by J. K. Barber
“Maybe,” Damon countered, “maybe not. Talas… excuse me, Brother Talas told me that time was a bit of a factor. As such, I have already begun preparations. The Isabella can be ready to leave in two days’ time. I doubt that any other ship of sufficient size or… discretion would be available to you on such short notice.” Damon’s words were laden with hidden meaning.
Mala tensed again. “Are you threatening us, Captain Damon?” The swordmistress’ anger was clear.
Damon put his hand over his chest again in mock distress. “Of course not, Mistress,” he said. Sasha noticed that the man was now using Mala’s proper title. “I am simply letting you know that other captains might not be so discreet, regardless of what you pay them.” Damon did his best to appear relaxed but Sasha suspected that the captain felt he may have overplayed his hand. “I, on the other hand, am a man of my word, regardless of what that oaf Modine may have told you and I have yet to fail to fulfill a contract for which I have been properly compensated.” Seeing Mala calm down somewhat, Damon pressed his opening for a bit longer. “Also, while prudence is something that my men are well known for, there are others in the city here that may require more… how shall I say… persuasion.” Sasha couldn’t help but admire the man’s daring and found her lips curling in a small smile.
“And what would you feel would be proper compensation, Captain?” Mala asked, perceptibly disinclined to pay the man any more than what he had been promised, but just as clearly seeing the logic of Damon’s words, regardless of the scoundrel that spoke them.
Damon seemed to consider the matter for a moment, though Sasha was certain the man had a figure in mind before boarding The Peregrine. “Let’s say… another ten percent?”
Mala exploded. “You are out of your mind!” the swordmistress growled. “If you think that we’re going to…”
The older woman’s building tirade was interrupted as a dark blur flew through the window and up into the rafters of the small cabin, erupting into a frenzied cacophony of feathers and squawking.
Sasha looked to the two agitated crows and then at Mala, worry filling her heart. She glanced over to Damon who wore a startled expression on his face. A small dagger had appeared in his hand, poised to throw. The pair of black birds screeched at each other for several long seconds before they flew down to land on Sasha’s shoulders. The young swordswoman had to fight hard not to throw her hands up around her head in a protective gesture.
The birds began whispering in Sasha’s ears, their voices assaulting her quickly and simultaneously. The message though, penetrated straight to Sasha’s heart. Damon was mildly shocked that the crows were speaking but succeeded in remaining nonchalant.
“Do you know this city?” the younger swordswoman asked Damon, her voice sounding panicked, even to her own ears.
“Like the back of my hand,” the captain replied, his confidence clear in his tone, replacing the dagger to its sheath on his belt.
“Listen,” Sasha said. “I don’t have time for your cocky male nonsense. Do you know your way around Valshet or not?!”
Damon’s voice lost all swagger and the man became deadly serious. “I swear by my sword that I do.”
The man couldn’t have chosen better words to assure the young swordswoman. “Fine, you help us find who we’re looking for and you’ll have your ten percent.”
“Sasha!” Mala protested. “You don’t have the authority….”
“Mistress!” Sasha interrupted. “It’s Katya and Jared! They’ve been attacked!”
Mala did not hesitate. She extended her hand to Damon, who clasped it sealing the bargain. Sasha threw open the door, running out on to the deck of The Peregrine. The Nhyme, the Master Swordswoman, and the captain followed the redhead outside. Mala gestured to the three soldiers disguised as sailors who had been standing outside the captain’s cabin, doing their best to appear as though they weren’t on guard.
Sasha grabbed Damon by the shoulder, shoving him so hard down the gangplank that the captain had a hard time keeping his balance as she blurted the name of the herbalist shop. For her part, Sasha didn’t think her feet actually touched the long plank of wood before she was on the dock, charging up the cobblestone streets into Valshet.
