The Foundlings (The Swords of Xigara)

by J. Mark Miller

  “You’ve cut right to the heart of the matter, girl,” Doulos nodded. “The Huwm are creatures of chaos. What better way to agitate the clans than to resume their old roles as elder gods?”

  “What?” Tenna’s head rocked back. “The elder gods were real?”

  “Yes,” Doulos nodded. “Claiming to be deities was a common tactic of the Huwm in ancient times. They’d set themselves up as gods, crafting personas that appealed to the beliefs or superstitions of a given culture. The Deceiver himself was the Snake clan’s god, so it’s no surprise to learn this coup started among the descendants of his worshipers. Pockets of his cult have persisted for centuries.”

  “I’d lay odds The Fang is reviving the old ways of dealing with non-humans,” Duras growled.

  “Right,” Katalas agreed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “What?” asked Tenna.

  “Living sacrifices,” Duras said. “The rolls of my family are filled with names sacrificed to the Snake and Tiger. Mark my words, they’ll rebuild their filthy temples complete with sacrificial pits. Our visit to Parthiy just got real uncomfortable.”

  “We’ll take measures to protect ourselves,” Doulos said. “Non-humans will have to stay below decks while we’re moored in Parthiy. That includes crew members, Stile. The rest of us will go ashore and learn what we can.”

  “I won’t be left behind,” Y’neth’s voice was hard and steady. “Protecting Dilkah was my responsibility. I will see it won back.”

  “It wasn’t your responsibility alone, child,” Karah chided. “No one holds you personally accountable.”

  “I hold myself accountable, and I will be going ashore. I dare any man to stop me.”

  The two women stared at one another, unspoken words flying between them. Stile put a gentle hand atop Y’neth’s in an attempt to calm her, but she wrenched it away with violence.

  “What do we do?” Tander spoke up. “We were going to Parthiy to ask Silent Runner’s help but he’s out of the picture. How do we get the Sword now?”

  “My agents may still have contact with Silent Runner,” Karah said. “I have hope, though small, that we can meet with him. If anyone in Ulquiy can help us, he can. We must retrieve Dilkah, and to do that we must go to Parthiy.”

  61

  Cachaq Canyon

  The Sunset’s Trace’s voyage away from the Shrine was far more swift than its approach. The flow of the river helped speed them along and seasonal winds blowing down from the mountains allowed for a full spread of sail across the Kerem Sea.

  Though Karah protested vehemently, Y’neth had taken Mesha down to the tann’s undersea city in the hopes of spurring her people to action. She came back enraged. They’d called her a liar, a traitor. The city’s matriarch declared the sword a fraud and banished Y’neth from the city. She vowed she’d never again trouble herself over her people and their hard hearts. Her break from them was complete.

  Two days later the dawn greeted Stile at the wheel as he steered the ship between the towering walls of Cachaq Canyon. The sails were furled and the oars shipped as the current itself was more than adequate to carry them toward the coast.

  Well over a mile deep and almost half that wide at its narrowest point, the canyon awed Stile, even though he’d sailed through it before on his way to the Shrine. But his awe was tempered by an unsettled feeling deep in his gut. He was glad they were nearly clear of the canyon and refused to give up the wheel or allow himself to relax until it lay far behind.

  He wasn’t alone in his disquiet. Quist had been keeping a sleepless watch from the crow’s nest since before they had entered the canyon. Stile trusted the elf’s keen eyesight and knew he would alert them to any danger, but it didn’t settle the unreasoning fear boiling in the pit of his stomach.

  Shipboard activity picked up as the sun rose and the day crew came on deck. Katalas and Tander came up to set the boy’s bird to hunting. Mas shadowed the pair, his full attention on Kel. Stile’s opinion of the growing cat had risen as Mas had proven himself a proficient mouser and relatively behaved besides. He still believed eminent disaster was brewing between Mas and Kel and neither of their masters seemed concerned in the least. Even Y’neth laughed it off and told him to mind his ship instead of the pets.

  Kel streaked away to the stern, screeching as he flew overhead. Mas tracked the bird until it faded from view then dashed back below decks to hunt game that couldn’t fly away.

