Beyond Ragnarok

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Something scratched at the inner side of the hatch. The sound startled Tae until logic intervened. Mior. He lifted the door, and the cat squeezed through the crack, purring a welcome.

  Tae smiled, patting the calico. His gaze trailed to the bow where a dark shape formed on the horizon. He squinted, studying it through the glare until he felt certain about what he saw. Land. He glanced aft, around the main sail to where Captain still stood at the tiller. “Is that the island?”

  Mior meandered beneath one hand, around Tae’s hip, to his other hand, rubbing on every part of him as she moved.

  The captain trotted forward. “That’s Nualfheim,” he confirmed. “You’d better get the others up.”

  Tae gave Captain the benefit of the doubt, that the elf would have awakened them soon had Tae not ascended. “How soon till we get there?”

  “We’re an hour outside of shouting distance.”

  “Thanks.” Tae opened the hatch fully, and it gaped, braced against the deck. “Good morning, everyone. Island’s in view.” Several shifted, and Darris yawned loudly. Certain he had awakened at least two of them, Tae closed the hatch and left them their privacy. He studied the elf who looked exactly as he had when he arrived on the shore. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “No. Does that bother you?”

  “Me? Hell, no. Wish I didn’t have to either. Dangerous waste of time. Can you teach me?”

  Captain smiled, gaze still fixed on the island. “No.”

  “Damn.” Tae glanced at the mast again, watching the main sail billow. They were about to come face-to-face with an enemy they could only begin to fathom. The idea of challenging undefined weapons, dependent upon the graces of a turncoat who could drown them at will, made him fretful. He fidgeted. His foot came down on something cylindrical, and Mior yowled, clamping her claws on his ankle. Tae danced aside. “Sorry.”

  Mior sat, fur fluffed, lashing her tail in indignation.

  “Sorry, Mior,” Tae repeated. He hefted the cat, and she squirmed in his grip. Apparently still angry, she leaped from his arms and padded aft. She dropped to her haunches, and began to clean herself, giving special attention to her tail.

  Shortly, Tae heard the sound of footsteps on the stair. He stepped aside, giving his companions plenty of room to exit. The hatch banged open, and Darris clambered up on deck, followed quickly by Ra-khir. The knight-in-training wore his usual blue and tan, black and orange, though he sported no mail yet. The two glanced out in the direction of Captain’s stare.

  They’d been above deck only a few moments before Kevral’s voice wafted up the stairs. “We’re decent now. How soon till the parlay starts?”

  Tae responded. “About an hour, Captain says.”

  “Well, come on down and eat, then,” Matrinka called up. “While we can.”

  Anxiety balled Tae’s stomach into a tense knot, but he still saw the wisdom. A heavy meal might make them torpid, but starvation did little to stimulate thought or action. A light breakfast would do them all good. “We’re coming,” he called, herding the others back down before anyone could protest.

  They ate a swift, modest meal from their own rations, too polite to bother the elf’s stores, which consisted mostly of water plants they could not identify. Ra-khir added mail and a tabard to his costume, and Darris wore his sword belt as well as a mandolin. Kevral kept her disdain to herself, though Tae caught her rolling her eyes at the way the bard chose to hamper his sword arm with an instrument. Aside from Kevral, who remained ready at the ship’s bow, they broke into constantly changing pairs, each saying his or her “good-byes” in their own way. Matrinka hugged each of her companions in turn, then left to share a private moment with Darris in the cabin. That left Ra-khir and Tae alone on the aft deck.

  For several moments, the two said nothing, sharing a companionable silence amid the flap of canvas and the creak of timbers. Spray dampened their faces, and the air smelled thick with salt. Finally, Ra-khir broke the hush. His attention swung directly to the Easterner. Sunlight glittered from distinctive, green eyes; and, for the first time, Tae felt a flash of jealousy for the chiseled features and broad muscles. The idea that he could compete with this man for a woman’s affection seemed madness. If they all survived, he would content himself with the one night of passion Kevral had promised. “You’re a good man in your own way, Tae Kahn. I’m sorry I mistrusted you.”

