A Tek in black robes jammed his knee into the Silone’s back, pressing him to a block of wood; an executioner wearing a crimson hood with green tassels kicked the struggling man in the face before stepping to the side. A sword with a blade wider than a man’s thigh rose and fell, and a Silone head dropped into the Parapet Straits. The dead man was no warrior, just some poor bastard caught on a boat at the wrong time. Moments later the hooded Tek kicked the body into the water.
Meliu’s fists clenched and Kibole sang to her without her whispering a prayer. Dark followed Elinwe’s Light without a conscious thought; a reality damned near as frightening as watching an elderly Silone woman led to the block next.
“Sons of bitches.”
The voice came from her right, the creak of bowstrings followed, and she reached out her hand to halt the retaliation. “No, keep your cool. One arrow flies and the shit eaters know who we are.” Saying it eased the thrum of Dark in her soul, and she breathed deep, unable to peel her eyes from the weeping woman as her head fell from her body, her face splashing into the waves. More bodies, and she imagined heads floating face up and staring at her, clunked the ship’s hull, but she breathed deep and forced her eyes closed.
Ivin said, “An executioner barge, I’d heard rumor... Everyone, eyes forward. Nothing we can do.”
We could fight and die. The anger boiled through the calming Light so strong that the thought sounded pleasant, and with her eyes closed, her mind’s eye splashed a painting of Dark sweeping over the boat. But, she wouldn’t allow herself to be such a fool.
The woman’s body hit the waves as Meliu’s lids blinked open, and the Thonian guard shoved a young man to the block before the Gull’s sails carried them past the horror. Wicks later they sailed into the middle of the Tek blockade, with four ships remaining to pass in close proximity. Pray and calm. Elinwe sooth my anger.
A narrow ship with triangular sail swooped in from the north, moving faster than the Gull dreamed in these winds. Archers lined the ship’s rail, but their eyes were on a longboat filled with women and children, desperate men at the oars rowing for shore. Arrows flew from the Tek’s decks, splashing water. The longboat was just out of range. Revulsion rippled Meliu’s skin and her muscles knotted.
She turned to Ivin. “The Captain.”
“I know.”
He turned, but she grabbed his shoulder. “Have rope ready, we’ll drag those people to land.”
A curt nod and Ivin leaped from the castle, sprinting for the stern, yelling to Captain Swolis. The man’s eyes landed on her, and to the relief of her crawling skin he nodded. He barked an order but she couldn’t hear what he said, nor did it matter: The Soaring Gull leaned, falling in behind the swifter boat.
Kibole’s Dark already lingered in her soul, and with a word shifted into a flood. For a flicker she felt as if she stood as tall as the Touched, and Dark snaked across the waters, its shape boiling and ever shifting, but its direction true. She struck the helmsman first, and the ship lurched. Men fell overboard, but their terror was meek compared to what she unleashed on any who kept their footing. She raised her arms as if conducting a choir of screams and the fury of Kibole was her own. Madness took hold on the enemy’s deck, some men splitting each other open with axes and machetes, while others leaped for the waves. The ship careened, its wheel spinning unguided, hooking sharp to port in front of them.
She heard Ivin’s shout: “Hoist the Elk of Emudar and burn that godsdamned Hidreng hawk! Emudar!”
Sailors cried in unison: “Emudar! Emudar! Emudar!”
And arrows thudded into their deck from another Tek ship. She turned. This bigger vessel was on the far end of the range of their bows, and she wondered how far her Dark would travel. She focused and recalled the energies, sending them at this other, but as the snakes wrapped the first archers in terror, she felt her control fade, and before she drew her next breath, the connection snapped. “Shits.”
Her lungs emptied as if clubbed in the chest. Eyes widened. Mouth gaped. She collapsed to her knees but never felt the impact. Her arms were noodles incapable of breaking her fall, and her cheek struck the forecastle’s deck before her consciousness went black.
“Hoist the Elk of Emudar and burn that godsdamned Hidreng hawk! Emudar!” Ivin drew the Ar-Bdein’s blade and waved it over his head. “Emudar!” And the sailors joined in the chant as others rushed around him.
