Oathen

by Giacomo, Jasmine

  Ahni nodded and cleared her throat. “I used to be an Enforcer in the Cult of Dzur i’Oth, in Shanal.”

  Anesta lunged to her feet, simultaneously shifting the child to her hip and drawing her dagger with her other hand. She pressed the blade against the underside of Ahni’s jaw, putting the surprised child on the opposite side of her own body. Baring her teeth, she hissed, “That was not the way into my good graces.”

  “I want down! I want down!” the girl said, wide-eyed, clutching Anesta’s shirt.

  “Hush. In a moment.”

  “Anesta! By the hearth! Have patience, woman. There’s more to the tale,” Ahousi insisted, holding out a placating hand.

  Ahni, for her part, had shown neither surprise nor fear. “I’m afraid the cult beat the fear of death out of me rather thoroughly.”

  “I’ll bet they did. Tell me the rest; I’m not moving this dagger.”

  Ahni didn’t protest. “I joined Dzur i’Oth enthusiastically, hoping to serve a source of true power. Instead, I got twisted around by Oolat’s grandiose ideas and lost myself. I came to my senses during one of our raids under the guise of the Blood Plague—gathering people to harvest for bloodmagic. The raid was on the village where I grew up. My brother and his wife… Guilt drove me from the cult, and fear forced me from Shanal.

  “As soon as I heard about the powers of the Silver Hand here in Salience, I felt the old pull of power. Only this time, I was also afraid of them; I worried they were just as bad as Dzur i’Oth. Luckily, I met Shalin Ebie and Shayin Ahousi, and they helped me understand that the Silver Hands’ purpose was to help others rather than themselves. They gave me a home here, and I’ve served them ever since. They told me earlier that you would be interested in one of Dzur i’Oth’s plans, which hasn’t been put into motion yet. It involves a young prince in this Vint that Shayin Ahousi mentioned.”

  “Go on.”

  Ahni summed up the cult’s plan for a young boy named Addan.

  Anesta hissed in disgust, then looked at Ahousi. “That is why you suggested the Temple of Knowledge.”

  Ahousi gave her an angelic smile. “I have perfect faith in your scheming talents, Unbroken.”

  Ahni took a deep breath. “It would be my honor to watch over the girl at this Temple of Knowledge. I’ll serve her as faithfully as I have my mistresses.”

  “Now will you put that dagger away?” griped Ebie.

  “Not yet. It’s not easy to walk away from Dzur i’Oth. It’s even harder to forget their propaganda. I have just one question for you, Ahni, and I’m only going to ask it once. If I get the answer I want, I’ll let you live.”

  Ahni’s eyes were unafraid. “Then ask.”

  “Who is the Shanallar to you?”

  Ahni blinked. “She’s the nemesis of Dzur i’Oth. The one woman they can never kill, who hid the key to their unholy magical book. Who will return one day to destroy it forever, according to the Scions.”

  “The who?” Anesta began.

  But Ahni’s eyes went wide, and a shocked smile split her face. She dropped back a step and stumbled to one knee, narrowly missing Anesta’s dagger. “It’s you. The Unbroken is the Shanallar! It all fits. You’re actually real!” She clapped her fingertips over her lips and let slip a sob of happy disbelief. “You’re going to save us all.”

  Anesta lowered the dagger and let young Sanych slip to the floor beside her. With a nod, she said, “Yes, I am.”

  Chapter Six

  Six evenings out of Salience, Sanych found herself adrift in the warm sea, shaded by a mass of seaweed that concealed the bamboo struts she and everyone else hung onto. Blinking a splash of seawater from her eyes, she recalled Rhona’s instructions to her: “You stay here where it’s safe,” the captain had said, pointing to the deck of the Princeling, “and maybe then no one will give away our plans.”

  The pirate might have had a point, besides humiliating her. Dangling over unknown fathoms of water, with at least seven species of shark native to these waters, as well as an electric eel and nine fish with various venom delivery methods, was certainly not Sanych’s idea of “safe”. She resisted the urge to climb on top of the seaweed camouflage, instead spending her time listening for the sound of the surf that would signal the end to their camouflaged journey.