  The praise embarrassed Tae. “This is unnecessary, Ra-khir.”

  “No, let me finish.” Ra-khir raised a gauntleted hand and set it firmly on Tae’s shoulder. “I couldn’t go to my pyre in peace without letting you know I was wrong.”

  Tae closed his eyes, then opened them, anything but peaceful himself. “Look, Ra-khir. As long as we’re realizing we might die here, there’s something I have to tell you, too.” He looked past the knight-in-training, gaze measuring the distance to the mast.

  Ra-khir removed his hand, waiting patiently.

  “Before I knew who you were . . .” Tae stopped, releasing his breath through his nose and gathering another before starting again. “Before I knew anything about you.” He paused again, knowing he needed to blurt it out quickly or risk never telling at all. “I stole your father’s knife for money.” Tae did not wait for a reaction. He ducked beneath Ra-khir’s grip, skidded across the deck, and skittered up the mast. Only then, among the ropes and pulleys, did he dare to look below him.

  At that moment, the sky darkened suddenly to slate, and a bolt of lightning split the heavens. A blast of wind slammed the Sea Seraph like a god’s fist. The blow dipped the bow underwater. Waves surged over the gunwale to the deck, flinging Kevral overboard and jarring Tae from the mast. He plummeted, clawing desperately for a hold. His forehead hit a rope, snapping his neck backward. One frantic hand slammed timbers, and he closed his fingers reflexively. He jerked to a sudden stop, impact tearing fiery pain through his shoulder. Then the gale struck from the opposite side. The boat lurched aft, breaking Tae’s grip. Air screamed past his ears. He crashed to the deck, breath dashed from his lungs and head ringing.

  Dazed, Tae clung to the planks, gasping desperately for air. His lungs failed him, locked by the fall. He heaved and sucked like a beached fish, the deck bucking wildly beneath him. A tearing sound thundered through his ears. From the corner of his vision, a shape hurtled toward him. Tom from its riggings, the sodden sail plunged. Tae scrambled out of the way, scuttling helplessly on the wet deck. The sail caught him across the spine. A clamp smashed his fingers with a pain that tore a scream from his lips. A waterlogged rope hammered the back of his head, and all consciousness left him.

  * * *

  Tae awakened to throbbing pain in his right hand and lesser aches in his head and shoulder. He lay upon a gently rocking cot. A weight pinned down the blankets near his feet, and a bandage enwrapped his injured hand. A large, gentle hand smoothed the bangs from his forehead; and the touch startled him. He jerked open his eyes, tensing for movement. Matrinka’s nurturing gaze looked down at him, the expression on her face one of motherly concern. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

  “I fell off the mast,” Tae replied before he could actually consider the question. They had exchanged these words before, at least once, though Tae could not recall having done so. This time, however, memory came flooding back. “No, that’s not right. I got thrown from the mast by an impossible storm that came from nowhere.”

  Matrinka smiled. “That’s right.”

  “So what happened?”

  Matrinka’s grin wilted. “You fell off the mast,” she returned mechanically.

  “No. No, I got that part.” Tae examined the bandage that made his hand look three times its normal size. “Did the elves attack us?”

  “Apparently. And long before we ever got near enough to parlay.”

  Tae flushed at the idiocy of placing himself in such a vulnerable position while preparing for a confrontation. Yet embarrassment evaporated as quickly as it came. He had chosen the climb for v
antage and security. From on high, he could have seen details the others missed about the elves; and, if physical combat ensued, he might have gained the advantages of momentum and surprise. Furthermore, it had kept him safe from the repercussions of admitting the horrible truth to Ra-khir. That last thought brought a sorrow he never expected. He had intended the revelation as a last needed confession, yet even as he had spoken it, he wished he had let the secret die with him. He had distracted Ra-khir, and ultimately himself, by raising the issue of Kedrin’s imprisonment at a time when they most needed their wits about them. Worse, he had shattered a friendship that had once seemed impossible, one a shared love already made tenuous. Tae knew the onus lay on him to try to reassemble the pieces of their companionship, to rebuild a trust that might have flung Ra-khir back to depending only on first impressions. But first, Tae had to understand the immediate dangers to all of them.