Jared stumbled into the alley and ducked behind a stack of barrels, pulling Katya down into a crouching position beside him. The hunter tried his best to control his breathing, pulling air that smelled of fish oil in through his nose and then letting it escape his lips as slowly as he could. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and feared the sound like the drums of an advancing army. Fear flushed through Jared’s veins, and he felt the cool rush of it over his skin except for the places he had been struck, which felt as though small fires burned beneath his flesh. Again the hunter concentrated on slowing his breathing and his heart. After a moment, Jared looked over at the young woman beside him.
Katya’s face was flushed, her breathing ragged and her knuckles white around her staff. She was scared and wasn’t shy about showing it. If she knew the full extent of the danger, Jared thought to himself, she’d be even more frightened. The sorceress had handled herself well in the apothecary’s shop, keeping a level head and using her talents to make the best of a horrible tactical situation. Her trainers would have been proud. Jared thought of Mistress Mala and imagined that conversation in his head.
How dare you get Katya killed! I don’t care if you died yourself, that’s no excuse for getting one of my charges killed! Jared chuckled weakly to himself, the short laugh turning into a string of hacking coughs.
Katya placed a hand on Jared’s shoulder, concern clear in her eyes. “Are you all right?” She placed a hand to his head, not waiting for a reply.
Jared quickly knocked the hand away, immediately regretting the gesture. He didn’t want to hurt the young woman’s feelings, but he didn’t want her discovering what he already knew. Fever had set in. Whatever poison the assassins had used was working fast. The numerous doses they had contaminated him with hadn’t helped his situation much, nor had all the running he and Katya had been doing since then.
Jared reached for one of the leather pouches at his belt but he couldn’t get the fastener to work. His hands felt heavy and his fingers were beginning to numb. Neither was a good sign. Katya’s hand closed over Jared’s fumbling ones and she gently moved them out of the way. I had a sword in my hand before, Jared thought to himself. Where is it? The hunter looked around and saw his blade resting on the ground next to him, not remembering when he had set it down.
Calmly unlatching the strap from the brass fastener, she pulled two small bags from the hardened leather pouch that was made to be fixed to Jared’s belt.
“What do you need?” she asked. Jared looked up into Katya’s dark brown eyes. The young woman was obviously still scared, but somehow she had managed to push down that fear so that she could help the hunter. The concern that Jared had seen before in the sorceress’ eyes was now even more apparent. He marveled at the strength this young woman had, knowing she would need every ounce if they were to survive this. Katya had only been hit once by the assassins’ poison spikes, and she wasn’t showing any signs of weakening yet. Jared hoped she had not been subjected to a lethal dose, but that hope was short lived as he looked more closely at her. Her eyes were beginning to redden and yellow circles had appeared under them. In the heat of their flight she probably hadn’t noticed any symptoms, attributing any ill feeling she had to the exertion of the fight and subsequent running. If she looks like that, Jared thought, Great Mother, I must look like I’m on the edge of death. The hunter wished there was less truth to the phrase in his case, but in his heart he knew there wasn’t. The men who had attacked them knew it was only a matter of time before the poison did its work. That was why there was no pursuit. He and Katya had left a trail a novice could follow, between the shocked people they had passed and the baskets of foodstuffs that Jared had knocked over in his frenzied escape. Along the way the hunter had finally manag
ed to suppress the animal side of himself, fighting down the panic that had welled up in his chest, and had begun using his head instead of his instincts.
Sirus’ words echoed in Jared’s increasingly hazy brain. Just because we can talk to animals and think like them, doesn’t mean we can’t use our heads as well, the bear of a man had said to Jared after soundly thrashing him during one of the hunter’s first training sessions in hand to hand combat. Jared had tried to overcome Sirus’ size with what the younger man had thought was an overwhelming attack of speed and ferocity. The larger and more experienced man had turned aside, displaying a speed that belied his massive bulk, grabbed Jared by the arm and used the hunter’s momentum to throw him a good ten paces. Jared rolled half that distance further before coming up hard against the thick trunk of a tree. The lesson that day had been easy to figure out: despite his abilities, Jared was still a man and intelligence always overcame the savagery that was lodged deep in the young hunter’s heart.
“Jared?” Katya said, shaking the woodsman by the shoulder.
