Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Nicholas then wondered how his uncle Martin was doing. Was he still alive? Thinking of Martin, he turned to look at Marcus. Marcus had changed his attitude toward Nicholas profoundly since the climb up the cliffs, and while no one would ever accuse his cousin of being a demonstrative man, Nicholas could feel the difference in him when they spoke. They might never be friends, but they were no longer rivals. Both knew that whoever Abigail chose, they were agreed to honor her choice.

  Ghuda signaled and they set off. They moved south, for the same reason they had traveled south along the beach; with no clearly superior choice, they picked the route that would lead most directly to their ultimate destination.

  Within an hour of sunset, the air turned cold. Those walking along began gathering their assortment of shirts, tunics, and cloaks around them.

  They tried to keep their rest breaks to a minimum, but they couldn’t move continuously throughout the night. One fact Amos had gleaned from the position of the stars and the rising and setting of the sun was that indeed the seasons were backward here, and the days were lengthening, as spring approached summer – which meant the days would be getting hotter. Nicholas judged that at the present rate they must find shelter and water in two more days or they would all die.

  They trudged on through the night.

  Now they were thirty-four.

  Nicholas knew that this night’s march would be their last unless they found water. They were moving at roughly half the speed they walked the first night. Ghuda estimated they had come less than ten miles the previous night, and they would be lucky if they could match that tonight.

  Ghuda rose from his tiny tent of shirts and cloaks, and said, ‘It’s time.’

  They scanned the horizon and suddenly one of the sailors shouted, ‘Water!’

  Ghuda glanced at the direction the man pointed and Nicholas followed his gaze. There, in the west, a faint blue shimmering on the horizon beckoned. Nicholas said, ‘Ghuda?’

  The old mercenary shook his head. ‘It could be a mirage.’

  ‘Mirage?’ asked Harry.

  Nakor said, ‘Hot air does funny things. Sometimes it acts like a mirror in the sky, showing you the blue of the sky on the ground. Looks like water.’

  Ghuda didn’t move, as he stood rubbing his chin. He looked at Nicholas and his expression showed he did not want to make the decision. If it was a mirage, they were all dead. If it was water and they ignored it, they were dead.

  Nicholas said, ‘Keep looking until the sun’s down.’

  It was Calis who saw them. ‘Birds.’ The sun was just vanishing below the western horizon when he spoke.

  ‘Where?’ said Nicholas.

  ‘There, to the southwest.’

  Nicholas stared and saw nothing. All the remaining sailors peered to where the elfling pointed, but no one confirmed his sighting.

  ‘Your eyes must be magic,’ said Amos, his voice gravelly from lack of water.

  Calis said nothing but started walking toward his sighting of birds.

  An hour later, they reached the edge of the desert. In the darkness it was hard to see, but they all felt it underfoot. Suddenly there was a springy feeling instead of the harsh, unyielding sand or rock. Brisa fell to her knees and said, ‘I’ve never smelled anything so sweet.’ Her voice was a croak of dryness.

  Nicholas bent and plucked a long blade of tough, dry grass and rubbed it between thumb and finger. If there was ever water in it, it was now a memory. He said, ‘Calis?’

  The elfling said, ‘That way,’ pointing to the southwest.

  Leaving the desert and entering the grasslands added a spark to the party. They moved a little faster and with more purpose. But Nicholas knew they were still only hours from death.

  The terrain rose slightly and the sandy soil underfoot soon changed to hard dirt. As night deepened, Calis said, ‘Over there!’

  He took off at a weak half-trot and Nicholas and the others attempted to follow his lead. At a staggering, lurching run, Nicholas forced his fatigued legs up the small rise and then he saw it in the moonlight. A spring! He half ran, half stumbled down the little hillock to the depression. A few birds nesting in reeds squawked and took flight as Calis plunged facedown into water.

  Nicholas was there a moment later and did the same. He took a long drink and was about to take another, when Ghuda’s large hand gripped his collar and pulled him back. ‘Drink slowly, or you’ll just vomit it all back up,’ he warned.

