“Damned near drove pins into my eardrums.”
Inslok turned back to the ship. “Most humans wouldn’t hear that arrow; let’s hope the Taken are most humans.”
The Entiyu Emoño’s sails shifted, and it moved closer to the wavebreaker instead of following a route into the harbor. Within wicks the ship was close, and in the day’s silence the rattle of chain as the anchor dropped carried to their ears.
Not long after, Inslok pointed. “Rowboat.”
Rinold said, “We ain’t the only ones watching.”
Solineus glanced to the Fost, saw nothing at first, then realized a swarm of Taken raced from the city’s southern gate. “Run! Beat them to the rocks!”
Solineus scrambled up the stony bank of the ravine and heard everyone following. There were a dozen Taken in a lead group; the race was with them. Brambles whipped his shins and rocks rolled from beneath his feet, threatening his ankles, but there was no way in the Twelve Hells he would let those bastards beat him to those rocks. If they had to fight their way on to the breaker, it’d give more Taken time to reach them.
His breaths rushed, his legs regaining a spring he hadn’t felt since sprinting after Kinesee when she’d gone for her pearl. His senses ignited; he smelled the Taken, a peculiar combination of sweat and decay. The Twins flicked into his hands without breaking stride, his intense sense of distance telling him this race was dead even. The first Taken reached entry to the breaker and Solineus leaped from a small bluff, screaming. He hadn’t a sense of where his allies were, and it didn’t matter. The world was a funnel focused on three men, their bodies broken, parts missing, yet still moving and alive.
His scream pounded from his lungs as he crashed into the creatures, the Twins roaring in his head. The attack was flailing chaos that turned to order. Shoulder first into the second Taken, driving it into the harbor’s waters. A satisfying wail as his feet planted, and the Twins whirled in a trailing figure eight, the blades slashing through the third Taken in rapid succession, before arcing back to remove the lead’s arm then leg.
A fourth barreled direct into his ribs, driving him stumbling over a carcass oozing Shadow blackened blood. A shimmering blue blade severed the creature’s head, time enough for Solineus to regain his feet and lunge low, cutting the legs from beneath another before rolling to his feet. Rinold’s bow sang and Trelelunin came silent to the fight, their curved blades cutting down the remainder in swift fashion.
Solineus panted, licked his lips. Eyes trained north on the beach. A wick at most before more arrived. “Throw them in the water.”
Rinold was already on the breaker, Glimdrem not far behind.
Inslok shook his head, clutched Solineus’ shoulder. For a moment they were two warriors on the same side of a war, not two different peoples alien from one another. “We need to get to that narrow on the breaker, use it to neck the enemy down.”
The fury in Solineus’ blood desired to stay, to kill every last one. There were hundreds. He nodded and followed the Trelelunin onto the breaker, Inslok taking the tail.
The breaker’s stones ranged from the size of a man’s head to the body of a horse, but some still rolled beneath their feet, a precarious run for a man, but the Trelelunin in front of him danced from stone to stone, and it didn’t take long for Solineus to catch their rhythm, bounding. Two wicks later they stood on the opposite side of a narrow stretch, Inslok and Solineus in front, Rinold and Glimdrem furthest from shore.
Thirty or more Taken hit the breaker at full speed. One went down, his leg shattered, but he still drug himself onward.
Solineus glanced to the bay; a rowboat came their way, the Luxuns’ shoulders driving the oars hard. Arrows rained from the Trelelunin and Rinold, with another flight arcing from the Entiyu Emoño. Three Taken tumbled into the surf, others wore arrows without a care.
Solineus shouted, “They get a hold of you, dive into the water!”
He braced, the voices of the Twins hissing low. His heart beat once. Time slowed. The splash of oars echoed over the waters, while the grunts and groans of the oncoming enemy faded. Then all he heard was his own roar before the impact. The Twins blocked attacks, severing limbs and cutting a Taken in half, but still they thundered into him, driven by their momentum and the force of those behind them. Others leaped, and there were no Colok or spearmen to catch them this time.
