ELEVEN
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I tore my eyes away from the steadily approaching land in the distance to frown at Krillos. Looking back, squinting past the frothing whitecaps and the jutting jagged rocks that lined the shore, I stared at the dark soup of clouds hanging low over the tangle of green. “It’s a swamp.”
“It’s your new home.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to go?”
“Does anyone?”
“No, and that’s the point. The Northern Border Lands are a foul mess of mud and bugs and rot. No one claims it. No one goes there. It’s the last place anyone would look for us.” Krillos studied me a moment. “But you hate it for other reasons. Or hasn’t what happened there come back to you?”
I put my back against the rail. Wind ripped at the edges of my braid. “The swamp is where this all began. It’s where I met my father. Where I fell into his trap—his first trap. It’s where I started using magic again. And it smells. Really smells.”
“You get used to it. Until then, hold your breath.” Krillos slapped me on the shoulder. He turned some, barked out an order, and I watched the crew scramble. I wasn’t sure what they were doing, but I didn’t think the ship could get much closer to the shore. We were already navigating through rocks too tight to fit my fist between. It was going to take a miracle for us to make it through unscathed.
Or magic. “You need an elemental,” I said. ‘To map the water for you.”
“That’s cheating, Shinree. And not in the least bit fun.” Abruptly, Krillos roared, “HEY! Ballard! What the hell are you doing? Do you want to get us all killed? Get back to your post, you useless, lazy pig!”
My ear ringing, I moved over a step. “To be frank, Captain, I feel like the useless one. Your men work night and day. All I do is stand around.”
“That may be.” A slow grin grew on his scarred face. “But you couldn’t stand at all when you got here, eh? So there’s some progress.” Something inappropriate caught his eye, and Krillos’ budding amusement died with a flurry of Langorian curses that flew from his mouth in loud, angry succession. I was glad they weren’t aimed at me. “The fool’s going to run us aground,” he muttered, stepping away. Krillos looked back as he trotted up the stairs to the quarterdeck. “Keep an eye on her, Troy. She isn’t as skilled at standing as you are.”
I stared after him, confused, until I saw Kit emerging from below deck. Wind blowing up the skirt of her brown dress, her struggle to hold the fabric down, while traversing the unsteady deck, made her teeter like she’d had a bit too much to drink.
I waved at her. “You sure you want to be up here?”
“I heard we were close to land.” Coming up to the rail, Kit raked the hair out of her face and gave me a secret smile. “I’m a tad anxious for solid ground.”
Without warning the ship rolled hard to the right. Kit stumbled and fell into me.
“Gotcha.” I put an arm around her waist and set her back on her feet.
“Thank you. You’d think I would retain some sense of balance after sheltering half a pirate’s soul.” She looked me up and down. “I heard you were seasick.”
“Not for a couple of days.” I leaned down and lowered my voice. “Let me know if you see the cook. He keeps shoving food at me, and I’m still trying to take it slow.”
“I’ll do my best to hide you,” she grinned. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help. The effects of the healing spell were more unsettling than I expected.” Kit glanced up at Krillos. Fingers wrapped around the wheel, eyes on the water, as he spoke to the man beside him, the smile on the captains’ face was a mile wide. “I don’t understand. I’ve shared in his memories. I know the life that man’s led. How is it he’s always laughing?”
“He probably feels lucky to be alive.”
“I still don’t know how he is.”
“Because you wanted him to be. Intention is everything in magic. That’s why it’s so easy to screw it up. One wrong thought, one stray emotion, can change the outcome.”
“You sound like Sienn.” Kit grimaced. She looked about to apologize when the ship rolled again. Her grip slipping, Kit slid away from me, tripped over a coil of rope, and nearly conked her head on the rigging on her way to the deck.
“Nice!” Krillos shouted down. “Very graceful!”
Kit flung him a glare as I helped her up. “Maybe, Captain,” she hollered back, “you should let someone with two hands steer the ship?”
Krillos let out a hoot. “Well, now. Our little healer girl’s become quite the saucy wench. What do you think, men? Should I have her flogged for that one?”
