“So you are saying that there is really a Dios and a She’al, and the others too?”
“Yes. It is true. I have not met her myself, but know those who have gone to her. Among our people if someone shows a talent, or a special feeling of the nature around them they go to her to be judged. If they are found worthy they are taught. If not, then they are sent away. Most who go come back as healers.”
“Wait, you said Nortia. Is that the goddess of the North?”
“Shhh,” Miko hushed him, looking towards the crew. “The Northmen are even more protective when it comes to religion than we are. Well, maybe not more, but they tend to deal with such situations more violently.”
Coran couldn’t disagree with that. “So you know about the other gods?”
“Some. We know of Nortia, Dios, She’al, and Sha’elt.” Miko cringed at the last name. “Then of course there is the Destroyer.”
Coran tried to readjust his whole philosophical thinking. Miko was a practical man. He was a Karand, true, but Coran had learned to rely on his judgment over the course of their journey. And there was the fact that so many others he knew seemed to believe, people he had grown up with.
He tried to think of another question when they were interrupted by a call from one of the crew. “Ship Ahead!” Everyone turned to see the ship appearing over the horizon directly in their path. As it came closer the shape of the sails could be made out more clearly.
“Karandi” Miko identified the vessel. “Eastern I think. That means a fight.”
Coran had to agree. He never met a Northerner who would willingly turn down a fight. “You should go below. And make sure Shirri stays there as well.”
The trader nodded. “Are you not coming too?”
“Not yet.” He didn’t really think he would be of much use, not in fighting on a rolling deck. The thing was, he was curious. He had heard stories of Northern ships in battle but had never seen one. That and the thought of hiding below decks was not a part of him. Miko scurried away, trying not to bump into anyone.
The enemy vessel grew in his vision as they came nearer. The crew watched with a growing anticipation. “They’re turning!” the lookout announced from where he stood watch high up on the mast.
“They are trying to get away,” one of the crew commented, it was followed by coarse laughter.
Coran would have laughed, himself, under different circumstances. The sleek Northern ship cut through the waves like a knife. The lumbering Karandi ship didn’t have a chance. Captain Dwynnel turned the ship to match the other’s course. They were only a few hundred yards away.
“Man the starboard rail!” the Captain bellowed. Men ran to the rail hefting large, round wooden shields in one hand and iron hooks attached to ropes in the other. The distance was now two hundred yards and they were almost perpendicular to the enemy, and pulling up fast.
“Water down the deck!” More men ran to the opposite rail. Buckets were lowered to the sea and brought back up. The contents were poured out to cover the deck as an added protection against fire. Now the distance was down to a hundred and fifty, and they matched the other ship for speed as the two vessels angled towards each other. A few hasty bow shots arced towards them from the Karandi, only one made it to the ship, impacting on a hastily raised shield. “Archers ready!” Men with bows moved forward to stand behind the protective shields. Arrows were notched and held up to be lighted by a passing torch. They turned towards the Karandi and aimed high. At a hundred yards the Captain called again. “Loose!” The flaming shafts found their targets and the other ship began to smoke and burn in several places. Figures could be seen on the opposing ship running, trying desperately to put out the flames. A return volley of fire hit the raised shields, a few got past only to be dampened by the water soaked deck.
The ships closed to a distance of a dozen feet and the men along the rails spun the hooks in an arc, then sent them over the other ship’s railing. They pulled hard, the hooks dug in and the ships were pulled even closer together. “Ready to board!” Dwynnel called, and the crew shouted avidly with weapons in their hands. Broad-headed axes and heavy swords were readied for the next phase of the battle.
Coran crouched low in the prow as he watched. By the faces of the crew he could tell they were eager at the prospect of a fight. The two ships lurched as they collided, Coran held tightly to the rail to keep him from being tossed to the deck. This wasn’t his fight.
The Northmen swarmed over the other ship like locusts. Shields now rendered useless by the number of arrows stuck in them, were thrown on top of the defenders and followed by rising and falling axes. The Karands were helpless against the shear ferocity of their attackers. Coran could feel his blood rushing, and the desire to join in the conflict was unbearable. He realized that it had to be his Northern blood at work.
If the fight had lasted any longer he didn’t think he could have contained himself, but the fight proved a short one. The fires started on the other deck had been mostly put out before the boarding and Northmen swept through the ship looking for booty, and any survivors. The wounded Northerners were carried back to their ship. They were tended to by their comrades and by a sick looking Shirri. Coran had missed seeing her come up on deck. He watched her place her hands over a man’s leg where he had taken a deep slash. When she removed them the wound was only a thin red line.
Coran’s eyebrows rose. So she was a healer, and one of some talent to make such a wound almost whole again. Some of the crew gave her more respectful looks than they had before. Healers were held in a higher esteem than others.