Someone screamed from behind, and he heard shouts in Luxun. Black blood slicked the rocks, and he slipped to a knee before shoving back, driving two Taken over the edge and into deadly waters. Splashes all around, but Inslok still stood by his side, shield slamming a Taken beneath the chin, removing half its face before shoving it into the harbor.
There was a flicker of a lull, and Solineus glanced around. Rinold and Glimdrem paddled toward the rowboat along with several Trelelunin.
Inslok braced his shield. “We can’t hold. Jump.”
“You first.” A shout caught his ear and he turned: A Trelelunin struggled in the waters, on the wrong side of the breaker. “Shits! Hold them!”
Solineus hopped and slid on black blood and red, sliding to the wounded man. He sheathed a Twin and snagged Mostelo by the forearm, dragging him from the waters. A gash streaked his cheek, and his other arm hung limp.
He turned, dragging him up the bank as a handful of Taken ran into Inslok. The Edan’s glow surged as they arrived, so bright Solineus turned his head to shield his eyes, and the woodkin spun, sword and shield a blur; a shield to one’s face, the sword low to clip another leg at the knee. But two more leaped over his head. Solineus yanked the Trelelunin to his feet and shoved him down the bank into the southern waters, and the Twin struck, cutting a soaring Taken in half in a splash of stringy black, but a knee struck him in the face and he careened sideways: north. He stumbled, vision blurred, before righting himself enough to lunge south, leaving his feet and praying he cleared the rocks.
His toes clipped stone as he landed with an icy splash, the shock stealing his breath. He flailed, and his armor drug him down, but the water wasn’t deep here. Feet touched, and he sputtered as he stood on tip-toe. A Luxun head struck from the waves and a blue hand clutched his arm, dragging him toward the boat with powerful strokes. Captain Intœño’s grimace greeted him boat-side, and the man snagged his cloak at the nape of the neck. Shoved and drug aboard, he lay flat on his back gasping, the Twin in his hand whispering soft. “Inslok? Did we all make it?”
The Edan leaned over him, his glow soft. “I am here. We all are.”
Solineus squinted and puzzled. “You aren’t wet.”
“I timed my leap well.”
Solineus recalled the man’s jump when combating the Mokotu-Xe. “I’m sure you did.”
A Luxun tossed a heavy blanket over his shoulders as Solineus sat up, pinning his eyes on the breaker as oarsmen slowed the boats momentum and headed for the ship. A score of Taken, and more coming.
The Captain slapped him on the shoulder, his head-feathers fluffed. “Good to see you again, friend.”
Solineus sheathed the Twin, its voice fading into the recesses of his mind before disappearing. “You were late.”
“Edop. We ran into a trouble or two in our return.”
“You don’t say?” What did a man need with the hells anyhow, when the world was this much torture?
“Warships, merchant vessels platformed for war, ballista. Hidreng, Brotna, and others, Thonian banners as well. All sailing east.”
Inslok’s tone lifted, maybe what passed for incredulous for an Edan. “Toward the Eleris?”
“Yes, no doubt. And New Fost.”
Solineus slumped, head flopping back with his eyes clamped. Shittin’ hells, what next?
40
Dark Currents
Make certain your enemy sits hot on the anvil and strike the hammer’s blow true; leave a groove in the anvil for the blood to escape, lest the fleeing blood turn to poison.
–Codex of Sol
Meliu tasted the pain of the Maimer’s Las
h for the first time when thirteen years old. The priests explained the need to test the boundaries of her tolerance for pain, and it all made sense until the whip cracked and skin split. The initial pain burned fierce, but what came next was as if they’d driven a fiery rod into the wound, and slid it deeper by the flicker. In those moments, the trials no longer made sense. The pain was too much, driving reason and understanding from her consciousness.
She understood now, sprawled beneath the wardrobe for candles, unable to move. Muscles cramped and shook, and she fought the urge to scream or move, and somehow praying instead of cursing; a whisper of Life to ease the suffering until the next pain struck.
Lodamu no longer entered the cabin alone, and now asleep, Gimin and three others sat watches through the night, at least the best she could tell from her shadows. She feared to sleep, lest she’d make a noise, so she prayed in silence for the will to keep her eyes open.
