An Opportunity for Profit tddts-5

by David Gross

  Before Sharessa could decide whether to cry a warning-and whom to warn-Belmer surprised her by taking a different tack.

  "If you die, who will carry Ingrar?" said Belmer. Anvil's eyes opened wide and dull. He hadn't been thinking of his wounded companion.

  "Perhaps Sharessa and Belgin could drag him over these rocks, but only you can carry him to Eldrinpar." Belmer's voice was still cool and professional, but Sharessa was surprised to hear something other than commands or threats in the face of insubordination.

  "We're beyond the bonds of your contracts, now," continued Belmer. "Not that I'm freeing you from them. But they mean less every time one of you is hurt or killed. They mean nothing if we all die here. So listen to me, not because you signed your contract, but because we all want to get to Eldrinpar alive."

  Sharessa could see by Anvil's expression that Belmer had won him over, but hatred burned even hotter in Brindra's eyes. Her sword arm trembled as she raised the blade to strike.

  "I want all of us to survive," said Belmer. He didn't turn around, but Sharessa could see that he was speaking to Brindra. "It would be a shame to lose another of you so close to our goal."

  Sharessa knew then that if Brindra's blade moved another inch, Belmer would kill her. The big woman's cutlass would never even touch the swordsman, and the party would leave her body for the fiend. She sought Brindra's eyes with her own, but the barrel-shaped warrior stared at the back of Belmer's head, her lips contorting in rage and uncertainty.

  Then she lowered her sword and turned away. Still not looking back at her, Belmer patted Anvil on the arm as he had earlier that night, as if he were a friend.

  "Let's get out of these woods."

  Chapter Five

  Crossing the Bridge

  They crouched in the quiet darkness, listening. The breeze did little to relieve the sticky heat. Sharessa felt the snakes of her own sweat crawling under her shirt. After spending weeks aboard a ship, one didn't usually notice the smell of the other crew, even lathered after hard work or, as now, hard flight. But Sharessa smelled the others' sweat now. It had a sour, frightened tang. If the fiend had had any trouble tracking them before — and it didn't seem to have any-then it could easily sniff them out now.

  Belmer had ordered them to put out the lights after they found the bridge. Now they watched it in the moonlight, looking for some sign that the fiend had gotten there first. It was hard to sit still in this nasty warmth.

  In Doegan the temperature usually dropped at night, but it now seemed to grow hotter with every hour. Maybe the fiend brought something of the nine hells with it. Sharessa shuddered at the thought and tried to concentrate on spotting anything unusual about this bridge.

  They were almost upon the span before they saw it. Belmer had remained with the group for the past few hours, rather than slipping off on his own to scout ahead. Sharessa couldn't decide whether he stayed to ensure Brindra didn't conspire against him or whether he was reluctant to stray too far from her magical sword.

  "It looks safe," said Belgin quietly.

  "Does it matter?" asked Rings sarcastically.

  "I suppose not," replied Belgin in a tired but still amiable tone. "If the fiend doesn't get us, we'll bake in this heat."

  "Let's go," said Belmer. "Don't set foot on the bridge yet. But get ready to cross quickly."

  They rose and moved quickly to the bridge. This far from the trees, they almost didn't need torches to see. The unimpeded moonlight illuminated the full length of the arch. Its stones were bone white under the moon, and creeping vines ran like black veins across its surface. A shadow ran along one side, refreshingly crisp and black after the vague shapes of the forest. Two narrow ruts ran from the end of the bridge, leading toward the forest's edge and, no doubt, a long-overgrown path.

  At the bridge, Belmer bent to scoop up a handful of stones from the wheel-worn path. In the same motion, he scattered them across the floor of the stone span. Everyone watched as they bounced and skittered across.

  "Seems real to me," remarked Anvil. He held Ingrar upright. The youth had regained enough of his senses to stand when helped, but he still couldn't walk alone.

  "Good," murmured Ingrar. "I wan' sleep inna bed at the palace 'night." Sharessa was glad that he had recovered some sense of humor when he awoke, but she feared that he would never regain his sight. Worse, his slurred words suggested that his injury had affected his brain as well as his eyes.

