ire of the Companions, and I’ve never met her before tonight.”

  Arden clapped Lian’s knee and rose. “All right, Alan. You understand that I had to ask?”

  “I take no offense, Captain,” Lian said, also rising. “I’d have demanded the same answers from my own men, if the situation ever arose.”

  “I’m glad you see it that way. Some men require special handling. I’m sure you can imagine how a High Realms knight would have reacted to my question, honor-bound that they are,” he said, grinning.

  Lian had never been to the High Realms, but he had met a few of their nobility at court in Dunshor. His experiences with the tall, dark-haired knights of that mountain kingdom lent credence to Arden’s description. “They don’t like mercenaries much there, I’d imagine,” Lian said, thinking aloud, remembering one knight’s general dismissal of all mercenaries as useless and insulting to a true warrior’s honor.

  Arden laughed, “No, they don’t. I don’t accept contracts in that area unless the pay is very attractive. Realmsknights treat captured mercenaries the way that most countries treat spies. We’re not ‘true soldiers,’ you see. ‘True soldiers’ are drawn from a formal peasant levy or a knight’s personal retinue.