Kibole would answer her prayers with a fury, this she knew, and upon first feeling the Dark answering her prayers, she’d intended to drive every damned Tek onboard to madness and into the river. But then what? She was a girl of the mountains, piloting a boat down a river in foreign lands? Foolishness. No, she needed to bide her time.
Dawn arrived with an exhaustion constructed on prayers of Light to keep her eyes open during the torture of knowing others slept. When Loduma and the others departed for the deck, leaving her in silence for the past half candle, her patience could take it no more.
Meliu squirmed from beneath the wardrobe, the lobe of her ear catching, but with hands and feet free, she twisted her neck at a jaw-aching angle to escape intact. She sat up, half expecting to find Loduma sitting at his desk waiting for her, but the room was empty. Fingers massaged her ankles as she calculated her next move.
Hunger compounded her troubles; eating or drinking anything she found in the cabin risked ingesting whatever ingredient they used to make Cloud Water. In Istinjoln the keepers of lore clutched the secret tight in iron-bound tomes. When in water it tasted of lemons, a rare and imported fruit, and the masters taught priests to recognize its flavor. Nothing she’d consumed hinted to its effects. It could be in anything or everything, not just the water forced down her throat.
An apple sat on his desk, and her fingers reached for it, but never touched it. Fruit should be safe, but was it a trap? A piece of food disappearing would prove she was onboard. Her stomach growled.
Another day on the river would bring them horizons closer to their destination, but a day and a half without food would weaken her body, and she needed strength to handle the Dark. She needed sleep as well. A tired mind was weak.
She set eyes on a huge trunk and crawled to its side. The padlock hung open, and she flipped it open. The scent of cedar curled her nose. Clothes. Frilled silks, satins, and linens, garish in their colors, and disheveled from Ar-Bdein’s search for her. It’d make a fine bed, convenient as an apple sitting on a desk. Too convenient? She’d have to leave the lock sitting after climbing in; proof of her presence. A paranoid mind might give the Ar-Bdein’s cunning too much credit, but he’d already caught her once. And the window trick here was the same as she’d used with Ivin in the tower. If the bastard had figured that out, or even suspected?
Fear resulted from a fatigued mind. Fear keeps the mouse alive. Fear keeps the mouse a mouse. A mouse feared may as well be a lion. Being unafraid of the lion doesn’t make it a mouse. Sayings about mice wouldn’t do her a damned bit of good unless she chose the right one. A frightened lion is as weak as a mouse until forced again to be a lion.
She glanced to the door. The Ar-Bdein was a tricky son of a bitch, killing him would be smart. But, he could be a useful mouse, so long as she kept him afraid. She couldn’t risk the bait of food or a bed. Her time was now. She prayed for Light, and the rush of power jerked her head. The serenity of Light erased fatigue and hunger as expected, the false cure, but it came with a surge so fierce she wondered if she might burn through these walls as if wielding the Fire of Sol. False confidence, beware the Light.
And she prayed to Kibole, the Lady of Dark. The power came with an unnerving ferocity, and she feared losing control more than she feared the hissing mirages of demons the Dark brought. She stood, knowing the boat was hers with a thought, but promising herself to keep control.
How to turn a lion into a mouse? Without making him a bug eater.
She unlatched the door and shoved it open. “You made a mistake, Ar-Bdein.”
The man spun, sword whipping from its sheath, as half the crew scrambled for weapons, and the others stood frozen as… She smiled and blew him a kiss, tendrils of Dark snaking from her lips. The energy surged through the air faster than a man could run, twisting and twining like ephemeral whips, and where they struck, men and women screamed.
One man nocked an arrow, and she blotted him from existence, weapon clattering to the ground as he shrieked and ran, flipping over a rail into the river. A woman struck by Dark lashed out, catching a mate across the throat with her knife; with his hand’s clutching his spraying artery he cleaved a falchion through her forehead. Most dove into the river’s waters for refuge.
The blood and screams meant nothing to her, the Dark’s mistress, cocooned in the comfort of her Light. Joy welled within her soul, but she needed some to live. “Put your weapons down and lay flat. Except you, Ar-Bdein. You will release Ivin.” She willed tendrils of Dark to rest above all those laying prone.
