And Sable was afraid.
She hadn’t seen this side of Tallyn. If he’d shown her even a hint of this, she never would’ve trusted him. Seeing him like this, she believed that Tallyn had been Azir’s first.
The two remaining Silent hissed, moving protectively toward Ventus, and Ventus’s guards stepped back in fear. Jos climbed to his feet beside Tallyn, wary as he regarded his unexpected savior. Braddok also lumbered to a stand, but he held near the guards, ready to intercede should they decide to attack.
“Tallyn.” Ventus turned the one word into two, his expression a twist of loathing and disgust. “Look at you. You wear your treachery well.”
Tallyn said something to Jos that Sable could not hear.
Jos’s eyes narrowed.
“Kill them,” Ventus snarled. “But Tallyn is mine.”
The guards near Braddok raised weapons and took a small step.
Braddok smacked the flat of his blade against his palm and smiled. Uncertain glances passed between the guards, and the one in front charged. Braddok ducked, and, in a maneuver surprisingly fast for one his size, he rolled the guard over his back. Another guard moved in, but Braddok spun and whacked the guard’s back with his sword, and the guard tripped on the cobblestones. Three more charged him, but Braddok ran his sword through one, grabbed the heads of the other two, and smashed them together. He pulled his sword from the first and flashed a smile at the remaining guards.
“Come on, ladies,” he goaded. “Don’t wet your panties.”
With a yell, the rest of the guards swarmed Braddok, but this time, Jos stepped into the fray. Tallyn, however, did not. His gaze remained fixed on Ventus while chaos erupted behind him.
Sable jerked against Ventus’s hold, trying to get away, but he squeezed so hard, his nails broke skin.
“You cannot win this, vindaré,” Ventus said.
“I am not here to win, Aiaon,” Tallyn replied in a voice dark as night. “That privilege belongs to the Maker. We can only hope to be of service to Him in the life He grants us.”
Ventus growled. “Always such pretty words.”
“Perhaps that is why the Maker spared my tongue.”
The two Silent hissed.
It struck Sable that Ventus wasn’t speaking inside Tallyn’s head. Perhaps he could not.
“Hand over the girl, and I will spare them,” Tallyn said simply.
“You? What can you do, Tallyn?” Ventus said the name like a curse. “You are deformed. An abomination. Your very existence is an insult to the Maker.”
“That was always your failing, Ventus. The idea that you alone knew what the Maker expected from us. You twisted His words to write your laws. You used His power to establish your own. You destroyed Him to take his place.”
“And what are you doing?” Ventus snarled. “Attempting to destroy me in order to take mine?”
The two Silent rushed Tallyn, but he lunged aside faster than humanly possible and delivered punches Sable didn’t see coming until the Silent flew back. They arced through the air, then slammed into a second-story wall with a force that would’ve shattered the bones of a normal person. The Silent bounced to the ground but quickly jumped to their feet—one tilted its head and popped its neck. They hissed and leapt into the air, toward Tallyn. Tallyn threw off the first as the second landed on his back, choke-holding him.
Watching Jos fight the Silent had been impressive, but this… this was like watching a fight between gods.
Ventus began dragging Sable away from the battle.
“Let me go!” Sable demanded, grabbing at his wrist, clawing and scratching until it bled, but even as the cuts formed, his skin knit together.
Tallyn growled and slammed a Silent against a brick wall. Part of the wall collapsed and brick rained down upon the cobblestones.
Climb, Ventus said, shoving Sable at a saddled stolik.
Sable punched at him, but Ventus knocked her fist aside and struck her jaw so hard, she fell to the ground. She struggled upon all fours and flexed her jaw. She tasted blood.
Climb.
He grabbed her by the hair, jerked her up, and a glimmer caught her eye.
Gavet’s dagger. It lay on the cobblestones just a few paces away.
Sable stood, making an impressive show of unsteadiness, then lunged for the dagger. Ventus’s power seared through her at once, and she landed in an agonizing coil. With a determined growl, she uncurled her body and dragged herself toward the blade. But Ventus wasn’t deterred that easily.
