She collapsed into a heap.
Anthony blew his nose to clear it, and with eyes watering, he said, ‘Pepper?’
Nakor sneezed. ‘You can’t conjure if you’re sneezing. I knew if she expected some magic attack, she would neglect to protect herself from the obvious. She was always preoccupied with great things and neglected the common.’ He measured the distance, then hit her hard again with the bag. ‘She will be unconscious for a while.’
‘What did you hit her with?’
‘The bag of apples. Hurt, I bet.’
‘Do we leave her?’ asked Anthony.
‘We couldn’t kill her if we tried. If we cut off her head, it’ll just irritate her more. If she thinks we ran away, she’ll be upset, but she imagines her side has already won. She’ll have no reason to follow us unless she finds out we’ve stolen one of her ships.’
He looked around the room, handed the bag of apples to Anthony, and said, ‘If she stirs, hit her again.’
He ran into the other room, Dahakon’s study, then returned with a brown-stained knife.
‘I thought you said we couldn’t kill her,’ said Anthony.
‘We can’t. But we can inconvenience her.’ He went to where Dahakon sat and slashed the magician’s throat. A faint line of crimson appeared along the skin, but no blood flowed. He then used the knife to cut some cords from the curtains, which he used to bind Clovis hand and foot. Nakor threw the knife to the floor and said, ‘Let’s go. Calis and the others should be with the prisoners.’
They hurried from the chambers and Anthony said, ‘What did you do with Dahakon?’
‘If he breaks off his fight with Pug, he’ll have something to keep him busy. Preventing himself from bleeding to death will keep his mind off us for a while. I can’t count on his being as pragmatic about these things as Jorna – Clovis, I mean. He may come after us anyway.’
‘Where do you know her from?’
‘Back in Kesh, years ago.’
‘You were friends?’
‘She was my wife.’ He grinned. ‘Well, sort of. We lived together.’
Anthony flushed. ‘You lived with that murderess?’
Nakor grinned. ‘I was younger. She was very pretty, and very good in bed. I didn’t look for the same things in a woman when I was a young man that I look for now.’
Anthony said, ‘How did you recognize her?’
‘Some things about people don’t change. When you’ve gotten better at doing tricks, you’ll find you can see the true person, no matter what form they put on. It’s a very useful thing to know.’
‘I think if we live to tell of this, you should return to Stardock and teach some of those tricks.’
‘I might teach you some, then you can go back to Stardock. I don’t like that place.’
They reached the hall that led to the courtyard and found a dead servant lying on the floor. Nakor looked at him as they passed. ‘She was busy before she found us.’
Anthony turned his head away. The man was nude, and his body was shrunken, as if every drop of fluid had been sucked from his flesh. The stink of black magic filled the air, and Anthony found himself deeply disturbed at the rush of desire he had felt in the woman’s presence. His respect for Nakor’s ability to resist it doubled.
They approached the walled court where the prisoners were being held, when Nakor stopped. ‘Look,’ he whispered.
Two figures huddled in the darkness, barely seen from where Anthony stood. Nakor signaled and Anthony followed.
They moved quietly and crept up behind the hiding figures, and suddenly Anthony felt a rush of heat and a tingling in his body. ‘Margaret!’ he gasped, and the two figures leaped to their feet.
Margaret turned and her eyes opened wide. ‘Anthony?’ she asked, then in two steps she flew into his arms. Sobbing with relief, she said, ‘I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life.’
Abigail came to stand next to the young magician, and touched him on the arm, as if to see if he was real. ‘Where are the others?’
Nakor said, ‘They should be freeing the other prisoners. Come along.’
Anthony held Margaret tight, and was loath to let go of her. He forced himself to, and stepped away. ‘I’m pleased to see you’re safe.’
She looked at him with tears in her eyes. ‘Is that all you can say?’ She reached up, put her hand behind his head, and kissed him.
He stood motionless an instant, then embraced her again. When they parted, she said, ‘How could you touch me every day for months and think I’d not feel what you were feeling?’ Tears ran down her face. ‘I know you, Anthony. I know your heart and I love you, too.’
