Nightchild

by James Barclay

  They could be seen hacking and pulling at line, mast and sail, trying to shift the dead weight that dragged them over. And, with no control over direction, they sat broadside to the swell which was inexorably destroying them.

  But Hirad didn't really take it all in. He had watched Hyn-Kaan's death plunge and had seen the surviving but severely wounded dragons dive after him. Now he tracked them high in the sky as they flicked in and out of the cloud layer. His heart was heavy. He had bade them come to The Raven's aid. And now Hyn-Kaan was dead and neither Sha nor Nos would survive a further spell attack.

  Fly to Herendeneth, pulsed Hirad. Rest.

  We will stay above you for now, came the reply. No enemy will fly to attack you. When darkness comes we will find a hiding place. The spells burn us still. We had no defence. We weaken with every beat of our wings.

  I am sorry, Great Kaan.

  Skies save me, Hirad Coldheart. Your land has brought us to this, not you. The air is bad, the food does not sustain us and we cannot renew ourselves. Good luck in what lies ahead.

  Thank you, Great Kaan. You have made it possible for us to win this.

  But Sha-Kaan's mind had closed to him. Hirad knew they would be gliding in the upper skies, resting on the wind until they had to land when darkness came.

  Hirad looked again at the ocean. The Kaan had done their work. Whether it would be enough, only time would tell. Small sails were up and long boats were struggling to make headway as crews abandoned crippled vessels. Some of them headed for sister ships. Others, lost in the swell with the soldiers and mages they carried, might make it to shore. The Raven had the Protectors and they were worth five of any warrior. If they could force battle in tight confines, they could win.

  But mages were what The Raven lacked. Dordover must have sixty-plus left alive. Maybe more. The Raven had three, and whatever the Al-Drechar could summon up. Very little, if Erienne's assessment of their deteriorating condition was anywhere near accurate. Even before any mage battle, though, they had to establish what it was they had to defend. And they had to get there with enough time to make preparations.

  There was work to be done. Hirad turned from the bow rail and walked back down the ship. He waved Darrick over from where he was standing near the forward doors.

  “Get The Raven together. We need to talk. Make sure The Unknown is there and include yourself and Ren'erei. Captain's room. I'll be there in a moment.”

  “No problem,” said Darrick.

  Hirad carried on to the wheel deck, pulling himself up the ladder. Jevin nodded as he approached.

  “An extraordinary display. They're majestic creatures,” said Jevin. “We have an edge.”

  “But it's slight and we'll lose it unless we push on now,” said Hirad. “This is the time to risk everything if you believe in what we're doing. Can you make this thing go faster?”

  The skipper of the Ocean Elm noted the progress of the Calaian Sun with pleasure and saw more sail than was wise billow on her masts. Every face had been astern as the dragons attacked the Dordovan fleet. Every heart had beat double time with fear at the awesome, alien sights and sounds. Every eye had widened and hardly a breath had been drawn.

  The skipper had heard there were dragons on Balaia, marooned after the Wesmen wars. And he knew they were linked in some way with The Raven. He had not considered his ship under threat and had passed that message around his crew but had not seen the necessity to extend his thoughts to the Black Wings and Dordovans on board. Watching their panic, hasty spell preparation and taut faces as they lined the deck had given him brief satisfaction. More stamina wasted, more nerves frayed. It could only be good.

  He had never thought to see dragons and the sight of their extraordinary size and power had been breathtaking. The death of one and the obvious and possibly mortal wounding of the other two had been regrettable but their action had turned the tables. And now he could ensure that Ren, if it was her on the Sun as he assumed, would reach Herendeneth first.

  She knew the channels well, and knew the route that had to be taken. What she didn't know was exactly where the Calaian Sun's draft would make passage impossible. The skipper would show her in the only way he thought likely to work.

  The rain was just beginning to ease but the mountainous seas were unabating. He ordered a trimming of the sails to slow them just a little, sighted on the beacon that dominated the southern skies, prayed the Al-Drechar still lived, and patted his helmsman on the shoulder.

