Imorelda swiped her paw across his face hard enough to feel like a slap, though she kept her claws sheathed.
Tae opened his eyes; he did not remember closing them.
*Get that bleeding stopped. I don’t want to be eaten.*
As long as the sailors did not make a habit of shoveling fish entrails over the side, Tae knew he had a bit of time before the sharks found them. He just had to stay well away from the man he had killed to buy more time. I have to do this. For Imorelda. I can’t let Imorelda die. Tae unfastened his one-piece garment and tried to tear it, without success. The sturdy, diagonal double-weave made it nearly impossible. He turned his attention to the shoulder area, where the soldier’s sword had cut through the fabric. There, he found better leverage and managed to tear it in half. Cold ocean water seeped over every part of him, reviving and strangely soothing.
Maddeningly slowly, Tae managed to make long strips, which he first stuffed into the hole in his thigh. It felt like torture. Sharp pain racked his entire leg, but he finished the job before winding cloth around the wound to hold the pieces in place.
As he worked, Imorelda shifted around to keep from falling into the water. Apparently, she examined Tae as she did so. *Your shoulder looks like rats have been chewing on it. And there’s an arrow sticking out of your back.Want me to try to pull it out?*
Tae could not answer quickly enough. *No! Don’t touch it.* He knew what might happen. Moving the shaft could cause the tip to shift, possibly into his heart. He would die instantly. And, even if the worst did not occur, removing it would result in more blood than they might be able to staunch. *Is it bleeding at all?*
Imorelda shifted cautiously. *No.*
*Better to leave it, then. *
Imorelda finished the sentence, *Until trained healers can get to it?*
Tae nodded, without real consideration. It did not matter if they ever removed it; he was essentially already dead. He only had to survive long enough to get Imorelda to shore.
*Your ear’s bleeding, too; but not a lot.Want me to direct you?*
*Please.* Tae set to the shoulder first, winding material around it in a bundle. Although the thick sturdiness of the cloth had made it difficult to tear, he now appreciated that it also did a better job of staunching and covering the bleeding. He moved delicately, as much to maintain consciousness as to accommodate the cat. Have to get Imorelda home. The thought became an inviolate chant, the only thing keeping him going long after he should have surrendered.
*Now the ear,* Imorelda prompted.
Tae wound his remaining strip of cloth around his head, binding the right ear tightly against his skull. As he did so, he started looking for pieces of wood, a bit of flotsam, anything to which he might cling. It did not take him long. The pirates had destroyed many Western ships, and hunks of broken hull haunted this part of the sea. Tae threw his arms over a generous hunk of nailed-together boards and steered them toward shore.
CHAPTER 43
Success is the product of the application of good sense to the circumstances of the moment.
—General Santagithi
TAE KAHN AWAKENED TO a sudden stabbing pain in his shoulder and a shout echoing through his head. *Wake up! Wake up! Wakeupwakeupwakeup!* Disoriented, he remained utterly still, trying to recall where he was and how he had gotten there. He lay slumped over a timber, floating in water. He had to force his eyelids open; and, when he did, salt stung them mercilessly. Surrounded by the steely grayness of dawn or twilight, he caught a blurry view of ocean and distant shore. Shore! *Imorelda, we’re almost home.*
But Imorelda, he realized, was facing the other direction, her hackles raised and her claws still embedded in his wounded shoulder. *This way! Danger!*
Pain that racked his body kept Tae from moving quickly. Reluctantly, he turned his head to see a broad dorsal fin slicing the water behind him. It moved erratically, driving toward them, then backing away to return at a different angle. Shark, Tae realized, ransacking his brain for all the information he had ever absorbed about the creatures. Don’t panic. Realizing Imorelda needed to know as well, he sent, *Don’t panic.*
The cat minced backward, finally extracting her claws from Tae’s wound, to his great relief. *Don’t panic? Don’t panic? There’s a killer fish about to rip us to pieces, and I’m not supposed to panic? Fish aren’t supposed to eat cats; cats are supposed to eat fish.* She paused an instant, breathing heavily. *I’m panicking, damn it. I’m panicking.*
Tae ignored her, watching the fin as it settled into a circular motion. Slowly, carefully, he pulled free his knife. Even that small movement hurt. His injuries seemed to have coalesced into one giant, overwhelming ache, and he kept his breathing shallow, to avoid the agony that came with the gasps his body sought. The bleeding from his throat had diminished, probably what had drawn the shark in the first place.