He looked to the sky to see the green Hidreng flag falling, and the rise of the antlers of Emudar. If they died now, at least it would be under the proper flag.
He snagged a sailor by the shoulder. “Rope! Help me.” They jogged to the rail where a coil of wrist-thick rope stood four feet high, and unwound over fifty strides worth. He glanced back to the Captain, and Swolis pointed. They were damned near on top of the longboat already.
An arrow thudded the deck only strides away, and he turned: archers from a Tek ship nocked a second flight, but they’d soon be out of range.
The sailor knotted the rope’s end through an iron ring, and they waited, timing the throw. “Incoming!” Eyes from the boat caught his, and the weighted end soared with the sailor’s deft throw. Oarsmen leaped to their feet, snagging the rope before handing it to a woman to tie around the dolphin figurehead. The sailor ran rope clear, then tied the end off to the ship with a smile.
“Choerkin!” Ivin turned to the sterncastle, where Remic pointed toward the prow.
Meliu! He spun and sprinted toward the forecastle, fearing an arrow had struck her. Gods, no. He took the stair in three strides and shoved an archer from her side. He held her head to his thighs as he kneeled. “What happened?”
The men shook their heads, and Bolun answered, if Ivin remembered his name right. “She just fell.”
The Rot? He slipped an arm beneath hers, his other hand rubbing her cheek. She was warm, but not burning up… and he’d been checking every inch of body for boils the past several days. No, not the Rot. He lifted an eyelid and his heart skipped. Her eyes were black, not a hint of white nor their usual green. “Holy hells. Meliu! Wake up. Wake up!” He shook her shoulders, but she was limp as the dead, except for her chest rising and falling in shaking fits.
Bolun said, “We got us a tail.”
Ivin looked up; the ship of archers gave chase. He laid Meliu’s head on the deck. “Sorry for this. Bolun, meet me on the sterncastle. He jumped to the deck and ducked into their cabin, rushing to Meliu’s pack. His hand fumbled through her things until finding the Wyvern Fire arrow. He dashed through the door, catching up to Bolun climbing. He held up the arrow. “What’s your range?”
“Hells if I know.”
Ivin handed the man the Wyvern arrow and snagged his bow, yanking an arrow from his quiver. He nocked and gazed at the oncoming ship. He tested the string, a heavy draw, and took aim with a lofting arc. The string thrummed and the arrow sailed, short and far to the left. He glanced to their own flag, then the Thonian spear on the enemy ship whipping toward shore. Bolun handed him another arrow, and he took aim, this time he wasn’t pointing at the ship at all.
The arrow streaked high and peaked, falling with a wind driven curve into the ship’s prow. Which meant they were in range as well. Arrows streaked back, but they weren’t aiming for him: shafts struck the longboat trailing behind them and folks fell screaming.
Ivin snagged the Wyvern’s Fire and nocked with a deep breath. Its heft was different, the hells if he had an idea how the damned thing would fair in flight, and the other ship already drew closer. He aimed, adjusted, took a breath and exhaled. Bare fingers scraped from the string and the arrow launched. His arms fell to his side as he watched.
“Curve. Curve, you bastard.” The wind favored him as the arrow peaked and plunged, but he lost sight of its flight. The enemy flashed in furious white fire, the flame spreading with uncanny speed. Within a flicker three men were ablaze and white tongues climbed the foremast. In less than a wick, its foresail would be cinder.
Ivin shoved the bow back
into Bolun’s hand and ran back to Meliu, kneeling by her trembling side. He kissed her lips. “Wake up!” The last thing he needed was to lose another woman he loved. He sat quiet, staring, waiting for her lids to open to familiar green eyes, forgetting everything around him.
Until cheers arose. “Emudar!”
Ivin’s eyes rose, and he saw the Tek ship leaning hard, spinning at damned near a dead stop. She’d run aground, which meant… He turned toward land and he could pick out the faces of people on the beach. “Ah, hells.”
The Captain’s cry rang out, “Brace for land!”