  "Rings, you take the lead," commanded Belmer. "Brindra, you bring up the rear." The dwarf nodded and started across the bridge, two sailors behind him. Anvil lifted Ingrar in his arms and followed; then came Turbalt and the two remaining sailors. Belmer and Sharessa were next, with Brindra in the rear. The big woman backed onto the bridge with her sword at guard, ready for a rush from behind.

  Sharessa crept carefully toward the center of the bridge. Rings was already there, marching steadily toward the other side, axe clutched firmly in his grip. Sharessa began to hope that they would cross without incident, but then she saw the dwarf stumble. He glanced down at his feet to see what had tripped him, then struggled to free himself.

  "Look out for the vines!" he cried. But it was too late. Sharessa felt strong tendrils curling about her ankles. From either side of the bridge, black vines writhed like serpents. Their leaves undulated with the grace of ocean currents, though the vines themselves moved with the alien purpose of tentacles. Without realizing she'd drawn her sword, she slashed down at the entangling vines. Her blade cut the tough plants, but more curled around her legs before she could free herself.

  From across the bridge, Sharessa heard Turbalt shrieking. To be fair, she was near to shouting herself. She'd expected an attack from the fiend, not from the bridge itself.

  Beside Sharessa, Belmer and Brindra struggled to cut themselves free. Belmer's keen rapier licked out to slash at the vines rising around Brindra's thick torso. With his dagger he cut away the dark vines that curled about his own thigh. Despite his speed, both he and Brindra were quickly becoming covered in leafy vines.

  "Stand still, Ingrar! I'll cut you free." Anvil's hoarse roar thundered above even Turbalt's screams. Sharessa spared a glance toward the center of the bridge. While Anvil ripped at the vines that bound his big arms still, Ingrar stood dazed and uncertain. He took a few blind steps backward, nearly toppling over the edge of the bridge.

  "Where is it?" shouted Ingrar. "I don't feel anything!"

  Sharessa imagined she heard a crack of wind as Belmer's head snapped toward Ingrar. The boy was covered in vines, more than anyone else. They danced upon his body, serpents swaying to an invisible pipe. But Ingrar stood there as if they did not exist.

  "Close your eyes!" shouted Belmer. "Ignore the vines. They aren't real!"

  Sharessa closed her eyes, then opened them again when she felt the tough vines reach her

  1 throat. She could feel them squeezing her, thrusting into her clothes, twining through her hair, choking the breath out of her.

  A hard slap turned her head. Belmer stood before her, cloaked in living green. He didn't seem to feel the vines.

  "They're not real," he said. "This is real." He struck her again. Where she felt the pain of his hand, she didn't feel the vines crawling upon he flesh. Sharessa closed her eyes again and focused on the sting of Belmer's slap. She imagined it spreading across her cheek, covering her whole face. There were no vines creeping there. She stopped struggling. The crawling, strangling sensations gave way to a faint tingling. Where she had felt the rough bonds squeezing her, there was only the warm breeze.

  Sharessa took a deep breath and looked around. Anvil and three of the Morning Bird's crew still struggled in their leafy bonds, but the others stood free of the illusion. As Sharessa looked across the bridge at them, the image of her companions blurred and vanished in a glassy haze. She felt a sudden wave of cold and dizziness.

  A huge wall of ice had formed out of the thin air. It solidified in the center of the bridge, cutting Sharessa, Belm
er, and Brindra off from the others. Sharessa thought for a second that it was another illusion, but the wall's sudden weight tilted the bridge. Sharessa heard the scrape of stones falling from the nether side. Before she could hear their splash below, Brindra shouted in pain and alarm. Sharessa turned. The thing crouched over Brindra was man-shaped, with long, spindly limbs bent at arachnid angles. Clawed hands too large for the thing's body clamped Brindra's arms to the bridge floor. A heavy, segmented tail crooked above its back, ending in a long, cruel barb that curved back in a hook. The tail slammed down for what must have been the second or third time, and Brindra cried out again.

  Sharessa saw Belmer already attacking the fiend as she lunged forward to help her friend. Then the thing looked up at her, and the moonlight revealed its face.