  Stile watched as Katalas stood at Tander’s elbow, helping guide the boy through the intricacies of his mental bond with Kel. Though the elf had never himself bonded with a blinkswift but he’d worked with rangers who had, discussing the feelings it created during their long sentry duties together. The boy squeezed his eyes shut hard, concentrating on tightening the bond in hopes of gaining control of seeing through Kel’s eyes.

  The boy’s eyes suddenly snapped open, unfocused, and a wide grin broke out across his face.

  “He’s found a string of ducks,” Tander said, “and he’s twisting into his dive. I think he’ll get one this time.”

  “Patience,” Katalas advised. “He’s still young for such a feat, but he must try everyday and learn the means.”

  “He’s diving,” Tander said through chattering teeth. “So fast. I’m getting dizzy.”

  Katalas reached out to steady the boy. “Careful, the bond goes both ways. Don’t throw him off his prey.”

  Tander clamped his mouth shut and Stile thought he could hear the boy’s teeth grinding together—whether in concentration or from what he was witnessing through the bird’s eyes he had no idea. He found himself holding his breath in shared hope that today would be the day Kel made his first midair capture, regardless of the elf’s opinion.

  Then Tander fell to the deck in a heap. He gasped, holding his head. His eyes were wild and he took up a manic chant.

  “Where? Where?”

  Katalas slapped the boy to break the fit. Tander shook his head and his eyes fell back into focus.

  “What happened?” the elf asked.

  “I…I don’t know.” Tander’s breath was still ragged. “Kel was halfway through his dive when he just…wasn’t there anymore. Like he’d died. The bond…it went dark…his flame snuffed out. Then he was back, slamming into the duck and falling out of the sky.”

  “Ah,” Katalas nodded. “You witnessed his first blink. It’s an instinctive part of their hunts. He’ll dive toward his prey then blink across the remaining distance to take that prey unaware. That ability alone makes them the deadliest hunters in the sky.”

  “What went wrong?” Tander asked.

  “It sounds like he misjudged the distance and came out of his blink too close to the duck. He might be a little worse for wear but I doubt he’s injured.”

  “He’s not,” Tander agreed. The boy took Katalas’s offered hand and stood. “The bond is back, and strong.”

  Tander’s eyes went unfocused again as he searched for Kel. “There he is,” he said. “He’s frustrated. Angry. I think he’s found a rabbit up on the plateau so he won’t be going hungry. He’s going for it…and…he’s got it!” Tander’s face blanched and he shuddered. “Ugh, I don’t like the bloody part.”

  “Leave Kel to eat in peace,” Katalas said. “Let’s get to the sword practice.”

  “You won’t let me miss a day will you?” Tander sighed.

  “Not unless you’re so sick you can’t get our of your hammock,” the elf smiled.

  They moved to the deck’s open area and drew their swords for their warm-up rituals. They squared off a few minutes later, the sound of their clashing swords ringing in the morning air.

  It wasn’t long before Duras stomped up the stairs to grumble, “You might think about letting a body wake up before you start all that racket.” The dueling pair smiled but otherwise ignored the dwarf’s customary morning sulk.

  Several others gathered to watch the sparring session as the morning wore on. Y’neth and Tenna came up on the quarterdeck
, followed by Zalas and Doulos.

  After watching for some time Y’neth commented, “Tander’s skills have improved greatly in a short time.” She turned to Tenna. “You should start training as well. It would be good for you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tenna shook her head. “I know enough to know swordplay isn’t my thing.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Zalas said. “I think you should start right away.”

  Tenna spun around and blurted, “You can’t be serious.”

  When she saw his face she knew he was.

  “I don’t have my sword,” she protested. “It got left behind in the rush to escape Madhebah.”

  “That’s easily remedied,” Stile grinned. “We’ve got spare swords below decks. I’ll send someone down for one.”

  “Thanks.” Tenna’s voice was ice-cold.

  “Hold for a moment,” Doulos said. “It seems to me several of our number could use some training.”

