^ ^ ^ ^ ^
The Wavecrest’s captain had been incensed that the glass had been shattered right up until Celewyn agreed to the price of its replacement and a bit more besides. The ship had turned about hard, tacking against the wind in a close reach until she swung back toward the elf treading water patiently. He’d managed to keep the poison out of his lungs, and fortunately the crew were too busy working the caravel’s sails to go into his cabin to find out what had made the glass shattering noise.
Aoise, he prayed, let me not have given away that I knew he watched. The Shadow’s namesake deity didn’t answer, as was his usual wont.
Nothing I can do about it if I’ve raised Ammon’s suspicions, he thought, having recognized the Easterner after he dropped the unseeing. I’ll have to hope my reputation has predisposed him to overestimate me.
The rapid flight of the bundle right at the bowl had nearly caught him off guard despite his precautions and forewarning—Ammon dropping the scrying could have meant only one thing—for while he had expected an attack to come in through the window, he hadn’t expected it to ignore him and fly at the bowl. His instinct to protect the frog had nearly been his undoing, but he’d managed to prevent himself from freezing. Celewyn didn’t know what the bundle signified, but knew it was nothing good, and he’d leapt to the window and out onto the hull of the caravel immediately.
The magic that had exchanged the figurine for the package was an impressive spell, especially given the fact that Ammon must have developed it specifically for this situation. It was also simple telekinetic flight and his anti-teleportation warding didn’t trigger, not that it would have had an effect on an inanimate object. Living or Undead, an opponent teleporting into the cabin would have been stunned into inaction for a number of seconds, but a mere object was immune to such an enchantment.
Having had no choice but to leap to the broken window and out of the cabin, Celewyn had decided in a flash that since he’d have line of sight on the wizard, he might as well take advantage of it if he spotted him. The unseeing spell had made that obvious by the way it tried to make him not notice the flying wizard, but he’d still glanced about him as if he was searching for his target. It was a tough value judgment to make: to make a more effective attempt on the wizard or to ensure he wouldn’t feel that Celewyn had been onto him.
Despite giving the mage an extra few seconds to gain altitude, he was fairly certain he’d drawn blood, but the mage had neither faltered nor panicked, instead almost calmly singing the song that would warp space around him back to his sanctum. The poison on the blade was a potent one, but it took at least a minute, if not two or three, to kill a man from a wound like that, and he guessed that Ammon would have curatives or a healer standing by. If I’m lucky, it’ll kill him, but I’ve already demanded far more from Ashira than I deserve, he thought with a sigh.
Once the elf made sure the aerial poison wasn’t persistent, he returned to his cabin. The bowl and the bedding had gone into the sea since the remains of the satchel might have had more traps, and he carefully checked the room for any additional surprises.
“It’s safe to go inside,” he told the captain, who immediately put his crew to work boarding up the window case. In mild weather the broken glass wouldn’t matter much, as the windows were far above the usual waterline, but if a storm came up Wavecrest’s aft cabin (perhaps both if the captain’s window broke as well) would be awash without repairs.
Once he took a good look at his cabin’s windows, the captain had cursed up a storm and then ordered the crew to board that up, inside and out, as well. Despite having been compensated for the damage, the man was in a foul temper, and the threats he’d leveled for the man stupid enough to put a nail into the remaining glass were dire, indeed. It would be far cheaper to have a mage retemper the glass than to replace it wholesale, and he’d be able to pocket the difference.
Celewyn acquired a new bowl from the currently abandoned galley and produced a second piece of cork from his pack. (The original had gone into the sea with the bedding.) Placing the two new frogs on it, he watched as they faced Kavris, as he’d expected. They glistened with a rainbow pattern for a moment, then the patina became orange. The color would move up the rainbow’s spectrum toward indigo as the original frog got closer and out toward the red outer arc as it moved farther away. He hadn’t had time or opportunity to calibrate the makeshift instrument, but he had a good feel for the magic, so the range was about right for Kavris, as well.
