The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  She nodded without speaking, her face lowered as she struggled for breath.

  Beyond the narrow beach rose mountains covered in dense foliage. The mountains came right down to the shoreline on either side, boxing them in on a thin strip of land. He could see a few deer tracks leading upward, but the climb seemed steep.

  “Maybe we should camp here tonight?” he said.

  “No, I’ll be all right in a moment. Let’s at least get to the top today.”

  He knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue with her and seeing her as she was made him realize their time was short. He moved around her and grabbed her pack before she could stop him, then he halted before the old man.

  “Give me your pack,” he said, nodding at it.

  Brodie straightened and looked at him warily. Jarrett hated threatening him into compliance, but he didn’t know what else to do. He knew Brodie would never have waited for them if he’d been allowed to stay with the boat.

  “Why?”

  “I’ll carry it, so we can make better ground.”

  The old man’s expression grew stubborn. “I’m not dead yet. I can still carry my own pack.”

  Jarrett tossed his hand in the air. “Suit yourself. We move out in ten minutes.”

  Once they left the shore, the sun began drying their clothing against their body. The salt water rubbed at skin unused to such abrasion. Jarrett picked a deer track with the most gradual slope and they began climbing.

  Tyla went first, then Brodie, and Jarrett brought up the rear. The sun beat down on their backs and Jarrett wished he’d thought to bring a hat. He knew the back of his neck was burning. The deer track meandered back and forth, shifting whenever it came to an obstacle that was too hard or too entangled to cross. Jagged rocks pushed up from the dirt and the foliage was dense – green vines and brambles covered in small white flowers. Jarrett suspected the island saw a lot of rain. He could see how Jax might have hurt himself during a fall. Still, he didn’t see any sign of the plant Jax had drawn or of the glittering dirt.

  When they had climbed high enough, he glanced over his shoulder. They could see a good part of the ocean, gleaming blue-green in the distance, and the white sand of the beach. Beyond the shore, Brodie’s boat bobbed on the waves. Looking up again, he couldn’t see much past the immediate trail. The summit was no longer visible to them.

  No one talked. Brodie groaned as he climbed, but he didn’t falter. However, Tyla began to slow. At first Brodie simply slowed his own stride, but she eventually fell back until she was walking beside him on the little trail, and then behind him.

  Jarrett quickened his pace until he was on her heels. “Tyla, we can stop.”

  She shook her head furiously, but didn’t speak. He could hear her labored breathing and it worried him. The sound was ragged and forced.

  Reaching out, he caught her elbow and forced her to come to a stop. She glared at him, but she didn’t have the breath to scold. Above her, Brodie stopped walking and turned around to watch their exchange. His face was red and peppered with sweat, but he wasn’t breathing as hard as Tyla.

  Jarrett untied the canteen from her pack and held it out to her. She pushed it away. “Save…it.”

  He shook it at her. “We’ll find more water soon. With all of this vegetation, there has to be water around.”

  She took a step away. “No…we can’t…share things anymore.”

  He felt the familiar clenching of his gut at her words. Shaking the canteen again, he covered up his alarm. “Take it, Tyla. Brodie and I can make do with cupping our hands when we find a stream.”

  She hesitated a moment more, but her personal need won out and she took the canteen, uncorking it. She drank deeply, then tightened the stopper, her eyes closed as she fought for each breath.

  “Let’s stop for tonight,” he pleaded.

  “I want to make the top, then we’ll stop,” she said, holding out the canteen to him. Without another word, she began climbing once more. Brodie turned and stumbled upward before her, using his hands against the trail to steady himself.

  Jarrett retied the canteen, then followed.

  * * *

  Kalas found himself a little annoyed as they walked toward the docks. Attis and Ellette hung close to him on either side. Dolan guarded his back and Parish walked before him. He couldn’t take a step in any direction without bumping into someone. Beyond his four personal guards, he had a ring of soldiers blocking him.

  The sun beat down on his head and he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, trying to ease the heat. Thankfully, warehouses soon rose on all sides, bathing them in shade. They crossed the road and climbed the boardwalk fronting the warehouses. Traffic on the street had been halted long before to make sure no one came down this way as long as the King was on foot. Kalas was sure this disruption in normal business practice put more than a few people out.

  Parish slowed and a strange sound reached Kalas’ ears. Not for the first time did he wish for just a bit more height. He tried to see around the larger man before him, but it did no good. The party came to a halt.

  With a sigh of frustration, Kalas decided to take matters into his own hands. He started forward suddenly and crossed around the Baron before Parish could react. Then he came up short and stared.

  Men worked in a gutted warehouse, shoveling debris and raking through piles of burnt timber. The outer wall had burnt away and he could see the exposed beams of the ceiling. He took a step closer, his entourage on his heels, as a soldier detached himself from the warehouse and moved in their direction.

  The soldier gave a sharp salute and Kalas recognized the stripes on his arm. “What’s going on, Corporal? What happened to this building?”

  “Eye witnesses say the owner had a shipment of pycantra waiting in front of this warehouse, Your Majesty. ‘Supposed to be picked up today, early. All a sudden, it went up, exploding everywhere. The warehouse caught fire and damn near burnt down the whole block.”