  Zalas looked over at Y’neth and said, “I think you’re right, Doulos. Let’s get a sword for Y’neth as well. She can’t very well use Mesha for practice, now can she?”

  “One for you too,” the wizard said.

  “Surely you don’t mean…” Zalas sputtered.

  “All of us.”

  62

  Cachaq Canyon

  Tenna found herself paired with Tander, relearning the basic forms and stances of swordsmanship. Her father grumbled nearby as he sparred with Doulos—the old wizard surprisingly spry.

  The real show was the display of prowess on the part of Y’neth. Katalas had taken on his customary role of instructor but soon found himself hard-pressed to keep up with the woman. His sole advantage lay not in his skill but his natural agility.

  Tenna learned she enjoyed the new disciplines. At first she thought it was only working so close to Tander that made the day enjoyable. As the afternoon went on, she realized she was paying more attention to the coordination of her own body than on the handsome young man. Nevertheless, he still made for a pleasing distraction.

  Katalas allowed them to move on to slow sparring where she practiced sequences of thrusts, parries, and blocks against Tander in slow motion. Every time the elf’s attention turned away, the pair increased their pace. Their well-ordered blows started falling faster and faster.

  Swinging hard in a surge of confidence, Tenna’s rapier struck Tander’s with a loud clang. He seemed to parry the blow with ease but the sword flew from his grasp and clattered to the deck. The boy cried out in pain, grabbing his head in his hand. He bent over and began to tremble violently.

  “Tander!” Tenna cried, thinking she’d hurt him somehow.

  Katalas sprang to the boy’s side and pulled the boy up to look him in the eyes. Tenna saw they were going in and out of focus, full of raw panic.

  “Kel,” Tander forced the name out between rapid breaths. “No.”

  “What is it?” Katalas shook him. “What do you see?”

  “He…he’s doing it again,” Tander’s voice sounded anguished. “The flame keeps going out…over and over…it keeps going… Something huge…oh, make him stop.”

  Tenna heard Quist draw a sharp breath and her stomach started to churn. The skin on the back of her neck began to prickle. The feeling was dreadful but familiar.

  Tander jerked straight up and yelled, “Dragon!”

  Kel suddenly blinked into existence just in front of the boy, crashing into his chest. They both fell to the deck unconscious.

  A roar split the air overhead and the giant shape of a dragon dove over the rim of the canyon, hurtling down toward the ship.

  Quist stood in the crow’s nest with his arms raised in challenge. “Tkeleth!” he screamed.

  Flame darted from the dragon’s mouth to engulf the crow’s nest and set the rigging aflame. The dragon swooped low, the backdraft from her dark cobalt wings rocking the ship as she passed. Tkeleth looped back around for another pass but lightning shot from the deck, from the upheld hands of Doulos as he tried to drive her away from the ship.

  Forced backwards, Tkeleth roared and waves of dragonfear left everyone but the wizard flat on the deck, cowering in fear. Even the old wizard seemed affected, dropping to one knee. Hot lightning cracked from his hands, forcing the dragon further away.

  Tkeleth called up her magic and the river began to churn. The ship tossed, knocking Doulos over where his head cracked against the capstan. The dragon roared in victory as the only real threat seemed neutralized.

  Then a silver streak shot from beneath the river’s surface, driving her into the canyon wall in an explosive crash. Mahir held her with claw and tooth and they tumbled with a splash in the river below.

  The recovering crew stared in horror as the flames threatened to move down the masts and engulf the ship. Stile jumped down to the wizard’s side and shook him.

  “Wizard, wake up!” he yelled. “Can you put out the fire?”

  Doulos groaned and nodded, his face laced with pain. “I can manage it if Mahir can keep her occupied.”

  The wyrms rolled in the water, up the walls of the canyon, and along the narrow banks. From a distance they looked like nothing so much as a ball of fire scales. Evenly matched, neither could gain the advantage as they tore into one another. Their roars of anger and pain echoed through the canyon.