*Imorelda, climb off me onto the boards.*
The cat gave no notice of having heard him.
The fin dipped.
*Imorelda, go!*
The shark slammed against Tae and his makeshift float, knocking them apart. The weight of the cat on his shoulders disappeared, and water replaced the fur on the back of his neck. Tae grabbed wildly for support, and his hand scraped against something rougher than unsanded wood, abrading his fingers. Sharkskin. He swung the knife. Hilt and fist slammed against a nose hard as rock, and Tae found himself nearly on top of it, staring into a beady, black eye. Slowed by dizziness and exhaustion, Tae attempted to stab it in the eye but managed only to poke it with his fingers. The hilt jarred sideways against its hide, and the blade wrenched loose from Tae’s fingers, sinking into the dark depths.
The creature’s jaw opened, revealing a morass of teeth.
Certain it could outmaneuver him in water, Tae tried to do the unpredictable, lunging toward the shark rather than attempting escape. At the least, he might buy Imorelda some time. He tried not to think about the fact that she had always avoided water and might not be able to swim.
The shark also charged. Tae tried to grab it, fingers grating over the coarse skin to sink into the gill slits. He found himself nose-to-nose with the monster, only to realize it was, if anything, smaller than he was. This time, the shark fought, hurling its head up and down, gnashing its teeth, trying to free its head from Tae’s ever-tightening grip. Weaponless and without even the use of his hands, Tae butted the creature repeatedly, hammering his skull against its rigid nose until his thoughts scrambled and his forehead felt ready to explode.
With a last twist, the shark tore away from Tae’s grip. It turned tail, fleeing deep into the ocean, seeking easier prey.
A shiver ripped through Tae, so strong and extensive it reawakened the anguish of every wound. He savored the moment, I wrestled a shark. And won. He had never heard of anyone doing such a thing and vowed to add the sensitivity of the gill slits to the current body of knowledge on how to escape a hungry shark. Then, he remembered Imorelda.
*Imorelda! Where are you?*
*I’m here.*
Relief flooded Tae. He had no idea where “here” was, but at least he knew she had survived. *Where?* He made a cautious circle, concerned that fast movement might overwhelm his consciousness as well as draw more sharks. He finally found her, a soggy pile of indistinguishable fur huddled on top of the flotsam they had ridden.
*Floating on the wood. Hurry. I’m cold, and I’m wet, and I need you.*
You don’t need me. Tae did not send the thought; it would only upset Imorelda. He reached out a hand to swim toward her, but it felt as heavy as an iron anchor. Air-starved and anguished, he only wanted to remain in place, to sink quietly to the bottom and allow the ocean to claim him. She can’t get to shore without me. This time, the words scarcely motivated him. Each breath had become a burdensome chore. He had to force himself to move, every tiny tensing of muscle, each motion of joint, seemed as significant as life itself. Tae wondered how many years it might take to reach her.
Tae had so
mehow managed to span half the distance, when Imorelda’s voice reached him. *They’re coming.*
Tae did not believe his heart rate could increase; the effort of swimming already had it racing. *Who’s coming, Imorelda? Sharks or alsona?*
Imorelda sat up, finally taking the shape of a drenched tabby cat. *People, silly. Our people are coming to rescue us!*
Tae looked toward shore. In his current condition, it seemed too far away to contemplate. On the beach, he could now see the massed armies, looking like vast herds of milling animals, and a few rafts taking to the water. Tae had come too far to let Imorelda die now. *Careful.They may think we’re pirates.*
Imorelda gave Tae a scandalized look, at least as much as she could with her feline face and sodden body. *They know who we are. I found Queen Matrinka and talked to her.*
*Smart cat.* Tae rolled onto his back and settled into a float, no longer fighting toward Imorelda. *So clever.*
*I’ve told you that many times.* A hint of concern accompanied her sending, though she clearly tried to rein it. *You have to get saved, too. I don’t remember what you told me to tell her. About the enemy.*
*You remember.* Tae felt his consciousness drifting. The sky grew darker, the ocean colder. Apparently, night was coming, and the blackness beckoned. *You remember . . . *
*I don’t remember!* Imorelda stomped her paws and shook water from her fur. *I wasn’t listening. I told you to tell them yourself, and I meant it.*
*Can’t,* Tae thought dreamily.
