The Saints Of The Sword (Tyrants & Kings)

by John Marco

  He was about to help with the mainmast when he noticed Laney limping toward him. His first officer wore a serious expression as he leaned on his cane, carefully avoiding the pits in the deck. Kasrin tried not to stare. The shark had done a thorough job on Laney. The scar around his thigh would last forever. But Laney was one of the lucky ones. He had only lost a chunk of one leg. Many had lost both legs, or had been bitten in half around the stomach. Kasrin gave Laney a smile, first going to help him but then stopping short. Laney needed to walk on his own. The officer joined Kasrin amidships, staring up at the teetering mast. ‘You look worried. Don’t be. These Lissens know what they’re doing.’

  ‘Yes. They’re so meticulous, I’m sure we’ll be able to set sail by the autumn.’

  ‘I’ve been going over the drawings for the stern. Thorp and his people are going to start on it tomorrow. He told me Jelena has ordered more carpenters in from the other islands. He thinks they’ll have it done on time.’

  ‘He thinks.’ Kasrin frowned. Thorp was Jelena’s chief shipwright, a good and talented man, but not the quickest fish in the lake. ‘How reassuring.’

  ‘Blair, we’re doing the best we can.’

  ‘I know. I also know that it’s not going to be enough. The first day of summer is almost here, Laney. We have to set sail in two weeks if we’re going to make it to Talistan on time. And look at this wreck.’ Kasrin gestured to the chaos around them. ‘There’s not enough time.’

  ‘We’ll make it,’ said Laney. ‘Jelena’s ordered more help. Thorp says the sail makers have been making good progress.’

  ‘And once the sails are ready we have to get them on the yards. Oh, but I forgot! There aren’t any yards!’

  Laney sighed. ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re this way. It’s getting late. Why don’t you get some sleep?’

  ‘Because there’s work to do.’

  ‘You’re no help to anyone like this,’ said Laney. ‘Look at you – you can hardly even stand. Go get some rest. I’ll look after things. In the morning we’ll have the mainmast up and you’ll feel better.’

  But Kasrin wouldn’t go. ‘Really, I’m not tired. I won’t be able to catch a wink until this mast is up.’ He studied the mast. The Lissens were standing around it, rubbing their chins. ‘From the looks of it, it’s going to be a long night.’

  ‘Then let’s get some food at least. I’m starving, and I know you must be, too.’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  Laney poked Kasrin with his cane. ‘Hey, look at me . . .’

  Kasrin glanced at his friend. ‘What?’

  ‘Something’s bothering you. You’ve never shut me out like this before.’

  ‘Bothering me? What could possibly be bothering me?’

  ‘I think I know.’

  ‘Of course. Look at my ship!’

  ‘That’s not it.’ Laney smiled gently and spoke a name Kasrin hoped never to hear again. ‘Nicabar.’

  Kasrin turned away and stared out over Karalon, pretending the swampy island interested him.

  ‘That’s what’s bothering you, I can tell,’ said Laney. ‘You haven’t even mentioned him since he died.’

  ‘Haven’t I?’ replied Kasrin. He began walking away, toward the railing. To his dismay he heard Laney’s cane thumping in pursuit.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘Talk about what? Nicabar’s dead. I killed him. That’s what we came here to do, isn’t it?’

  Before Kasrin could reach the railing, Laney moved in front of him, holding up his cane.

  ‘Don’t make me use this,’ he kidded. ‘I will if you don’t talk to me.’

  ‘Laney,’ Kasrin said, ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. Nicabar’s dead.’

  ‘Yes.’ Laney looked at him sharply.

  ‘And I killed him,’ Kasrin whispered. He heard his voice begin to quaver. ‘My God, I killed him . . .’

  Laney lowered his cane and put a consoling arm around his captain. Neither of them expected Kasrin to weep, and in fact there were no tears in him for Nicabar. There was only a vast guilt and a confusing sense of emptiness.

  ‘He was mad,’ Kasrin said. ‘I know he was. But . . .’

  He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. But what? He had rid the world of a menace. To Jelena and the other Lissens, he was a hero. But there was something like patricide in what he’d done, and Nicabar’s face had joined the others in his nightmares, taunting him. He knew he would never be free of those sapphire eyes.

  ‘He trusted me,’ said Kasrin wearily. ‘He didn’t kill me or take away my commission, because he always wanted me to come back, like some kind of son. And this is how I repaid him.’

  Laney guided him to the ship’s railing and leaned him against it so that Kasrin’s back was to Karalon. The Sovereign’s captain had a perfect view of his ruined ship – the ship Nicabar had given him and had even named personally. That had been the proudest day of Kasrin’s life.

  ‘It had to be done,’ said Laney. ‘Nicabar was insane. You knew that.’

  Kasrin nodded.

  ‘There was just too much at stake. He would have kept going after Liss. He might have even killed Jelena someday. Have you thought about that?’