  “Keep her steady, lad,” he said. “Keep her steady.”

  There had been anxious moments through the night. The rest of the afternoon had passed under heavy cloud, strong winds and occasional sudden downpours mixed with the ever-present sounds of rolling thunder and lightning flashing in the storm fronts.

  They were several hours ahead of the Dordovans as night fell and perhaps one behind the Ocean Elm and though any sensible captain would have ordered a dropping of the anchor as they entered the channel of the first islands of the Ornouth Archipelago, that was an option not open to Jevin.

  The Elm was not slowing and Jevin could not afford to lose sight of the sleek, fast elven vessel. Neither could he let the chasing Dordovans catch them. And so his crew had a sleepless night, those not directly engaged in sailing the ship being on watch port, starboard, fore, and aft. Plumb lines were swung and dropped to give an indication of depth under the swell, which was subsiding as they reached relatively sheltered waters, and the lookouts kept up a constant commentary on conditions all around them.

  Ren had stayed on the wheel deck throughout the night, advising Jevin on safe channels and calming his nerves as the ship sailed perilously close to rock walls to find the best depth, running in the wake of the Ocean Elm.

  After the meeting had broken up and the mages had retired to bed to rest and maintain mana stamina levels, Hirad, The Unknown and Darrick had stayed in the Captain's room, mulling over defensive tactics and the strength of their forces. The remains of a meal lay on the table still and the three men picked at the scraps, washing it down with a light wine diluted with water.

  The Unknown was preoccupied, his left leg stretched out in front of him, his hand constantly massaging the hip, a grimace on his face.

  “I think it's time you told us how it really is,” said Hirad. “We'll have to work it into our formation.”

  “I want Aeb on my left,” said The Unknown. “Aside from that, no special treatment, all right? We can't afford it.”

  “You're not getting off that easily. Tell me how it feels.”

  “Stiff and weak,” said The Unknown. “I've had no time to build the muscle so what's there now is what Erienne patched up. It's locked up on me more than once and though Erienne says that'll pass, I don't have the freedom I need.” He chewed a lip. “It's not going to be very easy to fight.”

  “So?”

  “So I'm not going to use the double-hander, I won't have the strength to brace it through any kind of swing. The elves have got some spare blades on board. Not exactly what I'm used to but what choice do we have? I'll use a dagger in my left hand, I suppose.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Hirad. Looks like I'll be a bit of a liability.”

  Hirad raised his eyebrows. Darrick couldn't stifle a laugh.

  “Liability?” said the General. “It may reduce you to the status of better-than-most rather than absolutely-everyone but that's about it.”

  “Still, there's little we can do about that now,” said Hirad. “Tell me, Unknown, what do you think are the biggest problems after what we've been hearing from Ren and Erienne?”

  The Unknown blew out his cheeks. “Well, they aren't going to all run up the path from the landing point, are they? Never mind the wards we think may be in place, they can fly and carry swordsmen short distances so we're going to have to expect attack from anywhere. If we can't block some of the potential entry points to this house, we stand to get swamped. Mind you, if we can't shield the house against a mage barrage, none of that will matter.”


  “You think they'll do that?” asked Hirad.

  “I would,” said Darrick. “It doesn't risk any of their men and it could get them what they want quickly.”

  “Anything we can do to stop that happening?” asked Hirad.

  “Well that depends on how many Protectors you're prepared to risk outside the house,” said Darrick. “I suspect that the Dordovans will expect us to be in a tight defensive formation wherever we are. They know we only have one ship and that means there's a finite number that can be ranged against them.”

  “Don't forget they have no idea what resistance to expect from the island itself,” said The Unknown.

  “Agreed, but they'll realise soon enough that there is no meaningful force already there when they start to advance,” said Darrick. “If we can hide Protectors outside of the house, they could attack mage groups while they're casting. The success of that will depend on the number of swordsmen they've brought and the risk they think we pose.”

