The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  Minutes ticked away. Jarrett resisted the urge to look behind him, but when he heard someone curse, followed by a splash of water, he glanced over his shoulder. Earon had nearly fallen out of the boat, but Muzik had caught him by the seat of his pants and tossed him back on board.

  One of the sails was unfurling, rising up from the boom like a white ghost, belling out in the late night breeze. For the first time, Jarrett felt a wave of apprehension. He’d never been on a boat before…well, nothing this large and nothing that was going out in the open ocean.

  A distinctive whistle distracted him and he whirled around, but he was too late. He couldn’t even get his bow up before the arrow arched down toward him. Just before it struck, it veered to the side and slammed into the deck.

  “Hold your fire,” shouted a familiar voice.

  Jarrett shared a look with Tyla. The odd blue in her eyes was just beginning to fade. Jarrett’s gaze chanced over the arrow, then back to the end of the pier. He lifted the bow and sighted along the edge. At his side, Lago did the same.

  “How interesting,” said Lex Prestar, stepping into the light from the lantern that swung from the middle of the pier. “Nowhere for you to go, is there? Poor choice of escape routes.”

  Jarrett drew back the string. “If you come a step closer, I fire.”

  Lex held out his hands. “I just want the Queen. You and your rebels are free to go.”

  Jarrett didn’t answer. He desperately wanted to check at the progress of the sail.

  “Stay back!” warned Lago. His hands were much less steady than Jarrett’s.

  “I have twenty-five men with me. Do you really think you can take out that many?”

  “I only need to take out one,” snarled Jarrett.

  “And you’ll be a pin cushion a moment later.” Lex chuckled. “It might be an interesting experiment. Your Queen deflected one arrow. Can she deflect twenty-five?” He shrugged. “Would she to save you?”

  “If you were dead, it might be worth it.”

  Lex lowered his hand to his sword hilt. “Why don’t we see if we can avoid so much loss of life? I wouldn’t want a stray arrow to hit the wrong target.” He gave a nod in Tyla’s direction. “That would make Rarick furious.”

  Jarrett didn’t lower the bow. “What do you want?”

  “Just you and me. If you unarm me…or kill me, you’re free to go, but if I kill you, the Queen goes with us.”

  Lago glanced over at Jarrett. “It’s a trick,” he muttered.

  “Of course it is, but we just need time.” He lowered the bow, grabbed the quiver and tossed both behind him into the boat. He could feel the anxious touch of Tyla’s thoughts on his. Permitting himself a glance over his shoulder, he could see Parish and Kendrick had lifted the sail to the halfway mark; however, their attention was divided by the standoff on the wharf.

  Drawing his sword, he strode forward, halving the distance between him and the Guardsman commander. Lex did the same. For a moment, they stared at each other, measuring the other’s reach, shoulder breadth, and height. Jarrett was taller, thinner, longer-armed, but Lex had a lower center of gravity, something that would aid him in the narrow confines of the wharf.

  With a lift of one brow, Lex dropped into a fighting stance. Jarrett did not. He drew a deep breath and forcefully shoved Tyla’s thoughts away. He didn’t need anything to distract him.

  Lex struck first, slashing forward without warning, thinking he might catch Jarrett off guard, but Jarrett was ready. His sword moved so fast, blocking the commander’s strike, that a groan of appreciation escaped the soldiers’ lips.

  Even though he was quicker than most swordsmen, Jarrett instantly knew that Lex had been born to fight. He anticipated every move Jarrett made, blocking it at the last second. And he was aggressive. Jarrett’s quickness couldn’t compensate for the fact that Lex wanted Jarrett dead and wasn’t afraid to do anything to achieve that goal. He slashed at Jarrett’s legs, he swung wildly at his head. It gave Jarrett openings, but when he struck for those openings, Lex anticipated them and blocked him.

  They danced and slid across the icy wharf, their swords sparking, their movements a blur in the inconstant light of the lanterns. Jarrett ducked and weaved and leaped away from Lex’s brutal strokes, and as he moved, a calm flowed over him, allowing him to block out all distractions around him.