He’ll regroup, then either teleport a few points out to sea or fly along the coast toward Lian, Celewyn thought with a shrug. He pocketed the frogs. If he doesn’t move in a few days, he’s probably dead of the poison, and in that case, I’ll have Wavecrest head back to Kavris to collect the frog. Otherwise, I have no choice but to stay on a westerly heading and hope I can get a good bearing on Lian from Ammon’s movements.
It had gone as well as he could have expected, short of stopping the wizard completely, and now all he could do was continue west and try to get to Lian before the Key of Firavon made it as impossible to find the frog as it was to find the prince.
Chapter Twenty Four
“Once the last of the dragonships had been destroyed, nothing prevented the Pelorian navy from dominating the seas. Despite the fact that the Pelorian ships were mere galleys—a trireme was the most powerful ship they possessed—they were seaworthy because of the puissance of the Pelorian mages, weathering storm and sea that should have sent them down to Tysleth’s Court.
“Pelorian influence spread everywhere, across both continents and even into the trackless wilderness that is the western oceans. And where the ships of the Empire called, they spread the worship of the dark imperial gods. Those who refused the Pelorian gods fed them, for they were always ravenous.”
-- from “The Pelorian Empire, Volume III,” by Sage Kommath, 24 A.R.
The fair weather had continued for more than a week and still no sighting of land, but Lian wasn’t worried about that yet. His estimate of their position put them somewhere north of the center of the Inner Sea, and Vella’s land mass didn’t swing northward until the western end of that body of water. He couldn’t be absolutely certain where Vella’s coastline swung northward again because of the inaccuracy of his charts. Knowing exactly where they were relative to Kavris and the Island Kingdoms didn’t matter much if the coastline was two hundred nautical miles closer or farther away than he thought. But assuming the weather was clear, they’d see the coast long before being in danger of running aground.
The fact that they hadn’t seen any sign of his sister, however, was worrying him. He had expected her to move back in on them once she’d plotted a way to try to neutralize Lord Grey and Gem’s protection, or at least to probe those defenses from a safe distance, but she’d stayed away.
The morale on Indigo Runner was more stable since he’d shared his sorrows with Naryn. As Lian had expected, the cook had quickly informed the others of what he’d learned; simple Jinian had even spread a version of the tale to Snog, to the goblin’s amusement. The crew still didn’t care for the strange magic that Lian bore, but they had, as Lord Grey had predicted, begun to think of the sword and skull as touchstones rather than just something to blindly fear. He wondered if that would remain true if they actually got a look at the blackened skull of the necromancer—or the color of his primary magical focus—but he had no intention of revealing Lord Grey’s form to them.
One thing that hadn’t changed was Virinos’ madness, and the man cried out in his sleep every time his eyes managed to close. In fact, his mental state had degraded over the last week. Naryn reported that he thought this was likely because Vir hadn’t been sleeping at all. Lord Grey blamed himself for that, saying that he should have foreseen some of the men might not be able to sleep with the ability to see in the darkness. It was impossible to have Virinos surrender his enchanted blade, they all knew. He’d probably attack whoever even suggested that he give up his ability to see in the
night.
Lian had simply shrugged and told the necromancer that it was still better that the men could stand night watches when needed, so it was more of a boon than a curse.
Now Lian stood on the foredeck of the merchantman practicing his axe and shield work with Gem. He had been taught shield work by his father’s weapon masters, but he was out of practice. Gem hung from the remains of the foremast in her scabbard making observations about his technique, especially his footing and the angle at which he held his shield. Gem and Lian vastly preferred fighting together, with the longsword firmly in his right hand, but it was important to be prepared to use many different weapons, so today he had the heavy bearded axe Nan had given him in hand. Such a weapon required a brutal fighting style, and the heater shield was a good complement to the axe.