Amusement ran through the crew and Kit’s face turned bright red. “That inconsiderate, foul-mouthed… Thank the gods this thing between us is over.”
“Was it that bad?” I said, escorting her back to the rail.
“Not all of it. I know how to make a fat purse off the crew—if they were brave enough to play dice with a woman.” We both laughed at that. “But,” she said after, “I do understand now why you chose to link yourself to someone.”
“There was no choice. Jarryd was cut to pieces. I couldn’t watch him die.”
“You sacrificed a part of your soul. You chose to change your life to save his. I’m sure not many would do the same.”
“All I wanted was to keep him alive. But he woke with his wounds looking months old. I thought it was the ritual. I thought the magic involved was just that strong.” I shook my head at the irony. “If I’d known then I was an erudite, I could have healed Jarryd without linking us together. As it is, all I did was make him a target.” Squeezing the rail with both hands, I stared out at the swamp. The snowy peaks of Langor felt so far away. “I have to get him out.”
“Then go.”
“I can’t. Not right now. I need help. And Malaq has other plans for me.”
“The Ian I knew didn’t let anyone make plans for him. He didn’t accept help, either. Not even to pull his boots off. Not even when he needed it.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Malaq isn’t Shinree. He can’t understand what the Kayn’l has done to you, or what losing Jarryd will do if the separation goes on too long. Honestly, I wouldn’t have either until this spell with Krillos.” She put her hand on mine. “When a Shinree comes clean of Kayn’l, regaining our memories is crucial to our recovery. But you and Jarryd are each other’s balance now. Memories won’t be enough if half your soul is residing at Darkhorne. To be honest, it makes me worry what will happen if your magic comes back before he does.”
“How would Jarryd’s absence affect my spells?”
“It may not. But to hear Sienn talk, magic doesn’t just flow through our blood. It accesses our hearts, our minds, and our souls. Being separated from Jarryd compromises all three of those. That has to have some sort of impact.”
Krillos shouted down then from the quarterdeck. “Troy! Kit! Get your things!” He pivoted swiftly to the man behind him. “Arig, ready the skiff. We’re going ashore.”
Kit and I exchanged a look. “What’s wrong?” she said.
“Uninvited visitors.” Eyes tense, wind whipping his black waves, Krillos looked ready to pounce. “Two Kaelish ships. Heading into the next cove.”
I stepped closer. “I thought no one comes here.”
“They don’t.” Krillos handed off the wheel to one of his sailors; a brawny, grizzled man who waited intently for his orders. “Take her out fast. Run her north past the charts to the open sea. With a bit of luck, they won’t have the balls to follow. But if they catch you…”
“Aye, Captain,” the man replied with a grin. “Don’t you worry; no one’ll be catchin’ us.” He gave Krillos a wink. “Just mind yourself—and our Shinree over there.” The sailor tossed his head at me. “You keep him alive and maybe one day, none of us’ll have to run anymore.”
TWELVE
Krillos pulled a dagger from th
e sheath tied to his thigh and tossed it to me. As it hit my hand I realized how much I’d missed the familiar weight of a weapon. It felt good to be armed. Necessary too, seeing as the Kaelish soldiers blocking our way outnumbered us four to one.
Giving a firm, “Stay back,” to Kit, Krillos drew his sword. He picked his opponents and slogged through the mire to engage them. His men, Kel and Arig, did the same. Lacking Krillos’ flair (and his eager smile) the big sailors plowed through the men bearing down on them with raw grit and brute force.
The remaining four Kaelishmen moved in my direction. Of average height, with soft cheeks and sallow skin, their movements branded them soldiers, yet they wore no armor. Likely, the heat and the terrain had influenced that bad decision. Still, their poor defensive planning didn’t make their weapons any smaller. Their swords were four times as long and thick as my modest blade. And that worried me.
For about two seconds.
Then something in me took over. My attention shifted from their superior weapons to the best way to avoid them, and I moved. Going for the soldier on the far right, I ducked under his swing, came up, and punched him in the mouth. As he recoiled, I kicked him in the chest and sent his floundering body into the path of his companions. That was all it took on the unstable ground to send all four men down in a pile of curses and a shower of mud.