Nakor brushed a tear from his own eye, and said, ‘We must go.’
He took Abigail by the arm and guided her toward the enclosed courtyard. The sound of hammers on metal rang out, and when they entered the court, they saw the mercenaries hard at work breaking the shackles of the captives.
Abigail saw a familiar figure and cried, ‘Marcus!’ With a leap over two pallets, Marcus hurled himself at the girl. He swept her up in his arms and kissed her deeply. Then he put her down.
The normally taciturn Marcus said, ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’ He threw his arm around Margaret and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Or you.’
Nakor said, ‘Save your hellos for later. We have to move quickly. How long?’
Marcus said, ‘Another ten minutes. There were tools stored there’ – he pointed back to the door that opened into the hall surrounding the courtyard – ‘but there were only two chisels.’
‘How are the prisoners?’ asked Nakor.
At those words, Anthony’s character as a healer asserted itself; he reluctantly disengaged himself from Margaret and moved to look at the captives. After examining a pair of them, he said, ‘Get them to drink as much water as you can, but slowly. Make them sip. Then we have to get them to the boat.’
He moved among them until he came to the statue. A stange itch struck him like a force, and he called, ‘Nakor?’
The little man hurried over and looked at the statue. He circled it and was about to reach out to touch it, when Anthony said, ‘Don’t!’
Nakor hesitated, then nodded. Turning, Anthony shouted at the prisoners, ‘Did any of you touch this?’
A man nearby said, ‘No. The changelings did.’
‘Changelings?’ asked Nakor.
‘Those snake things.’ The man coughed. ‘They kept us chained up here with these walking snakes. They kept changing until they looked like us – those of us who didn’t die,’ he said bitterly. He seemed to be a young man, but his eyes were dark pits, and his face was now lined beyond his years. His hair was streaked with premature grey. ‘They all came and embraced that thing and uttered some sort of vow in their obscene language. Then each of them stuck its forearm with a long needle and rubbed it on the statue.’
‘Where did they take those of you who died?’ shouted Anthony, showing near panic in his face.
The man pointed to a door opposite the one Calis had used to enter the square. ‘Over there. They took them through there.’
Anthony hurried to the door, leaping over a pallet to reach it. He pulled on the handle, and found it locked. To Marcus he said, ‘Can you force this?’
Marcus hurried over with hammer and chisel and hacked at the lock plate. In a few minutes it fell away, and Anthony shoved past the burly mercenary. Marcus stepped back and covered his mouth. ‘Gods!’ he shouted, then turned his head and retched.
Anthony yelled, ‘Nakor, bring a light. Everyone else stay back.’
Nakor hurried, took a torch from one of the mercenaries, and joined Anthony. In the hollow of the wall, bodies lay, both human and the lizard creatures who had been their matches. The humans were grisly corpses, but it was the lizard creatures that captured Anthony’s attention.
They were bloated, blackened things, with cracked skin that oozed pus and blood. Lips were split and green, while eyes were blackened raisins in
their sockets. What could be made of their features showed they died in agony, and their hands were claws without nails, worn bloody trying to scrape their way through the stone wall. The effect was all the more horrifying in that some were totally alien in aspect while others showed various stages of humanity in their distorted features.
Anthony whispered, ‘Do you sense it?’
Nakor said, ‘I sense something. Something dark and evil.’
Anthony closed his eyes, and incanted. He waved his hands in the air, summoning magic to him, then suddenly his eyes opened, wide enough so that Nakor could see whites completely around the blue irises. ‘Get out,’ he whispered hoarsely.
Nakor hurried out of the hall, and Anthony came after. To Marcus and Calis he said, ‘Get everyone out of here, then burn this place.’ With an authority in his voice none of them had ever heard before, Anthony said, ‘Burn the other buildings: the outbuildings, the stables, the kitchens; burn the main house as we go through. Burn everything!’
Marcus called, ‘Get everyone out!’
The last prisoner was carried out of the square, and a torch was tossed on top of the decaying bodies. In another area of the hollow square, some lamp oil and rags were found and were tossed onto the fire. Marcus directed the mercenaries to light torches and start firing the other buildings. Within minutes they heard the loud whoosh as the dry hay in the abandoned stable began to burn. Then the kitchen and workers’ quarters were torched and men were sent to start fires in the outer apartments of the main house.