  Tae gathered his thoughts around the pounding in his skull. “Are we safe now?”

  “We retreated just beyond sight of the island. We’re anchored now. Darris and Kevral are with Captain, discussing strategy.”

  Tae threw a sideways glance around the cabin. Mior lay curled against one of his legs. The hatch was closed. “Can we trust Captain, do you think?”

  Matrinka pursed her lips, her expression solemn and sincere. “Tae, if you had seen the way he rescued this ship, and us, you wouldn’t ask. By all rights, we should lie on the bottom of the ocean, and timbers like toothpicks should litter the beaches. When he claimed he’d sailed these seas for thousands of years, I thought it was exaggeration. Not anymore.”

  Tae accepted Matrinka’s evaluation without question. He knew nothing about sailing, while she had the experience of her studies of Béarn’s navy. He looked at his hand again, raising it for a closer look. The bandage extended halfway to his elbow, and his inability to move his wrist suggested a splint.

  “Broken.” Matrinka did not wait for a direct question. “Some fingers. Maybe the hand, too. The shoulder was a dislocation. I put it back, but it’ll probably hurt for a while. You hit your head, too.”

  “Believe me, I know.” Tae rubbed the back of his head with his uninjured hand, though the pain seemed vague and unlocalized. “How long have I been out?”

  “You’ve been up and down. We’ve had several brief conversations. Do you remember the others?”

  “Vaguely.” Tae recalled only that the “falling from the mast” line seemed too familiar. “Will I go out again, do you think?”

  “Not likely. Not if you’re clear enough to ask that question.”

  Purring, Mior worked her way up Tae’s body to lie on his chest. He petted her, using steady pressure to shift her slightly out of the way of his view of Matrinka. “So how long has it been?”

  “It’s evening. Captain’s put the ship mostly back together. As much as he can do at sea.”

  “What’s the plan?” Tae finally sifted out information left unspoken. “And you said Darris and Kevral are talking strategy. Where’s Ra-khir?”

  Matrinka handled the questions in order. “We’ll stay beyond magic range until we come up with a workable plan. And Ra-khir is right there.” She pointed to the far corner of the cabin.

  Tae struggled into a sitting position, dumping Mior to his lap. At the same time, Ra-khir rose and came toward him. Despite the hatred he surely felt toward Tae, trained politeness still drove him to save an injured man the pain of movement.

  Matrinka stood. “I need to get some air.” It was a shallow excuse. “If you have any more questions, Ra-khir can answer them.”

  A sudden urge seized Tae to find reason for Matrinka to stay. He had dedicated too much of his life to survival to face a man with reason to kill him while alone and wounded. A sense of fairness he never knew he had welled up to stop him. He had created the situation, and he would handle it. Ra-khir’s honor would not allow him to slaughter a defenseless man, no matter his crime. “Thank you,” Tae said simply.

  Mior rose and stretched, measuring the ground as if to leap down and follow her mistress. Instead, she paced a circle and lay back down on Tae’s lap.

  “Now we know,” Tae said. “Her loyalty is to the petter, not the feeder.”

  Matrinka stopped halfway to the ladder and turned, incredulous. “That’s pretty much what she told me.”

  Tae managed a smile, stroking Mior with enough force to dislodge a pile of loose hair in three colors. “I always knew I would have made a good cat. . .” He waited until Matrinka disappeared through the hatch and the door banged shut behind her before finishing the sentence for Ra-khir’s benefit. “. . . but not a very good human.” He met the Erythanian’s gaze. “There’s nothing I can say that’ll make up for what I did. So if we both survive this, and if that ‘calling out’ challenge thing you talked about when we first met is still good, I’ll fight you till I’m dead.” The words went against everything Tae had struggled for since childhood, yet he meant them.

  “No,” Ra-khir said.