Civilians tended to view a soldier’s shield as a purely defensive item, but on the arm of a well-trained warrior the shield was deadly in its own right. Heavier than most weapons, it could be used to impart a tremendous amount of momentum into an opponent. Further, the top corners of the elongated triangle shape, while not keen like Gem, were far thicker and capable of crushing through most helmets and many types of armor. The low point was harder to bring to bear, but could be deadly if driven by Lian’s weight to drive it down.
Lian’s strength wasn’t a match for Snog’s goblin-born power, but he’d continued to fill out and had a lithe athleticism that made him a deadly opponent. His preferred fighting style was with the quick slashes and parries he could achieve with Gem’s perfectly balanced form, but he had the physical power for the axe. The axe Nan had given him had a notch on the back of the blade for hooking an enemy’s weapon or shield, and he was working on moves that would allow him to capitalize on such a move with the heater.
He’d been working out for over an hour before Gem said, “Astern.”
He completed his motion and then turned to face aft, where Jinian stood on the second-to-top stair. “Captain?” the older sailor called out, asking permission to approach.
He nodded, wiping away the sweat from his eyes. “Come on up, Jin,” he said, lowering the axe to his side.
“Thank you, cap’n,” the sailor said with the smile that usually adorned his face. “That was some fancy axework there.”
Lian smiled his thanks, patiently waiting for Jinian to come to the point. He’d learned that trying to rush the man was likely to confuse him and make him start over.
Jinian stood there companionably with Lian for a while and then remembered why he’d come forward. “Oh,” he said, his smile fading somewhat. “My head’s achin’, Captain Alan, sir.”
Lian knew that Naryn had some medicinals, including willow bark. “Did you see Naryn for some willow tea?” he asked the taller man.
Jinian shook his head, his sun-bleached hair streaming out behind him in its usual unruly, tangled mess. “That won’t help with these headaches, sir. I only get ‘em when the weather’s turning, see?”
The pressure’s dropping, Lian thought. “How big a blow you think’s coming, Jin?” he asked.
The sailor smiled at the “captain” taking him seriously right away, something Lian had learned Qan did not. Jinian said, “Don’t rightly know, sir, but it’ll be along pretty soon, I’d be betting. That little mast’s not going to take the winds, you know.”
Lian nodded, glancing at the small jib. “I know, Jinian,” he said. “You’d better get aft and ready the sea anchor in case we need it.”
The sailor blinked. “The sea anchor?” he asked, as if he’d never thought of that, then nodded. “You’re right sir, might be called for if it gets bad, especially with the sails gone. Be hard as hell to keep her head into the waves without them.
“Of course, sir,” he continued, saying more in the last few minutes than Lian had heard him say in entire days, “that’s not a good thing to have in the water if the wind and waves are coming from the wrong bearing.”
Lian nodded somberly. “I know that, Jinian,” he replied. “But better to have it ready than not, and we can always cut it loose if the wind turns.” He hefted the sharp steel of the axe in emphasis.
Jinian acknowledged the order and headed aft, calling for Vir and Mikos to come help him. It wasn’t Virinos’ shift, but he answered the call fairly quickly anyhow.
“He’s still not sleeping,” Lian said, referring to Vir, softly enough not to carry aft but loud enough for Gem to hear it clearly. When he wore her, even in her scabbard, she could and did use his senses. In point of fact, she could use them far more sharply than he could. Apart from him, however, her senses were much duller and, as they’d learned the hard way the night of the coup, could be directed elsewhere by hostile magic.
The skull had also been watching Lian practice from his usual position in the leather sack on Gem’s weapon belt, but he had remained silent throughout the practice session. Now, Lord Grey said “I imagine we have the herbs on board for me to dose him into a deep slumber. Not every night, but enough to get him recovering from the insomnia.”
Lian nodded. “I know herbs can’t always stop Xerix from tormenting someone, but I assume you’re going to give him something to try to prevent dreams?” he asked. The herbs that Snog had in his pack included a number of these sorts of remedies, along with a number of poisons.
“If we can get him to drink it,” Gem observed. “His paranoia’s running pretty high at the moment.”
