Thinking of you, Mom, wherever you may be.
“Get below,” Kral snapped at me as he passed in the other direction. I pictured his brain matter splashing into a mental rut and jolting along.
Oh, I don’t think so. But, to forestall the inevitable argument, I headed in the direction that would take me below—the picture of obedience—then slipped out of sight while Kral had his attention elsewhere. My muscles loose and limber, my blood high, I was spoiling for a fight and had no intention of hiding out.
Particularly as I counted at least two dozen boats, all bristling with at least ten Nahanauns carrying various weapons that glinted in the light, with more boats rounding the lee every moment.
Wishing I could look through the long-distance glass, I edged around to a different vantage point, keeping a low profile from both the Dasnarians and the Nahanauns. Stealth works in a number of ways, all requiring escaping notice from both the stalked and the ones who stalk. Fortunately, among the Hákyrling’s many clever features—though I really doubted Kral’s boast that he influenced the design—were some view holes tucked under the curve of the rail near the prow, and well out of sight of most ship activity.
That overhang, and my caution, proved quite useful when several arrows whistled overhead and thunked into the wooden deck behind me. In no danger of being pinned, I scanned the boats for the archers, spotting them in the semi-stable center sections of several boats, with impressively sized longbows, which explained the range. Kral’s battalion of soldier/sailors tended to be more hand-to-hand focused, so they likely couldn’t match that . . . and ha! Yes, there went easily a dozen Dasnarian arrows splashing harmlessly in the water, far short of the shallow boats.
If I had even two or three of the Hawks’ archers with me, they would not have missed. I could see Her Majesty’s point in denying me that request, however, as I supposed it wasn’t politic to take a crew of warriors on an ambassadorial mission. Thinking more like a diplomat all the time.
The arrow volley was enough to make the Nahanauns slow their approach, though. Odds were that Kral planned to let them attempt to board the Hákyrling and pick them off in small groups. From Harlan’s accounts, Kral’s men could each take on ten trained warriors. Even with their number reduced by a quarter over these adventures, they should be able to handle a force of around seven hundred, possibly more, possibly less, depending on strategic positioning. By my count, the Nahanauns had fielded nearly a thousand, with more coming. Therefore, Kral’s best bet would be to keep the invaders from swarming the rails, to keep that ratio below ten to one.
I didn’t have much—okay, any—experience repelling boarders from a sailing ship. I had no idea what my fighting ratio might be, though I supposed it depended a great deal on my own strategic positioning. I held my own one-on-one, but my strengths lay in speed, stealth, endurance, and surprise. No captain ever placed me in the center of the front line, if they knew their stuff. Send me to the trees and I’ll nibble away the edges.
Good plan of my own, then.
The lead boat grew closer. Covered by a steady barrage of arrows, several of their warriors leapt from the boats, diving into the water like blades themselves, swimming rapidly for the Hákyrling. My fault that the maneuver surprised me. You see in others what you see in yourself. I couldn’t swim, but these island people moved through water as easily as through air, sleek brown bodies like the seal forms the Tala favored.
Kral’s archers took out a few of the swimmers, but not all by any stretch. A number popped up from the water directly against the hull. I hadn’t seen them swimming, so they must have been deep under. Kral had muttered about rope ladders before, but presumably those would be deployed only for friendly boarding and strategically withdrawn under these circumstances. The Nahanauns didn’t seem to need ladders any more than the Tala had. They climbed the wooden sides of the Hákyrling with remarkable agility, blades in their teeth, spears and quivers riding their backs, finding finger- and toeholds that shouldn’t support a man or woman’s weight. But clearly did.
Farther down the deck, shouts went up as a group mounted the rail, battered back by two of Kral’s men, who indeed seemed to dispatch the invaders with reasonable ease. I kept an eye on a woman bristling with weapons who climbed near my position, and on two more men who leapt from the sea and began their ascent a bit farther down. Two more of Kral’s men could be in position for them quite readily, and my gal climbed faster, anyway.
