The clank of a trident striking stone wakes me. I lie in the nest, my eyes open, and listen to the shuffling of feet, the occasional splash of someone entering water too quickly. Standing, I make my way to the drapes, part them and stare through the gloom in the cavern toward the lagoon.
Hunters carrying their tridents slip one by one into the water. I look from them to the hole at the top of the stairs. No light shows from there at all. But even in the gloom, I can make out the dark shape of a Pelk male standing guard at the top of the steps, holding his trident at ready.
“Come back to bed,” Lorrel mindspeaks, touching my back, stroking it.
I whirl around. “What the hell is going on?”
“They have gone for an early hunt.” Lorrel grips my arm with her claw and tugs me back. “Come back, lie down with me. It is too early to rise.”
Jerking my arm out of her grip, I growl and mindspeak, “Don’t lie to me. What are they doing?”
“It’s too late, Peter. You cannot do anything about it. The boat should not have been moved.”
“What?”
“Mowdar and his men went to Waylach’s Rock yesterday to salvage what they could from your boat. It wasn’t there.”
“So what? The storm could have taken it.”
“Or someone else, your wife perhaps,” Lorrel mindspeaks.
“And they’re on their way to my island?”
Lorrel says nothing.
I look into her eyes. “You know I’m going to have to go.”
“Why, if she is not there?”
“But we both know she is,” I mindspeak.
“You are to take the antidote tomorrow night again. You will die without it.”
“If I’m without it,” I mindspeak. I peer out through the drapes again and nod when I see no one left on the beach. Behind me Lorrel begins to hum. I turn, rush to her, grab her throat with both of my claws and squeeze hard enough to choke off any sound.
She claws at me but I ignore each rip and gouge. “Please don’t fight me,” I mindspeak. “I don’t want to harm you. Think of our son inside you.” But she continues to struggle, and I squeeze more. I hold her throat only as long as it takes for her to go limp, not a second more.
Releasing her, lying her body down, I check to see if she’s still breathing and nod when her chest moves. Before she can wake and call for help, I rush out through the drapes and hurry to Malka’s alcove.
The old creature sits up and stands as soon as I burst through her drapes. “Get out, fool!” she mindspeaks.
I have a claw at her throat, another pressed against her temple, before she can make a sound. “If you mindspeak for help I will drive my claw into your brain. If any note comes from you, I will rip your throat out. Do you understand me?”
“I have no fear of dying,” she mindspeaks. “And I will go with the satisfaction of knowing your death will be much more painful than mine.”
“Possibly,” I mindspeak. “It depends on whether I can find out how to make the antidote.”
“Lorrel has not learned how to make it yet. The knowledge will die with me.” She begins to sing a low note that vibrates through my bones, and I slice through her throat, her blood spraying out, coating me.
“You forget,” I mindspeak. “My father Don Henri DelaSangre found a way to reverse your poison. He may yet show his son the way.”
“Undrae, you are a fool,” Malka mindspeaks, wavering but still standing. “What makes you so sure we have given you the same poison?” She begins to blast a thought, “HE . . .”
I drive my claw through her temple, into her brain, before she can finish calling for help. Malka collapses, her body falling back into her nest. Still I slice at her, again and again, ripping her open to make sure she never rises again.
Going to the small chest holding the bottles of temporary antidote, I rummage through it, searching for full bottles. I find pitiful few, line them up on the floor and count them. Only five. I sigh.
By killing Malka I’ve taken away all of Derek’s options. I can’t keep the bottles just for myself and leave him to die a miserable death. If he insists on going his own way, I will give him three of the bottles. That will leave me with a week’s worth of antidote. At best, if we can find no permanent antidote and share all five bottles, it will give me eight and a half days.
Time enough either way, I hope, to try to save my wife.
Taking a woven seaweed bag off of one of Malka’s shelves, I upend it. Roots and herbs and bags full of powder spill to the floor. Putting the bottles in the bag, I rush from the alcove.