  He repeated the warning to the others, who barely seemed to hear. Nicholas let the warm water run down his face. It was muddy and had an aroma and taste he thought it best not to dwell on, with the nesting of birds so close by, but it was water.

  He rose unsteadily to his feet and inspected this second oasis. The water hole was screened on three sides by palm trees, while to the east the desert continued. Nicholas moved among the men with Amos and Ghuda, ensuring they didn’t drink too much too fast. After the first gulping swallows, most seemed content to follow orders, while a few had to be physically pulled away from the edge of the pond.

  Calis said, ‘I’ll scout around.’

  Nicholas nodded and motioned for Marcus to accompany him. Seeing Marcus unarmed, Nicholas pulled a large knife from his belt and handed it to him. Marcus nodded thanks and followed after Calis, saying nothing of the unspoken warning: there might be others nearby, now that they were free of the desert, and those others might be hostile. They moved off to the southwest.

  Some of the men had recovered enough of their strength for Amos to organize a foraging party and post some sentries. A couple of the fitter sailors climbed trees to bring down dates. Nicholas signaled for Harry to accompany him. He left the oasis, heading toward the northwest, and when they had traveled a hundred yards, they saw that the desert was changing.

  ‘Look,’ said Harry.

  Nicholas studied where he was pointing, and nodded. Odd-looking plants stood in clumps all over the landscape, and in the distance some sort of alien trees rose up, rough and without leaves. But they didn’t look dead. Nicholas said, ‘Perhaps they’re dormant in the heat.’

  ‘Maybe,’ agreed Harry, who knew less about plants than Nicholas. ‘Margaret would know.’

  Nicholas was surprised by the remark. ‘How?’

  ‘Last time we were in the garden, she told me she’s spent a lot of time in the forest with her father, brother and … mother.’

  Nicholas nodded. ‘I’m scared, Harry.’

  ‘Who isn’t? We’re a long way from anything familiar and I don’t know how we’re going to find the girls, let alone get them home once we do.’

  Nicholas shook his head. ‘Not that. Anthony will lead us to the girls, I’m certain.’

  ‘You think?’ asked Harry.

  Nicholas thought it best not to mention Anthony’s feeling for Margaret, not because he considered Harry a serious rival for the girl’s affection, but because he wanted to spare his friend any distress, and most of all, because he was simply too tired to deal with it. He just said, ‘I think so.’

  Harry said, ‘How about getting home?’

  Nicholas surprised Harry with a grin. ‘With the most famous pirate in the Bitter Sea with us, you can ask that? Why, we steal a ship.’

  Harry grinned, but it was a weak one. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘No, what has me scared is that somehow I’m going to cause us to fail.’

  Harry said, ‘Look, I’m a good-for-nothing, or so my father’s told me often enough, but I wasn’t totally asleep on those rare occasions when he forced me to help him run the barony. And I’ve seen enough of your father’s court to know that a lot of what makes one man a ruler and another not is simply a willingness to be wrong.’

  Now it was Nicholas’s turn to say, ‘You think?’

  ‘Yes. I think a lot of it is just saying “Here’s what we are going to do, even if it’s wrong,” and then doing it.’

  ‘Well,’ agreed Nicholas, ‘Father always did say that you can’t be right
unless you’re willing to risk being wrong.’

  A shout from the water hole caused them both to turn and hurry back. Marcus and Calis had returned, and Marcus said, ‘You’d better come and see this.’

  Nicholas, Harry, Amos, and Ghuda followed Calis and Marcus out of the oasis and across a gentle depression to a rise. When they reached the crest, they moved down into a small gully, then up to an even higher ridge.

  Once they had topped it, Nicholas could see that they were at the southwest corner of a plateau, or tableland, and that the terrain fell away rapidly, turning greener as it receded from the plateau. The desert extended off to the northwest a great deal farther than Nicholas’s eye could follow and at last he said, ‘South was the right choice.’

  Calis said, ‘Certainly. Had we moved westward, we surely would have died.’

  Marcus said, ‘There’s more. Look.’ He pointed, and in the distance Nicholas made out a faint haze in the air.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A river,’ said Calis. ‘Given the distance, a large one, I’d say.’

  ‘How far?’ asked Amos.