  It shouldn't have been alive, that skull head. The flesh that bound the bones was gray-brown and bloodless, like a sculptor's unfinished foundation. Long, splintered fangs jutted where teeth should be, forming a grotesque smile on the putty face. A pair of jagged holes were the nose, and above them flickered eyes of flame.

  The fiend gazed at Sharessa. Belmer darted in at the monster's side, thrusting, then slashing when the fiend's hide turned away his sword. The monster's tail flicked invisibly fast, sweeping Belmer's legs from under him. The bridge tilted some more, its stones shifting and groaning. Sharessa faintly heard Rings's shouts from the other side of the wall of ice.

  "My sword!" cried Brindra. Her voice was weak and flat with pain. Sharessa saw her release the cutlass from her pinned hand. The sword skidded across the bridge, toward the fragmenting edge and the water far below.

  Sharessa started to move toward the fallen sword.

  "Tak!" The fiend spat the word in mockery of a mother tsking her child. Sharessa's gaze was locked upon the fiend's burning eyes, and she stared helplessly as it released Brindra's sword arm long enough to waggle a long, thin finger at Sharessa.

  The fiend rocked suddenly to the side. Belmer had thrown his entire body at it, delivering a punishing kick to the monster's side. The monster hissed like a cobra, spinning around to attack the man.

  "Get the sword!" cried Belmer. The fiend seemed to understand his words and whipped around to face Sharessa, but Belmer was already on its back, his arms reaching around its neck.

  Sharessa scrambled after Brindra's cutlass. The bridge rocked again under her shifting weight, and she sprawled on her stomach, arms reaching toward the weapon. The cutlass skittered just out of reach, sliding perilously close to the ruined edge of the bridge. A huge chunk of bridge fell away beside it, leaving a third of its blade hanging over empty space.

  A painful blow struck Sharessa's leg. She spared a glance back to see the fiend gripping Belmer by the throat, holding the struggling man far from its body. Its barbed tail rose for another strike at Sharessa, but then it reeled back as Brindra plowed into its legs.

  Sharessa pushed herself forward, certain that she would fall over the edge, but knowing she needed that sword. The hard bridge floor scraped her chest, hips, and knees as she thrust toward the blade. Then her fingers touched the grip, and she had it.

  She turned to face the fiend, just in time to see Belmer's body flying toward her. They collided with stunning force, spinning across the ruined bridge, toward the open ravine. Belmer went clean over, tumbling into the darkness.

  Sharessa slipped over the edge. She clutched the sword with one hand, groping for purchase with the other. Her fingers closed on empty space, but then her crooked arm caught in a wide crack. She felt her arm wrenched hard, nearly torn from her body, but she hung onto the bridge.

  "No!" came Brindra's voice from above. Sharessa craned her neck to look up. The fiend had Brindra by the hair, bending her face back, forcing her to look into its face. It leaned in toward her in horrid parody of a lover bending for a kiss.

  "Brindra!" cried a muted voice from the far side. Rings and the others could never break through the wall of ice in time to help, and the bridge kept crumbling beneath them.

  Sharessa felt Brindra's cutlass in her hand, but she couldn't pull herself up. Her right arm was numb, wedged tight in the crack. If she freed herself, she would fall. If she didn't, she couldn't reach the fiend before it killed Brindra.

  Above Sharessa, the creature ran a gentle finger across Brindra's fat cheek.

  "Damn you!" spat Brindra. Her arms hung limp at her sides. The fiend pulled her hair back farther and grinned. The finger stroked again, this time drawing a red line from Brindra's eye to the corner of her lip. Sharessa heard Brindra's gasp, but she knew the sea-toughened pirate wouldn't give the fiend the pleasure of a scream. In the years Sharessa had sailed with her, Brindra had howled in rage, shouted in surprise, and cursed and yelled in pain. But she had never screamed. The fiend must have sensed that. It stopped playing with Brindra and did other things.

  Horrible things.

  Sharessa turned her face away. She awkwardly slipped Brindra's cutlass through her belt, then reached up to grasp at the wedge that pinned her arm. If she could pull her captured arm out just a bit, then hook a leg up…

  Brindra screamed. Sharessa looked up to see the fiend pulling Brindra's flesh apart in pages, gazing inside as if at an interesting book. Its motions were small and careful. It peeled and poked, each gesture evoking a wretched howl from the dying woman.

