They rose and began to run, heading back the way they had come. Behind them, Owen smelled smoke.
#
A short time later, they came upon a softly gurgling creek, and Fioni called for a short halt while everyone drank and recovered their strength. They had been moving quickly, running when they could through the thick forest, desperate to outpace the forest fire behind them, although Owen doubted it would spread far past the sheltered valley and its thick deadfall; this late in the year, forest fires tended to burn out quickly in the damp woods.
As he cupped his hands in the cold stream and drank greedily, Owen scanned the faces of the others. They were all older men, older even than the garrison had been in Stron’s Watch. But like those grizzled veterans, these men were still tough and hardy. The strain of the night, though, was beginning to show in their lined faces, in their trembling limbs. Even Owen was growing tired. Vory’s armor, while lighter than he would have thought, was still becoming a burden. He had long since sheathed Sight-Bringer. Its magic had limits, which he had reached during the battle at Stron’s Watch, and he didn’t want to exhaust it now.
While the men drank, Fioni moved back into the woods, staring behind them, her body rigid. She’s looking for Rolf. There had been no sign of the other man. As he stared at her back, he felt a thickness in his throat. Was I right not to stay behind and set the fires?
What would Dilan have done?
He approached her slowly, racking his mind for something to say that could make her understand. Smoke obscured the woods behind them and stung his eyes. Despite the smoke, the sky was still getting lighter; it would be daylight soon. He stopped in place several feet behind her, when he saw Fioni’s shoulders tremble. Once again, his guilt crashed against him. He inhaled deeply, hating himself. “Fioni, can we—”
Without turning, she raised her hand, cutting him off. “There’s someone coming. I think it’s Rolf,” she said excitedly.
Then he also saw the shape moving through the smoke, and a sense of giddy relief washed through him. Thank you, Father Craftsman.
“Rolf,” Fioni called out, taking a step closer.
Yarl Vengir Flat-Nose stepped into view, flanked by two more ghouls. His hair was gone, burned away by the same fires that had blackened most of his skin and charred his clothing. The stench of burned flesh assaulted them, almost a physical thing, and Owen stumbled back, bile rising in his throat. Yarl Vengir’s black eyes seethed with hatred as he came forward, his hands outstretched for Fioni. The other two ghouls, a young girl no more than twelve and an elderly man, their skin charred, stumbled forward as well.
Fioni stood frozen.
Having seen firsthand what a ghoul was capable of, Owen grabbed Fioni’s shoulders and threw her behind him. Yarl Vengir smashed into him, knocking him onto his back, and falling atop him. He just managed to catch the former yarl’s wrists, desperately trying to hold his grasping fingers away from his face. He heard Fioni’s sword, Wave’s Kiss, hiss from her scabbard, followed a moment later by her cry of rage, but he couldn’t spare any energy for her. Yarl Vengir glared at him without a trace of his humanity as he pushed his clawlike, fire-blackened hands closer to Owen’s face. As the ghoul’s black fingers came closer, Owen let go of one wrist and threw an off-balance punch, connecting solidly with the ghoul’s chin and snapping its head back. The blow had done nothing but give the ghoul a moment’s pause, but in that moment, Owen gripped Sight-Bringer’s hilt and drew it free of its sheath. Owen stabbed Sight-Bringer’s broken blade into the ghoul’s side, sliding it between the ribs. In an instant, Yarl Vengir ceased moving, stiffened, and fell away from Owen, smoke drifting from the wound in his side, the stench of burned flesh stronger than before. During the siege of Stron’s Watch, Owen had learned that Sight-Bringer was anathema to the undead and could destroy ghouls with a single cut—if one could survive long enough to use it. Owen staggered to his feet.
The other men rushed past him, throwing themselves at the remaining two ghouls, one of which, the young girl, was now pulling herself along the ground, her left leg cut off at the knee by Fioni. Yarl Taios’s warriors—no, Fioni’s warriors—smashed into the remaining ghoul, knocking it down before standing around it, hacking it and the young girl to pieces with their fighting axes. He rushed over to Fioni, who stood holding her sword before her, its bloody blade shaking. She stared at him in confusion. “Fioni, are you all right?” he asked.