  He didn’t like to kill, but he loved to fight. He loved the physical absorption of the battle, the way his muscles strained and flowed, his sword catching prisms of light and reflecting it back into the darkness. And he knew his fighting was like poetry, like moonlight, like song. It was ethereal, deadly, like smoke through water.

  And he knew the moment Lex knew, the moment Lex understood Jarrett would kill him.

  But Lex Prestar wasn’t afraid to die. He was a warrior, bred to battle, bred to deliver and receive death. And he didn’t intend to go out without at least maiming his opponent. Using his bulk and his weight, he hammered into Jarrett, his strokes losing finesse, hacking at his adversary. He abandoned the known tactics and threw everything at him, and this unpredictability presented a challenge. It was more dangerous, risky, leaving Lex open to Jarrett’s jabs. Jarrett drew first blood, swiping his sword along Lex’s side, but rather than protect this vulnerability, Lex turned into it, letting Jarrett’s blade sink deeper in order to throw off Jarrett’s stride.

  It did unbalance Jarrett for a moment, but he was too fluid to be unbalanced for long. He slid under Lex’s arm and came up behind him, slicing across his lower back. Again rather than turning, Lex stabbed backward, forcing Jarrett to dance to the side.

  This brought Jarrett to the edge of the wharf and he glanced down into the black surf pounding against the piles. When Lex lunged forward, attempting to impale him, he tried to swing into the middle of the wharf where the footing was surer, but he slid on a patch of ice and fell.

  Lex’s sword swiped an inch in front of his face as he went down. He landed on his backside and scrambled out of Lex’s way. The Guardsman smiled, a thin, cold smile.

  “Well done,” he said, stalking Jarrett. “Shame to lose such a virtuoso. Bad luck that.” He kicked at the ice. A moment later, his eyes snapped up, fixing on a spot behind Jarrett.

  Jarrett knew that Tyla had climbed from the boat and stood in the middle of the pier. With a flick of his wrist, he swung the sword around until the tip was pointed at the hollow of Jarrett’s throat. “I wouldn’t, Your Majesty,” he said.

  Jarrett’s fingers curled around his sword hilt and he braced his heels on the planks beneath him. He’d probably get stabbed, but if he could judge which direction Lex was going to strike, he might escape being beheaded.

  Just as he tensed his muscles to try, a cry of surprise went up from the soldiers and they parted like the tide, falling to either side of the wharf. Lex twisted to look over his shoulder, the sword angled away from Jarrett’s throat. A blur of grey motion struck the Guardsman commander in the side, slamming him into the low supports of the wharf. He scrabbled to grab hold before he was launched over the edge.

  The blur of grey landed near Jarrett’s head, then hurtled onto the boat. A moment later Jarrett heard a splash as Lex hit the water beneath the pier. Lago reacted, grabbing Jarrett under the arm and hauling him to his feet.

  Parish was shouting, “Down, down” as a rain of arrows streaked out of the darkness, striking the mast or whistling over their heads. Lago and Jarrett ran for the boat and jumped when they hit the end of the pier. Their impact with the boat’s deck knocked them both from their feet and Jarrett found himself colliding with the mast.

  Over his head, the boom swung around and he barely had time to duck it. The sail snapped and the ropes whined as the wind caught in them and slowly the sailboat left the dock, gliding out into the dark waters of the night. A moment later Jarrett looked up to see a great, shaggy head rise over him, and then he was beset with a wet, pink tongue.

  * * *

  Dawn was just breaking over th
e horizon when Parish guided the boat onto the shallow strip of sand and they disembarked. The trip to the east had been tense as only Parish and Lago knew anything about sailing. Tyla huddled in the bow of the boat, staring out at the darkness, Kian curled tight beside her. When Jarrett had tried to talk to her, she’d looked away. She wouldn’t even let him share her thoughts. Jarrett wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong.

  He sat at the stern with Kendrick and Muzik. Despite his bulk, Muzik was more at ease than the rest of them, enjoying the wind in his face and the spray in his hair. Earon sulked halfway between bow and stern.

  As soon as the boat made landfall, Jarrett climbed ashore, grateful to be done with it. His legs felt unsteady and he could still feel the sway and surge of the tide even though he was on solid ground.