Several barrels were found on the other vessel and hauled aboard along with any food and valuables. Even the dead were searched thoroughly for coins. When everyone was back aboard they removed their grappling hooks and set fire to the Karandi ship. It was left to drift away as a fiery tomb. No one was left alive among the Karands. None had been spared. Northmen didn’t take prisoners.
Shirri helped as many of the wounded as she could, stumbling from one patient to the next. He knew that healing took a lot of effort, but had had few chances to see so much done at one time. Finally, unable to stand any longer, she collapsed. Someone caught her before she hit the deck and carried her to the Captain, who ordered her taken to his cabin. It was the measure of respect he felt for a person who tried to help his crew that he would give up his own quarters. Coran felt exhausted himself and he had just watched. The sailors were in good spirits as they passed bottles between them. Wine or something similar he assumed. They seemed happy to have it over, that they had won. After the eagerness he saw in the beginning of the battle, and the almost savage way they fought during, they acted like anyone else after. Maybe there was more to the warriors of the North than he had first thought. Maybe they were more complex than the belligerent savages he had heard them called.
Coran turned away to watch the pillar of black smoke that marked the Karand’s tomb rise into the air. A battle had been fought and men had died, yet the sun still shined as it had before, and the air still smelled of salt.
The Captain wished them luck and thanked Shirri fervently before the longboat was lowered and they were chauffeured to the pebble strewn beach. After being let off, the boat returned to the waiting ship. They watched as the Northmen sailed back to the southeast. Coran took a look at their surroundings. According to the Captain they were about two leagues south of Crecy. The landscape was what he remembered. Hills and gullies of dull, brown rock and sparse vegetation. He had to wonder why anyone wanted to fight over such an uninviting place. When he commented on that, Shirri assured him that the land changed about a day’s travel inland, it was greener there and the soil richer.
The healer, now revealed for who she was, wore pants and a shirt of brown cloth that had been provided by Terk. A robe of a lighter brown hung from her shoulders. Her dark brown hair blew fitfully in the wind.
Miko still wore the browns in which he had begun the journey. A beard had begun to appear on his dark f
ace. He had regained some of his portliness at the expense of the Northmen’s coffers. Miko had become a more serious man the further they got from Arencia, but after several days of good eating his mood had lightened a bit.
Coran was still dressed as an Anagassi, except for the head wrap which was lost in the harbor at Lornth. He had acquired a replacement on board the ship, but it was not the sandy white that the Anagassi usually wore. He had yet to put it on. Having something constantly across your face got annoying after a while. There had been only one opportunity to wash his outfit in all their travels, so he probably fit right in with some of the locals. He noticed how some men, especially when they lived outside a city, regularly forgot to bathe. The Northmen never commented on the smell, which did not say much for them.
The three of them looked at each other with the unspoken question of what they should do now.
“The road is only a mile to the west,” Shirri suggested. “If my brother is around he will be watching the road.”
Coran and Miko exchanged shrugs. It sounded good to them, so they started out for the road. It wasn’t long before Coran donned the head wrapping, making sure that his face was adequately covered. He had almost forgotten how the dust got into everything.
The road was no more than a traveled patch of dirt and rocks about six feet wide that stretched away to the north and south amid the barren hillsides. There was no sign of anyone nearby.
“Do you remember where that camp of Ruan’s was?” Coran asked Miko.
Miko shook his head. “I cannot be sure where we are exactly.”
“I know where it is,” Shirri announced. “There are many places people go in these hills and I have been to them all.”
They followed her up a steep-sided hill, away from the road. The sky was clear and the sun still hot as they went down the other side and followed the narrow valley until it was crossed by a steep-sided gully. She led them into the almost tunnel-like passage that he remembered. It was much cooler with the rocks around them to block the sun’s rays. The passage eventually widened into a circular area surrounded by steep cliffs on every side. Coran remembered it clearly. There were more campfires scattered around than last time, with dozens of people. From old men to boys, and young girls to gray haired women they watched the newcomers arrive. One of the women, with gray in her hair and wrinkles on her darkened face, rose and came to stand before Shirri.
“Shirri, you have been returned to us. Praise the Creator and thanks to She’al.” She beamed at the younger woman. “I am glad to have my student returned to me.”
“Thank you, Neheya, but your thanks should go to these men as well.” She stepped aside so Neheya could look them over.
She studied them with shrewd eyes, taking in Coran’s face and the Anagassi robes with a raised eyebrow. Miko she dismissed after a single glance. It was Coran she was interested in.
Miko ducked his head to the woman. “I am Miko. A simple trader from Arencia. It is an honor to meet you.”
“Not so simple I think,” Neheya replied not unkindly. She looked to Coran and spoke before he could announce himself. “You would be Coran Tyelin. From Ruan’s description I would have expected you to be taller. Fortunately, I have a more accurate one from Soelidin.” She noted the slight surprise on his face. “Yes, he was through here two days ago. On his way south. He had some interesting things to say about you.”
“What things?” he had to ask even if it did sound rude.