  Tae blinked, uncertain. “No what?”

  “‘No,’ my challenge isn’t good anymore. And ‘no,’ I’m refusing yours.”

  “You’re refusing a duel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that mean you have no honor?” Tae threw Ra-khir’s words back in his face before he could think to stop himself.

  “It’s just a different kind of honor. The honor that tells me I don’t want to kill a friend.”

  Tae could scarcely believe what he’d just heard. “We’re still friends? After what I did to your father? How could you not want to kill me? How could you not hate me?” Amazement took him one step farther. “Gods! Even I hate me.”

  “Tae, I already knew.”

  Tae stared. No words could have caught him more by surprise. “You knew? How could you know?”

  Ra-khir took the seat Matrinka had used for her vigil. “That first day we talked. I mean, really talked. You said the sage’s notes were only the second thing you ever stole. Then you said we’d both be much happier if I didn’t know the first.”

  “You figured it out from that?” Tae gained a new appreciation for Ra-khir’s intellect. More than once, he suspected, he had mistaken formality for ignorance. Just because a man relies on sword more than wits doesn’t mean he has none.

  “Not then, no,” Ra-khir admitted. “But you gave me a few more clues along the way. I think you wanted me to figure it out.”

  “No. No, please. Don’t give me that much credit.”

  “Not consciously, perhaps. But you’ve got more morality than you think.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing.” Tae smiled.

  “Isn’t it?” Ra-khir did not wait for a reply before continuing. “Anyway, it’s obvious you were suffering guilt for your part in the crime. That’s more punishment than I could have meted. I don’t think you’ll steal for money again— something good came out of something bad. Perhaps most importantly, you didn’t get my father imprisoned. Baltraine did. If you had not assisted, he would have simply used a different method, with the same results. In the end, it was my father’s own honor that condemned him.”

  Tae accepted the explanation, still ashamed for his hand in the proceedings. “Are we working on any sort of a time limit? I mean other than the obvious danger the elves pose to a captive whose presence draws enemies.”

  Ra-khir shifted topics easily. “There’s a three-month safe opening between the death of the king of Béarn and the passing of a suitability test by his heir.” Ra-khir winced, and his head drooped. “Even I make mistakes, Tae. I had one last chance to have Colbey answer a question for me before he left, and I selfishly asked about my father’s life when I should have asked about the king.”

  “You hoodlum,” Tae returned with obvious sarcasm. “Selfishly worrying about your father. Stop it, Ra-khir. You’re being silly.”

  Now the knight-in-training took offense where he had not before. “Don’t belittle my honor.”

  It di
d not seem worth arguing over at the moment, so Tae ended the exchange. “I’m sorry. Do you think the king is dead?”

  “Colbey’s presence makes that almost a certainty. I don’t believe immortals would involve themselves in our affairs until the danger became imminent.”

  “And we can assume it’s a serious enough threat that the gods worry for their own security.”

  Ra-khir nodded with a thoughtfulness that suggested he had not looked at the problem in that light. “We’ll work on strategy and try something new in the morning.”

  “Right,” Tae returned with an enthusiasm he did not feel. The situation looked hopeless. The party had no weapons or defenses for distance attacks. So long as the elves disallowed discussion, nothing but delay could come of any plan. A ship could not slip past them without detection, but a swimming individual might. Someone would have to make the supreme sacrifice, and Tae knew only one among them had learned the ways of stealth and subtlety well enough to have a chance. The others would not allow him to risk himself, so he could not give them a choice in the matter. “Something new in the morning,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. He was going to need sleep now, while he could still get it.

  * * *

  Mior’s mental call startled Matrinka from the depths of sleep. *Wake up! Quickly!*

  Matrinka jerked up from her cot, tangled in blankets. A lantern swung from a gimbal ring, rolling semicircles of light across the interior. Ra-khir and Darris curled on the floor, and Kevral lay still on her cot. Tae’s bed was empty, the covers in a rumpled heap. Mior perched on the upper step of the ladder, scratching desperately at the hatch. *What’s wrong?*