I lost sight of her as she ascended the curve under my position, as the viewhole didn’t allow me to see that much of the periphery, but I had her speed figured, so coiled myself into a crouch. She made the rail exactly as I anticipated—not quietly at all—and one of Kral’s men spun with a shout of warning. I already had her, up and in, big-bladed knife to the gut, and back over the rail she went.
After that, the battle blur took over. Another sort of meditative state, but the opposite of peaceful and contemplative. I kept to my self-assigned quadrant of the deck, dispatching the men and women who stormed the rail only to find the surprise of my blade. Kral’s men left me to it—particularly after one rushed to rescue me from a big Nahanaun levering himself up with impressive muscles, and who fell again with one of my throwing knives in his eye.
Regrettable, the loss of that knife. With luck, though, the handsome fellow would survive. Pity for the world to lose that physique.
There’s a tenor to a pitched fight, even when one’s in the middle of it. A good warrior knows when the advantage shifts, like recognizing the shifting of a wooden deck beneath her feet, hearing the crack of wind in the sails that signals a change in direction. This is why Danu is also the goddess of clear-eyed wisdom. The frenzy of the fight is one aspect, the knowing when to pull back another.
That’s as close to philosophy as I get. Still, I knew it the moment we’d successfully repelled the attack.
A few stragglers still tried, here and there. I took a moment to survey the waters, gratified to see the fleet of longboats paddling away, occupants crouched under shields to ward off the following rain of Dasnarian arrows. Looping around to walk the long way back, I satisfied myself that no more boarders attempted that end of the Hákyrling’s steep sides. She was a good ship, and well constructed in a way I hadn’t previously appreciated. Kral’s battalion, too, had lived up to their fighting reputation. I’d wondered a bit, after that river monster managed to gobble so many, and with the fish-bird attack incurring such damage.
Keeping in mind my maturing, diplomatic self, I mentally excused them, taking back any uncharitable thoughts I’d harbored. When faced with human fighters, a known quantity, they’d done brilliantly. I would stop judging them for falling to the unknown. Magic skewed everything, after all.
The Dasnarians rounded up the bodies that remained on board, those still breathing and those not. Aha! That man had one of my knives in him. I crouched to retrieve it, cleaning the blade on my own shirt, as the Nahanaun wore nothing more than a loincloth. Another beautiful man. Such a waste.
“Idiot,” I said to him. “Why would you attack a ship this size—what could you have hoped to gain?”
“What does anyone want?” Kral spoke behind me, and I twisted to squint up at him. None of the blood looked like his. “They probably thought we carried treasure and sought to steal it.”
“Did you interrogate any of the wounded to find out for sure?”
“I’m about to, if you’d like to listen in, Ambassador. Since you’re on deck, instead of where you’re supposed to be.”
“Ah-ah, General. I decide where I’m supposed to be.”
“My ship.”
“Anywhere I am counts as neutral territory.”
He actually sputtered over his reply. Point for me. “That is not how diplomatic immunity works.”
“And you know this how? From all the other ambassadors the Thirteen Kingdoms has sent to the Dasnarian Empire?” I was beginning to get the diplomacy game. Not unlike sparring. Inventiveness counted here
, too. As with a fight, the only rule that counted was winning and protecting what mattered. I smiled as Kral stewed, but resisted patting his cheek. “Let’s go ask some questions.”
With a gallant bow that oozed irony, he gestured for me to precede him. “Is any of that blood yours?” He muttered the question as I passed.
“I don’t think so. Didn’t feel anything hit. You?”
“A few scratches, nothing more.”
He led me to a man, bound with rope, too young to have much bulk yet. Probably his first battle, certainly his first against the Dasnarians, as he took in the armored warriors around him with eyes wide and black with shock. He spoke quickly, babbling some explanation in the islander language. Dafne had complained quite bitterly about what a challenge that language presented. It sounded almost like singing to me, which I now knew indicated that pitch influenced meaning. A woman of the world, the new Jepp.
