Petrodor atobas-2

by Joel Shepherd

  Sasha took another look at the manacles that bound Errollyn's ankles. They were thick and heavy, impenetrable save for where the tightening bolt joined the two halves together. The gap between the two parts was about the width of a sword.

  “I can hit that,” Sasha observed.

  “On a good day you can hit that,” Errollyn reassessed.

  “Every day's a good day.” Sasha took up her blade, readied herself, and measured the blow. Errollyn winced, took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. And waited. And opened them once more to find Sasha had lowered her blade. “I can scarcely see it,” she admitted. Errollyn realised that if his own vision was poor down here, Sasha must be nearly blind. She might have been wielding by far the sharpest blade known to steel, but she'd have to hit the bolt with tremendous force to split it. Good svaalverd could impart force, but mostly it was a form designed to turn an opponent's strength against him. Inanimate objects were another matter entirely. And if she missed…

  “Sasha,” Errollyn tried again, “go and get a key.”

  Sasha stared at him for a moment in the gloom. “I don't want to have to hurt anyone.”

  “Then don't. Not permanently, anyhow.”

  Sasha sheathed the blade over her shoulder and heaved a short breath. “All right. Don't go anywhere.” She slid between the piled cargo and vanished. Errollyn knew what bothered her. It was easier for him to fight without swords. She was a strong woman for her size and, with a blade, neither size nor strength proved any hindrance to her formidable technique. Without a blade, however, her options narrowed. But Errollyn had confidence in her. She was…well, remarkable.

  Soon enough she was back, a bunch of keys dangling from a silver ring in her hand. She knelt by his feet and began trying one after the other, grinning in the dark. “That easy?” Errollyn asked.

  “I'd thought serrin many things, but never forgetful,” she said. “These were just lying on a table in the big quarters up that way.” She nodded toward the bow. “Everyone seems to be on deck.”

  She found a key that fit, the manacles clanked and fell away. Errollyn tried to rise as his ankles came free, but his legs were weak. He waited a moment, squatting with a hand to the mast for balance.

  “I'm sorry,” Sasha told him, “I couldn't find a blade for you.”

  “Yours is enough for two,” Errollyn assured her.

  “In this ship, I doubt it. There's no room at all in the corridors.” She looked worried again. “Look, beyond the hold, there's a passage that goes-”

  “I know, I've been on these ships before.” His legs throbbed as blood flowed through his veins. His arms felt heavy, as though made of lead.

  “You'd best lead, you can see better in the dark…”

  Errollyn shook his head. “You know the way in, you know the way out.”

  “No, I don't want to-”

  There was a noise amidst the piled cargo. Sasha moved fast to her feet, blade drawn.

  “Errollyn?” came a familiar female voice. “Look, I found some-” Aisha halted in midlimp. In her hands was a tray, holding various fruits Sasha did not recognise and a clay jug with some cups. She stared at Sasha, unmoving. Errollyn recognised the expression and rose to his feet.

  “Aisha,” he said in Gethania dialect, “don't be frightened. She came to free me, that's all.”

  “Frightened?” Sasha repeated, in Saalsi. Evidently she knew a little more dialect than she let on. “Frightened?” Her tone was disbelieving. “You're scared of me?”

  “You're holding a sword in my face,” Aisha said warily, in Lenay. She stood on one leg, leaning on sacks for balance. Even standing had to be agony for her. “Why, if you're not prepared to use it?”

  “You left him tied up like that?” Sasha's voice was nearly trembling with anger, pointing with her blade to the base of the mast. “You were just going to leave him there? Have you any idea what damage that can do?”

  Aisha stared at her mutely. Then looked down at her tray. More food. Aisha's answer to everything. Errollyn might have laughed, were he not so sad for her. He put a gentle hand on Sasha's shoulder.

  “It's all right, Sasha,” he said quietly. “It's not her fault. She just can't think for herself. None of them can.” Aisha's eyes flashed angrily. “Remember the pull, Aisha? Remember how it got you out of Maerler's mansion?” The anger faded. “You can't resist it. Nor can you deny it. As one serrin goes, so go you all.”