“I need to speak with Shirri if you do not mind, and Ruan should be here soon,” she told them, ignoring his question as she led Shirri towards a piece of canvas held up by some crooked branches that served as a tent.
“I guess we are on our own for the time being,” Miko announced. He looked around for a clear spot of earth. “Do you want to start the fire or should I do it?”
The windows shattered outward, taking most of the wall and the balcony beyond, in the fire that burst from Elthzidor’s hands. Z’Arize was white faced and trembling beside him. Elthzidor had to calm himself enough to speak. “How did this happen!?”
“S...sorry, m..my lord,” Z’Arize stumbled over the words in his fear.
“I do not want apologies! Tell me how you let this happen.”
Z’Arize wiped the sweat from his face. “It was the Northmen. They snuck into the city, murdered the mage on watch on the bluff, and set fire to the fleet.” He said it all in a rush as if he was afraid it wouldn’t come out if he stopped to think about it. “I saw one of them here, in this room. He wore the clothes of an Anagassi.”
Elthzidor grabbed the man by the throat with his long, thin fingers. “In here!? Did he find anything?”
“The...the map,” Z’Arize replied hoarsely. He struggled to breathe as his throat was slowly being squeezed. Elthzidor let him fall to the carpeted floor. “So someone knows our plans. It will not do them as much good as they think.” He would have to send the forces here north to join the others massed at Sha’Tor. It could still work. All he had to do was delay a few of his plans for a while. Should he wait for spring or attack in the winter? The Karands would be incapacitated by the snow. It would take some thought. Right now he had to deal out his punishment.
The Ra Majin of Makkura turned his head until his angry gaze fell on the Karand who was rubbing his neck while sitting on the floor. Z’Arize started to tremble under that indomitable stare. “I told you when I sent you here that if anything went wrong I would have your hide.” He pulled out a long, thin knife from behind his black leather belt and held it up between them. The light spilling into the room through the jagged opening in the side of the building glinted off the polished metal. “Time for the skinning.”
Z’Arize fainted.
Elthzidor looked at the unconscious form of Z’Arize with disgust. Then he turned to the other people in the room. The tall Haltherin stood less arrogantly than usual. He knows that he could be held responsible for what happened as well. The lack of a right arm protruding from his cloak was testimony to his mistake. Still, Elthzidor was curious as to how a man managed to take off his arm when he shouldn’t have been able to move.
Haltherin had always had a strong ability to control the winds and was better than anyone when it came to binding a person with them. For once he had failed.
The other person present was the beautiful, and extremely resourceful, Selisk. She had a cruel streak that Elthzidor found delicious. She had already given her opinion on Haltherin’s conduct, and what his punishment should be. Elthzidor was tempted to agree with her, except for the fact that he needed every one of the Maji alive, for now. Elthzidor pointed one of his fingers at Haltherin’s face. “You will deal with the situation here. Z’Arize is to be skinned alive.”
“Yes, Ra Majin,” Haltherin agreed quickly. “And the townspeople? They had to have helped.”
Yes, they must have, at least some of them. The wizard on the bluff was taken by surprise. He had only been one of the lesser Maji, and not very talented, but still competent enough to defend the harbor. Someone had to have helped.
“I will be sending most of the forces here north. The rest you will use to evict the population of Lornth. I want one out of every ten taken aside and executed for treason. Then destroy the town.”
“Yes, Ra Majin.”
“And Haltherin,” Elthzidor said dangerously, “do not fail me again.”
The large Maji swallowed hard. “Yes, Ra Majin.”
The Ra Majin motioned for everyone to leave him, including the still form of Z’Arize. The administrator was going to have a bad time of it whenever he woke up.
Selisk hesitated at the door. “Is there anything you want me to do?”
“No Selisk. I thank you for your attentiveness,” he replied mockingly. The woman inclined her head, then left.
Elthzidor, now alone, pushed back the side of his robe and caressed the hilt of the sword at his hip. He could feel the unusual power contained in it. His Master spent a great deal of time working with hi
m to increase his powers and to prepare him for taking up the sword. Now that he had it, he found that he could do things that he never thought possible before. He gazed out of the gaping hole he had created in the side of the building. Thinking of the bluff that overlooked the harbor and the sea, he concentrated hard on the spot and the intervening space. Everything seemed to shift, or become hazy, it was difficult to describe since it happened in a fraction of a second. One second he was in the administrator’s ruined office, the next he was on the bluff.
Elthzidor took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It was a difficult thing to do, transporting himself from one place to another. He found that it did grow easier the more he practiced, and that it was also easier when he knew the place well, or when the distances involved were not great. It was a power he kept secret even from the other Maji. An advantage only stayed an advantage when no one else knew about it.
It was after dark when Shirri came over to join them by their fire. A very happy Ruan accompanied her. The young man still wore his worn clothing, and his cloak had several holes in it. His face still held that youthful enthusiasm too.
Fire And Ice (Book 1) Page 32