by Ashley Capes
He started to stand.
“Be still.”
Elina. Her figure was crouched down behind him, facing the water. Slowly, he twisted further.
Leeches surrounded the camp.
Beyond the ring of mushrooms, their bodies glistened darkly in the moonlight, pale eyes flat. A soft squeaking rose from their ranks, as skin rubbed against skin, countless bodies, dozens deep in rings.
But they were leaving.
Those closest to the edge of the camp were pawing the earth, snouts curled up. They backed into the press. Gradually, painfully so, they began to withdraw. Never held his breath. Small splashing sounds rose from the water’s edge as the leeches returned.
It continued until finally the last black thing slipped from view.
He glanced at Elina as he exhaled. “Good mushrooms.”
“They are.” She moved closer, still keeping her voice low. “Want to try for more sleep?”
Never shook his head. “I’m awake now. Might as well start. It’s close enough to midnight.”
“All right. I doubt they’ll be back.”
“I’ll be watching.”
Chapter 10.
Beneath a vicious sun, the raft forged deeper into the swamp.
This time, no attacks but Never still watched every dark shape beneath the surface. Sweat trickled from his neck and from his nose, dripping into the water when he leant over the raft’s edge. Even with his tunic heaped in a pile at the centre of the raft with the rest of their possessions, the sweating persisted. Without the Moor-Sickness he would have complained, the air was thick with moisture; the worst it had been so far, but there was no blessing from even a hint of a breeze.
The amount of mint-like leaves he’d had to rub over his torso was ridiculous. And he probably hadn’t covered every part of exposed skin.
If they made landfall soon, he could find more at least. Beyond Karlaf’s straining shoulders tiny islands were clumping together. How firm were they? Would the raft need to ram the little ones?
“You should lie down,” Elina suggested. She had her attention on the water and her pole. “Falling in isn’t a good idea.”
“It’d cool me off though,” he said before kneeling and closing his eyes.
The sound of her pole slashing the water ceased.
“Never, something’s wrong. Your chest.”
He opened his eyes. Blood was moving beneath the sweat-slicked hair of his chest, resolving into five points of a leaf. The deep, reddish purple gave it the look of an autumn leaf, almost a tattoo. He rested a hand against it but there was no tenderness. His blood pulsed once and faded.
“What was that?”
“I have no idea.”
Nothing remotely similar had ever happened before. Mother had small tattoos on the backs of her hands, three lines she called the sea and a blind eye, which Father had supposedly given her. Never and Snow once joked that Father stole the ink from the Gods, but that was not like what had happened to Never’s chest. Had it happened before, and he’d never noticed?
“Never?”
“It’s a mystery.”
“The Amouni.”
He nodded. “I saw the symbol of the five-pointed leaf at the Amber Isle, but it doesn’t explain why this happened.”
“You can show my grandfather.”
“If I survive.” Never wiped his brow. “Maybe it’s the fever, torturing me.”
“Drink something, you fool,” she said.
He took her advice, yet it wasn’t enough. He finished his flask but sweat continued to pour from his body. Another wave of boiling blood. Never groaned. He crawled to the side of the raft and dipped his hand into the water, splashing a handful over his face. Then two handfuls and another.
“Stop,” Elina said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m burning. From the inside.”
He splashed another handful of water over his face and throat. The swamp water was hardly clean and it carried a brackish scent but it was slightly better than sweat.
“Never.” Luis appeared beside him. “I’ll get you a pot.”
“What?”
He gestured to the pack. “I’ll take a pot from the packs there and that way if a leech appears, it’ll latch on to the steel and not your hand.”
“Brilliant.” Never moved back toward the centre of the raft.
“No time for that,” Karlaf said, waving an arm. “Find me my fishing line. Quickly, quickly.”
Luis moved for the packs. “Where?”
“In a pouch at the front. Bring the vial. Faster, lad.”
Luis handed him the line and accepted the pole in return. “Keep us in place,” he said, though with such a sluggish current, the raft wasn’t moving far.
“Rainbow?” Elina asked.
“A big one, too,” Karlaf said. He was grinning ear to ear. “Can’t believe it.”
He was threading a dried insect of some sort onto a hook, nodding to himself. Finally, he cast the line into the water and held it between two fingers. Never blinked sweat from his eyes. “An underwater rainbow?”
“It’s a rare fish,” Elina said. “Rainbow Mudfish. It only seems to live here or in the streams east of Sarann.”
“And it’s the best fish we’ll ever taste, I assume?”
“It’s poison to eat,” Karlaf said.
“I can see why you’d want to catch it then. Can’t have some unfortunate leech eating one and catching its death.”
“They’re supposedly mythical creatures,” Elina said, peering over at the line where it sat in the water. “I’ve never seen one. Legends say, if you catch a Rainbow Mud and boil the scales you’ll be given the wisdom of the oldest rivers.”
“There,” Karlaf said. He raised a hand for quiet. The line twitched. He waited, hunched forward. Another nibble and he jerked the line back.
But his shoulders slumped.
When he wound the line in, only a scrap of the insect remained.
“Well, let’s move on,” Karlaf said.