“Wha?” he replied, the sorceress’ words bringing him back to the present. Had he passed out? For how long? Had Katya noticed? Jared looked around the alley in which they had hidden. The light seemed dimmer. Some time had passed.
“You were looking for something in these pouches?” Katya asked, holding up two small leather bags.
What had he been looking for? Jared’s thoughts were becoming slower, like trying to walk through deep mud, each plodding step becoming harder and harder while sucking more and more energy from him. Finally, his thoughts reached their destination. Raising his arm weakly, Jared pointed at one of the pouches. “Inside,” he said, his voice sounding weak and far away even to his own ears. “Some leaves. Put them in your mouth and chew… don’t swallow… just the juice.” Why was he telling her to chew the leaves? He couldn’t remember. The leaves, what were they? What were they used for?
The light darkened further and Jared wondered if he had lost consciousness again. He felt fingers prying open his mouth and shoving something between his teeth. Whatever it was, it tasted horrible. He made to spit, but a soft hand held his mouth closed and moved his jaw up and down. He heard a voice whispering in his ear but he couldn’t make out what it was saying.
“Huh?” Jared managed to croak around the thin coarse things in his mouth.
The hunter heard a voice yelling at him from far away. It sounded familiar, but he didn’t recognize it. “Chew! Swallow!” the voice called, sounding hollow and dim. “For the Mother’s sake, Jared, swallow!” He couldn’t quite make out the rest of what the woman’s voice was saying, but she seemed upset about something.
He tried to speak but found his mouth full, so he swallowed before he attempted to talk. “It’s alright,” he said, or at least that’s what he meant to say. He was pretty sure it came out a garbled mess, between the stuff in his mouth and how tired he was. He felt like he was floating, his body light and his mind drifting away. He was so tired. Maybe after he slept he would feel better.
Jared woke to the sound of feet on wood above his head and the smell of fish. He opened his eyes and promptly threw up. Luckily, he had time to roll over and heave the contents of his stomach over the side of the cot. Also, luckily, there was a large bucket half filled with vomit already on the wooden planks next to his cot waiting to receive his contribution. Jared’s stomach heaved vainly a few more times before finally admitting that it could expel no more and settled back down to a disgruntled murmur. The hunter looked a moment into the bucket seeing a rolling mess of what looked to be partially digested fish, its surface sloshing back and forth in time to the movement of the ship.
Jared lay back again, trying to get his thoughts to catch up with his surroundings. He was obviously aboard a ship but had no memory of how he had gotten there nor even where there was. He inhaled deeply through his nose, hoping to catch some scent that would give him more information… and immediately regretted it. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, vomit and fish. Fearing he would begin throwing up again, Jared closed his eyes and took several long deep breaths through his mouth this time.
“Jared?” a familiar female voice asked. “Are you really awake this time?” Jared opened his eyes and lifted his head a little, finding the source of the questions. Sasha sat at the foot of the bed, atop a small barrel, a worried expression on her face. He noticed that the young swordswoman was dressed in a loose fitting white cloth shirt tucked into a pair of tanned leather pants, her red hair pulled back into a loose braid. She was not wearing her armor, however, her sword and dagger still hung from her hips. A recently discarded book sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
“Wha…,” he croaked, his tongue thick in his mouth and his throat raw from what seemed to be repeated voidings of his stomach. Jared cleared his throat. “What?” he asked again, perplexed by the question. “Of course I’m really awake. How would I fake something like that… and why would I want to?” Jared rolled back over to the side of the cot looking for something to drink. He spat a couple times trying to get the taste of fish and vomit out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure which he liked less. “And Great Mother, when did I eat fish? I hate fish.” Jared looked around some more, trying to find something to relieve the horrible taste. He eyes came to rest once again on the red haired swordswoman, whose skin had taken on a noticeable red hue of its own. Reaching down, she picked up a waterskin, stood and handed it to Jared. The hunter took a deep mouthful, swished it around in his mouth and then spat it into the bucket. The smell made Jared’s stomach roil again. Sitting up, he drank greedily from the skin, suddenly realizing he was parched.