*You have to. I promised Matrinka you would. And I don’t remember anything.*
It seemed like too much effort to reply, even mentally. A long forgotten lullaby filled Tae’s head. He wondered if his mother had once sung it to him, before his father’s enemies had murdered her and left him, too, for dead. It came to him in a voice filled with love and sweetness.
Then, abruptly, rough hands plucked Tae from the ocean and jarred him onto a set of lashed together logs. Men speaking Béarnese forced him to sit up, pried open his jaws, and poured water into his mouth. Forced to swallow or drown, Tae drank. “Imorelda,” he choked out. “Have to get my cat.” A blanket fell on him, heavy enough to bear him down on the raft. Again, the men supported him back to a sitting position.
“Don’t worry,” one said in Common Trading tongue, though Tae knew Béarnese nearly as well. “They have your cat.” Tae did not bother to follow his gesture. “Queen Matrinka would never let us forget a cat, even with the life of a king at stake.”
Tae managed a weary smile. “This cat’s special. She saved my life, at least twice in just the last few moments.” Speaking proved too much effort. Tae slumped into the Béarnides’ arms.
“He’s badly hurt. We need to get him back quickly.” Tae heard one man say. Safe, for the moment, he allowed himself to slip back into unconsciousness.
Tae awakened to exquisite pain piercing his chest and back like a white-hot sword. He screamed before he could gather his wits to bite it back. He attempted to roll, but something pinned him to the ground.
Someone swore. “Hold him still.”
Fingers clamped down on Tae’s arms and legs.Weights intensified across his sides and buttocks. The world fuzzed into blurry existence. Tae was lying prone on the beach, seeing sand and milling warriors to the extent of his vision. People massed closely around him. A striped paw appeared suddenly in his face and tapped his nose.
*Be still,* Imorelda commanded. *They’re trying to help you.*
New pain seared Tae’s spine. Every muscle stiffened, the world returned to a curtain of weaving black and white spots, and he grunted despite himself. *They’re killing me.*
Imorelda carried Tae’s mind to another plane. *He says it hurts a bit.*
Steeped in agony, Tae did not have the wherewithal to correct the understatement. He clung to consciousness, breathing in quick, short bursts that only intensified the pain.
A gentle hand wiped his brow, swept fingers through the tangles of his hair. “Hang on, Tae. It’s almost over.”
Tae recognized Matrinka’s voice. What’s she doing on the beach? It’s not safe for her here. He managed to gather his thoughts. *Imorelda, tell her what I told you about the plans.Tell her to keep you safe, to keep herself safe. She needs to go back to the palace.*
Imorelda did not reply directly, but she took Tae with her again to address Matrinka. *He says he needs a soldier-man to explain what he heard.*
Assailed by anguish, Tae could not even muster his frustration. *Imorelda, that’s not what I said.Tell her what I said.*
*He also said do whatever you have to do. He can take it.*
Not for the first time, Tae wanted to strangle the cat. *Listen, Imorelda. * He gasped. *Quit playing.This is important.*
Matrinka continued to stroke Tae’s head. The pain seemed to lessen in intensity, but he still could not find the strength to speak aloud. *I’m dying, Imorelda. Grant me the dignity of coherent last words.*
Imorelda addressed Matrinka, *My idiot master thinks he’s dying.*
Matrinka’s hand stilled in Tae’s hair. “Dying! Oh, no you don’t!” She slapped him.
It was just enough to throw Tae over the edge. All thought and emotion, all sound and sensation disappeared. He seized a tiny shred of awareness, clinging to it, waiting for the rest to reappear. The instant it did, his head filled with Matrinka’s angry words. “There’s not a lethal wound here, Tae Kahn. Nothing I can’t fix, do you hear me?” She grabbed both ears, sending more pain shooting through the injured one, and forced his face into her own. “You . . . are . . . not . . . dying!”