  Rhona had selected two hundred volunteers from the six ships that remained after Ruel had taken temporary command of one of them, and they had harvested a kelp bed in order to conceal themselves from Aldiban sentries. Now the volunteers floated silently with the current, which, according to Rhona, would wash them ashore at the Aldib seacliff, during sunset’s high tide.

  A shadow’s cooling touch reached her at the back end of the trailing kelp mat—the seacliff was finally between her and the sun. Clutching a thin bamboo support in either hand, she let her neck rest back on another slender pole and looked up through the rubbery kelp leaves. The island loomed ahead.

  Minutes later, she could make out the crescent-shaped beach that footed the Aldib seacliff. Coral reefs began to drag at her thin leather shoes, and she lifted her feet, bracing for the impact with the sand.

  The ocean teased the enormous kelp mat for nearly half an hour before the receding tide deposited its last tangles on the wet sand. Sanych was dragged to and fro, sloshing longer than anyone else, before she jammed her feet in the sand and just hunkered there, spitting out water after each wave overwhelmed her. I’d rather drown than be seasick for another minute, she thought, swallowing back her bile. When the waves only came up to her knees, she dropped from her low crouch into an exhausted lump under the green kelp.

  Why did I think this was a good idea again? she asked herself, willing reason to return. Oh yes. Something about needing to record the quest…importance of accuracy…I didn’t take into account the dozens of ways to die during this mission. If I survive, I’ll definitely add those into my calculations.

  The sky dimmed. The only sounds she heard were the incessant waves, now lapping at her feet through the kelp, and dozens of seagulls. The two hundred pirates within a stone’s throw of her were perfectly silent. The air smelled terrible, though. Not only were there the usual smells of rotting fish and other oceanic discards, but the Aldib dump must have been nearby. Rotten food and slaughter offal invaded her nostrils, along with even fouler scents. She gritted her teeth and swallowed, plucking a kelp leaf and placing it right over her nose.

