by A. K. Wilder
“They stabbed him in the heart.” My eyes well.
“If that were true, lass, he’d be dead.” Kaylin seems to have stopped the bleeding. “Luckily, the knife stuck in the sternum, the body’s armor doing its job.”
“You have any pressure points for hemorrhage?” Piper narrows her eyes at the sailor. “Or is seasickness the only thing you can cure?”
“Have and using them.” He keeps one hand on the wound and the other pressing various points around Marcus’s head. It all looks like a bloody mess to me.
Piper doesn’t soften. “You could have killed these marauders before they started carving us up like steaks.”
“All the bloodshed could’ve been avoided had you reached Capper Point like I warned.”
Piper ignores his words. “You were with them.” Her eyes blaze, the accusation thrown like a spear.
I kneel in the middle, a barrier between the two. “Let’s heal everyone first, before we start fighting again, please?”
Piper exhales. “I’ll need water and my kit.” She glares at Kaylin.
I take over the pressure around Marcus’s wound as Kaylin rises to his feet, not a limp or complaint to be seen.
“The healer’s bag is by the fire.” I point with my elbow. “There’s a bucket with the saddles and a stream…”
“I can find water, lass.” Kaylin brings the kit and disappears with the bucket.
“He’s quite a swordsman,” I say, watching him go.
“But whose side is he on?” Piper readies a cloth bandage as her phantom snakes over Marcus.
“I think it’s obvious.” I glance meaningfully at our massacred enemies.
“You think, but can you be sure?”
“He saved our lives.”
After a moment, she nods. “And the other two? How bad?”
“Belair’s been beaten and is exhausted.”
“And Samsen? Are you sure he’s—”
“Out cold. A lump on the back of his head. Nothing else I can detect.”
Piper nods, and her phantom entwines Marcus, one head sinking fangs into the left side of the Heir’s neck, the other head tasting the air around me. “Help me with his coat.”
Between the two of us, we keep pressure on the wound while taking off the coat. “Pull out the knife, Ash. Dead straight, like this.” She demonstrates in the air. “You’ll have to straddle him. I’ll bind his chest the moment you do.”
I bend over Marcus, a foot on either side of his body. He’s unconscious now, which might be a blessing.
“On three,” Piper says.
I wrap my sticky hands around the hilt.
“One.”
“Marcus, hold on,” I whisper.
“Two.”
I’m ready.
“Three!”
All my might goes into it, but my hands slip off the knife as I fall backward onto my bottom.
“Let me.” Kaylin returns with the water and takes my place. He pulls the blade out, quick and clean as if it had stuck in butter, not bone.
Piper wraps the bleeding wound, Kaylin helping roll Marcus from one side to the other to keep the bandage flat and tight.
“Sit here, Ash.” Piper nods to the area beside Marcus’s head.
I obey, and the free head of the serpent again tastes the air in front of me. A lump rises in my throat. “You’re not…”
“Marcus needs blood.” Piper sponges off my neck.
“My blood?” I look at Kaylin. Maybe he wants to take over this task as well? He crosses his arms and shakes his head. No, he does not.
“Remember two years ago?” Piper prompts. “The riding accident? Your blood and his match.”
“But…” It’s not a memory—or experience—I want to relive. “Maybe—”
“Relax.” Piper tucks hair behind my ear.
I am the complete opposite of relaxed. The phantom is so close to my face, I can count the tiny black scales on its head. The mouth opens, white fangs glistening in the firelight. I instinctively lean away as it strikes. I feel the prick, followed by the plunge of two sharp daggers into my jugular vein.
“Breathe, Ash.” Piper and Kaylin speak as one.
I exhale through tight lips. It isn’t too painful, but I noticed Kaylin looking at me strangely, keeping a distance. “You can’t tell me you’re squeamish,” I say.
Kaylin shakes his head. “No, lass, not that.” He doesn’t say more.
“I’m injecting an astringent to stop infection and a soporific to help with the shock. And you’re giving him a milk bottle’s worth of blood.” Piper puts a hand on my shoulder. “Best lie down.”
“I hope you appreciate this,” I whisper to Marcus as I lay by his side, a phantom snake between us, sucking at our necks. The salt-crusted grass prickles my cheek and the smell of blood mixes with smoke from the fire. “And, dak’n crips, you better heal fast.”
14
Ash
Dawn breaks without the sun, though the sky lightens, and a commotion of birds comes alive all at once. Gulls sweep the cliffs with their endless riot, and the lone whistle of a turkey buzzard sounds from high above. They can smell a dead body from miles away, it seems, and, on this headland, we have more than one.
Piper and I lean over Samsen, applying cool cloths to his face. His eyes flutter open, and he focuses on us with a look of disbelief. I understand why. My clothes are blood-soaked, my arms and, no doubt, face streaked with blood as well, and Piper’s face is bruised, one eye swollen nearly shut, with gashes on her arms. Sure, she’s given herself a healing, but only enough to get her on her feet. She has to pace herself, and her phantom, to help Marcus, whose injuries are more severe.
“Piper?” He gasps her name.