*Imorelda, tell her if she doesn’t stop manhandling me, she’s going to be the thing that kills me.*
Imorelda did not pass on the information, to Tae’s knowledge, but Matrinka did not attack again. She whispered directly into his left ear. “Listen to me, Tae; and listen good. We can fix these wounds, every one of them. If you die, it’s because you choose to.You, no one else. And I’m not going to lie to Subikahn about it. Dying of fatal injuries is one thing; but choosing to die when you don’t have to is nothing but cowardice. Do you want me to have to tell Subikahn his father was a coward?”
Tae knew wounds. He had taken far more than his share, and the arrow through his chest had certainly seemed a mortal one. Yet he also knew few healers had Matrinka’s experience or talent. Perhaps, in the excitement of the moment, he had misjudged the severity. Whatever else Subikahn did or was, he was always first a Renshai. Nothing would humiliate him more than his own, or his father’s, surrendering to fear. He had wanted to toughen Subikahn, not break him. *Tell her, I’ll fight to my last breath.*
This time, Imorelda relayed his words exactly.
Tae kept his eyes tightly closed, waiting for the arrival of a general and hoping the need to pass along information would distract him from the healers’ excruciating ministrations. Matrinka was right about one thing: dying would be so much easier.
Saviar, Subikahn, and Chymmerlee reached Erythane in twilight, not wholly surprised to find a ring of alert guards at the border. They wore tabards emblazoned with Erythane’s orange and black and held long spears as well as swords at their hips. Beyond them, Saviar could see the city the Renshai had once known well, had once called home. “Halt!” a guard called, his voice a monotone. He had clearly done this too many times over the last few weeks. “State your names and business.”
To Saviar’s surprise, Subikahn stepped forward to speak. Usually, he left the orations to his brother. “Saviar and Subikahn Ra-khirsson. Our companion is called Chymmerlee. We come in defense of Béarn.”
Subikahn Ra-khirsson? Saviar kept the question to himself, for the moment. Subikahn never did anything without reason, though sometimes those reasons confounded his twin.
“Enter.” The guards stepped aside, a token gesture. The three newcomers could just as easily have passed between them. The guards’ need to cover the entire border left them thinly spread.
As they ente
red Erythane, Saviar was assailed by a sudden rush of unexpected pleasure. Home. He shook away the thought; and, with it, all comfort. Not home anymore. Bitterness tinged his memories, and he tried to let all of them go. On the journey, they had decided to enter Béarn proper, from due north. Saviar did not want to veer toward the Road of Kings and despised the thought of even glimpsing the Fields of Wrath and its new occupants.
As they passed beyond the guards’ earshot, Subikahn said softly, “That was remarkably easy.”
Thoughts still on the Renshai’s home for his entire life, Saviar did not grasp his brother’s meaning. “What?”
“Anyone could say they’ve come to Béarn’s aid. How did they know I was telling the truth?”
“You weren’t,” Saviar reminded. “You’re not Ra-khir’s son; I am.”
“You mind?”
“Of course not. It just . . . surprised me.” Saviar realized it should not have. Tae Kahn might have already reached Béarn with his Eastern army; and, if they knew Subikahn was his son, word would quickly reach the Eastern king. “Surely a war takes precedence over a family feud.”
Subikahn shrugged. “I don’t think I want to take that chance.”
Saviar thought it best to change the subject before Chymmerlee started asking questions. He suspected there were other reasons Subikahn had lied, not the least of which was his hatred of fawning and attention. If the guards had realized they faced the prince of the Eastlands, they would have abandoned their posts to tend to Subikahn. “At least we know why they let us through so easily. They probably know my father . . . forgive me, our father as a knight.”
Subikahn brow furrowed. “Maybe.” He did not sound convinced. Abruptly, he laughed. “I’ve got it. We speak Western. The enemy doesn’t. Not at all. It’s as simple as that.”
The three passed through city streets packed with strange tents in a gloom that seemed to smother Erythane. The houses had already gone quiet, shutters and doors tightly bolted. Though packed full, the taverns no longer echoed with raucous laughter; Saviar could hear signs creaking in the wind. The entire city appeared to be holding its breath, waiting for the moment the whole world exploded into violence. A shiver racked Saviar. It all seemed too controlled, too eerie. He took a solid hold on Chymmerlee’s arm, and she leaned against him as they walked. She could know little or nothing of cities; yet she also, apparently, sensed the wrongness of it.
Flight of the Renshai Page 66