  ‘A few days’ travel, maybe more.’

  Nicholas said, ‘We rest for the remainder of the day and all day tomorrow, then we leave at dawn the day after.’

  They turned away from the vista and Nicholas put all thoughts of failure behind as they returned to the oasis.

  Thirty-four survivors of the wreck of the Raptor moved purposefully down the incline, heading for the distant river. They had been on the march two days, and after the desert’s terrible heat, the trees’ shade made the still-hot weather seem clement to them. There was ample water, as whatever source fed the spring on the top of the plateau also emptied into a rill they had discovered flowing south out of a fissure in the rocks. Calis advised following it, as it likely ran down to the river, and if not, at least they would have water for part of their journey.

  Near noon, they paused to rest and Calis moved out to scout ahead. Nicholas was coming more and more to stand in awe of the half-elf’s strength and stamina. While everyone else showed the ravages of the wreck and the subsequent journey, Calis looked much the same as he had the day they had met, save for a little dirt and a torn tunic.

  Calis returned almost at once, saying, ‘Nicholas, you’d better see this.’

  Nicholas gestured to Marcus and Harry to come as well, and the four of them hurried down a small vale the water ran through, reaching an incline of rocks. Calis motioned for them to follow him as he climbed, topping a ridge about a dozen feet above their heads.

  Nicholas did so, and when he was standing next to Calis, they could clearly see the river, now a thin blue ribbon cutting through green grasslands.

  ‘How far?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘One, two more days.’

  Nicholas grinned and said, ‘We’re going to make it.’

  Marcus smiled faintly, as if not convinced, but Harry returned the grin.

  Returning to the others, Nicholas said, ‘We’re moving in the right direction.’ That simple statement seemed to pick up the spirits of the entire company, even Brisa, who had fallen into an atypical silence since crossing the desert. Nicholas almost wished she’d return to her rude teasing of Marcus, so he’d know she was back to her old self, but while the girl wasn’t sullen, she was distant and spoke only to answer direct questions.

  Calis returned to his scouting and the others waited, resting during the hottest hours of the day, while he found the easiest way down to the grasslands below.

  After more than an hour had passed, Nicholas started to feel alarmed, for Calis was unusually reliable when it came to being where he said he would be when he said he would be there. Nicholas was about to send Marcus after him when the half-elf returned, bearing a creature across his shoulders. It resembled a small deer, but had two twisting horns that swept upward and back from the head.

  Ghuda grunted. ‘Some sort of antelope, though I’ve not seen that kind in Kesh.’

  Calis threw it down and said, ‘There’s a herd down near the ridge of the grasslands. I took this one and dressed it out. We’ll have ample to eat if that band doesn’t wander too far.’

  A fire was quickly built and the creature was cooked, and Nicholas could swear he had never had meat this savory and filling.

  They were less than a day from the river when Nicholas saw the smoke west of them. Calis and Marcus saw it at the same instant and Nicholas signaled a halt. He motioned to Ghuda to take Harry and circle from a more easterly quarter, while Marcus and one of the sailors were to approach from the western side. He indicated that Calis should come with him and headed straight toward the smoke. They were now traveling through high grass, sometimes reaching to their chests, and the going was slow. There was always water nearby, and Calis’s prediction of ample hunting in the area had proven true. While their fare wasn’t rich, it was enough to return the entire company to a semblance of health. Nicholas wondered how he looked. Everyone else was filthy, ragged, and gaunt, but most sprains, bruises, and cuts had healed.

  Reaching a small rise, Nicholas looked down on a scene of destruction. Six wagons were drawn up in a circle, near the river, and two of them were burning. Another two were on their sides. A dozen horses lay dead in their traces, and there were bodies scattered around. From the gaps in the circle of wagons, it was obvious others had left the scene of battle.

  Nicholas said, ‘I’m going straight in. You move around the edge of the clearing and see if anyone’s still around.’

  Calis nodded and Nicholas moved down the hill as the elfling vanished into the high grass. Nicholas reached the first wagon and glanced around. The raid had happened no more than three or four hours earlier, from the state of the still-burning wagons. The others had burned out, leaving charred skeletons.