Returning from starting a fire in the room where Margaret and Abigail were kept, Calis asked, ‘What did you find in there, Anthony?’
‘Bodies,’ said Anthony.
Marcus said, ‘Anthony, what is it?’
Anthony halted a moment, while the mercenaries carried the prisoners into the large house, following Nakor, who was leading them to the tunnel. Whispering as tears of rage ran down his cheeks, Anthony said, ‘They’re sending a plague to the Kingdom, Marcus. They’re sending a magic sickness to make the worst illness you’ve heard of seem as nothing. We’ve got to stop them!’
Marcus’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, then, taking Abigail’s hand, he set off toward the main house of the estate, Anthony and Margaret behind him.
• CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO •
Ambush
HARRY POINTED.
‘What is it?’ asked Brisa.
‘Fire,’ answered Praji. ‘Big one, from the way it’s lighting the sky.’
They were in the lead boat heading for the burned-out farmhouse, where, if the gods were kind, they would find the prisoners waiting to be picked up. Harry felt cold sweat break out. ‘It’s going to get busy around here soon.’
Praji said, ‘No doubt about it. There will be soldiers coming to see what’s happening up there. If they start looking around down here, we’re going to have a fight.’
A boatman said something to Tuka, who said to Harry, ‘Sab, we head in now.’
Harry nodded and signaled to the boat behind. While he was hard to see in the darkness, each boat had a spotter at the bow and stern specifically to relay orders. The first boat nestled into the bank with a low grinding sound and the others followed suit, until all ten boats were secure.
Harry jumped from the bow and ran to the farmhouse. The cover of the well had been pushed aside, and a man was emerging with some difficulty. Harry grabbed him by the arm and helped him climb out. ‘Harry!’ came a low shout from the ruins of the farmhouse, and Calis emerged, waving him over. Harry gave the weak man some assistance and, when he reached the house, let him sit on the ground.
‘You just get here?’ asked Harry.
‘It’s taking longer than we thought,’ said Calis. ‘Marcus and the others are down below, helping the prisoners climb, but it’s slow. They’re weak, and some will have to be hauled up.’
Praji came over and Harry said, ‘Get some rope and rig a sling, then bring four strong men here to haul the weaker prisoners up through the well.’
Praji hurried off and Harry said, ‘It’s six of one or a half dozen of the other; we wait either here or out in the bay.’
Calis nodded. ‘Nicholas and Amos must be bearing down on that ship about now.’
‘I wish them luck.’ Harry glanced at the sky, where the second of Midkemia’s three moons was rising. The third would be up in another hour. ‘It’s going to be very bright out here soon.’ Three full moons were a rare event, and the term ‘three moons bright’ meant almost like day. ‘We’re not going to have much luck sneaking around tonight. What’s that fire?’ asked Harry.
‘Dire news, I fear,’ answered the half-elf. ‘Anthony says some dark plague was born there and only fire would destroy it. If we hadn’t burned Dahakon’s estate, he says everyone in this city would be dead within a month, two at the latest, and anyone leaving the city would carry it with them. He thinks this plague could kill half the people on this continent before it was through.’
‘Gods! That’s vile.’ Harry shook his head in disgust. Glancing at the distant fire, he said, ‘Well, we’re going to have some curious soldiers here before too long.’ He regarded the twenty or so sick-looking prisoners, recognizing one, a page who he had played football with. Kneeling, he asked, ‘Edward, how are you?’
‘Not good, Squire,’ he said, trying to smile bravely, ‘but I’ll bounce back now that we’re free.’ His face was drawn, and Harry could see he was sick in spirit as well as body. He had been a captive and witnessed horrors undreamed of in his young life before the raid. Release from chains did not free him from those memories.
Harry said, ‘I could use your assistance. Are you up to it?’ The page nodded, and Harry said, ‘Start helping these others to the boats. Start at the one farthest back, that’s a good lad.’