With a quick swipe, I slit the throat of the man on top. Availing myself of his sword, I took a second to test the ground. By the time the three Kaelishmen pushed their dying friend off and clambered to their feet I had a good idea where not to step.
The man in the middle came at me first. I assessed his height, the position of his arms, the aim of his gaze, and the length of his blade. Taking it all into account—and putting my reconnaissance of the land to good use—I avoided his high sweeping cut and the sticky bog, and retaliated with a strike of my own. He blocked it. We locked swords. I head-butted him over the top of our blades and shoved him off into the deceptively deep puddle I knew was behind him. Losing purchase, the flailing Kaelishman fell promptly on his ass with a splash. A kick to the chin got him on his back. One to his face drove his head under the water. A well-placed stomp made sure it didn’t come back up.
The last two rushed in. Boots sinking, they lost step, and missed me by a mile. I rolled between them over a strip of solid ground and came up fast; jabbing an elbow into the nose on my right and the dagger into the throat on my left. Blood spurted as I plucked the blade out and sunk it into the belly of the man whose nose I’d just broken. Ripping the dagger up through his chest, I shoved him away. Above the squishy sound of his fall, I heard Krillos shout.
Thinking him hurt, I turned fast, and relief washed through me. All three Langorians were mud-slathered, sweating, and panting; standing unharmed in a ring of Kaelish corpses. It was the Kaelishman that was still alive, though, who had my interest.
Clearly, he was the smart one. He’d come ready for resistance, with heavy braces on his arms, sturdy boots on his feet, and a plate vest. Beneath the vest, he wore a long leather tunic that split to hang down the fronts and backs of his thighs. He was shrewd, too. Having the forethought to drop out of an unwinnable fight, the man had found the one thing he thought would save him: a hostage.
It might have worked too, if he hadn’t unknowingly recreated a scene that would be his undoing. The water, the mud, the girl with a knife to her throat; it was a scenario that in the last few days I’d come to recall quite distinctly—even if it wasn’t real.
I never had a life with Neela Arcana. I never watched Draken torture her. Those memories and the hallucinations they spawned, the rage, the fear, the crushing helplessness, were born of a spell my father cast on me. They were false. Yet, they’d pulled me down, forcing me to obsess over her; over how I never punished those that hurt us, or made a bit of difference in her suffering. I never saved the girl.
The dreams had nearly torn me apart. I remembered thinking I was losing my mind. Yet, somehow, none of it seemed real now. Like I watched it all happen to someone else. Like another man had lived those moments and dreamed those dreams. Another man had felt his mind crumbling under the weight of all that pain. The person I was at this moment, the person who was watching a ruthless man hold a knife to Kit’s throat, wasn’t helpless or afraid. He simply wasn’t going to tolerate it.
Sliding the dagger behind me into the waistband of my trousers, I took a step and earned the Kaelish soldier’s attention. “Stop,” he warned. “I know who you are. What you can do.”
“Good,” I smiled. “Then you should know it doesn’t matter if I’m standing over here. Or,” I crept closer. “Right next to you.”
“Course it don’t…seeing as I have this pretty one.” He snuggled his grungy face in close to Kit’s. “Word is you have a problem with people dying on your account.”
“Maybe I did. Maybe not,” I shrugged. “Kayn’l does funny things to a man. Sergeant,” I added, noticing the insignia on his sleeve. “It can make him forget why he should give a shit if some scrawny, doe-eyed, half-Rellan bitch lives or not.” I held his gaze while he thought about that. I didn’t waver, didn’t blink. “But I’ll make a deal with you. Release her, and I’ll go with you. You can take me back to Kael as your prisoner.”
The sergeant looked at me sideways. He shook his head and laughed. “Crazy, Shinree bastard.”
“No arguments there. Still, I imagine Guidon would be grateful if you brought me in alive. There might be a promotion in it. There’d certainly be a celebration. You’d be honored with food, drink, coin…women.”