  “I just thought…” Aisha tried, and stopped, staring down at her tray. “I mean, I can't just…”

  “Aisha,” said Sasha. Now there was emotion in her voice. Almost tears. “Please, don't raise the alarm. Just let us go.”

  Aisha just stared, mouth half open. She seemed almost paralysed. Errollyn swore, pushed past Sasha and gently removed the tray from Aisha's hands.

  “Get off your feet, silly girl,” he told her, easing her down to the floor. He rested her back against the sacks, then checked the bandaging on her leg-it was firm, clean and smelled of strong potions. Then he checked the swelling on her head, mostly invisible beneath her pale blonde hair. Aisha leaned her head back on the sacks and breathed deeply.

  Sasha crouched alongside. “Aisha? Are you well?”

  “Just…a little dizzy.”

  Errollyn caught Sasha's sideways glance and returned a meaningful look. Here it was, the dilemma of the serrinim, all wrapped up in Aisha's paralysis. Sasha's eyes were more comprehending than they might have been a few days before.

  “Aisha…” Sasha tried again, “spirits, look, you're nearly out on your feet, you couldn't lie down when you knew Errollyn was suffering, you tried to help him however you could, short of actually untying him…Aisha, you know this is wrong. Don't you? You know this isn't what the serrinim are about?”

  “Just…just tie me up,” Aisha said breathlessly. “Just tie me up, and then I can't…”

  “Damn it, can't you make just one decision for yourself?” Sasha retorted, exasperated. Aisha's glazed look was almost pleading. She didn't want to decide. She couldn't.

  Suddenly Errollyn felt as frightened as he'd ever felt in battle. We're all so helpless, he thought. That's why we need those rare ones like Rhillian and Kiel. The ones who can make decisions; who can decide between greater and lesser evils. And if those rare ones get it wrong…

  Sasha was staring at him, her expression incredulous. Finally, she was understanding. She shook her head faintly, and put a gentle hand on Aisha's forehead. “Aisha, I can't tie you up. You're hurt. Possibly no one will come down here for some time. Just stay down here for a while, and don't move. Can you do that for me?”

  “I…” Aisha swallowed hard, sweat sheening her forehead. “I have to tell…”

  “No.” Very firmly. “You don't have to tell anyone, Aisha. It's your choice.”

  “It's not.” Feebly.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No…you don't understand.”

  Sasha took Aisha's hand in hers. “How hard do you feel it pulling, Aisha?” she asked gently. “What does it feel like?”

  Aisha's pale blue eyes seemed to stare straight through her, as if she could see through the hull and up at the stars beyond. “It's all the world,” she murmured hoarsely. “I can't resist it. You act against the serrinim, and therefore I must…”

  Sasha put careful fingers on her lips. “It's all right, Aisha. I understand.” She kissed the smaller woman on the forehead. “I love you, my friend.” They embraced, gently. Then Sasha gestured to Errollyn with a free hand. “Errollyn, carry her. We'll take her back to her bed.”

  By the time they got there, Aisha was fast asleep in Errollyn's arms. “That's not a natural sleep, is it?” Sasha whispered to Errollyn as he tucked her carefully in. The small quarters was lit by a single lamp, bare wooden beams all around. Everything creaked in rhythm with a gentle swell.

  “Natural enough for serrin,” Errollyn replied. “She was already exhausted. It was too much.”

  “Can she do anything to contradi
ct Rhillian?”

  “It's not just Rhillian,” Errollyn said. “It's the situation. We all feel the peril. Like animals in herd, once the herd moves, we must move with it. Rhillian is only the first herd animal of many. It's impossible to resist.”

  “More so than…than lust?”

  “More so than fear,” Errollyn said quietly. And Sasha looked almost afraid at that.

  “I'm glad you're du'janah,” she said quietly. “You're free.”

  “Freedom is frightening,” Errollyn said simply.

  They moved down creaking wooden steps into the cargo hold once more, and Errollyn could hear noises from on deck, distant shouts and ropes being pulled. They crept along the central passage between crates and sacks, past the mast and its abandoned chains. Toward the stern, a doorway led to a narrow wood passage. Sasha crept first, blade ready, and flattened herself to a wall when footsteps thumped above their heads. Light came dimly from a hanging lantern, high up where it could not be bumped by passing sailors.