The boy got to his feet and went to aid another prisoner, a young girl who stared into space with vacant eyes. The page said, ‘Up, all of you; you heard the Squire. We’ve got to get to the boats. We’re going home.’ The last was said as a half-sob, but it did the trick.
The other prisoners got to their feet and began to stagger toward the waiting boats. Another figure came out of the well, and Harry ran to direct him toward the boat.
Calling down the well, Harry shouted, ‘We’re here with the boats! Can you hurry them?’
Marcus’s voice echoed back up from the darkness below. ‘We’ll try, but they’re weak.’
‘We’re rigging a sling and we’ll pull up those that can’t climb.’
‘Good.’
Time dragged as the weakened prisoners made their way slowly up the ladder. When Praji, Vaja, and two others arrived with the rope sling, it was lowered down the well and the prisoners unable to climb were pulled up.
Harry went to the boats and told Tuka, ‘When I give the word, you push off with the boats already full and get into the harbor. Move toward the mouth of the bay and wait for Nicholas.’
The little man asked, ‘What about going upriver, Sab?’
‘After, my friend, after.’ Almost absently he said, ‘We have one more stop to make.’
They both stood there silently for a while, watching the distant estate of Dahakon the magician, the Grand Adviser of the Overlord, burn in a stunning display.
‘What’s that?’ asked Amos.
Nicholas said, ‘Looks like a fire on the other side of the bay.’
Amos said, ‘I hope that’s not bad news for our friends.’
Nicholas said, ‘Let’s not worry about that. Look!’
Amos saw where Nicholas was pointing and said loudly, All hands! Make ready to come about!’
The begala was a pleasure boat, belonging to a merchant who used it for both business and recreation. It could comfortably carry seven or eight passengers in the three small cabins, and there was room for a reasonable cargo below. In close to the wind, it was slow, but in a following wind it raced. And Amos was turning it to move fast enough to come alongside the second ship leaving the harbo
r.
The first had come into view a moment earlier, the copy of the Royal Gull. Now the facsimile of the Royal Eagle hove into view, and Amos turned his boat to bring it into line. He had calculated how a knowledgeable captain would bring a ship out of that harbor, keeping tight to the wind to drive along the potentially deadly rocks of the headlands that became a long peninsula providing the eastern boundary of the sheltering harbor. While the bright moons were proving a handicap for Harry’s desire for stealth, they were a boon to Amos.
The crew leaped to their jobs. They were unfamiliar with this ship, but they were all experienced sailors and had spent every moment since coming aboard familiarizing themselves with the rigging and tackle. The two guards who were taken when Nicholas and his party climbed aboard were tied up below, unhurt, but thoroughly terrified.
The begala sprang out like a predator. Ghuda stood by the bow with a rope and grappling hook ready, while three other men stood nearby. In total, a dozen of Nicholas’s thirty men were ready to pull the two ships together while the others swarmed aboard. Nicholas prayed that surprise would help them overcome resistance before the crew of the target ship could rally. They had no idea what the complement would be, but Amos judged no fewer than thirty seamen and whatever complement of guards and bogus prisoners they had put aboard.
A warning shout came from above as one of the lookouts cried out at the unexpected sight of the ship pulling alongside. An archer on the bow silenced him as Ghuda swung his rope and released. Instantly the others with ropes followed his example, and a half-dozen men in the rigging of the begala leaped across to the higher deck, swords and knives drawn as they looked for opponents. Nicholas climbed a ratline, then jumped across four feet of air above water to grab the rail of the other ship.
He was over and ready when a sailor came at him with a cutlass. Nicholas killed the black-clad seaman before he could strike. Around him the sound of battle rang through the darkness and faintly he could hear what sounded like an inquiring shout from the first ship.
Nicholas trusted everyone to do his job, and he rushed to the entrance to the rear cabin. If there were any Pantathians or their more powerful minions aboard, this was where they would be. He kicked in the door of the captain’s cabin and heard the ‘thunk’ of a crossbow bolt embedding itself into the wood of the doorframe. The captain calmly laid down the crossbow and pulled out a sword. ‘Surrender your ship!’ commanded Nicholas, but the captain said nothing as he came around from behind his desk.
Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer Page 92