No more Pelk seem to be up. No more glowpools shine around the cavern. I smile into the gloom, glad that Malka’s partial cry has gone unnoticed. Pushing through the drapes into my alcove, I find Lorrel just sitting up, rubbing her neck.
Her eyes widen and she gasps when she sees me. “There is blood all over you!”
“I had to kill Malka,” I mindspeak, picking up my father’s journal and putting it in the bag with the bottles. “Please don’t do anything to make me hurt you any more.”
“Now no one here knows how to make the antidote,” she mindspeaks, shaking her head. “You’re going to die. For what?”
“I can’t sit by while they attack my wife,” I mindspeak. “I have to go to her.”
Lorrel sighs and I look into her eyes. I see no signs of rage or thirst for revenge on her face. She has yet to call out, to raise any alarm. I wonder if just maybe I can turn to her. “You could help me,” I mindspeak. “What have you heard? Do you know anything that might help me?”
She trills out a laugh. “Why would I tell you?”
“Because if my wife dies and I live, I’ll come back here and do more damage to the Pelk than my father ever did. I won’t rest until every one of you is dead, here and in Jamaica, including you and my child—as much as it may pain me.”
“If my father and his men don’t kill you, the poison will. Your threats mean nothing.”
I hold up my father’s journal. “My father survived your poison. He wrote about it in this book. As soon as we translate it, your poison will mean nothing,” I mindspeak, hoping my words prove true.
Lorrel shrugs.
“But if you help me, I’ll allow your srrynn to live here in peace. Your son, our son, grows inside you. I would like to know him. I would like to be able to come and visit him as he grows. I would like him to know my other children. That won’t happen if you don’t help.”
“And you expect me to betray my kind so my son can know his father?” Lorrel mindspeaks.
“Mowdar was wrong to order you to poison me and bed me. He should have allowed you to go to Jessai. He is wrong to lead his men against Chloe. Had you left us alone we would never have posed a threat to you. You know that and I know that.”
Lorrel nods and says nothing. I stay by her and let her think. Finally she mindspeaks, “They will not rush to attack her. They will stop and rest at each safehold along the way. When they reach Miami they will rest again in our safehold and scout before they attack.”
“There’s a safehold in Miami?” I mindspeak.
Lorrel smiles and nods. “Where did you think I rested?” she mindspeaks. I gasp when she tells me its location.
“Now,” Lorrel mindspeaks, “you must promise me something.”
I nod.
“Mowdar has left Jessai behind. He has been instructed to keep you here. You must promise not to kill him.”
“I promise to try.”
The Pelk girl shakes her head. “No. If I am not to have you, I must have him. Promise he will live.”
“Done,” I mindspeak, wondering if I can keep the promise, picking up the bag and walking toward the drapes.
“Undrae,” Lorrel mindspeaks. “Did you not enjoy your time with me at all? Did you not like bedding me?”
Turning toward her, I smile. “Yes, there were times I enjoyed myself with you very much. As far as bedding you, I liked it more than I care to admit.”
I think about it. Given a choice, I would always turn to Chloe. Still, I see no reason not to give Lorrel what she wants. I nod.
Lorrel grins and mindspeaks, “Good.”
Derek growls when I kick him awake, growls even more when I drag him away from his nest. “Bloody hell, old man. It’s the middle of the night. What bug do you have up your ass?”
I tell him about Mowdar’s hunting party and about Malka’s death. The big creature groans. “Well,” he mindspeaks. “I guess that fixes me. Didn’t it occur to you that I might prefer to stay here? I don’t much care for dying, you know.”
“Your sister is in danger, damn it! It may come as a shock to you, but you weren’t on my mind. Stay here if you want. I can’t waste any more time with you.” I take three bottles of temporary antidote from the bag and hand them to him. Turning away, I begin to walk toward the steps. “I need to go while it’s still dark outside. Just remember, the only hope of finding a permanent antidote is in Miami now.”
At the bottom of the steps, I stop and look up. The sentry Mowdar posted at the top of the steps stares down at me and our eyes meet. “So Undrae, do you plan to fight me alone?” Jessai mindspeaks, pointing his trident at me.