  The wagons were high-sided, with large iron frames that held canvas, forming a roof and covering the sides. The canvas could be raised to admit air and light, and to make unloading easier, or lowered to protect cargo. The wagons were commodious, ample for large cargo or many passengers. The rear of the wagons was solid wood, hinged at the bottom so that, let down, the rear served as a loading ramp, with a smaller, man-sized door in the middle permitting access when the ramp was up. The overturned traces were set up for four horses each.

  Nicholas turned over one of the bodies and saw a man of average height, slightly darker in skin than himself, but not as swarthy as most Keshians. He could have been a citizen of the Kingdom from his look. He had a ragged wound in his chest, obviously a sword blow, that had killed him quickly.

  It took only a few minutes to realize that nearly everything of value had been taken. Nicholas found a sword under one of the dead horses and pulled it free. It was a broadsword, again like those common to the Kingdom.

  Marcus appeared with the sailor, and Nicholas handed him the sword. ‘We’re too late.’

  Marcus said, ‘Or luckier than we have any right to be.’ He pointed to the far side of the circle and Nicholas looked. ‘There’s twenty, thirty dead men there.’ He indicated the bodies scattered outside the wagons and said, ‘A big company hit this caravan – big enough to have chopped us without a second thought, I’d guess.’

  Nicholas nodded. ‘Maybe you’re right. We have no idea who these people are or who raided them.’

  Ghuda and Harry appeared from the east and began examining bodies over there. Nicholas moved toward them and said, ‘Ghuda? What do you think?’

  The old mercenary scratched his face. ‘Traders and hired guards.’ He glanced around and said, ‘They were hit first from over here,’ indicating the tall grasses Nicholas had left. ‘That was a feint, and then the main party hit from the river side.’ He pointed at the mass of bodies on that side. ‘Most of the fighting was there. It was fast and over quickly. These’ – the dead outside the wagons – ‘are either attackers or those who tried to run.’

  To the sailor, Nicholas said, ‘Go back and get the others, and bring them here.’
The sailor saluted and ran off.

  ‘Bandits?’ asked Marcus.

  Ghuda shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. This was pretty well laid out. Soldiers, I’d say.’

  Nicholas said, ‘I don’t see any uniforms.’

  ‘Soldiers don’t always wear uniforms,’ observed Ghuda.

  Just then Calis appeared, a slight figure before him. It was a small man, obviously terrified, who threw himself down upon the ground before Nicholas and the others and began speaking at a furious rate. ‘Who is this?’ asked Nicholas.

  Calis shrugged. ‘A survivor, I think.’

  ‘Can anyone understand that chatter?’ asked Nicholas.

  Ghuda said, ‘Listen to what he’s saying.’

  Nicholas listened and suddenly realized the man was speaking heavily accented Keshian, or a language so close to Keshian that there was little difference. The difficulty in understanding him stemmed more from the accent and his nearly frantic pleas for them to spare his life than from its being a foreign tongue.

  Marcus said, ‘Not unlike Natalese, really.’ The language of Natal was an offshoot of Keshain, as Natal had once been a province of the Empire.

  ‘Get up,’ said Nicholas in Keshian. He was not comfortable in the language, but he had studied it.

  The man understood well enough to obey, ‘Sah, Encosi.’

  Nicholas glanced at Ghuda who said, ‘Sounded like “yes, Encosi,” to me.’ When Nicholas showed he didn’t understand, Ghuda said, ‘Encosi is a title, meaning “master,” or “boss,” or “lord”. Used in the area of the Girdle of Kesh when you don’t know what someone’s official rank is.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Nicholas asked the little man.

  ‘I am being Tuka; wagon driver, Encosi.’

  ‘Who did this?’ asked Nicholas.

  The man shrugged. ‘I am not knowing which company, Encosi.’ The way he shifted his gaze from face to face, it was clear he wasn’t entirely convinced those he spoke with might not be responsible.

  ‘Company?’ asked Harry.

  ‘They flew no banner, and wore no’ – he used a word Nicholas didn’t catch – ‘Encosi,’ said Tuka to Harry.