“I’m fine,” she says quickly, though it must seem like a lie. She feels the lump on the back of his head so tenderly, I look over my shoulder toward the sea.
“Marcus?”
“Hale enough, or he will be after a little more rest.”
Samsen tries to sit.
“Not so fast.” Piper’s serpent retracts its fangs from his wrist. “You have a concussion.”
“Not fast enough, you mean.” Before we can stop him, he’s up on one knee. The ground rumbles and churns. I shield my eyes as a black vulture flies out of the earth, dirt and grass falling from its wings. The bird gains altitude and circles over us, a silhouette against the early dawn sky.
“Who attacked?” Samsen’s voice sounds distant, though he’s right next to us.
“Aturnian mercenaries, some of them Captain Nadonis’s crew.”
“Apparently, he thought we were spies,” I say.
Samsen frowns. “I suspect the attack was more about killing the Heir before he reaches Aku than some purported spying. They may not have even known the true purpose.”
I have the same fears.
“Can you look for the horses while you’re up there?” Piper asks. “They pulled their pickets.”
“Got ’em. A stone’s throw north in a dry cornfield, eating husks.”
“That’s good news.” I leave Piper to fill him in on the details of the attack and check on Belair. He’s awake, and I offer him a strong lemon-balm tea. Sadly, his supply of Ochee perished in the battle.
“Never thought our adventure would come to this,” he says quietly. “Hope you’ll put me in a good light in the records.”
“Let’s not worry about it just now.” I pat his arm. It hasn’t occurred to him what this delay might mean. I move to check Marcus. He’s more like a peacefully sleeping person than a corpse now, which is a relief. A blessing, no doubt, until the serpent’s healing takes full effect.
Kaylin drags bodies and various amputated limbs to the edge of the cliff and tosses them to the sea. I am lost for a moment, watching him work.
“Aturnians to the north!” Samsen calls out. “We need to round up the horses immediately.” He lifts his head, back from phantom perspective. “But first I want to talk with the bosun’s mate.” His eyes narrow on Kaylin.
I hold out my hand. “He’s not the enemy.”
“Still need to talk.” Samsen draws his sword.
“Talk or fight?” I say as he walks by, brushing me aside.
“Depends.” He approaches Kaylin and stops a few feet away. “You did this?” he asks as he taps the lump on the back of his skull.
Kaylin drops the body he’s dragging. “No, but I see you want an explanation.”
“It might give me a reason not to kill you.” Samsen isn’t smiling.
Kaylin shrugs. “I did what I was ordered to do. Assisted Levvey. At least, until the orders clashed with my own better judgment.”
“You do this often?” Samsen glances over the camp. “Attack your passengers once they disembark?”
“You had Nadonis and Levvey suspicious.”
“Did you know you were to execute the Heir of Baiseen?”
“Nay.” Kaylin glances at Marcus, who hasn’t moved.
“It sounds like you came very close to doing it.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” He nudges another body off the edge of the cliff with his foot. “I wouldn’t have done it, even if we had never met.”
“Why not? You’re clearly adept with the sword and have no second thoughts about taking a life from the path.” Samsen shakes his head at the body count, as if unable to believe his eyes. “Astonishing, for a non-savant.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “For a non-savant?” I never thought I’d hear bias from Samsen.
“You cannot know my thoughts,” Kaylin answers, taking no offense.
“Then explain them to me.”
One side of Kaylin’s mouth turns up. “Your party is savant, granted safe passage to Aku, and I believe in and protect that right. What they were going to do to Ash, and your healer, could not go unpunished.”
“You didn’t mention that part.” Samsen glances at Piper before rubbing the lump on his head. “And you take it upon yourself to be judge and executioner?”
“When the circumstances warrant, aye.”
Samsen studies him in silence. “You’re a dangerous lad.”
“That I am.”
Before he can say more, Samsen’s phantom swoops in and perches in the low branches of an ironbark tree. It spreads its wings, showing off the intricate charcoal and gray herringbone patterns beneath the primary feathers. The span is as wide as I am tall as it fans the air.
“The Aturnian soldiers are breaking camp, heading south. Toward us. Less than an hour off.” He looks out to sea. “We must ride.”
“We can’t move Marcus,” Piper says. “Not until he regains consciousness and I’m sure the bleeding has stopped.”
“No choice,” Samsen answers. “We’ll head into the forest. They may not be scouting off the road.”
“What would they be doing, then, if not scouting?” Marcus asks from the other side of the fire, startling us all. He’s not only conscious but on his feet.
It’s all I can do not to rush to his side and throw my arms around him. “How are you feeling?”
“As well as I look, I imagine.” He winces and rubs his chest.
“I wager the troops are heading for Clearwater, not searching for you,” Kaylin says, not in the least surprised to see Marcus recovered. “They do regular sweeps of the coastal towns this time of year.”
“On their way south?” Marcus asks.
“Aye.”
But the mood is darker, more ominous, and I can’t help but wonder if this journey will be remembered as the one before chaos consumed the realms. Surely the events of the last days—on both sides—will not go unchecked. But I’ll not voice these things. Not now.