Putting my bag down, I mindspeak, “Why would we want others?”
“Good.” The Pelk warrior takes a practice swing with his trident. “Will you come up to me or should I come down to you?”
“Whichever you prefer,” I mindspeak, looking around, hoping another sentry left his trident lying nearby, finding nothing.
“You are larger. You come up to me. It will take away that advantage.”
Taking a deep breath, I study the Pelk warrior, the way he holds his trident, one claw almost to the back of the shaft, the other to the middle. It may be good for hunting, but I wonder whether another grip might work better for close combat. With any luck I can grab the upper shaft before he can cut into me.
“You are daft,” Derek mindspeaks, coming up behind me. “Do you really intend to fight him without a weapon? Do you think he can’t hurt you with that bloody thing?”
I turn and find him holding out a trident to me. “Here. I took it from the storeroom. This should even things up. But don’t expect any more help from me if things go badly. This is your bloody fight, not mine.”
Feeling the heft of the trident’s ironwood shaft, I mimic Jessai’s grip and take a few practice jabs and slices. I scowl at how clumsy it feels and move my hands upward so I grip the trident at the middle of its shaft and just below its head—the way a soldier grasps a rifle with bayonet. I take a few more practice moves, including a savage uppercut with the butt of the shaft, then nod, placing my foot on the bottom step.
“Ah, Undrae. You finally have found your nerve,” Jessai mindspeaks.
“I would rather we not fight.” My eyes on the Pelk, I take each step slowly, holding the trident out in front of me.
Jessai smiles and steps down one step with his left foot—I assume to make it easier to drive the weapon downward. “But I would prefer we did,” he mindspeaks.
I stop four steps below him, my trident in front of me but just out of his reach. “Listen to me,” I mindspeak. “I’m leaving here tonight. Whatever happens, I won’t be coming back. Lorrel knows that. She wants to be with you. I’ve promised not to kill you.”
“Fortunately, I have made no such promise.” The Pelk darts down the stairs, thrusting his trident at my throat. I gasp and bat it to the side just before it reaches my scales.
Jessai withdraws to the top step and laughs. “I am surprised you could do that. You hold your trident so badly. Should I stop now and teach you how to use it before we go any further?”
I take another step up. Jessai puts his left foot on the next step down and holds his trident pointed at me. Each of us waits for the other to attack. Finally I see his eyes move from me for a moment, his muscles relax just a hair, and I spring forward, slicing out with the trident.
He blocks it, his trident’s prongs locked against mine, his weight bearing down, threatening to push my trident to the step. I pull back, freeing my trident’s head and swinging up its hilt in a vicious uppercut that slams into the Pelk’s left leg.
It buckles and he gasps, almost falling, saving himself at the last moment by throwing his weight on his trident, using it as a staff. I shoot forward and bury my trident’s prongs into his other thigh. Jessai crashes down on the step and swings his trident so it slices across my chest.
Hot pain traces its path and I stifle a yowl and pull back, the air thick with the smell of his blood and mine, the steps turning slick as it pours from our bodies. “Undrae,” Jessai mindspeaks. “What kind of fight is this? Do you intend to attack only my legs?”
I smile. I hadn’t expected it to turn into an advantage. But my promise to Lorrel has relieved me of having to take the risk of attacking the Pelk’s chest or head. While he has to concentrate on killing me, I need only attack his extremities.
“I intend to disable you,” I mindspeak. “But leave you alive.”
“Either get it done or fight more quietly!” Derek mindspeaks from the bottom of the steps. “I can hear you two scuffling from here. Much more bloody ruckus and they’ll all be on our necks.”
Jessai pulls himself up to the top step and tries to stand. But his legs can no longer support him. “Just let us by,” I mindspeak. “We don’t have to do any more of this.”
Shaking his head, sitting erect, holding his trident in a defensive position, the Pelk mindspeaks, “Mowdar has given his instructions. I must do as he says.”