45
Sailing to Fire
The peace you live with was earned by warriors with spears and swords, willing to die in order to kill those who sought to destroy your ancestors. The prosperity and fertility of your fields was fed by their victory and sacrifice.
–Codex of Sol
* * *
“When we make New Fost, what do I tell my people?” Solineus stood beside Inslok at the prow of the Entiyu Emoño staring east, despite the enemy sailing to the south. Over that horizon Tek banners flew on a dozen ships, maybe more. The Luxuns outpaced them, but their longeye in the crow’s nest always spotted more.
Inslok’s tone was dry as ever. “As we do not understand the Tek fleet’s goal, it is impossible to say. I do not imagine them fool enough to strike the Eleris.”
“Nor do I.” Having seen the Eleris, and having felt the power of the Eleris, invasion meant suicide. But was this an impression or reality? Inslok’s reaction to so many ships sailing east suggested there might be more vulnerability than he conceived.
“Which means New Fost may not be there when we arrive.”
It’d taken him several days to come to grips with that possibility, but he no longer allowed it to eat his innards every wick of the day. Solineus scratched his brow and pulled a hard biscuit from his coat pocket. Someone had figured out how to turn grain into a rock, which meant it kept for a long while. Fresh stores on the ship ran out four days ago. “Would they invade the Blooded Plain?”
“The Tek are like most humans: They will do what they have convinced themselves is in their best interest, even when it’s the opposite of reality. Humans are children and learning not to touch a hot stove can be painful.”
Frustrating bastard. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“It would be no, except something has driven them this far. Hidreng, Bemour, and Kilmin, they are friendly with each other, but Brotna and Thon? Enemies to the former three, yet they sail side by side. Whatever drives this alliance could drive them onto the Blooded Plain.”
“And what would the Edan do?”
“Smoke.”
Solineus shook his head, confused. “What the hells are you…” He followed the Edan’s eyes to a light trail of smoke. “New Fost?” Solineus didn’t wait for the answer, he sprinted for the aft castle until facing Captain Intœño. “What is it?”
Intœño side-stepped closer to the helmsman at the wheel. “The vanguard of the Tek fleet struck a Silone ship outside New Fost.”
Solineus’ heart raced, his first instinct to draw his swords, but he was a horizon from a fight. “What do we do?”
“I am sorry, my friend. There is nothing we can do.”
“Turn for New Fost.”
“This is a merchant vessel, not a ship of war. And either way, we are but one. Sonoenyo Ilnenu. One man is never an army.”
The Edan appeared at the corner of Solineus’ eye, silent as ever. “The Captain is right.” Inslok’s face hung low, as if the icy being bore regrets.
“They won’t attack this ship, flying the Luxun banner.”
Captain Intœño said, “That is a maybe, my friend. The Luxuns lose ships like every other sailing nation.”
“They won’t attack a Luxun ship with an Edan aboard.” He glanced to Inslok, who glanced to the captain, who glanced to Solineus.
“This is so, I believe. But what good will we do?”
“Hells if I know, but please, let’s take a look.”
The feathers of his head fluffed. “Hard starboard, Junen.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The Entiyu Emoño sped through waters like a hunting cat, graceful and uncanny fast, but there was no way to halt time. The trails of smoke rising were uncountable as they drew close, swirling in winds and overlapping.
Solineus crouched as hope escaped with his breath.
Inslok said, “We’re better served sailing to the Eleris, alert them to this insult.”
“Insult? A godsdamned insult? Is that what this is to you?”
Solineus!
Kinesee’s voice screeched between his ears, and chills shook him so hard he put a hand to the floorboard. He felt the fear knotting her every muscle, turned, and knew if he could see so far, she would be right in front of him.
He leaped to his feet. “Get me to shore.”
“I—”
“Sail this godsdamned ship straight through them whoresons and drop me with a rowboat. I don’t give a piss how you get me there, just do it.”
Glimdrem’s hearing was exceptional, but he still found it difficult to believe what his ears told him. Sailing straight into a warring armada… Nobody was thinking straight. What power did this strange human have over so many people?