An invisible force flopped her onto her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her head whipped back, striking stone, and she cried out in pain.
But she’d collected her treasure.
Climb, sulaziér.
Sable wheezed, struggling to fill her lungs with air, and the pain in her head squeezed tight. Dots marked her vision, and the world blurred. She staggered to her feet, swaying and unsteady, but slowly made her way back to Ventus. Once she reached his stolik, she feinted to climb into the saddle, but at the last second, she whirled on Ventus and plunged Gavet’s dagger into his chest.
He hissed, black teeth bared in rage, but he did not fall. His hand clamped around her wrist, nails carving into her skin as he held her firmly before him. She tried to break free, but his grip was too firm. And then he jerked the dagger from his chest and rammed it into her side.
Sable gaped in shock as Ventus pulled the bloodied blade free. Pressure swelled where he’d struck, swift and hot, and she pressed her fingers over the wound. Blood oozed between her fingers, and a new pain throbbed somewhere deep.
“Ventus.”
Ventus looked back.
Tallyn stood a dozen paces away, hands and face painted in blood. Exhaustion bent his stance and strained his features, but both Silent lay on the ground behind him, dead.
Ventus snarled with all the rage of hell. He forgot Sable and dematerialized, rushing Tallyn in a whirl of screams and shadow.
“Tallyn…” Sable tried to yell, but the word came out in a whisper, cut short by a pained gasp.
A split second before Ventus struck, Tallyn dissolved into the mist, and when Ventus materialized, Tallyn reappeared behind him, swaying a little upon unsteady feet.
“Go, Sable!” Tallyn demanded as an invisible force launched him into the air. He collided with a wagon; wood exploded. Tallyn climbed to his knees and pushed bloodied palms out, lips moving fast with silent command. Scraps of wood and nails rose all around him, as if lifted by strings. They trembled in suspension as Tallyn’s power waned. Nails and wood fragments rotated midair, pointing at Ventus, and with a determined snarl, Tallyn snapped his palms forward. The fragments shot forth in a deadly wall of spikes.
Ventus pressed two bloodied palms forward, chanting commands of his own.
The shards froze a few feet away, suspended. Nails and wood quivered, caught between opposing forces. Tallyn and Ventus yelled commands through their teeth, louder and louder, and then the air pulsed.
Wood exploded, nails fired like arrows in all directions, firststory windows shattered. Sable ducked behind the horse while glass, metal, and wood pieces rained down.
“Get out of here!” Tallyn yelled at her.
Sable blinked, her mind suddenly hazy. The world tilted. She started forward, tripped on a stone, then caught herself on a lamppost. She staggered forward again, but her body swayed and she fell. This time, a pair of arms caught her.
“You’re bleeding,” Jos said.
“I’m… fine.”
Jos peeled her hand from her waist and cursed. “Brad!”
Braddok yelled as he threw off three guards. He glanced back, caught Jos’s gaze, then began a retreat.
“We need… to help Tallyn,” she said.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said through his teeth. He picked her up as though she weighed nothing and set her on Ventus’s stolik, then mounted behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and gave the stolik a swift kick.
S
able struggled to sit up and opened her mouth to say something about the gate, but then they were galloping through it and into the night. Tallyn must’ve opened it when he’d arrived.
“Stay with me,” Jos demanded, holding her tight. Another set of hooves galloped behind them.
“White Rock—”
“We’re not going to White Rock,” he cut her off. “Tallyn has a boat waiting for us at Hiddensee.”
Hiddensee was a port about an hour from Riverwood. She just needed to hold on till then.
Suddenly, the night erupted with howling. Jos cursed again.
“Jos!” Braddok yelled behind them.
“I know!” Jos urged their stolik faster.
Sable held tight to the stolik’s mane, and Jos rode with all the fury of a tempest. Her body felt too cold. She knew she’d lost too much blood, but they couldn’t stop yet. The shades would catch up to them.