  The footsteps passed. Sasha cautiously climbed a ladder and peered onto the floor above, then pulled her feet up and vanished. Errollyn followed. This floor was sleeping quarters, rows of hammocks strung between wall hooks, all empty.

  Sasha crept up the next ladder, holding her sword low as she climbed one-handed. Errollyn followed, his arms and legs throbbing. The possibility of discovery put his muscles on edge, but rather than tensing they trembled and wobbled, like an old man's arm on a walking cane. Sasha peered onto the deck, and Errollyn felt the cold breeze of the ocean.

  Suddenly Sasha twisted on the ladder, dropping so that she could whisper in his ear, “To stern against the side rail, there's a coil of piled rope, four paces away. If you lie down within it, you're hidden.” He nodded shortly, hoping that her eyes were keen enough to know the difference between four paces and five.

  Suddenly Sasha was gone, a brief push and the barely audible creak of deck planking. Errollyn pushed himself after, a hand low on the deck as he ran, his legs nearly giving way in the crouch, but four steps brought him to the coiled rope with Sasha already inside.

  Peering over the top, Errollyn found himself looking toward the bow across the open deck. Overhead, the great triangular sail was furled, and in a clear space at the bow, there rested a great ballista, surrounded by many serrin. Round leather shots waited in small wooden crates, and about the deck were numerous buckets of water. Errollyn could smell the acrid scent of burned wood and varnish, and singed leather.

  Beyond the bow, the light-speckled slopes of Petrodor Harbour rose from sparkling black waters. Atop the slopes, the lights were burning, a series of bright orange flames that spread enough light on the hillside for Errollyn to recognise Sharptooth. It did not surprise him. No one had told him what Rhillian had done the previous night, but he'd guessed all the same. They knew each other that well, Rhillian and he.

  A wind came brisk from the north, rustling at the furled sail above, swinging the boom and singing through the rigging. A patch of water nearer the shore was ablaze…Errollyn stared harder, and thought it possibly a ship, though the mast and ropes and people about the ballista made it difficult to be sure.

  “There's a watch on the stern,” Sasha whispered, “but she got called down to help fix an anchor. That's when I climbed the rudder. They've got the boat fixed across the wind, anchors to stern and bow so they can keep their artillery fixed to the shore in case of pursuit.”

  And they did not expect small boats to circle out into deep water and come at them from the dark behind.

  “We'll have to go soon anyway, watch or no watch,” Errollyn whispered. “We can jump from the stern and swim.” Mari's boat would be waiting out there somewhere. Far enough into the dark that serrin eyes could not see it. A long way, in the cold, dark ocean. And how would Mari be able to see them?

  “And if they shoot us in the water?”

  “I'm serrin. Killing a serrin is no small matter for another serrin.”

  “Aye, and what about me?”

  Errollyn gritted his teeth. His eyes searched the deck for Kiel…there were Hael and Shaliri, restringing bows and fastening full quivers on the railings. And closer, tying off loose ropes near the mast, was Halrhen who had carried Aisha from her Dockside bed. Several others, and a few surviving human staff from the Petrodor residences. But no Kiel. Even so…Kiel would not order another serrin killed…but Sasha?

  “Perhaps we should kill the watch,” Errollyn murmured. From beneath him, Sasha twisted to give him a hard look. “Isn't it what humans would do?”

  “Only if I have to,” Sasha snapped.

  Errollyn heard the whistle just before Sasha and hurled himself hard down on top of her. The arrow hit the top rope with a thud, directly before his nose. It hit almost vertical, and he stared up…there, riding high on the mast, was a dark-haired figure with a bow. Kiel.

  Sasha swore. “I looked up!” she insisted. Into a confusion of rigging in a black sky, with human eyes.

  “Follow!” Errollyn hissed, leaping off her and running for the steps to the raised stern. Yells came from the bow, joined by shouts from up the mast as Kiel called the alarm. Errollyn cleared the steps and came face to face with Triana, piercing blue-grey eyes, a blade in her hand. The stern watch. “What are you going to do?” Errollyn half snarled, half laughed at her. “Kill me?” Triana stared at him in consternation. Errollyn spread his arms, daring her, and half preparing to tackle her barehanded. “Would you be the first of a thousand years?”