  “How many would you take from the house defence?” asked Hirad.

  “Eight, no more. But it's so dependent on terrain. They must be invisible from above as well as at ground level. I just think it's something we should consider.” The General poured water into his goblet.

  “Anything else?” Hirad was looking at The Unknown. “I know we can't be certain of anything but we aren't going to have time to scratch our heads when we arrive.”

  “We aren't blessed with many options,” said The Unknown. “We shouldn't split our force unless we really have to but Darrick's idea could prove successful if we can guarantee surprise. So much depends on the health or otherwise of the Al-Drechar. We don't want The Raven's mages wasting their stamina on shielding the house but it could come to that. And if it does, we're going to have to think on our feet about how to keep the swordsmen out.”

  The Unknown breathed heavily and stood up, wincing as he flexed his knee and hip.

  “I've got to rest. I'm going for a stroll round the deck first to try and loosen this up. Anyone else?”

  “Yes, why not?” said Hirad.

  Darrick nodded and smiled. “I'll leave you two to it. I fancy rolling off my bunk a few times while I try and sleep.”

  “See you at dawn, then,” said Hirad. “And try not to wake up too bruised, eh?” Hirad turned to The Unknown. “Come on, old man, let's get those creaking bones up top.”

  “See this fist? It still works, you know. I'm not so crocked I can't take you on, Coldheart,” said The Unknown.

  “You'll have to catch me first.”

  The two friends headed for the deck.

  Dawn saw the Calaian Sun slowing. Wind howled around the islands of the Ornouth, sawing at the trees that covered the slopes, and forcing Jevin to reduce sail. Ahead of them, the Elm had done the same and no doubt when they encountered the vicious swirling gusts, the Dordovans would follow suit.

  They were sailing down a wide channel between two of the larger islands in the inner group, the cloud lower than they'd ever seen it, obscuring the hills and mountain peaks, and sweeping into valleys, thick, fast-moving and heavy with yet more rain. The only respite was in the swell, which hadn't the power of the open sea and though waves crashed against exposed shores, spray flying in the wind, the narrowing channels were quieter.

  Ren stood on the wheel deck as she had throughout the night, her eyes never far from the stern of the Ocean Elm, waiting for a sign that they should take to their boats. Every hour they could stay aboard would make their job that little bit more comfortable and she estimated they had a day's sailing ahead of them, travelling as slowly as they were. Though more tricky to handle in these conditions, the masted skiffs could probably travel more quickly.

  Lining the decks were the off-duty crew, The Raven and the Protectors. No one was below decks apart from the cook and even he was required topside whenever he could leave his pots safely. Jevin was clearly nervous, wanting everyone ready to react should they run aground and beside the plumb-liners shouting out depths scant feet below their keel, teams of Protectors stood ready to lower boats, with elven crew standing by to direct.

  Herendeneth was dead ahead. The beacon struck through the gloom of the grey morning, beautiful but disturbing, a demonstration of magical power that Ren knew was nothing to do with the Al-Drechar's will and everything to do with their diminishing ability to shield Lyanna. Ren feared what she would find when they reached land.

  The ship shuddered suddenly, slowing dramatically. A grinding sound travelled all the way down the keel beneath their feet, agonisingly slow, its volume amplified as it reverberated through the ship's timbers. Eyes scanned the seas, the plumb liners shook their heads. The vibration went on.

  “Hold her steady,” said Jevin, his voice taut, his hands gripping the rail in front of him, his knuckles whitening.

  Beside him, Ren waited for the sound to become the ripping, splintering one she knew he would be dreading. For an age, they dragged across the sea bed, sometimes heavily, sometimes almost lifting away on the slight swell. But there was no splitting of timbers and no rushing of water into a breach and the grinding sound ultimately faded and stopped altogether.

  Jevin turned to Ren'erei, his face pale, breathing hard.