  They fell back into the river, their thrashing battle kicking up waves that tossed the ship anew. Those on board who had recovered were hard-pressed to keep from sliding about on the deck as the ship lunged back and forth. Cyril worked hard at the wheel to keep her in the middle of the river.

  Doulos crawled on hands and knees to the railing. He pulled himself up and held on tight with one hand. His other hand gestured at the river as if he were coaxing the water to come aboard.

  The crew worked in desperation to cut the burning rigging away and send it overboard. Flaming debris blew onto the deck and they tried to push it off with oars and whatever else they could use.

  A funnel of water rose up from the river, casting gouts of water into the air. It rained down onto the ship, dousing the flames overhead. Sounds of the dragon battle faded behind them as the river’s swift current carried them onward.

  “Captain,” Doulos yelled, “get your men on the oars. The more distance we can get between us and those lizards the better.”

  Stile ran back up to the quarterdeck and took the wheel. “Get some men on the oars,” he ordered Cyril. “Double time.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Cyril took off in a run.

  Near the mainmast, Zalas helped Tenna to her feet, looking with concern at the gash on her forehead. She pushed him away when she caught sight of Tander’s body folded up against the railing. “Tander!”

  She rushed to his side to find he was bleeding in several places. Kel lay cradled in his arms, the bird’s feathers covered in blood. As she reached out to try and move Kel aside she heard a soft voice behind her.

  “Don’t move him.”

  It was Karah. She’d managed to extract herself from the chaos below. Her clothes were torn and her face cut and scraped but her bearing was calm and confident.

  “Talk to him,” Karah said. “Let him know you’re here.”

  Tenna nodded and Karah left her alone, whispering something to her father as she pulled away. Tenna felt Zalas lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “You missed all the action, Tander. After Kel…arrived, a blue dragon flew over the canyon wall and set the ship on fire. Don’t worry, Doulos put it out. Your friend, Mahir, showed up and saved us all. He’s magnificent.”

  Tenna felt another hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Doulos looking down at Tander in grave concern. She moved out of his way and he knelt down placed his hand on the boy’s forehead. Tenna heard him murmuring over the rattle of the ship’s oars.

  The wizard pulled Kel from the boy’s arms but the pair began to shudder violently as they were separated. Touching the bird back against the boy stopped the shaking but T
ander’s color had worsened, his lips beginning to turn blue.

  “Karah,” Doulos said as he laid the boy out prone on his back, “I need you.”

  Doulos placed one hand on Tander’s chest, another on the bird. Karah came and laid hands on either side of his head, and the two of them began to chant something akin to a prayer in a language Tenna had never heard before.

  Color flowed back into Tander’s skin, blood and warmth turning his lips pink again. His body relaxed and his breathing slowed to normal.

  The whispered invocation ended and Doulos moved his hands to feel the boy’s neck. He grunted in surprise and tugged on a fine chain he found there, pulling a medallion out of Tander’s shirt—a trio of dragons in flight, cast in precious metals, reflected the sun’s light. Tenna thought she could see the medallion pulsing with an inner light of its own.

  “I might have guessed,” the wizard said. “Friend of dragons indeed. He should be dead, the bird too, but this kept him alive.”

  “What is it?” Tenna asked.

  “A medallion forged of dragon scales. It’s imbued with magic, including extraordinary healing. This medallion’s powers saved and sustained both their lives.”

  “Kel too?” Zalas asked. “How so?”

  “They’re bonded at the most fundamental level—so close they feel what the other feels. I wouldn’t be surprised if the bird didn’t break its neck when it blinked in and careened into the boy. The traumatic injury was transferred to Tander through their bond, a bond that saved Kel’s life but nearly cost Tander his own. The medallion did its part to keep the boy alive and began to heal him.”

  Tenna looked down at Tander with tears flowing down her cheeks. “What can we do?”

  “We can get him into bed and give him time to heal,” Doulos said. “The medallion will do more for him now that we’ve been able to alleviate the shock to his body and mind. They should both recover after a few days of rest.”

  Karah turned to Tenna and said, “Go fetch the ship’s cutter and ask him to help us make Tander comfortable.” The girl nodded and ran for the stairs.