“That’s it?” Never blinked more sweat. “No need to give up so easily.”
“Out of bait. The Rainbow Mudfish only goes for dried grasshopper, so the stories say. And something had a bit of a meal, that’s for sure.” He shrugged. “Not to worry. I’ve seen the Rainbow before, I’m sure I’ll see it again.”
“The last time you were in the swamp?”
“And once before, on the way back from Sarann, that first time.”
Luis handed back the pole. “Then you’ve seen it how many times?”
The guide chuckled. “Three times over two score years.”
The raft continued on its way, shouldering aside the tiny islands, sometimes little more than clumps of weed. Never sweated and moaned until the afternoon began to wane – and until the shivering began. Then he had his clothes back on and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.
“Maybe it’s a good sign,” Luis said. “You haven’t had chills yet. Could be your body fighting it off, finally.”
“Or I’m hours from death.”
He sighed. “Sometimes you should try being a little positive, Never.”
“Once I’m free of this thing. I’ll dance on the spot, how does that sound?”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
The swamp grew darker as the forest rose up around them again. The Pale Swamp had become a series of channels all funnelling toward a long rise in the distance. Green leaves crowded the canopy. Softer-looking shrubs covered the earth. The progress of the raft slowed as Elina and Karlaf pushed it through water thick with weed and saplings.
Finally, it could travel no further.
Firm ground was patchy. Large pools and marshy earth surrounded them, but where the land rose, trunks climbed the slope with it, and the ground appeared firmer. There were even a few moss-covered stones.
Karlaf pointed. “Unload and head for that rise.”
Never
hauled his pack up and stepped from the raft. His boots squelched but the earth was solid enough. He detoured a pool, still shivering and blinking his vision clear as he walked. Damn Harstas, damn him to the Burning Graves.
The forest floor levelled off near a large, jagged tree trunk that had the look of a lightning blast’s victim. Never dumped his pack then wandered around the base of the tree in the dying light, collecting twigs and kindling as he did. The others were pulling the raft up onto firmer ground.
Unloading his kindling, he ranged further, wrapping the blanket closed over his shoulders to free his arms and stooping to collect larger pieces of wood.
“You look like a crone,” Luis said as he joined him.
“I feel like a block of ice.”
“Go and rest, we’ll start the fire.”
Never shook his head. “I can manage. Hate being useless.” He loaded up another few pieces and returned to the campsite then slumped by his pack. He took out a second blanket and wrapped it around his legs.
“This is ridiculous,” he snapped at no-one in particular, but Karlaf glanced at him from where he was nurturing a small flame. The light deepened shadows around the camp.
“I’m thinking you need the Red Clove soon.”
“And still two days to Sarann.”
“Hold on.”
He managed a grin. “I’ll try.”
Luis returned with more wood, placing it in the pile. When he straightened, he frowned. “Where’s Elina?”
“Isn’t she finding fuel, with you?” Karlaf asked.
“No. She said she was going to wait for me here so you two could try your luck for live game.”
Karlaf shot to his feet. He raised his voice. “My Lady?”
Nothing.
Tall figures loomed from the dark, then a shape tumbled into the light, hitting the ground.
“Elina,” the guide cried.
Her face was pale and a smudge of blood marred her forehead but her chest rose and fell. Never threw the blanket off, kicking the other free as he rose, whipping a knife out and shivering where he stood.
The shadowy figures resolved into Harstas and two of his Steelhawks – only none were weighed down by armour – though the jingle of other members followed in the distance. Each of the Steelhawks carried a short bow with arrows nocked. Harstas hadn’t bothered to draw his sword.
“You look quite unwell, Never,” the commander said. His expression was one of such smugness that Never spat. “Though I imagine the warm weather helps with the chills, yes?”
Karlaf had his hatchet in hand but he didn’t attack. One of the arrows was trained on Elina’s unconscious form. Luis hadn’t had time to lift his spear but he held his belt knife.
“I see. You poisoned me with this sickness then followed me here just to chat about the weather then.”
“Hardly.” He signalled for the rest of his men to surround the camp. “Since your little escape, I’ve learnt a few things about the mysterious Amber Isle. It’s just the sort of place a man like me might make a modest fortune and settle in a nice new manor back home; you see, I don’t care for the Marlosi climate.”
“Find another guide.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You have been there and while you obviously failed to bring out the Sea King’s Jewels, you and your friend there survived the Isle. That’s more than anyone else and it’s enough to get me close.”
“If only you hadn’t given me this illness.”
“Then I’d better accompany you to Sarann and the Red Clove, yes?” Harstas grinned, but there was no warmth to his eyes. “And as to how many of your associates here join us, is up to how cooperative you wish to be.”
“Or we could decide this now,” Never said, keeping his voice soft. “Just you and I. Come on, Harstas. I never got the chance before; too busy with your lapdogs.”
Harstas folded his arms. “Throw your weapons to the ground.”
“Never?” Luis’ voice was tight.
“Check on Elina, Karlaf,” Never said.
The guide glared at Harstas as he bent, checking Elina over.
“She’s alive,” Harstas snapped. “Weapons. On the ground – or your guide takes the first arrow. Then your tall friend behind you.”