Lian put the axe down and then started unlimbering the shield from his arm. “That’s why we won’t tell him, at least the first time,” he said grimly. “He’s going to be madder than hell when he wakes, but we’ve got to get him to sleep.”
“How’s your sleep these days?” Lord Grey asked. Of late, Lian’s dreams had been free of the prophetic visions that had presaged the attack of the wraiths, but he still suffered from the mundane variety of nightmares.
Lian snorted. “You probably know better than I do how well I’m resting, Lord Grey,” he said, then shook his head ruefully. “It’s better than it was,” he continued with a sigh. “I’ve got a long way to go before I’ll have a good night’s sleep, but at least I can sleep.” He’d been unable to sleep more than brief periods when his dreams had been at their worst, and they’d all worried about his sanity, Lian included.
“I’ll instruct Snog as to what to prepare to dose Virinos correctly,” Lord Grey said dryly. “He probably knows anyhow, but there’s always a chance it’s at a lethal dose, given how he learned human anatomy.”
Snog’s knowledge of anatomy, the goblin often said, was largely from the point of view of hurting or killing humans, not so much to heal them. His months-long stint as Searcher’s healer’s mate had put that to the lie, and although his methods were often harsher than a human healer’s would be, they were also effective. He’d saved a number of lives on the warship before Mari Suris had signed on; her bigotry had kept him from being as effective. When Arden and Cedrick’s men started going behind her back to seek a second opinion with Snog, he’d gently and subtly sent them back to her, except for Nan and the goblin brothers, who had publicly told Mari Suris that they were used to how Snog did things and had no intention of going to her unless they had to.
Lian had overheard him talking to Genn and Kess about it, after the two had protested that they’d rather stick with the healer they knew than “that witch with airs,” as the sharp-eyed Genn had put it. “Mr. Kess, ye an’ Genn don’t want t’a get on her wrong side,” the goblin had told them, knowing that part of Kess’ reluctance to go to the healer was loyalty to his fellow gunner, but the majority of it was his jealousy at Alo winning the beautiful woman to his bunk.
“May’ap she stays on ‘n may’ap she doesn’t,” he’d said, letting his Govlikel accent thicken to give the men the impression he wasn’t happy about what he was telling them. “But she’s Witchbreed, ‘n she’s got healin’ in that sorceress’ blood of hers. You want ‘er willin’ to use magic on ya if the time comes, so don’ come t’a me unle
ss ye have to.” The goblin had let it be known he had thick skin, and Mari’s attitude toward him didn’t bother him in the slightest (though that was a lie). Nan had also let it be known that her expectation was that the little blonde sorceress give the proper respect to Snog, as a trusted companion at war, in her presence. To Lian’s knowledge, the pale healer hadn’t dared Nan’s wrath, which he thought wise at the time.
Lian considered Lord Grey’s proposal to drug Virinos into sleeping. “Very well, Lord Grey,” he said at length. “Snog’s more than subtle enough to get the dose into his drink without alerting him, and Ashira willing, he’ll think he just finally fell asleep. But we all need to be ready for his reaction if he doesn’t.”
Lord Grey and Gem both murmured their agreement and Lian slipped the swordbelt over his neck and shoulders to carry his two companions aft to his quarters where he could wash up and maintain his weapons. The shield and axe blade both needed to be wiped dry of his sweat and oiled. He hadn’t touched the axe head, but his sweat had flown from his hair and body from his movements, and it would be a poor way to repay Nan, allowing her gift to rust.
Were you reminding him that you’re in charge, my son? Gem asked silently as Lian carefully walked aft, keeping an eye out for where the crewmen were without openly appearing to do so—it just looked like he was tired and walking slowly with his head lowered.
Lord Grey, you mean? Lian responded, sensing her agreement. Yes, to some extent, I suppose. But I’m the heir to the throne and I will be commanding whatever forces we can assemble to fight my uncle’s army, so partly it’s to practice taking charge, or keeping in charge.
By Blood Hunted: Kingsblood Chronicles Part Two (The Kingsblood Chronicles Book 2) Page 34