When her green eyes darted to the corpse of Yarl Vengir, sorrow replaced the horror. She stared at the corpse for long moments. “Rolf’s not coming, is he?” she finally said.
He shook his head, his shame threatening to unman him. “No,” he mumbled through thick lips. “Fioni… I—”
She turned away from him. “We go now.”
Chapter 13
Danika
The sun hadn’t yet broken the horizon, but its glow presaged its imminent arrival, chasing away the night and revealing the longship pursuing them and the coastline flying past. Danika pulled herself up on the sternpost, watching Thunder Killer in Fen Wolf’s wake. Both longships were now running with sails raised and oars in the water. A stocky, dark-haired woman named Herla High-Eye gripped the tiller while Kora stood beside her, overseeing the crew and the operation of the ship. The ropes creaked, and the huge sail crackled with wind. Danika climbed back down just as Fen Wolf hit a large wave, splashing her with cold seawater.
In her weeks at sea, this was by far the fastest Danika had ever seen the longship move—so fast, she half thought Fen Wolf would fly into the air. But, as fast as they cut through the waves, Thunder Killer was still following, unable to close the distance but unwilling to give up the chase. The Hishtari coastline was thick with forests of dark pine on their steering board side as they sailed north away from the bay and away from Owen, Fioni, and the others. The sky was turning red in the east, chasing away the night.
“Can we out-sail them?” she asked Kora.
Kora looked back at Thunder Killer and chewed on her lip, her face thoughtful. “In time, yes, but Thunder Killer is a fine ship. And—much as I hate to admit it—Ullyn knows his business. It’ll take some hours to get away from them, maybe even a day or more.”
“Owen and Fioni don’t have that long,” Danika insisted.
Herla snorted. “Never thought I’d hear Kora Far-Sails compliment Ullyn Tangle-Beard.”
“I didn’t compliment him,” Kora said. “Least I don’t think I did.” She made a sour face. “Gods, maybe I did say something nice about him. This has been a hard voyage.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” Herla asked.
“I don’t know yet. Something clever. Do you have any ideas?”
Herla laughed. Danika watched them both in disbelief. They could have been discussing what to have for dinner. Ekkie, standing nearby, barked and then turned about several times before lowering herself to the deck. Kora’s eyes narrowed as she watched the dog settle.
“Well,” said Herla, “whatever you decide, bear in mind we have a strong port tack right now.”
“So does Ullyn,” said Kora as she climbed up and balanced alongside the sternpost, watching the ship to their rear. She turned, squinting to their front now. “There are seagulls diving into the water, maybe a league to the north.” She hopped down onto the deck, smiling impishly, and punched Herla in the bicep. “I’m going to rub Ullyn’s balls.”
Herla frowned at the now-grinning Kora.
“Rub his what?” asked Lady Danika, staring at Kora in confusion. “Never mind. What’s this about seagulls?”
“They dive for fish that swim in warmer currents,” said Herla. “Sometimes”—she paused and looked down her nose at Kora, as if the other woman were incredibly foolish—“where there’s a sandbar, the water is shallow, warmer.”
“There is a sandbar,” insisted Kora. “I feel it in my toes.”
Herla snorted, tossing her head. “None of us have ever sailed this far north. Maybe you’re feeling something
else in your toes.”
“I don’t understand,” Danika said.
Kora cupped her hands over her mouth. “I need sharp eyes at the prow now!” she yelled to the crew.
A young man darted forward, climbing onto the wooden wolf’s head on the stempost, watching the sea to their front. Fen Wolf continued to rise and slam back into the waves, but the sailor remained perched atop the wolf’s head. Once again, Danika was amazed at the Fenyirs’ ease with seaboard life. “Take us in closer to the shoreline,” Kora said to Herla.
Herla shook her head but did as Kora had asked. “Even if there is a sandbar, with such a strong tack, we’ll be head-to-wind before we can come about. They’ll catch us amidships.”
“The day that ugly runt Ullyn catches me floundering head-to-wind is the day I give up sailing to raise babies,” scoffed Kora, now leaning precariously out over the gunwale to their port side in an attempt to see.