Never glared at Harstas. The bastard had all the cards. No matter what Never tried, the Vadiya commander would counter it. Surrounded, Elina injured, no way to reach the enemy, half of them protected in steel and therefore no way to use his blood. If only he could. Quite an exception could be made for Harstas.
And worse, he needed the Red Clove.
Never swore.
He threw his knives down, blades slipping into the soft ground.
Chapter 11.
“I need to relieve myself,” Never told his guard.
The man offered no response. The fire lit his face in orange and his expression suggested he might not have even understood. His armour was back in place – as much a protection from Never than anything else – breastplate, shoulders, and helm along with knee-length mail shirts and greaves. The man was further burdened by sword, bow, and a hand axe at his belt. But he moved easily enough. Like most of his fellow Steelhawks, he’d have been trained from a young age.
It kept them strong. And on a path of the Kingdom’s choosing.
Never switched to Vadiya. “I need to relieve my bladder.”
“Hold it.”
“Fine. Then you can carry me to Sarann.”
“What?”
“When my bladder bursts. I’m sure Harstas will be thrilled to hear that his guide to the Amber Isle can no longer walk.”
The man spat. “Make it quick.” He hauled Never up by the rope that bound his hands. Never grunted, scrambling after the soldier.
“You’re a tedious one, aren’t you?” Never said.
His guard offered no reply. Maybe he didn’t know what ‘tedious’ meant. They had passed the fire and were several trees beyond the campsite when a figure appeared from behind the birch, moonlight bright on his blonde hair. Harstas. The commander held out a hand. “Allow me, Dimaya.” His voice was soft in the night.
“Gladly.”
The guard retreated. Never glanced after him. Dimaya – wasn’t that the man who’d tracked them with the Echo? Harstas had folded his arms but said nothing.
“Are you waiting for an invitation, Commander? Only, I don’t usually care for company when I–”
“Silence,” the man snapped. “I’ve no patience for your tomfoolery. Do not make me remind you each time we converse, yes? I only need one guide to the Amber Isle.”
“Once again, it’s a shame you went to all that trouble to have me poisoned, then.”
“The Fates shine a light at a time of their choosing, not mine.”
Never chuckled. “Took you a while to figure out what I’d stolen, I see.”
“But I did figure it out.” Harstas stalked closer. “What went wrong on the Isle? Why did you leave without the jewels?”
“Don’t you have a war to get back to?”
He grinned. “The invasion is well in hand.” The expression faded. “Now tell me, why leave the jewels behind.”
“I found the cut a little cloudy.”
“Bah. No more games.”
“Death. Death was the reason.”
“Go on.”
“Thirty men went to the Isle and only three came back. The Guardians were too powerful,” Never said. “And that’s before the maze. Even with the map, it was difficult. The sea-creatures rule those caverns but deeper within, there is a room where death strikes from... all around. It shredded man and steel alike. Shredded, Harstas. There was only a fine pulp left afterwards. The final door was locked.”
His eyes were narrowed but he did not appear to discount the story. “And the key?”
“Supposedly in the ruins of Sarann,” Never said. “That much we learnt.” If he could sell the lie, maybe there would be a way out. Buy some time at least. He couldn’t kill them all at once, not witho
ut losing Luis, Elina or Karlaf – or even all three in the process. Not that many of the Steelhawks were even allowing themselves to be vulnerable to his blood to begin with.
And Harstas would be watching.
He’d made a mistake, as he always did. Allowing others to become close – allowing others, even to travel with him, was always a mistake. He should have known that by now.
“Supposedly?” Harstas asked.
“That’s what I believe the markings within the Amber Isle indicated. Karlaf is guiding us to Sarann for more answers, not just for a cure.”
“Then we will have to find this key.” He nodded as if Never had offered agreement. “And perhaps it is time for some assurance, yes?”
“Assurance?”
“Yes. You do not expect me to trust you, surely? I will require an additional hold over you. You recall Dimaya, of course?”
“Why?”
“Because should you disobey me, I will give him the Hanik girl. Do you understand?”
Never stiffened. “Do that and I’ll kill you all.”
“With the Moor-Sickness? And bound? Surrounded as you are – and me with three hostages? Save your fury.” He placed two fingers against Never’s chest and gave a push. “Now go. Relieve yourself and be quick about it.”
Never clenched his jaw, but turned to the nearest tree.
*
He woke in the grip of another bout of fever.
Only this time, the chills had returned. He was given a blanket and forced to march between his captors in the dawn light. Harstas set a quick pace. Never stumbled often and the forest drifted in and out of his vision – at times it was no more than a green blur. But he kept up until noon, when he collapsed.
A figure loomed over him. Elina – her face only fuzzy at the edges. Her head was bandaged but she was bound, just as Luis and Karlaf had been since capture, as he was now, lying in the loam.
“He needs water,” someone shouted.
“I need fire,” he mumbled.
Someone pressed a water flask to his lips and he drank even as he continued to shiver. Or was he sweating now? Or both. He sat up, supported by someone’s arms. He blinked until his vision cleared a little more.