  Her eyes darted past his shoulder, alerting him that Sasha had mounted the stairs. Triana moved to go around Errollyn, but he danced across, keeping himself between the two women. “You leave her alone.”

  Triana backed up. Errollyn circled, Sasha at his back, and saw figures running across the deck toward the stern. Kiel was descending fast as a cunning system of pulleys and ropes sent him soaring down to the deck. Even now, he was fitting another arrow. “Rhillian!” Errollyn yelled at the figure with gleaming white hair that ran toward him. “You call him off right now!”

  He pointed at Kiel. Kiel fitted his arrow, in middescent, and pointed it at Errollyn. Only not quite…Errollyn saw where it was headed, saw the muscles lose tension on Kiel's forearm, and leapt. The arrow hit him as he dived across Sasha's path. Blinding agony tore through his shoulder and the world turned colourless.

  He heard Sasha's scream. He heard Kiel's shouts for Triana and Halrhen to get her…and opened his eyes to see Halrhen, a large and formidable swordsman, leaping his way…

  Sasha moved. Blades flashed, clashed, and bodies flowed in lethal motion. Lying on the planks, dazed and insensible, Errollyn could recognise only shapes. The serrin fighters made beautiful shapes, with perfect form. And Sasha's shapes…were less perfect. She cut the corners off, crude and blunt, and devastatingly effective.

  Halrhen fell first, slashed across the middle; then Triana, throat severed, blood spurting. She fell right near him, and squirmed and kicked as she died. Then he felt Sasha's hand grasp his arm and pull him toward the stern rail. He rose, consciousness returning…it was just the shoulder, he told himself firmly, struggling for strength. Just the shoulder. You're weak from the chains, that's all.

  He dragged himself to the railing, feeling for the shaft…his hand brushed it and the pain made him wish he hadn't. Serrin were thundering onto the raised stern now, falling back as Rhillian took the lead. Her blade was naked and there was horror on her face. She crouched, first by Triana, then by Halrhen. When she looked up at Sasha, her eyes were filled with grief and rage.

  Sasha stood between him and Rhillian. Her naked blade was barely bloodied, so fast had been her strokes. Errollyn could not see her face, but her stance alone was lethal. The thought drifted across his dazed consciousness that if Rhillian attacked, she would die. He'd thought them evenly matched before-his human lover and his old serrin friend. Now, he saw otherwise. Rhillian was serrin. Serrin perfected the form. The same form, always the same, where the only
deviations came from the form's own complexity. Sasha made new forms. Or took the old ones and shaped them to her needs. She was human, and pragmatic, while Rhillian was serrin, and artistic. Rhillian fought with superb precision and artistry. Sasha fought to kill.

  If all humans learn serrin ways, he thought, and copy serrin skills, surely we're doomed. Surely we cannot be humanity's enemy, and expect to survive.

  Rhillian took her own stance. Blood covered the deck. Rhillian's emerald eyes blazed, her sword poised for attack. Sasha stood, and waited to kill her. Errollyn wanted to speak, but could not. If he spoke, he might distract Sasha and give Rhillian an advantage. Even as he thought it, he realised he was wishing Rhillian to die. It shamed and horrified him. He'd never wished it before on someone he loved. But he loved Sasha more.

  Rhillian did not attack. Perhaps she feared. Perhaps she saw reason. Perhaps she knew herself outmatched. Errollyn could not tell. He only saw from the stance of the two women and the look in Rhillian's eyes, that all trace of regret or restraint had vanished. The friendship was passed. Now, they were enemies.

  Finally, Rhillian spoke. “Get off my ship,” she said, very quietly. Her voice dripped with menace. “Get off before I kill you both.”

  “You and which army?” said Sasha in Lenay, blunt and contemptuous. A Lenay warrior to the last. Errollyn eyed the semicircle of naked blades around them and thought it a poor choice of words.

  The next thing he knew, he was very cold, very wet and in more pain than seemed reasonable. The world moved strangely, breath came with difficulty, and then not at all…he choked, gasping, trying to breathe through his nose as the air refused to pass down his throat. Hands rolled him over and his shoulder screamed agony. He was struck on the back, hard, then vomited water. And gasped again, to little effect. He thought he was going to die.