  ‘I’ve thought about nothing else,’ said Kasrin honestly. Besides Nicabar, Jelena had been another face in his mind’s eye. ‘I know that Nicabar was mad,’ he continued. ‘I know what a threat he was to Liss, and to Biagio’s plans. But he was special to me, Laney. I can’t explain it, but I can’t seem to forgive myself, either.’

  ‘Try,’ urged Laney. ‘And you have to stop taking it out on the rest of us. We’re all working as hard as we can.’

  Kasrin nodded. ‘I know that.’

  Laney gave him a playful jab with the cane. ‘You look terrible. Get some sleep.’

  ‘No. I’ve got to start pitching the hull repairs.’

  ‘Blair . . .’

  ‘Please, Laney, don’t argue with me. There’s too much to do.’

  ‘I’m not arguing with you,’ said Laney. He pointed over the railing. ‘Look.’

  Kasrin looked out over the island and saw a figure walking toward the Sovereign, alone. His heart leapt at the sight.

  ‘Jelena.’

  Laney gave him a mischievous grin. ‘I wonder what she wants. Could it be she’s come to see the heroic Kasrin?’

  Kasrin ran his fingers through his hair. He had hardly seen the queen at all since reaching Karalon, and was beginning to think she was shunning him. He watched her from the deck, admiring her golden hair and scarlet dress, and when she was in range he waved down to her. Jelena beamed back.

  ‘God, she’s beautiful,’ said Laney. He nudged Kasrin with his cane. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Liar.’

  Jelena paused at the edge of the shore. She looked around at all the activity, nodding in satisfaction, and for a moment Kasrin wondered if that was all she had come for – a cursory inspection. His mood sank a notch.

  ‘Well?’ pressed Laney. ‘Go down and greet her.’

  Kasrin looked at his shirt, stained with pitch and perspiration. It was hardly the garb in which to greet a queen, but he supposed Jelena wouldn’t mind. She had seen him looking far worse. He strode for the nearest ladder and slid down the Sovereign’s hull, splashing into the boggy ground and letting water fill his boots. Jelena was on the shore, waiting for him. Several of her Lissen compatriots had come to offer assistance, but she shooed them away.

  She wants to see me, thought Kasrin happily.

  ‘Good evening,’ he called as he climbed the soggy ledge. The noise of hammers sounded behind him, but he knew that not everybody aboard the Sovereign was working. He could almost feel Laney’s eyes on his back. ‘What brings you out here, my lady? No trouble, I hope.’

  Jelena waited until he was standing in front of her before replying. ‘No trouble. I just wanted to see how things were going with the repairs.’

 
‘Oh,’ said Kasrin. ‘The repairs.’

  The queen smiled. ‘And with you. It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken. I’ve been expecting you to come to see me, but all I get is reports from Laney. I was worried about you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my lady,’ said Kasrin. ‘I’ve been busy. But I’m glad you’re here. I want to thank you for all the help you’ve given us. Your people have been a godsend. They work hard and they know what they’re doing. We’d be doomed without them.’

  ‘A promise is a promise,’ said Jelena. ‘I told you we would rebuild her. And help will be coming tomorrow. I’ve sent word to Haran Island. The barges will bring more timbers and supplies.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard,’ said Kasrin. ‘I’m very grateful.’ He looked her over. ‘You look very nice. Is there some occasion?’

  ‘No occasion. I am still queen, remember. I can’t always go around looking like a rat.’

  Kasrin laughed. ‘You mean like me?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Kasrin. ‘I know what a sight I must be. I haven’t had a proper bath in a week, or even a good night’s sleep. I could use both desperately.’ Then he sighed, looking back over his ship. ‘But there’s so much bloody work to do. Even with fresh help, I don’t think we’re going to make it. We still have so many repairs. And we can’t even get the new mast—’

  He felt Jelena touch his hand. He looked at her.

  ‘Enough,’ she said. ‘No more work for you tonight. You must rest.’

  ‘Rest? Now you sound like Laney.’

  ‘He’s told me how hard you’ve been pushing yourself. It won’t do, Captain. You need sleep, and a good meal for once. I’m here to see that you get both.’ Jelena held out her hand for him. ‘Ready?’

  Without hesitation, Kasrin took the queen’s hand. It was so small it seemed to disappear in his own. Now that he was closer he could smell perfume. Oddly, he remembered Meleda back in the fishing village’s brothel. Meleda wasn’t anything like Jelena.

  ‘Come,’ bade Jelena, leading him away. Kasrin stole a glance over his shoulder and noticed Laney grinning at him. His friend raised his cane victoriously. Kasrin didn’t say a word as Jelena led the way, far from the Dread Sovereign and toward a bank of buildings that looked as though they’d been hastily constructed. These were the barracks where, according to Jelena, the Lissen ‘army’ had trained for the invasion of Crote. Now the barracks still housed Lissens, but they weren’t soldiers. They were sailors and craftsmen and all manner of shipbuilders who had come to work on the damaged Sovereign. Among them still remained a sprinkling of young soldiers, but most of these stayed out of sight and tended to the day-today needs of Karalon. Kasrin and the remains of his crew had a barracks to themselves. Jelena and her attendants slept in a structure at the other end of a parade ground that had long ago gone to seed. As he walked toward the dilapidated buildings, punctuated by a flagstaff flying a forlorn Lissen banner, Kasrin realized that he hadn’t given Karalon much consideration. He’d been so busy working on his ship that he had neglected his new home. It occurred to him that this abandoned island had lured Nicabar into their trap, in the bloodthirsty hope of slaughtering young Lissens.