Sweat poured down Loduma’s face, a mouse facing a lion with defiance. Sword in hand. She raised a finger and whipped a tendril near his head, and the blade clunked hardwood before jittery steps carried him to the crate.
“No threats? No promises of blood? No brave words at all?”
He raised the bar and backed away, and Ivin pushed the door open, creeping into the light of day with a giant man-cat behind him. They said the Choerkin befriended Colok, now he had a new buddy. “Bring your friend, Choerkin.”
Ivin stepped to Loduma and punched him straight to the nose, rocking the man backwards two steps before he fell. Insult to injury, he picked up his sword before walking her way. The cat collected several weapons and kicked others overboard.
Ivin said, “They said you’d gone for a swim.”
“I don’t like water, unless it’s hot and flowery.”
“Meliu, I’d you to meet Nostrolum.”
The great cat towered above her, arms hugging a pile of weapons.
“Semelu leosi, Meliu.”
She glanced to Ivin, and all he offered was a shrug. “Good to meet you.” She stepped around them both. “The Ar-Bdein and I need to share words.”
Loduma dropped to his knees as she approached, and she noted that Gimin lay sprawled only a few strides away. She spoke in Hidreng. “You and what remains of your crew will take us to Gomjon. If you signal a passing boat, anyone on shore, if you take a piss over the rail in a way I don’t like, and you’ll spend the rest of your days shittin’ yourself and painting walls. Your crew, every last godsdamned one of you. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
She strolled to Gimin, circled, stepped on the fingers of his outstretched hand with her heel. “You, Thonian. You understand?”
“Yes.
She took two strides away before turning back. “What is it your priests do to virgins?” She sighed and flopped her arms. “I don’t think the Thonian worm understands.” She twined her fingers behind her back and rocked on her heels.
“I do.”
Dark from all around plunged into his body, entering through his back, his eyes, his arms. Straight into his mouth as he screamed, fists and boots pounding the deck until he no longer had a voice. She withdrew the Dark, the tendrils swirling around her. Gimin lay unconscious, blood flowing from his mouth where he’d bitten clean through his lip.
“Now! I think he understands.” She cast her gaze over all those prone. “I think now, you all understand. The cabin is ours now. No one sets foot within ten strides
without my say. I’m certain you all… understand.”
She strutted through the door into the cabin, the Dark flowing behind her as the trails of a demonic gown that Ivin and Nostrolum made certain not to step on.
Ivin closed the door behind them, and Nostrolum dropped his collection of arms onto a table with a clatter. The cat glanced at Meliu, back to Ivin.
His voice danced in pitch like he hadn’t before. “Kovu lua est Eero!”
“You can say that again, whatever the hells it meant.” He flipped his gaze back to the priestess. “What the hells was that?”
Meliu collapsed into the seat behind the desk. “A little trick I picked up. Bar the door.”
Ivin laughed but did as told. “I don’t think there’s a damned one of them who wants in here. Gimin?”
She shrugged. “I expected him to die, with what I did to him.” Her body shuddered as she exhaled, and the power fading was palpable on his skin.
“Which god does such a thing?”
“Kibole.”
“Lady of Dark.” It made sense, but he’d never expected her nickname to be so literal.” He wandered to the keg of whiskey, set a glass for her on the desk, but she pushed it away.
He offered one to Nostrolum, and the cup looked part of a child’s tea set in his great paw. He poured the whiskey into his maw without a thought. Nostrolum’s brows jumped once, and he nodded, speaking in a lilting, approving tone. “Muuilvo.” He handed the glass back to Ivin, purred with a point, and Ivin filled the glass to the brim before returning it.
Ivin sipped his drink, letting his tongue grow accustomed to the powerful burn. “So, we’ve a boat full of cowed enemies and we don’t know where the hells we are.”
“But we do know where we’re goin’. Kind of.”
“No way we just float on into the city with this crew… the Ar-Bdein.”
Meliu took a deep breath, rubbing her temples. “I need a nap. Cover them windows, the door so much as jiggles you wake me.” She stood and stumbled to the divan. “Godsdamn I hate boats.”
Trail of Pyres Page 38