I rush up and jab at his left shoulder. Jessai blocks the trident, deflects it, slicing my arm in the same move. Pain shoots through me, but my growing anger overwhelms it. This time, instead of withdrawing I stand my ground, hammering his head with the butt of the trident’s hilt, ignoring the next slice from his trident and hammering him again and again. His guard drops and I plunge the trident into his left shoulder, blood everywhere, his and mine.
Jessai moans but somehow manages to turn his trident again with his right arm and bury its prongs into the thick meat of my left leg. The pain barely registers through my anger and I slam him with the trident’s butt again, battering his head and upper body until he can no longer maintain his grip on his trident.
Grabbing it, yanking it clear of my leg, I throw the trident from the steps and nod when it splashes into the water. The Pelk moans again. He opens one eye. I raise my claw to slice him open, to finish him once and for all.
“So, Undrae. What happened to your promise?” Jessai mindspeaks.
I hold my claw in place. My leg, my chest, my arm all throb and burn. I bleed from nicks and cuts almost everywhere. Why should I let this creature live to possibly threaten me another day? But I have sworn to Lorrel that I would do so. I sigh and lower my claw.
Jessai coughs out a laugh. “Malka will call for a healing circle and I’ll be whole before the next day is done. Are you sure you want to leave your enemy the opportunity to attack you again?”
“Malka is dead,” I mindspeak. “And my hope is that you won’t always be my enemy. Lorrel will lead the healing circle now. You should go to her bed after you’ve been made well.”
I groan as I step over the Pelk. I yearn to lie down and rest but know I can’t. Still, I must give my body an opportunity to heal. Shifting into my human form so I can fit through the hole, my body trembling from the pain of my wounds, I mindspeak to Derek to find some dried fish, bring it and my bag and join me above.
Outside, bright stars crowd the dark sky, and the moon rides high enough to assure me we should have more than enough time to fly to Florida’s waters before dawn comes. I drop to my knees and then fall back, staring upward, wishing I could take flight this instant.
“Soon enough,” I mutter. “Soon enough.”
33
“The whole thing’s a bloody pain. Damned foolish of you. My sister’s perfectly capabl
e of defending herself, old man. Could you imagine the mincemeat my mother would make out of a little old creature like Mowdar? If she didn’t eat him whole, she’d make him into a shish kebob! You didn’t have to sign our death warrants to come flying back as some kind of hero.”
I smile into the dark and make no attempt to answer. Derek has maintained a constant litany of complaints from the moment he and I took to the air over Andros. If he needs to grouse, I have no objection. I roar into the air and dive toward the ocean, reveling in the feel of the wind buffeting my body.
Leveling off just above the wave tips, I shoot forward, flapping my wings as quickly as I can, realizing how much I’ve missed the speed, the freedom of flight. Derek follows right behind me, mindspeaking, “This is all bloody foolishness. What’s your rush? We’re passing boats full of good prey. Damn it all, can’t we at least eat something proper for once?”
If not for the scattered lights around Alicetown and the dozens of anchor lights dotting Bimini’s harbor, the small island could be easily missed in the dark. I smile as we pass over it and mindspeak to Derek, “Almost home.”
“Bloody lot of good that does me,” Derek mindspeaks. “You’ve made it clear there will be no hunting after we get there. That bit of fish we had when we left the srrynn barely dulled my hunger. My stomach’s completely empty, old man. I don’t want to fill it with your frozen cow meat when we have the chance to take some human prey right now. Look below. There are boats everywhere.”
I nod. My stomach aches too. Shifting the seaweed bag I’ve been carrying in my right front claw to my left, I think about its contents. Because of the patrols, we’ll have to swim the last few miles to my island. The five bottles of temporary antidote can survive such an immersion without any problem, but my father’s journal could disintegrate.
Shaking my head, staring at the water’s calm surface, I go over in my mind the arrangements that have to be made. As much as I want to ignore my hunger and my problems and rush home, it will take some time to put everything into motion. Mindspeaking to Derek, I say, “Okay, but not this close to Bimini. Hopefully we’ll see a good opportunity before we finish crossing the Gulf Stream.”
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