One of those put a light in his beady green eyes. “This is a trick.”
“No trick, Sergeant. I’m all yours.”
Disbelief shook his head again. “Why?”
“Because that life, who I was, what I did… I don’t want to remember any more. I don’t want to be him. It’s simpler on Kayn’l, being nothing and no one. It’s a kind of quiet I never had before. But I can have it again if I go with you. I can forget again.”
“Ian—no!” Kit cried out. “You can’t!”
Her captor gave her a rough shake. “Shut it, bitch.”
“It’s all right, Kit,” I said gently. “I want this. Tell Malaq I’m sorry.”
“No,” she sobbed. “Please…”
“I told you.” Pressing the knife in tighter, the man bellowed in her face. “BE QUIET!”
“Do as he says, Kit.” I dropped my sword and stepped forward. “I’m ready.”
Krillos growled my name. “Troy.”
I didn’t even glance. “I’m not one of your crew, Krillos. I can go where I like.”
“Over my dead body,” he shot back.
“Now, that’s an idea,” the sergeant smiled. “Kill the Langorians, witch. Prove I can trust you. Then I’ll let her go.”
“I can do that,” I said. “I don’t like Langorians anyway.”
“Troy,” Krillos said again. “What are you doing?”
“Finding a way around the problem.” For a second, I looked at him. Then I turned back to the Kaelishman. “I used to dream about men like you, Sergeant. Men who committed brutal, senseless acts in the name of a worthless king.”
He grunted a laugh. “Sounds like a lousy way to spend the night.”
“It was.” Wandering closer, I altered my path slightly to the right, as if I were heading for Kel and Arig. They looked wary, but held their ground, watching and waiting to see what I was up to. The sergeant watched me too. Experience told him not to let his attention stay too long on one man though, so his gaze bounced as he tried to keep tabs on all his enemies at once.
Yet, I was his prize. I was almost in his hands. He could smell the reward, the accolades from his King. He couldn’t afford to let me out of his sight. So as I moved, he shifted his stance (and Kit), accordingly to keep up.
“My father created the dreams,” I said, holding his interest as I continued to circle around, away from Krillos. “Jem wanted me on his side. He kne
w I’d never ally with Draken. So he turned to magic. He thought the spell would break me.”
Still altering his position to keep me in view, the sergeant couldn’t help but ask. “Did it?”
“Yes. But it did something else, too.” Our eyes locked. He waited for my answer. Slowly, I reached behind me for the dagger. “It left me eager to pay the bastards back.”
“Just how are you going to do that, witch?” he snickered at my foolishness. “They were dreams. Those men weren’t real.”
“But you are.” Drawing the dagger, I pitched it. And everything happened at once. Comprehension widened the sergeant’s eyes. Kit sunk her teeth into his arm. My dagger sunk into the side of his face. Krillos attacked, shoving his sword in at an upward, diagonal angle, between the plates under the man’s arm, up through the side of his neck, and out the other side.
Abandoning his blade, Krillos let the body topple and grabbed Kit. Cradling her with his one good arm, he gave a look over her shoulder to Kel and Arig. As they moved in to make sure the man was dead, Krillos presented me with a nasty glare. “You took a damn big chance with her life, Troy. If you had missed…”
“Missing wasn’t an option.”
His jaw tensed; that wasn’t the response he’d been looking for. “Then I guess we’re lucky you’re such a damn good shot.”
I looked down at my hand. It was empty now without the dagger, but it wasn’t bare. The Shinree runes binding me to Jarryd Kane stood rigid and white against my palm. “That wasn’t my aim.” I clenched my fist on the scars and looked up at him. “That was Jarryd’s.”
Losing some of his anger, Krillos stared at me. “Did you mean what you said, about not wanting to remember?”
I honestly wasn’t sure. So I said the one thing I was sure of. “Quitting isn’t an option either.”
“Damn right.” Krillos passed Kit off to me. “Look after her. My men and I will get this cleaned up.”
“You know more are out there,” I said, putting an arm around Kit. “This wasn’t much of a force for two ships.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 9