The Edan lauded the Luxun traders for many things when it came to the oceans, sailing into battle wasn’t one, and Inslok? The Edan confounded his every sense of who these people had been the past five hundred years.
A fearful thrill passed through him at first; he had never witnessed a naval battle, but the tingle faded and died as they grew close enough to understand the scene before him. This wasn’t a glorious war as he read of in God Wars tomes, it was slaughter. Tek ships rammed smaller Silone vessels, splitting fishing boats in half, or slid up beside merchantmen to board, fighting skeleton crews armed with hatchets or staves. Soldiers took prisoners of old men and women, anyone unlucky enough to be onboard, and if they resisted, they killed them outright.
The rock in the pit of his stomach grew heavier when he reminded himself there was nothing they could do for these people. Tek warships passed within thirty strides of the Entiyu Emoño. Tek archers nocked several hundred arrows and pointed their way, but only a couple dozen or so ever let fly, and never more than one salvo from a ship. With the Crown and Moons flying high, and an Edan standing on the prow lighting the ship, every captain they passed shouted their bowmen down.
Inslok turned to him. “I will travel to the Blooded Plain. I need you to sail to the Eleris, inform the Volvrolan of these events.”
“I will.” Leave a war zone for the Eleris? His luck was improving. “What should I say about the Gate?”
“Tell them everything you know.”
Glimdrem hesitated, told himself to keep quiet, but his tongue had a mind of its own of late. “Is that everything you know?”
“What I feel I can not put into words. What you know must suffice.”
“As you say.” His eyes gazed past the Edan; two Tek ships sat close, the stern of one twisting into their starboard path. For the first time while aboard a Luxun ship, he was happy to say he was a strong swimmer.
The Captain’s shouts disappeared amid the clamor of sailors, and the Entiyu Emoño leaned hard to port, angling for a run between the two ships. It was tight, too tight and shrinking. Sailors scrambled and Captain Intœño screamed: “Lock on!”
Glimdrem hadn’t a clue what the man meant, but watching the crew grab rails and other solid objects, he figured it out. He lunged for a castle post, gripping tight a flicker before the ship rocked hard, the Tek vessel’s aft crashing into the Entiyu Emoño and grazing down the length of the hull. Arrows thudded the deck and Inslok ignited his glow with his shield facing them. The Thonian captain shouted his archers down and in flickers that felt as a month, the Entiyu Emoño slid from the grip of the Thonian vessel. Intœño belted orders so fast Glimdrem hadn’t a prayer of picking out a word he understood.
Intœño’s feathers stood near straight on his head as he struggled to bellow over the din, but within moments the ship righted and the sails filled with wind. The Thonian’s sails should’ve been stealing the wind, but they hung near limp. In that instant, Glimdrem figured he’d confirmed the rumors of Luxun’s manipulating the elements when sailing. But this was his scholarly mind overcoming the terror of the previous few wicks.
Glimdrem scrambled back to the captain. “How’s the ship?”
“Intact! Clear waters ahead if the bone eaters don’t come for us.”
They cruised at an angle toward shore. Thousands of armed Silone lined the beach, and a cog sat rammed against the rocks. Solineus and Inslok climbed into a rowboat as several Luxun sailors prepped to lower them over the starboard rail. Glimdrem recognized then why the human had a pull over the Edan. On the surface they were night and day, but somewhere beneath they were dusk and dawn: The same, only from different points of view. Warriors, remorseless killers, men with foolish codes of how to live.
Sailors lowered them into the strait, the Edan’s glow disappearing. He turned to Captain Intœño with a certain relief. “To the Eleris.” Realization struck: There was no longer an Edan onboard to stop the arrows.
Intœño’s head-feathers fluffed three times as the helmsman spun the wheel, and he pointed. The blockade was thinner to the northeast, with Tek engaged with Silone ships, but two warships headed their way already.
“You’ve seen battle before, Captain?”
“Indeed! Against the Bobaru a time or two, but I was a lad with sword and shield in my hand.”
Mention of the Bobaru brought Uvin to mind, with shark’s teeth and yellow eyes, but the memory was useless. “Win or lose?”
Trail of Pyres Page 43