  He stopped walking.

  They were on the edge of the parade ground, still a good distance from the barracks and other structures. He let his hand slip out of Jelena’s. It was very quiet. The noise from the workers had fallen off behind them. In the west the sun was going down, lighting the sky with a violet afterglow.

  ‘He was a monster,’ Kasrin whispered. Suddenly his imagination filled the parade ground with young Lissens, their faces golden and earnest. He imagined them drilling with weapons and marching in formation. And he remembered how Nicabar’s eyes had widened at the thought of murdering them.

  ‘Kasrin?’ Jelena cocked her head, regarding him strangely. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Just thinking,’ replied Kasrin absently. He began walking in a slow circle, looking all around the deserted grounds. ‘This is where they trained, right? For the strike on Crote, I mean?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How many men were there?’

  ‘Men and women,’ corrected the queen. Then she shrugged, saying, ‘Or boys and girls. I don’t really remember how many. Hundreds.’

  ‘Hundreds,’ echoed Kasrin in a whisper. He could picture them all. They were young, just like Jelena – and Nicabar had wanted to kill them. Very slowly, he felt the guilt easing. ‘Were they afraid? They must have been.’

  ‘They were afraid,’ replied Jelena. For some reason, she seemed uncomfortable with his questions. ‘But they had Lord Jackal for support.’

  ‘Lord Jackal? Is that what they called Vantran?’

  ‘The Jackal of Nar is a hero here, Captain. Those who came to Karalon to serve with him did so voluntarily. It was their honor.’

  ‘Back in Nar, they don’t think of Vantran as a hero, believe me.’

  ‘I believe you,’ said Jelena. ‘But here in Liss, Richius Vantran is revered. He defied your emperor, Arkus. He fought the Narens, just as we do. And he led us to victory on Crote. If you’re going to speak against him, please do it when I am elsewhere.’

  Once again, Kasrin heard the unmistakable affection in her voice. What were her feelings for Vantran? he wondered.

  ‘You speak fondly of him,’ he said. ‘He was special to you?’

  ‘Of course. As I said, he is a hero to us.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I mean.’ Kasrin slid a little closer to her. ‘I’m asking if he was special to you.’

  The Lissen queen colored, and her gaze dropped to the ground. ‘I thought he was,’ she answered softly. ‘But I was very young.’

  ‘You’re still young.’

  ‘Younger, then. I hadn’t been queen very long at the time, and Richius was a young king. I wanted him to teach me things. I . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I admired him.’

  Kasrin tried to hide his jealousy. Admired. What a horribly safe word to use.

  ‘Vantran is a Naren,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you admired a Naren.’

  ‘He was different,’ said Jelena. ‘He wasn’t like other Narens at all.’

  ‘Different?’ Kasrin moved another inch closer. Not so long ago, Jelena had used the same word about him. And Jelena seemed to recall her statement, too. Her breath caught in her throat, making her lips tremble. They looked at each other. When she spoke, her voice was as soft as a rose petal.

  ‘I came because I wanted to see you,’ she confessed. ‘I waited for you to come to me, but you never did.’

  Kasrin closed the distance between them so that their bodies nearly touched. ‘I’m no hero,’ he said softly, ‘but I am Naren.’ He brought up a hand, slowly, and touched her cheek. Jelena froze.

  ‘Kasrin . . .’

  ‘Blair,’ he said softly. ‘That’s my name.’

  ‘Not here. Others may see us.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Kasrin. ‘You took my hand, remember? My crew already saw you.’ Carefully, he slid his hand down and took hers again, giving it a squeeze. ‘You can’t hate all Narens, Jelena. I know that now.’

  Jelena did not pull away. ‘Not all . . . Blair.’

  Kasrin was entranced with her. He had been since the moment he’d seen her glide across that Crotan beach. Eyes of a little girl set with a Naren lord’s ferocity. Jelena didn’t need the Jackal to make her strong. She didn’t need anyone.

  ‘Tell me truly,’ he said, ‘before I make a fool of myself. I’m not seeing hatred in your eyes, am I?’

  ‘No,’ replied the queen.

  ‘Affection, then? Something to start with?’

  This question was more difficult for her, and she moved away from him, turning and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. There was no breeze to chill her, yet she seemed to shiver.

  ‘When I saw the Dread Sovereign from the canyon, I thought you were dead. I ran down the slope, desperate to find you. I was more a
fraid for you than for myself, or for any of my people.’

  Kasrin drifted closer, standing behind her. ‘When you pulled me ashore, and I looked into your face . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ she asked.