  “Why would the owner leave something so volatile out in the open?” asked Parish.

  “He didn’t want it going up in his building. ‘Fraid it might catch fire,” said the corporal, then gave a little chuckle.

  Kalas squinted into the distance. He could just make out the entrance to a dock a few buildings away. “Who are these eye witnesses?”

  “Soldiers, Your Majesty, guarding the docks.”

  Kalas nodded at the dock ahead of them. “That one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are there any boats missing from that dock?”

  The soldier frowned, then glanced over his shoulder at the dock entrance. “The orders were to shut down all private docks and let no one past. If someone inquired, we were to detain them and bring them to you, Your Majesty.”

  Kalas fought down his annoyance. “That wasn’t my question. Are there any boats missing?”

  The soldier looked at Parish in bewilderment.

  “Answer him,” snapped the Baron.

  “I…I don’t know.”

  Kalas pushed past him and started walking toward the dock himself. Everyone scrambled to surround him again, but he quickened his pace to make it harder. He came to the end of the dock and found two soldiers sitting in the shade, playing cards.

  He stopped before them and gave them a severe scowl. Looking up, they marked who he was and scrambled frantically to their feet, snapping to attention and saluting. The corporal hurried up beside Kalas, his expression blanching when he saw the cards.

  “At ease,” said Kalas and the soldiers relaxed their postures infinitesimally. They obviously were afraid they were about to be court-martialed for their inattention.

  “What the hell are you doing, men?” snapped the corporal.

  Kalas waved him back and he retreated. Shifting his attention to the guards, Kalas drew a calming breath. “Are there any boats missing from this dock?” He held up a hand when they both started to answer. “I don’t want to know your orders. I want to know the truth. Tell me honestly an
d you keep your commission. Lie and…well, I wouldn’t lie if I were you.”

  The shorter of the two shifted anxiously. “One, Your Majesty, there’s one boat missing.”

  Kalas looked away. The ocean glimmered in the sunlight like crystals. Sea birds wheeled around the end of the dock, their cries echoing across the water. He could almost understand why it had always held such allure for his father.

  “Did you report this to your corporal?”

  They didn’t immediately answer. Kalas looked back at them.

  The shorter one rubbed his hands against his trousers. “We were told to secure the dock, no more. We noticed the boat was missing, but we couldn’t leave our posts to report it.”

  The corporal edged into Kalas’ peripheral vision. “It took hours to get the fire under control, Your Majesty. We didn’t want to lose the whole block.”

  Parish made a slashing motion with his hand and the corporal retreated again.

  Kalas studied the shorter soldier. “Do you have any idea whose boat is missing?”

  The soldier shook his head. “We don’t have a manifest for this dock.”

  Kalas wandered away from the soldiers, further out on the dock. Small sail boats bobbed against the waves, pressing into the sides of the piles and sliding away.

  “Baron?” he said, his back to his companions.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “I want the manifest for this dock in my hands within the hour.”

  “Done.”

  “And I want the eyewitnesses brought to my home this evening for questioning.”

  “Also done.”

  He turned around and faced them again. “I want this dock guarded day and night without fail. I don’t care if something explodes, spontaneously combusts, or grows legs and walks away, I don’t want this dock left unmanned.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Parish.

  “If that boat returns, I want everyone on board detained and brought to my home immediately.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  He started moving back toward the group, but paused and looked down at the scattered deck of cards. “And get rid of these damn cards.”

  With that, he left the trembling soldiers and moved back toward the entrance of the dock.

  * * *

  The trail up the side of the mountain grew wider as it climbed, but it also grew steeper. Jarrett noticed a strange glittering in his peripheral vision, but when he looked directly at a spot, the glittering disappeared. He wanted to tell Tyla about it, but she was laboring so just to make the climb.

  Twice he’d steadied her, only to have her yank her arm away and quicken her pace. He watched her obsessively. She weaved back and forth on the trail and he could hear the fricative sound of the air as she panted to regain her spent breath. Then she started coughing.

  At first she tried to hide it, but the higher they climbed and the steeper the trail, the more she coughed. It was a dry, hacking sound and he could see the way she hunched her shoulders to hold it in.

  The set of her shoulders also told him she wouldn’t listen to reason. If he knew anything of this woman, he knew when she was determined. Nothing short of death would keep her from climbing to the top of the ridge.

  Eventually Brodie began to notice, glancing back over his shoulder to study her. Once or twice he gave Jarrett a pointed stare, as if to demand he stop the climb, but there was nothing Jarrett could do. She wouldn’t even allow him to get near her.

  The sun blazed down on them, steaming in the dense vegetation and baking across the rocks. Jarrett kept hoping it would cross over the slope and grant them a reprieve, but the direction of the island and the vertical nature of the climb kept it beating down the entire way.

  Finally they reached the top and the mountain leveled off. They couldn’t see to the other side of the plateau, but at least the trail meandered through a meadow, dense with wild flowers. Jarrett felt an easing in his chest at the sight of it. At least here was a level place to make camp and judging by the flowers, there had to be fresh water.