Marcus bats Piper’s hand away when she tries to sit him down. “Leave off. I’m deciding whether to thank this sailor for saving my life or kill him for betraying us.”
“I suggest you do it quickly.” Kaylin tilts his head to the north. “It’s time to go.”
“How do I know you weren’t setting us up?” Marcus asks.
“You don’t.” He turns to me. “If you’d gotten to Capper Point before nightfall,” Kaylin reminds us again, “this could have been avoided.” He shrugs as if it is a small matter and eyes the eastern horizon. “Samsen’s right. The headland may betray us, but soon rain will wash it clean. Shall we go, before the Aturnians arrive?”
Brown leaves fall from the ironbark trees and blow across the camp as we chew on his words. I look to Marcus, beseeching.
“He will make the right choice,” my inner voice says.
The only thing is, I’m not entirely sure what the right choice is.
“Break camp!” Marcus orders, and I’m flooded with relief from head to toe.
“Now you know.”
Marcus limps over to Kaylin. “Thank you.” With a curt nod and an offer of his hand, he adds, “Don’t make me regret this.”
15
Kaylin
A lot of things fall under the definition of bliss—the sunset currents streaming around the isles of Tutapa, bioluminescence under the full moon, the taste of oysters fresh from the rocks, battle with a just cause…
Now I have one more to add: finding myself on a high Aturnian headland, enemy slain at my feet, fresh blood on my face, and a beautiful lass from Baiseen sending curious glances my way. The new feelings are inexplicable. I don’t even know how I got here.
One thing led to another…
True, and the fact remains there’s no going back on any of it, nor would I wish to if I could.
I keep my head down, tossing the corpses into the sea. It’s the best use of my time while the others argue about how to proceed. It also gives me a moment to work out an alternative strategy, in case theirs is bad enough to get them all killed, which it likely will be. It’s an interesting lot, these initiates. For as strong and capable as they appear, their survival instincts are sorely lacking.
But what a spectacular bout! I keep that thought to myself, too, since the others are not inclined to share in the glory of battle. I understand. They have injuries and no clear way ahead, at least until I suggest mine.
Ash mostly listens while she tries to salvage her writing tools and the coins spilled from the Heir’s bag. I want to help her pick up every last one and assure her, again, that I never meant her harm. That, in fact, I will protect her life as if it were my own. But she might want more of an explanation for my cryptic warning to leave Clearwater.
In hindsight, I could have worded that better. And then there’s how I turned up at precisely the right moment, if I’m truly not in league with Nadonis. I have no rationale to offer without giving away too much.
One thing led to another? I repeat to myself. It wouldn’t satisfy me. How can I expect it to satisfy the lass? Then there’s my absolute willingness to help her. I daresay I don’t understand it.
Maybe it was seeing her with knife in hand, squaring off with one of the crewmen, that first time on the deck of the Sea Eagle. Or hearing her pine for far-off lands with such heartfelt passion that piqued my interest. Or watching her curry animals in the bowels of a boat just to bring them comfort. I’m not sure. But I’d given her my word that no harm would befall her, and the truth of that unexpected promise won’t change.
When the others reach a stalemate, I step up. “Have you considered riding up the north road?”
“Toward the enemy?” Marcus says, as if I suggested jumping off the headland into the sea.
“What good is that to us?” Samsen asks. “We’ll run straight into the troops. Do you want to take them all on, too?”
I actually wouldn’t mind, but it’s not what I say. “We c
an ride inland along the Navren River, hiding our tracks in the water. If you send a rider south with the donkey…”
“Our tracks will lead both ways.” Ash catches on. “Confusing them, at the very least. At best, sending at least some of them along to Clearwater, quick sharp.”
“Aye. Our decoy can loop around and meet us inland. From there, it’s up and over the hills of Mount Bladon and on to Capper Point by ferry down the Ferus River, none the wiser.”
Ash raises one brow. “You certainly know the lay of the land.”
“I know the lay of the rivers.”
I thought it would take more time to convince Marcus, but he nods, saying something about, when in doubt, head north. An interesting lot, these initiates, I think again. That’s for sure.
We ready to ride, and to my delight, I find myself in the most pleasing occupation of helping Ash repack her satchel. It’s all I can do not to breathe her in. She’s over the shock of being attacked and on to bone-cracking anger. Who would blame the lass? Her life was threatened, her trade tools strewn everywhere, texts ruined, and ink bottles broken.
Red-faced, she finds her map of the realms and unrolls it. “A slow, naf’n demon’s death to all marauders. How will we make it in time now? Sark f’qud.”
“A Nonnovan curse?” I ask. “Excellent choice.”
She turns hooded eyes on me, and I cough to cover my smile. The scent rising from her skin is like nothing I’ve ever known. Even in her anger and the hasty wash, she smells of lilacs and summer seas. “At least this is in one piece.” She shakes the map and checks our location, the distance to Bladon and then to Capper Point, and rolls it back up. “We can make it, if there are no other delays.” She repacks everything, cursing now in Tangeen. I hand her a bottle of ink she missed in the tall grass. “Maybe we can track down these Aturnian miscreants and cut their throats,” she mutters.