  “Sand,” he said, his voice low. “But maybe not next time. How much further?”

  “Not far,” said Ren, though she didn't know and could feel herself shaking. “We'll be all right, they won't let us down.”

  “Assuming the skipper's still alive,” said Jevin. “I'm not putting my crew through this much longer. Nor my ship. What sort of sign are you looking for, exactly?”

  Ren was about to shrug but glanced back at the Elm and a smile lifted her features.

  “That one,” she said pointing. “That's it.”

  Selik stormed up to the wheel deck, two henchman right behind him.

  “You had better have sound reason to change the direction of this ship,” he grated, pushing the skipper away from his helmsman.

  “You've seen the channels and you've heard the depths being shouted out,” said the skipper smoothly. “And dead ahead is not the route to the destination for this ship.”

  “You're lying,” said Selik. “I can see it in your slanted elven eyes. Get this ship back on course. Do you think I am blind?”

  “No, but unless you have better information on the depth of the channel I've just turned from than I have, I suggest you leave me to do my job. After all, why would I lead you astray? I'm happy to be taking you to the island. I'm looking forward to burying you there.”

  Selik leant away, considering. “You must think me stupid,” he said quietly. “How long before we turn again.”

  “Half a day,” said the skipper. “It depends on the wind. If you don't believe me, then kill me and take the ship yourself.”

  Selik's eyes glinted coldly.

  “That's a sign?” asked Jevin.

  “Yes,” said Ren. “Because the route is straight ahead. There's no turn to the landing point until we clear the next island.”

  Jevin nodded. “I bow to your knowledge. Now, what do you want me to do?”

  “If you can, sail up to the point where they've turned. Then bring the ship around and we'll launch the boats we need and go. You can either follow the Elm and find calm water to hide in or go back. There's no other way out to the ocean that I know of. You'll have to decide for yourself.”

  “And what is to port up ahead?”

  “Island upon island. You can't reach Herendeneth that way but you can make safe harbour in a lagoon a day's sailing away. You'll know it when you see it. You'll be hidden and you can rest. But keep hard to the starboard shore. The land shelf is very steep right off the coast of the islands there. The port side is littered with reefs just under the surface.”

  Another nod from Jevin. “And what of the Elm?”

  “I don't know,” said Ren, worry gnawing at her. “I guess he'll try and lead the Black Wings as far away as he can. He's a very
brave elf.”

  “I'll do what I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sweat was mingling with the rain and salt spray by the time the Calaian Sun had crept along the channel to the point where the Elm had turned. The ship hove to and started to come about to port, ready to follow the other elven ship away from Herendeneth.

  The deck was filled with men and elves, weapons, small sails and crates of foodstuffs. Protectors clustered round davits that were brought up from the hold and locked into place. They hefted the long boats up and on to the pulleys and lowered them away into the sheltered seas on the lee of the ship, scrambling quickly down the nets and taking up oars, their gear stowed forward and aft under sheeting.

  There were two long boats Jevin had been prepared to let go and the Protectors shared themselves out between them. Darrick and Ren would also travel, one to a boat. Thraun too, though still kept asleep, was leaving the ship on a long boat. Hirad would hear no dissension.

  “If we're all to die, it will be together and Thraun must be where the Al-Drechar can work on him,” he had said.

  The Raven would sail in a masted skiff. These three craft were the most Jevin could allow them. He would not leave himself and his crew with no means of escape should they founder.

  Elves swarmed down to the skiff and raised the mast, leaving the sail furled but ready, and helped down The Unknown, who was struggling to climb the scrambling nets, tears forced from his eyes by the pain of his hip. He refused to sit, determining to hang on to the mast for support while they sailed. Hirad exchanged an anxious glance with Ilkar as they watched him before climbing down themselves. The two of them sat forward, Ilkar's face pale at the very thought of a trip in a small boat, while Denser held the tiller, unable to keep a brief smile from his face. Erienne sat by him.

  “That old familiar feeling,” he said.