  "No!" cried Sharessa. She pulled up too hard, and the stone that pinned her arm fell away. Her other hand grabbed at the bridge, but she gained bare purchase.

  The fiend shook its head lightly at Sharessa, then raised a single bloody finger to its mouth, shushing her. Wait your turn, it seemed to say.

  Horror devoured the strength that fear had given her, and Sharessa slipped from the bridge. Brindra's last, sustained scream followed her all the way to the bottom, where the water swallowed it up with Sharessa's consciousness.

  Chapter Six

  Whispers by Moonlight

  After the stunning impact with the water, Sharessa could feel and see nothing. Her senseless limbs were numb and floating. She heard the sound of the river and knew she must be drowning. Death by water, she thought. The river would quench her life and carry her body out to sea. That was a fitting doom, she decided, since she had spent much of her life sending others to wet graves.

  "Can you speak?" asked Belmer. Sharessa blinked and realized that she wasn't drowning. Her thoughts tumbled in her head, the last stones rattled by the fall from the bridge. She felt Belmer's arms around her, the slender muscles hard and fine, supporting her. Together they drifted with the current, their bodies weightless in the darkness.

  "Ah," began Sharessa. Her tongue was thick in her mouth. "Ah-I think so," she slurred.

  "Good," replied Belmer.

  "I can't feel my arm," said Sharessa. The feeling was returning to the rest of her body, though the river seemed icy cold.

  "Is it broken?"

  "I'm not sure." Sharessa tried moving her right arm but couldn't feel a thing. She touched it with her left. In the cool water, the arm felt puffy and dead. She squeezed her upper arm slightly. The pain was bearable.

  "No, I don't think so."

  "Anything else?" asked Belmer. He shifted behind Sharessa, giving her more room to move while still supporting her in the water. Sharessa was glad for his help, and not only because she needed it. It was her experience that any man who held her in his arms was much more susceptible to her persuasion, when it became necessary. Unlike most other women pirates Sharessa had met, she knew both how to take care of herself and when to let a man think he was taking care of her. Brindra would have been kicking the man away already, spitting that she could damned well help herself

  Thinking of Brindra reminded Sharessa of something else. She felt for the dead woman's sword. There it was, safe in her belt. It would need a new hand, now that Brindra was dead. That thought hurt, surprisingly.

  The river glittered before them, and they drifted into a field of milky luminescence. Sharessa saw that the cliff fa
ce here was pale stone, probably granite. Its face reflected the moonlight down into the water. She turned to face Belmer, and he shifted his grip to hold her arms, keeping her from drifting away from him. He stared back up at the granite, dark eyes scanning its lines and shadows.

  "Here's a likely place. Can you swim now?"

  "I think so," said Sharessa. She kicked her legs, treading water. While she ached everywhere, only her right arm was still useless. "Yes. Let's go."

  They swam to the rocky cliff. At its base was a narrow shore of stones and mud, with a few small patches of thick river grass and reeds. Sharessa began to climb up onto the rocks, then winced as she placed too much weight on her bruised arm. Belmer helped her to her feet, and she leaned against him. She thought she felt his muscles tense defensively at her gesture. Then he softened and slipped an arm around her waist.

  She knew he was tallying physical injuries. "I have the sword," she said. Brindra's sword."

  "Good."

  "Here," said Sharessa, trying to draw it from her belt. "You take it."

  "Don't you want to keep it?"

  "I've seen you fight," said Sharessa. "It's more use in your hand than mine." Then she asked, "Have you ever met your match with a blade?"

  The long silence that followed made Sharessa think she had offended him. Just before she was about to take back the question, Belmer replied. "Maybe. Once."

  Sharessa smiled in the darkness. That admission sounded hard for him. Was he so proud? "Well, at least he didn't manage to kill you," she said. "Nor I him," said Belmer. "And he used two swords, which was cheating." Now there was amusement in his voice. Self-mockery? Sharessa wouldn't have imagined that before, but she was beginning to see beyond Belmer's shifting facades. At least, she liked to think she was.