  He helped Lago tie the boat to a makeshift post, then off-loaded the packs and set them up above the water line. He looked for Tyla and found her wandering with Kian at the top of the beach, gathering an arm load of driftwood.

  Parish settled the last of the packs beside him and followed Jarrett’s line of sight. “She thought you were going to die,” he said.

  Jarrett tore his gaze from Tyla and hunkered down, reaching for the pack that held their food stores. “How far to that outpost of yours?”

  “Half a day’s climb. We’ll eat and then head out. We should make it before nightfall.”

  Jarrett nodded, removing the camp cook set and placing it close by. Muzik and Kendrick were gathering rocks for a fire ring, but Earon was still sitting inside the boat. Jarrett laid out the materials for a quick breakfast, then rose, dusting off his trousers. He strode to the boat and glared down at Earon.

  “Get your sorry ass off this thing and make breakfast. It’s your turn.”

  Earon looked up at him. “Go to hell. I don’t take orders from you.”

  Jarrett’s eyes narrowed and he deliberately let his hand fall to his sword hilt. Earon followed the motion, then scrambled to his feet, climbing over the side.

  “I’m only going because I don’t want my breakfast ruined,” he said, thrusting out his chest for Jarrett’s benefit.

  Jarrett didn’t answer.

  Earon sidestepped him and hurried away. Marking where Kendrick was, Jarrett headed up the beach and stopped beside Tyla. “Let me carry something.”

  She straightened and pierced him with a withering look.

  He held up his hands in supplication. “What did I do?”

  “You could have been killed.”

  “Parish asked me to keep them off. It was the only way I knew how.”

  Tyla shoved the driftwood at him and he struggled to balance it all. “I could have kept them off.”

  “Without killing them, Tyla?”

  Her look grew shuttered and she bent to pick up more wood. “Lex Prestar wants you dead. Especially now.”

  “I know that,” answered Jarrett, “but in a few days, I’ll be far away from him. He isn’t going to come to Temeron after us.”

  “I wouldn’t be sure of that,” she said, then sighed. “It’s hard for me to see people in danger because of me.” She fixed him with a stare. “Especially you.”

  He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

  She struck him in the chest and glared at him.

  He laughed. She couldn’t know how her concern made his heart soar.

  With a shake of her head, she laughed too. Then her eyes slid past him and she sobered. He turned and looked over his shoulder. Kendrick was watching them.

  * * *

  The climb up from the beach was difficult. The trail was steep and the footing precarious. Kian bounded up and down the length of it, speeding past them and tearing ahead, rooting through the underbrush. He startled a bevy of partridges and leaped into the air, coming down with two of them. He brought his kill to Muzik and dropped it at his feet.

  Tyla looked away, but Muzik beamed with pride and stroked the dog behind the ears. He picked up one of the birds and shoved it into a pack, then grabbed the other and tossed it to Kian. The dog caught it in mid-air and bounded away, disappearing into the damp underbrush to eat it.

  Jarrett gave Muzik an appreciative look, but Kendrick scowled.

  They rested at noon and ate some dried bainburi. Jarrett choked it down, but he would have preferred roasting the partridge Muzik carried. He found himself searching the landscape for any other prey that they might add to an evening meal.

  After their meager lunch, Parish led them off the trail for a short distance to a spot that overlooked the valley below. They could see Kazden beneath them, the main gate guarded by an entire battalion. Parish shook his head and gave a grunt of disgust.

  “When do you think you’ll be able to return?” asked Jarrett at his side.

  Parish shrugged. “You never know with those bastards. They’ve been known to stay months, and yet again, they can pull out in a day. It all rides on the whim of the commander in charge.” He glanced up at Jarrett. “You can bet Lex Prestar isn’t in the city any longer.”

  Jarrett wanted to ask more, but Earon had snuck up on Parish’s other side. Jarrett still didn’t like the Lawry runner and wished Tyla had agreed to leave him behind, but she kept saying she didn’t have the right to command anyone.