“I’m sorry,” Sasha said, resuming her seat, “but Damon said the fish would help.” The swordswoman was uncharacteristically flustered. She seemed to be trying to say several things at once. “We… I was so worried about you. You were so pale… and your breathing… it was….” Sasha suddenly launched off her barrel towards Jared, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that the hunter had trouble breathing before he was able to extricate one of his arms from her grip. Slipping his free hand around Sasha’s back, he hugged her back. The details of his trip into Valshet suddenly came back. He managed to use his trapped arm, the one holding the waterskin, to leverage some more breathing room.
“What happened to Katya? Is she alright?” Sasha loosened her grip but did not let go entirely, sitting on the bed beside him.
“She’s good,” Sasha replied, her voice colored with obvious happiness, but Jared thought he detected a small undertone of something else. The swordswoman continued before Jared could think on it overly long. “She got much less of a dose than you did apparently. Luckily, Damon was able to tell us what the poison was and how to treat it.”
“Wait,” Jared said, interrupting Sasha. “Who’s Damon?”
“That would be me,” a voice called from the doorway. A tall slender man of Eastern descent stepped into the room. Dressed in a similar fashion to Sasha, though wearing a black, brass-buttoned vest and sporting an abundance of throwing knives about his waist, Damon walked across the room towards where the pair sat. Jared noticed the man moved gracefully, despite the gentle rolling of the ship’s deck.
Sasha made to stand, but Jared tightened his grip around her waist, silently requesting her to remain where she was. The hunter could feel Sasha turn her head and could guess at the look of inquiry on her face, but Jared kept his eyes on the man in front of him. The faces of the Eastern men who had tried to kill him and Sasha’s sister were fresh in Jared’s memory, though apparently some time had passed. Coupled with the strange surroundings and the heavily armed man before him, Jared wanted Sasha, and her sword, as close as possible. The hunter felt the muscles in the swordswoman’s back tense as Jared’s hand slipped lower along her waist to rest on the hilt of the dagger on her belt. The hunter’s own weapons were not near, and he did not take the time to look around the room trying to find them. Sasha’s dirk was close at hand and th
at was enough for now.
Sasha placed a gentle hand on Jared’s chest, though she did not move from her place beside him. “It’s all right,” she said, her voice reassuring. “Damon’s the captain we were looking for.” After Jared did not react, she added, “He’s a friend of Talas.” Jared relaxed, but kept his eye on the man and his hand on Sasha’s dagger.
Damon halted his approach several steps from the foot of Jared’s bed, whether he did so out of respect or wariness, Jared could not tell. Regardless, the captain did not betray any outward sign of fear or insult. Instead he stood relaxed, his feet set farther apart than normal to steady himself on the gently undulating floor and his thumbs hooked in his wide leather belt.
Bowing slightly from the waist, Damon greeted Jared in the Eastern tongue as though born to it. Returning the bow as best he could from his seated position, the hunter greeted the captain in a similar fashion. Damon then began to speak in Eastern but Jared quickly waved for him to stop.
“I know nothing but a few words of the Eastern Kingdoms. You’ll have to speak in Illyander,” Jared replied.
Damon considered Jared quizzically for a moment, but then shrugged. “Very well,” he began again. “It’s good to see you are still among us,” the captain continued in the tongue of Illyander, his voice sounding completely sincere and holding only the slightest of Eastern accents. “The poison those men used on their weapons was potent, especially in the quantity you received. Luckily, the apothecary’s shop had everything we needed to prepare an antidote.”
“Captain Damon was very helpful,” Sasha interjected. “We found some of those metal spikes imbedded in the shelves where the assassins attacked you.” Sasha indicated Damon with her free hand. “Damon here was able to identify the poison and grab what we needed from the ruined shop before we tracked you down.” Jared was certain he heard a measure of admiration in Sasha’s voice when she spoke of the tall Easterner. Something twinged in Jared but he fought it down, concentrating on the matter at hand.