“Why did your people attack us?” Kral demanded.
The boy shook his head, speaking more of his tongue.
“I don’t think he speaks Dasnarian,” I pointed out, most helpfully, I thought.
“Brilliant observation, Ambassador.” He heaved out an impatient breath. “You . . . spear . . . me . . .”
I could just picture Dafne’s expression as Kral butchered the islander language. We really needed her. No wonder she’d been so annoyed with the Dasnarians calling the Nahanaun archipelago a protectorate while not being able to talk to the people.
To keep from kicking Kral, I surveyed the other prisoners. One woman, hair matted with blood on one side, watched us with alert interest. More than the expected interest in keeping her skin intact, and quite a bit more alert than the head wound would suggest. I didn’t much care for the way several of Kral’s men discussed her while ogling her scantily clad, quite lovely body. Not that I didn’t do my share of ogling. I didn’t like their intent behind it. She didn’t either.
I ambled over to her, hunkered down. “Do you speak Dasnarian?”
Her liquid dark eyes sharpened, calculating her reply, though I already had my answer. “Here’s the deal,” I said. “Answer my questions and I’ll see you get off this ship without difficulty.”
She considered a moment longer, her gaze flicking over the men, then spoke very softly, in Dasnarian. “No rape?”
“Not while I’m alive. Though if you’d like to try one or two, I can vouch they give a good time.”
She shuddered lightly. “I don’t care to. I have a husband, children.”
So much monogamy going around. It was like an epidemic.
“I have heard tales,” she continued, so quietly I had to lean in to hear, “that the Dasnarians abduct females and keep them sequestered. Not exactly slaves, but close enough. I’d rather you killed me, so my family can grieve and my husband move on.”
I sat beside her. “How about you talk, and I’ll handle the rest. My vow to you that you’ll go home to your family. Why attack us?”
10
Her name was Nani, and after she started talking, I asked her to wait a moment while I brought Kral over. It got him off browbeating that kid, too. He hadn’t started any actual beating, maybe also realizing that the Nahanaun boy had gone past terrified. Sometimes interrogations required force—I’d witnessed my share, though I never much liked it—but they also took a certain level of skill. Terrified prisoners tended to babble anything they thought would save them.
Nani had enough experience and maturity to stick to the important information and keep her cool. “This one speaks Dasnarian, if you’d like to listen in,” I told Kral.
“Absurd.” He locked his jaw. “None of the Nahanauns speak Dasnarian. Where would they learn it?”
“More of us understand it than you know,” Nani said. “It’s only wise to know the tongue of the oppressor.”
While he was still backpedaling, I went for the killing strike. “I promised Nani she can go free, without being harmed in any way, if she answers our questions.”
“You have no authority to make those promises,” Kral ground out. Really, the man needed to relax more.
I drew an invisible line around Nani and me with my hands. “My island of neutrality, where Jepp’s word is law. She goes free in exchange for information.”
“One of these days, I’m going to kill you.” Kral sighed, sounding weary and not much like he meant it.
“You can try.” I shrugged it off. “Keep in mind which of us took a few ‘scratches’ from that battle versus who’s unscathed before you issue ultimatums you lack the skill to uphold.”
Nani’s keen gaze flicked back and forth between us. “Do you agree or not, General?” I didn’t want to say it where Nani could hear, but I’d make sure she went free regardless.
Of course he didn’t like it, but Kral grudgingly agreed. He even managed to back off and let me ask the questions once it became apparent that Nani spoke much more freely to me. She kept a wary eye on Kral and his men but showed me a level of trust I probably didn’t deserve. After all, had I met her in battle, I’d have likely stabbed her in the heart rather than clunking her on the head. Her good luck in a way, that the Dasnarians hesitated to kill women. Though I agreed with Nani that I’d rather have my throat cut than be locked up as some Dasnarian’s concubine for life.