  As the day wore on, the company climbed into the Grozik mountains. Patches of snow began to appear and the air turned dry and cold. The trail presented more of a challenge than it would have if they weren’t operating under little sleep. Each one of them slipped on ice patches and went down. Tyla tore the knee on her trousers and barked the skin off her palms. Parish had given her what medicinal herbs he had in store, but Jarrett knew she was longing for a bit of Stamerian to help ease the ache of scrapes and bruises.

  Just when Jarrett was thinking they would have to make camp on the trail, Parish motioned them to stop. They stood in a group while he studied the landscape on either side of them. A cluster of stunted trees lined the trail, but most of the vegetation was brush and rocks, boulders so large they towered over all of their heads.

  Tyla moved to Parish’s side. “One is behind the boulder on the left and another in the branches of the tree behind us.”

  Parish nodded. He lifted a hand, careful to keep it in plain sight, and unbuttoned his jacket. He reached for a chain around his neck and pulled out a silver medallion with the star of Eldon engraved on one side. He lifted it over his head and held it straight up, the sunlight catching in the medal as it spun from his hand. On the opposite side was a small piece of violet colored pycantra.

  A woman appeared from around the boulder. She was tall, as tall as Jarrett, and dark complexioned. Jarrett suspected she was part Stravad from the even placement of her features to the pale blue of her eyes.

  She strode forward, a bow dangling from her hands. At her back was a quiver of arrows and a short sword was strapped to her hip. She took the medallion from Parish with her free hand and inspected it, then handed it back.

  “You must be the Baron?” she asked.

  Parish smiled at her. “And you must be Maelee.”

  She nodded. A man dropped from the tree and landed like a cat in the middle of the trail. He was a head shorter than Maelee with brown, curling hair and a cleft in his chin. He strode up beside her and stood looking over the group. He also carried a bow, but a long sword was strapped to his back.

  Kian pressed up between Jarrett and Tyla, sniffing both of them, but showing no other signs of concern.

  “This is my husband, Lander,” Maelee said, introducing the man.

  The man gave a brief inclination of his head, then his gaze riveted on Tyla. “Your Majesty,” he said, touching his brow.

  Maelee also ducked her head toward Tyla. Tyla returned the gesture with a lift of her chin.

  “Hey, Lago,” said Maelee and she smiled. Her smile turned her remarkable features into beautiful and Jarrett thought she was more than a little Stravad.

  “Hey, Maelee, Lander,” said Lago.

/>   Maelee shifted her attention to Parish. “I didn’t expect to see you up here, Baron. Obviously, things are bad in Kazden.”

  “I’m escorting the queen as far as the outpost. We need a place to get a good night’s sleep, then we need to outfit them, give them some mules, and see them on their way early tomorrow.” He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “We’re half dead on our feet. We got out of Kazden in the middle of the night and we’ve been hiking all day.”

  Maelee and Lander nodded. They didn’t seem inclined to question anything Parish told them. “The outpost isn’t far,” Maelee said, turning on her heel and leading the way.

  They fell into step behind her and Lander dropped to the rear with Lago. Jarrett let the others go ahead of him, hoping he might hear a conversation between Lago and the new man, but neither spoke the entire time they walked.

  They came upon a broken down cottage a short while later. It was set back in a cluster of scrub trees, nearly hidden from view of the trail. Earon stumbled to a stop and let out a groan. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Did you expect a palace?” Maelee shot over her shoulder, walking toward the front door.

  To the right of the cottage was a rickety stable housing a few thin mules. For once Jarrett shared Earon’s disappointment. There would definitely be no beds available within this derelict.

  Kian’s scent set off a cacophony of angry braying. The mules began darting around the paddock, knocking into the fences. Maelee glanced at the dog, then hurried to the edge, muttering to the frightened animals.

  Kendrick had come up on Jarrett’s left. “Nazarien,” he whispered, nodding at the woman.

  Jarrett gave a nod. Maelee was good with the mules and had them quickly subdued. Then she turned and gave the group a thorough once over. “You can store your packs on the porch, no room in the house. Dinner will be in an hour.” Her gaze shifted to Tyla. “I can heat some hot water if you’re wanting a sponge bath, Your Majesty.”