“No, it’ll be the day you die,” said Herla.
“Not today,” answered Kora with a flash of white teeth.
Many years ago, when she had been a teenaged girl and had accompanied her father to their family holdings on Greywynne Island, Danika had learned to sail small boats, but as she listened to the two women converse, she felt as if they were speaking in an entirely different language. “If there is a sandbar close to the shoreline,” said Danika, standing on her toes in a futile attempt to see, “shouldn’t we move farther out to sea, not closer to the shore?”
“Probably,” answered Kora in a distracted manner, still hanging far out over the gunwale, her gaze fixed on the seas ahead of them.
“What will happen if we run into it?” Danika asked.
Kora glanced back at her in puzzlement as if she had just asked if water was wet. “We’ll run aground.”
At that moment, the young man hanging onto the prow turned back and yelled, “Turtles ahead, less than five ells!”
“Ha!” barked Kora. “Ramming speed!”
Bryndil, the oar master, increased the cadence, and Fen Wolf shot forward. Ekkie rose again and began barking furiously. “Be ready!” Kora yelled to the crew as she dropped back beside Herla on the steering platform. “We’re going to rub their balls.”
The crew cheered, and Danika saw the excitement on their faces in the early-morning light. Kora moved to the sternpost, where the anchor, a metal hook attached to a wooden crossbeam, hung attached to a long coil of rope. Kora took up a small hand-axe and braced herself near the anchor, her gaze intent on the ship to their rear. “Come on, Ullyn,” she said softly to herself. “Come take the bait.”
“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” Danika said.
Kora’s eyes darted to her, then at the deck near her feet. “You’ll want to watch your feet, my lady of Wolfrey.”
Danika glanced down, saw she stood with a foot atop the coiled rope, and quickly moved off, suddenly understanding. “You’re crazy.”
Kora barked in laughter. “Ha! Thunder Killer just matched our speed. That idiot Ullyn thinks he has us.”
“Maybe he does,” mused Herla. “If we rip out the keel…”
“We won’t rip out the keel,” said Kora, shaking her head, the affection clear in her voice. “Fen Wolf’s a tough bitch. Besides, I’ve always wanted to try this, but Fioni never wanted to.”
“Maybe for good reason,” Herla said.
“Seaweed ahead!” the lookout yelled, near panic in his voice.
“Now!” Kora screamed. “Port oars up. Hard to steering board.”
As one, the oars on the left hand side of the ship rose as the crew detached them from the oarlocks and lifted them upright. The rowers on the right kept pulling, if anything straining even harder as the ship suddenly began to skew, tipping over on the right as the ship turned—far faster than a ship should have been able to. Herla, both arms wrapped around the tiller, screamed as she hauled on it, turning the rudder. Danika’s stomach lurched, and she fell against Ekkie, trapped against the hull as the ship rolled into the turn. The prow lifted out of the water as the entire ship swung suddenly toward the shoreline, the wooden hull screaming in protest. Danika, wedged in tightly next to Ekkie, could only pray as the ship’s entire port side rose out of the water. Ekkie licked her face. When she pulled herself up by the gunwale, Danika’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the other longship, now bearing down on them with its iron-tipped prow. It’s going to hit us, Danika realized in horror. Cave in our hull.
Kora swung her hand-axe, cutting through the rope securing the anchor. The anchor fell, the rope whipping past so fast it burned a groove into the gunwale. Danika had only a moment to stare in astonishment before the line ran out, stretched taut, and Fen Wolf shuddered under the sudden jarring impact. Once again, she fell forward, sliding down the deck on her belly as Fen Wolf whipped about—now completely facing the opposite direction. Kora roared in triumph and cut through the anchor rope. The sail, filled with wind a moment ago, now hung limp, but the ship’s prior momentum kept it moving forward. “All oars row!” Kora screamed, spittle flying from her mouth.
The port oars dropped back down, and Fen Wolf leaped through the waves again just as Thunder Killer, unable to turn in time, sped past twenty feet away at least. Without having to be told, Danika understood they had just “rubbed Ullyn’s balls.”