Her people had been cut off from the rest ever since the barrier shifted—to right down the middle of their island. Nani normally lived on the main island near King Nakoa KauPo’s palace but had been home visiting family when the shift occurred. An enormous mudslide wiped out several villages, and a magical storm had caused all sorts of monsters to appear. Once the fury died down, the most magical beings disappeared as if they never were. The barrier, however, remained, which none could cross. Unfortunately, Nani’s husband and children were on the other side.
What a headache.
When the Hákyrling appeared, popping through the impenetrable and clearly hostile barrier, the island chief mustered all able-bodied warriors to attack. “We reasoned that the magical assault was sent to first wound and frighten us, for the Dasnarians to then follow to enslave us and take our treasure.”
Kral bristled at this. “Have we enslaved any of your people? Stolen any treasure? You impugn the honor of the Dasnarian Empire.”
“You leapt to the same assumption, as I recall,” I reminded him. “Isn’t that one of the charges you leveled at Her Majesty? In open court at Ordnung,” I added, “which I happened to hear.”
He threw me a look full of daggers, and I smiled sweetly in return. “I suggest we explain to Nani what occurred, so she can take the information back to her people.”
“You know more about it than I do,” Kral pointed out. “I know full well your High Queen did not reveal everything.”
Nor had she wanted Dafne to explain too much to King Nakoa KauPo, though I wasn’t certain exactly where those lines were drawn. Theoretically none of them would have told me, simple scout and bodyguard, anything too politically sensitive. I knew more than the average citizen, largely due to my network of scouts and—hey, call a pig a pig—gossipers.
“This is what happened,” I told Nani, keenly aware that Kral also listened intently. “I am from the Thirteen Kingdoms, many days’ sail from here. Once upon a time, we were Twelve Kingdoms, with the thirteenth behind a magical barrier that none could cross. It sealed them away from the world, with magic inside, and none outside. A great calamity occurred and the magic barrier moved.”
I congratulated myself on that wording, making it sound like we were taken by surprise, too—which was true—and that the barrier had moved as an act of nature—which was false, as the three sisters had somehow caused it to happen when Ursula essentially assassinated the High King. She hadn’t moved the barrier consciously, so the scuttlebutt speculated, but it had happened as a result of her actions and some great magic the three wove together. I didn’t pretend to understand it and didn’t want to. Leave me to the practical realm.
“Once the
barrier stabilized,” I told Nani, “all the magic on the outside died away again. Only people from certain . . . families can cross on their own. Others need help from friendly sorceresses.”
Hope, bright and daunting to me, lit up Nani’s face. “Then I can get back to my husband and children.”
Ugh. I hated to dash her hopes, but who knew if or when that would ever happen? Still, Her Majesty would feel compelled to deal with this. High Queen Ursula took responsibility for her people very seriously, whether her small troop of Hawks, the denizens of the Thirteen, or now all these islanders, so impacted and divided through her actions, however inadvertent. Once she met with King Nakoa KauPo and extracted Dafne, Her Majesty would be taking steps to right these wrongs.
Of course, I had no idea what she’d do. Being an ambassador required even more autonomy than even long-distance scouting, spying, and guerrilla fighting. Fortunately, I counted lying convincingly among my many skills.
“Yes, you will get back to them,” I told Nani, feeling like I might be making a promise I’d have to find a way to keep. “It’s all being sorted out. Have patience. Go back to your people and pass the word. Her Majesty High Queen Ursula will treat with King Nakoa KauPo and find a solution to serve everyone.” That sounded really good. At least if word came that Her Majesty had slaughtered Nakoa and his entire household to free Dafne, I wouldn’t be here to look into Nani’s desperately hopeful gaze.
“I will tell them,” she promised, then cast a cagey glance at Kral. “I may go now? What of the others?”
The Edge of the Blade Page 13