She shut her eyes, and the sounds of the stolik’s tread thundered through her chest. It was a steady drum, a rolling percussive beat, and she willed it faster, silently urging the tempo to fly.
Strangely, the tempo obeyed. The percussion raced, pounding through her with impossible speed, and the shades’ howling faded away.
“Hold on!” Jos yelled, clenching her tight.
It was only when the tempo slowed that Sable opened her eyes. She was surprised to see lantern light ahead, illuminating docks and sparkling black water. Hiddensee. By the wards, she must’ve passed out.
“Gods above,” Braddok said, catching his breath. “I ain’t never seen a horse run like that…”
His voice trailed as a man’s stocky silhouette appeared in a halo of buttery light up ahead.
Jos slowed their stolik to a stop. “I’m looking for Survak,” he called.
The man didn’t move. He regarded them lazily as pipe smoke floated around his head. In Sable’s periphery, shadows moved.
“Tallyn sent me,” Jos added.
The silhouette pulled the pipe from his lips and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You are?” It was a deep voice, rough around the edges, as salty as the sea.
“Jos. This is Sable. And Braddok.”
The silhouette turned in the light, revealing a sea-weathered face. The man was middle-aged, with short silvery hair and a command in his stance that challenged Jos’s own. “Survak,” he said.
Howling sounded in the distance, and the stolik snorted and shifted in place.
Survak’s eyes narrowed on the night, and then he jerked his chin toward one of the docks. “Follow me. And hurry. The horses can come too, so long as you can get ’em aboard.”
A galley bobbed at the end of the dock, black against the night, its masts stabbing upward like spears.
Jos dismounted and turned for Sable, but she was already sliding out of the saddle. Her boots landed, and she swayed. Jos put an arm around her waist to steady her.
She waved him off. “I’ll…” …handle the horses, she’d meant to say, but the edges of her vision darkened, and she collapsed.
25
Jeric caught Sable in his arms.
“What’s wrong with her?” Braddok asked.
“She’s lost too much blood.”
Survak gave a sharp whistle. Four crewmen appeared on deck.
“Help them with the horses,” he ordered the crew. To Jeric, he said, “Follow me.”
Jeric exchanged a glance with Braddok.
“I’ll stay with the horses,” Braddok said.
Jeric carried Sable on deck and followed Survak. Members of the crew glanced over, but no one said a word. Survak made his way to a small door near the quarterdeck, opened it, and motioned for Jeric to follow.
“She’ll be out of the way in here,” Survak said.
It was a small room, large enough for a cot and a nightstand. Survak lit a lantern and hung it from a hook in the ceiling as Jeric lay Sable upon the cot. Dark red blood soaked her shirt. Jeric peeled the bloodied fabric away and sucked air through his teeth. The two men exchanged a glance.
Survak dug through the drawers of the nightstand, grabbed a small satchel, and tossed it to Jeric.
“Medicinal supplies,” Survak said. “They’re meager, but it’s better than nothing.”
Jeric ravaged the satchel. Some cloth, a flask of—he uncorked it and took a whiff. Mytvinn. Strong stuff. He tossed it, and the cloth, on the bed and kept digging. Tweezers. A small blade. “Do you have needle and thread?”
“On deck. For the sails.”
“I need it.”
Survak didn’t ask why. He ducked out of the small cabin and returned a few moments later with a couple of needles and a spool of thread. Jeric grabbed a needle that wasn’t rusted and used the lantern flame to burn and sanitize the end. The boat lurched with sudden movement, and he pressed his palm to the wall to steady himself.
“I’ve got to go,” Survak said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Jeric jerked his chin and tried threading the needle. He needed smaller rutting fingers. Seconds later, the door creaked open, and Braddok stepped inside.
“Horses are secured, but they’re not too happy. That stolik pissed all over the deck.” He stopped behind Jeric. “Godsdamnit, that’s deep.” Then, with a cock of his brow, “You know what you’re doing?”