  For the love of Wisdom, I hope they hurry!

  ~~~

  A lone ship bearing the name Lenila and the banner of Kauna’kana requested permission to tie up at the home dock of House Nabal just before the sun began to set. After receiving permission, it gently kissed the dock, and an armed dock escort waited while the ship lowered its gangplank.

  The sturdy captain, with his gaudy purple-brimmed hat atilt, swaggered down first, followed by four of his own guards. After them came three men, shackled together. None looked pleased about it, but the one in the middle was exuding waves of terror, while the other two merely glared in annoyance.

  The Nabalan lieutenant stepped forward to greet the ship’s captain.

  “Fair skies and welcome,” he said in Jualan, bowing just enough to be considered polite. “What may the humble House of Nabal do for you this evening?”

  The captain replied in Hyndi. “I do not speak your tongue. Much forgiveness. You may converse in this language, please?”

  “Of course,” the lieutenant said, switching tongues.

  “Much excellence. We are finding this man here.” He turned and pointed to the terrified prisoner. “We wish to return him to you, and beg for reward.”

  The lieutenant frowned and squinted at the prisoner. “I do not know this man. What has he done, that I should reward you for bringing him to me?”

  The captain leaned in, and his stormy blue eyes gleamed. “He runs away from his wedding,” he confided.

  “Do not listen to him!” the prisoner shouted in courtly Jualan, jerking at his chains. The other two men rest
rained him and ordered him to be quiet. “No, it’s not true! The pirates attacked my voth-nai; I was taken prisoner! I was on my way to the wedd—”

  One of his guards punched him in the face, and the prisoner staggered, clapping a hand to his mouth and bringing it away bloody.

  The lieutenant’s eyes widened. “Kemsil Urondarei! Of Jath!”

  “None other,” the man said, standing tall in his ragged clothing. “I beg you, sir, set me free and let me go my way, and Jath will be in the debt of Nabal for a generation.”

  “Whatever he speaks, it is lies,” the captain drawled, waving a dismissive hand. “You will take him from me, yesno?”

  The lieutenant licked his lips. “You know he was to marry into House Aldib. Why have you brought him to us?” Suspicion lined the man’s forehead. Kemsil looked away quickly, but the lieutenant caught the smirk on his face. “What do you know?” he demanded.

  The captain shrugged. “We would stop across your bitsy island at House of Aldib earlier this day, excepting how they seemed busy on their docks.”

  “Busy?”

  “Full. Crowded. With pirates. It did not seem healthy to disturb.”

  “Pirates?” The lieutenant’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  “Swordfish on every prow,” the captain said, shrugging one shoulder. “What room for my one ship among their forty? So I come here to Nabal, loyal friend of Aldib. You are loyal friend, yesno?”

  The man’s eyes prowled the dock and the ship before him for a few long moments as he pondered his options. Whirling to his men, he began barking orders in Jualan, and the men scattered. Most bolted up the hill with him at a dead run, while several remained behind. Shoving the captain out of the way, they grabbed the prisoner and his two guards and hustled them away as well.

  As Kemsil protested with terrified demands for his freedom, the captain shouted, “Hoy! That’s my prisoner! Where’s my reward? You can’t take my men!”

  One of the soldiers placed his sword against the captain’s chest, and muttered a few words in Jualan. The captain raised his hands in capitulation and went quiet. In minutes, he was the only one on the dock.

  Shouts and the neighing of horses carried faintly on the air, and the captain’s shoulders slumped. He walked back up the gangplank and stepped onto the deck.

  “Fine job, Ruel,” Meena said, coming up from below, sword in hand. “You’d make a passable captain any day. Not to mention you have a quick grasp of languages.”

  “That was my Daskan character, Captain Harr. I’m glad he translates so well into Jualan. After that performance, I could use a—”

  Meena handed him the rum that she carried in her other hand.

  “Shiny.” He took a long swig.

  She stepped to the Lenila’s rail and looked out at the slow rise of land at the end of the island. The sun lit the grassy slopes and swaying forests with a fiery hue. Miles away, the eastern end of the island was dark already, shadowed by the humped middle of the land.

  Ruel stepped up beside her. “How long do we wait?”

  “Not long. They’ll be away soon. When it gets quiet, we’ll go.”

  Time dragged by. Ruel shed his gaudy coat and hat. Finally the Nabalans rode out; the pounding of their horses’ hooves gradually faded to silence.

  The Shanallar spoke. “Now.”

  Meena, Ruel and a few dozen Clansfolk slipped down the dock and onto House Nabal grounds. Skulking silently from shadow to shadow, avoiding the occasional pedestrian, the pirates began to raid. Meena and Ruel checked the outbuildings for their companions, finding them in a small shed next to the kitchen gardens.

  She waved Ruel over. He picked the lock on the shed door, and Meena slipped inside. Drying herbs hanging from the rafters filled the air with their sharp scents.

  “How are we doing?” Geret asked her in a low voice. He sat on the floor of the shed, resting against a barrel of seed, chained to Kemsil, who was chained to Salvor.

  “So far so good,” she replied, lifting a key on a leather thong from around her neck. A few quick twists of her wrist freed the three men. “Let’s go.”

  As they followed her out of the shed, Ruel darted back in for the manacles. “Don’t leave these behind. We stole them fair and square.”

  “Off you go, then,” Meena smiled. “Just remember, ‘too much swag, your keel will drag’.”

  “Aye, Seamother. We’ll pick lightly. See you at the rendezvous later.” Ruel melted back into the shadows.

  Meena led the three men to the stables, now nearly empty. Only three horses remained, back in the far corner, and none appeared in the best of health. Geret, Meena and Salvor quickly saddled them and led them outside.

  Geret and Salvor mounted their horses, and Meena ordered Kemsil to mount up behind her. Moments later, the horses and their riders stole out onto the road that led across the island.

  ~~~

  Kemsil could no longer see his and the others’ shadows stretching long on the road ahead; the sun had finally set. Their horses slowed to a walk, passing pampas grass clusters on the side of the road. The dozens of Nabalan soldiers that had ridden out ahead of them were gathered around the gate that led to Aldib’s compound, shouting and gesticulating. Guards on the wall shouted back, sometimes to the Nabalans and sometimes to others within the walls.

  “Which way to the Garden Gate?” Meena asked.

  Kemsil pointed. They dismounted and proceeded toward the gate, leaving the horses behind. As they passed within earshot of the front gate, they heard someone shout, “There are no pirates here, you gullible imbeciles!”

  Around the curving wall they stalked, keeping to the shadows and taking their time.