  He halted and turned a circle, taking it all in. Below him was the beach and far out in the surf, Brodie’s ship bobbed against the breakers. He exhaled, enjoying the beauty of the view, the blue of the water, the white of the sand, and the green of the mountain.

  “Hey!” came Brodie’s voice and Jarrett whipped around.

  Tyla was bent at the waist, her hands braced on her thighs. She was struggling for breath, her shoulders heaving. The old man approached cautiously, bending to look at her face, but Tyla tried to wave him off.

  Jarrett took a few steps toward her, but she staggered away, weaving across the meadow.

  “Tyla!” he said, but she motioned for him to stay back.

  A strangled, hacking cough wracked her body and she stumbled, falling on her hands and knees. Jarrett threw down the pack and sprinted to her side. Grabbing her shoulders, he tried to help her into a more natural position, but she shoved him in the chest. The coughing took so much energy that he could easily dislodge her hand and move her into a sitting position.

  Specks of blood glistened on her lips, making his heart hammer against his ribs.

  “Easy, baby,” he soothed, sliding behind her and supporting her with his body. “Try to take shallow breaths.” He glanced around and found the old man backing away. “Brodie, get me the canteen!” he ordered.

  Brodie shook his head. “This wasn’t what I signed up for.”

  “Don’t, Brodie! Don’t think about it.”

  Brodie kept shaking his head, backing away. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Give me the canteen, Brodie.”

  Another step back, another step toward the ridge. “I’m sorry. I really am, but I didn’t ask for this.”

  Jarrett envisioned himself standing, envisioned himself drawing his sword and forcing the old man to stay, but he couldn’t release Tyla – all he could do was watch as the old man took the pack off his shoulder and held it away from his body as he backed toward the trail.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he muttered, letting the pack fall from his fingers.

  Jarrett started to move, but another spasm wracked Tyla’s body. He could feel the violence of the attack against his chest as he held her. “Please don’t do this. Please. I need your help.”

  Brodie shook his head again. “I’m sorry.” Then he turned and ran for the head of the trail.

  Jarrett closed his eyes as the old man disappeared over the side. Lowering his head, he brought his lips close to Tyla’s ear. “Take shallow breaths, sweetheart, shallow and slow. Concentrate on breathing.”

  He lost track of time as he held her, whispering into her ear. The sun rotated across the sky above them and eventually shadows lengthened, giving them a respite from the heat. He could feel every bone in her body, she was thinner even than he’d feared, and the coughing rose from deep inside of her, tearing through her small frame with each bout.

  But gradually she calmed in his arms and he wrapped his body around her as if that could stave off the fear that was paralyzing him. Her breathing was ragged and her forehead, where it was pressed against the side of his throat, blazed with fever.

  “I told you to stay away,” she whispered.

  He held her closer, pressing his lips to her brow. “I know.”

  “You’ll get the disease now.”

  He leaned away from her and looked into her eyes. They were bright with fever. “Then we’ll just have to make sure we find a cure.”

  A tear slipped out and rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away, using the motion to wipe the blood off her bottom lip. “Let me set camp and I’ll make you some Stamerian.”

  She clutched his hand. “I’m sorry, Jarrett.”

  He forced a smile. It felt so unnatural on his face. “I think I’ve heard that enough for one day.” He moved a stray curl behind her ear. “Listen to me and listen well, Tyla Eldralin. There is nowhere else on the planet I’d rather be than here. T
his is where I belong, where I want to be, and where I will stay, no matter what happens to us.”

  She tightened her hold and another tear slipped out. He lifted her hand and kissed it, then leaned forward and pressed another kiss to her brow. Untangling himself from her, he rose and crossed to where both packs had been discarded. As he bent to pick them up, he slipped his hand into his pocket and felt for the stone Kerrin had given him.

  Eldon help him, he prayed, running his fingers across the stone’s smooth surface. Let there be a cure.

  CHAPTER 15

  The sun blazed in brilliant shades of red, orange, and pink as it set over the ocean. Jarrett stood at the trail head and watched the white sails disappear over the horizon as if the boat were dipping into the sunset and merging with it. He watched until the only white he could see belonged to the breakers against the shore.

  If he’d possessed even a trace of Tyla’s power, Brodie Daegan would be dead.

  He turned away and walked back to the camp. Earlier he’d found dried branches to make a fire and had boiled Tyla some Stamerian. She was resting comfortably, her head pillowed on one of their packs. As he took a seat across from her, she opened her eyes and studied him a moment.

  “He’s gone,” she said quietly.

  Jarrett braced an arm on his knee and nodded.

  Tyla didn’t respond, but her eyes shifted to the fire.

  “You know Kalas will find us, Tyla. There’s no way that brother of yours is going to leave us stranded here even if he has to sail the entire ocean.”

  “I’m not sure there will be anything to find,” she answered.

  Jarrett fought the automatic clenching of his gut. “Don’t say that,” he pleaded. “You’ve got to fight.”

  She closed her eyes and her hand tightened into a fist. “I should never have left Kerrin. I’ll never get to see him again.”

  He moved around the fire and sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. She tried to push him away, but she didn’t have the strength. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her in his arms as if that would be enough to hold the disease at bay.