“No, but you know that’s never stopped me before.” Jeric poured the mytvinn over her wound. Sable winced, and her head turned to the side, features tight with pain. Jeric steadied his hand against her waist and said, “Try to hold still.” He pierced the needle through her skin. She hissed, teeth clenched and body tensed, but she held still. Even in pain, she was a fighter.
Braddok stood quiet, watching Jeric work. It was strange, stitching skin, but not so different than mending leather, which he had done plenty. He moved quickly but carefully, one hand steady at her waist, pausing when the ship rocked. He finished, tied a knot, and cut the string with his teeth, then rinsed the wound once more with mytvinn. He glanced up to find Braddok watching him, but Braddok didn’t say a word.
Suddenly, the ship lurched so hard that Jeric fell against the cot. The lantern swayed, the ship creaked, and Jeric’s stomach rolled unpleasantly.
Braddok eyed him. “You okay?”
Jeric’s mouth watered, his skin felt hot, and he tugged at his collar. “Watch her.”
Braddok nodded.
Jeric ducked out of the cabin and into the cold night air. The sails above had opened in full, and the crew sat on deck, rowing long oars in masterful synchronization. Those nearest eyed Jeric as he strode to the rail and vomited into the sea.
“The cabin’ll do it to ya quick,” Survak said a moment later.
Jeric spat into the black water and wiped his mouth against his sleeve.
“Here.” Survak pulled a small water skin from his cloak.
Jeric didn’t take it.
“It’s just water.”
“There are two people I trust in this world. You’re not one of them.”
Survak tipped the water skin toward Jeric. “Smart man.” He uncorked the skin, took a long sip, then handed it to Jeric.
This time, Jeric took it and downed a long draught. He rinsed the acid from his mouth, then held the water skin back to Survak.
“Hold on to it. We’ve still got some time before we beach.”
“Which is where?”
Survak leaned his arms against the railing. “The Black Cliffs.”
Jeric frowned. “Stykken patrols those.” And Stykken, ruler of The Fingers, did not like Jeric’s family. The disfavor reached far back, over borderlines which Corinth currently owned—lines rich in skal ore. If they were caught, Stykken would recognize him.
“Aye. As he’s patrolled them for twenty years,” Survak said. “I know his blind spots. Besides, there’s not a ship in all the Provinces that can outrun The Lady.” Survak patted the railing like an adoring father.
“The Lady…?”
Survak grinned, then turned and leaned back against
the rail. He brought his pipe to his mouth and exhaled, but the wind snatched his breath away. “You can’t see her now, but she’s beautiful. Graceful as a swan—all the proper manners of a lady. But don’t let her beauty fool you. She’s cunning. Designed for stealth and speed. A huntress.” He paused. Smoke curled over his lips. “You wouldn’t know anything about being a hunter, would you?”
The water skin stilled at Jeric’s lips.
Survak took a slow pull from his pipe. “I know who you are.”
Jeric lowered the water skin. “And who’s that?”
“I’ve been around a long time, boy.” Survak didn’t use the term boy in a demeaning way, but rather as an older man addressing a younger man. “I’ve seen a lot of faces. There are some faces a person never forgets.”
Jeric’s eyes narrowed.
“I knew you the moment you stepped on that dock,” Survak continued, glancing furtively over his shoulder at the men rowing below. “I don’t doubt Tallyn knew it too, but he didn’t say a word. Sly bastard. Knows me well. Never would’ve agreed to this if he had.”
Jeric stood stone-still, watching Survak, wondering how this would unfold.
“But I’m a man of my word,” Survak continued. “I told Tallyn I’d help, and I intend to. But watch yourself. Make yourself small. Don’t snarl, don’t bite. My men’ll catch scent of a wet dog real quick, and you won’t win that fight.”
“Is that a threat?” Jeric said lowly.
“It’s a promise.” Survak looked straight at him. “Wolves are land animals. My men breathe the sea. You don’t have the advantage here.”
“There a problem?” Braddok asked suddenly, appearing before the two men.
The Gods of Men Page 22