Then, impossibly, Danika saw the warrior in ring mail she had seen earlier launch himself through the air at them. No one could possibly jump that far, but the warrior somehow made it, smashing into Fen Wolf’s hull, where he hung from it one-handed. The closest rower jumped up, pulling his oar with him as he tried to hammer the man loose. Instead, the warrior grasped him with his other hand and pulled him over the side. Kora drew back and tossed her hand-axe. It spun through the air before striking the warrior’s hand, severing several of his fingers as it drove into the wooden deck. The warrior fell back into the water, disappearing from sight.
Danika stared in horror at the gouge marks in the gunwale where the warrior had gripped it, tearing furrows in the wood, and then at the severed clawlike fingers lying on the deck. The fingers turned to ash and blew away before her eyes. Her heart was pounding, her skin drenched in sudden perspiration. Although she had only had a brief glimpse of his face, with his red eyes, she had recognized the warrior. It had been Dilan Reese, a man-at-arms in her family’s service. Dilan had helped Owen bring Sight-Bringer back from Serina’s fortress. Dilan had led the defense of Stron’s Watch. Dilan had driven Sight-Bringer through Serina’s chest. And Dilan had thrown himself onto Serina’s back, slowing her down long enough for Owen and Danika to escape the disaster at the alehouse in Port Eaton.
Dilan was a hero.
Dilan was a blood fiend.
A moment later, there was a shuddering crash behind them as Thunder Killer struck the sand bar and came to a sudden halt, tipping over to lie at an angle. The screams of its crew reached across the waves.
Kora flashed her teeth at Herla. “Told you Fen Wolf was a tough bitch.”
Chapter 14
Fioni
Fioni led the others west through the forest, retracing their path back to the beach where they had moored Fen Wolf the previous night. When Kora returned—and Fioni knew she would—she would come first to the beach, even if Iron Beard and Hard Stone were still in the bay. They had outpaced the fire and the smoke and had seen no more ghouls. With the sun now over the horizon, the forest was eerily quiet. They could still smell the smoke in the distance, though, and pushed on as fast as they could through the woods. Soon, they came upon another streambed, and Owen suggested they follow it, guessing it would flow into the bay.
Rolf was dead. She was sure of that. Twice now, Owen had made plans that others had had to carry out for him. It had been his plan to climb the walls of the Rose Palace and open the Water Gate for the others, but once inside, Owen had abandoned Fioni to go off on his own and save Lady Danika. Now, although he might have been able to set the fire and escape, Owen had refused, forcin
g Rolf to volunteer in his place. Once again, his service to that damned noblewoman had come before Fioni. A sudden thought made her pause midstep: Does he love her?
And do I care?
Asger stopped beside her, watching her. “Is everything all right?”
“We need to keep moving,” she said. Not waiting for a response, she stalked forward, moving quicker along the streambed. Soon she could smell the sea, strong enough to wash away the stench of the smoke on her clothes.
#
Fioni, Asger, and Owen lay on their bellies at the forest’s edge, spying on the beach and the bay beyond it. The others hid farther back in the trees, waiting out of sight. Owen had been right: the stream cut across the sand, flowing into the bay where they had camped the night before. In place of Fen Wolf, Yarl Vengir’s longship Hard Stone sat in the water, its prow resting against the sand. It was a serpent-ship, like Fen Wolf, but smaller, easily beached but also easily put back out to sea, the work of only moments—if they could capture it from the large group of armed men left to guard it. At least it’s only men and not more ghouls, she mused. Farther out in the bay, Iron Beard lay at anchor. She guessed its hull was too deep to bring it in closer to the beach. It was a wonderful warship but so impractical for raiding. Fioni chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered both the armed men on the beach, and the two longships. Hard Stone would be much faster than Iron Beard, but Iron Beard sat between the beach and the sea. All Galas need do was to stop Hard Stone from slipping past. Iron Beard didn’t need to be fast or maneuverable to do that. She considered waiting until nightfall when she could steal Hard Stone and slip past Iron Beard in the dark but discarded that idea almost immediately. Whatever we do, we need do it right now, before the ghouls and the Hishtari soldiers come back and trap us between two forces. As much as she wanted to believe it, she very much doubted the fire had killed all of them.
The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset) Page 62