  “There,” whispered Kemsil, as they hunkered down in thick shrubbery. He gestured fifty feet ahead to a narrow gate in the wall. Between it and them lay a varied profusion of blooms and topiary. “Alima proposed to me here,” he added, his lips twisting with the memory.

  “And then the banns?” Salvor asked.

  “Not immediately. I returned home without giving her an answer, and when it became clear that I was not willing after all, I was summoned here again. My family put me on the boat themselves, and told me not to come back unless I brought them honor.”

  “Then why didn’t Aldib marry you to Alima when you got here?” Geret asked, his voice barely audible.

  Kemsil quietly laughed through his nose. “You’ll recall that using the banns is unkind. No one of an honorable House would wish to be seen as unkind or overbearing in any way, not in this modern era. I was released, with the wedding set two seasons ahead. It gave the appearance that all was well, and that Jath was in perfect harmony with the wishes of Aldib.”

  Geret bit his lip. “Maybe being a prince of Vint isn’t so bad, after all,” he murmured.

  Salvor nodded. “All a matter of perspective.”

  “Shh,” Meena cautioned, cocking an ear toward the Aldib compound. Shouting and the clash of metal began to waft over the wall.

  “That’s our cue,” she said, rising to her feet and ghosting through the twilit garden. The gate guards had left their posts, drawn toward the action. Reaching the gate, Meena scurried up its crossbars and slithered through the narrow gap at the top, right below the breastwork. But the gate didn’t open immediately.

  Kemsil’s heart began to thump; sweat broke out on his forehead and palms. If something happened to Meena, the Aldibans would certainly capture and kill him for failing to show up at his wedding to Alima.

  Finally, the gate opened. As Kemsil and the others entered quietly, she muttered an apology for the delay; she’d sprained an ankle leaping to the uneven ground and needed to wait in the shadows for it to heal.

  Kemsil took a moment to get his bearings. Aldib soldiers were flocking toward the distant seacliff, running into those who were just coming from there. Cries of “Pirates!” were shouted down by those who had just been arguing with the Nabalans.

  He grinned. The chaos was beautiful to behold.
“This way,” he said, running through the night.

  ~~~

  Sanych’s lungs were on fire. Crawling, she reached for the next wooden step on the stairs that zigzagged up the Aldib cliff. When the Nabalans had tried to storm the inland gates of Aldib’s compound, a call to arms had sounded to defend against the supposed attack. The Aldibans on the docks had used their elevator cages to rise to the top of the hundred-foot cliff, and the true invaders quickly and stealthily slipped from under their kelp camouflage. Desperate to keep up on the steep wooden stairs, Sanych was afraid that if she fell out of sight of the last pirates, she’d be lost in the orchestrated chaos above.

  She could hear the ring of steel and shouts of surprise and fear. Wheezing in pain, she scrambled to the top step, which merged with smooth stone flags atop the cliff, and sprawled onto them, skinning her hands. A rough arm jerked her up before she could catch her breath, and Sanych found herself face to face with Captain Rhona m’Kora. The pirate’s turquoise eyes were fierce; Sanych felt a wash of trepidation run through her.

  “I’m the quest’s recorder,” she blurted over the rising sounds of battle. “I needed to see—”

  “Of course you did.” Rhona’s grip on her arm tightened, and her eyes flicked to the long drop behind Sanych’s heels. When her gaze met Sanych’s again, the naked ruthlessness in her eyes was clear. “Be careful, Archivist. We wouldn’t want you to fall while disobeying direct orders.”

  “No…” Sanych squinted warily at Rhona, belatedly realizing what the captain was implying. “That would be unfortunate.”

  Rhona jerked Sanych away from the edge, pushing her onto her knees near a row of shrubbery. “Stay out of the way. We’ll not be here long. See if you can be useful and figure out how to use the lifts.” The captain stalked off into the roiling melee, swords in her hands and a feral grin on her lips.

  Sanych shivered, rubbing her arm where Rhona had squeezed it. But my entire purpose is to record the events of the expedition! she thought, glaring after the pirate. Rhona doesn’t understand that. She’s just transport, but she’s acting like she’s taken over the whole quest. Maybe she’s jealous that I’ve spent more time with Meena than she has. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she allowed herself to recall Rhona’s last words. The lifts. She looked over at the nearest one and recognized the mechanism that operated it: a simple double-ended crank, operated by its passengers.