The men that had tied down the ship were nowhere to be seen.
Fear began to rise up in him. Where did they go so fast? They should have stayed on the dock. They would have had to run to get out of sight so quickly, and if they did run away, then they obviously knew something was about to happen. Tarrin felt that was the case. Something was about to happen, and it wasn't good. The fact that there was a Wikuni clipper tied up right beside them was a good indication of that. The man who had dropped the pole was cursing at him in Shacèan, reaching down to pick it up again.
Tarrin heard something behind, something that made him turn to look. A massive Wikuni frigate had moved in behind the galleon, cutting off any attempt for it to escape.
It was a trap!
He wasn't the only one to notice. Sudden shouting erupted all around him, frightened screams from the performers, shouts of alarm from Faalken and Binter. To his left, Tarrin saw armored Wikuni pouring out of the clipper beside them, and more of them flooding out from the doorways of the warehouses in front of them. They were all armed with swords and those strange projectile weapons that Keritanima called muskets, firearms that shot small metal balls with the powerful force of gunpowder providing the power to make them deadly. They took a long time to reload, giving each Wikuni only one shot, but there were twice as many Wikuni as there were carnival performers. Enough to kill them twice over.
He didn't know if they were going to fight. He had to get back to Dolanna, get someone to tell him what they were going to do. He could see Keritanima ahead of him with the other dancers, screaming, pointing at him frantically, then motioning back towards the Wikuni clipper. He glanced over in time to see a line of Wikuni along the rail, holding muskets. Except for a handful, which were armed with crossbows. And they were all pointed at him and the other performers on the dock.
Keritanima! She was out in front, and she was unprotected! Binter and Sisska were already scrambling forward, weapons in hand, moving to interpose themselves between the Princess and the Wikuni Marines rushing at her from the front. But Tarrin was closer. Changing form in midstride, Tarrin vaulted over a few people, charging ahead, then skidding to a stop in front of her, claws out, challenging the advancing Wikuni to try to get to her through him.
They had made a good trap, Tarrin thought grimly. Letting them dock in the corner, where the wall and the sea cut off any escape routes, and hiding a hundred men on the ship beside theirs and in the warehouses in front to cut off the other two escape routes. They were surrounded, and the only way out was to fight against superior numbers. It would be ten to one, because Tarrin didn't expect any of the performers to put up resistance. This wasn't their fight, and he didn't blame for it.
"Kerri, get out of here!" Tarrin snapped, laying his ears back and giving the Wikuni in front of him a murderous look. "Get back to Binter! Go!" He half-turned towards her, motioning at her to run--
--and then something struck him in the chest solidly. And then there was nothing but darkness.
Keritanima stared for a moment in dumb shock, then she gave out a strangled cry.
Tarrin was splayed out on the ground, with a crossbow quarrel sticking out of his chest, which twitched sickeningly with every beat of his heart. And he wasn't moving.
Kneeling, mindless of the pool of blood forming around his chest, staining her fur, Keritanima put her hands on his chest and realized that he wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing! The quarrel shouldn't have hurt him! She'd seen him take worse injuries and not even flinch!
In a panic, Keritanima grabbed the quarrel and yanked it out violently, feeling his body jump, hearing him take in a ragged, shallow breath, staring at the bloody head in horror.
It was silver.
"No!" she said in strangled tone, putting both hands down to stop that flow of red from his chest. "No! Don't you die on me, Tarrin Kael! I won't let you!" she screamed hysterically, touching the Weave. Powerful healing energies welled up in her, and she sent them into him quickly, carefully. But the truth became clear to her after only the briefest assensing of him. The silver had wounded him horrifically, had struck as close to his heart as it could without piercing it, and his body wouldn't survive the stress that healing would place on it, even if she had the time and the power to try.
Tarrin was going to die.
She was only dimly aware of Binter and Sisska, of Azakar, surrounding her and Miranda with weapons drawn, holding off a large formation of Marines. Tears streaming from her eyes, she concentrated all her energy on Tarrin, trying to heal him despite the fact that his body couldn't withstand it, desperate to do anything to try and save her brother.
And found that the wound resisted any attempt to heal it. She remembered numbly the stitches in Tarrin's arm. Dolanna hadn't healed it, because she couldn't.
Silver was bane to Were-creatures, and the wounds it inflicted couldn't be healed by magic.
"No!" she wailed. "You bastards!" she shrieked in rage, jumping up and running at the officer in charge of the Wikuni Marines, hands flaming with fire, fully intent to kill the lot of them. But Azakar grabbed her around the middle and pulled her back, standing resolute as flaming hands burned him every time she grabbed at his wrist.
"Your father wants a word with you, Princess Keritanima," the officer said bluntly. "Surrender, or we kill everyone on the ship."
Keritanima glared at the raccoon Wikuni, her lips passing horrible promises and curses. "Why?" she finally managed to scream. "Why did you shoot him!?"
"Because we were fully aware of how dangerous he was," the officer said calmly. "Any attempt to recover you meant that he had to be, removed."
"I'll show you dangerous!" she screamed, raising her hands. A vicious blast of fire erupted from her hands, and it hit the Wikuni officer dead in the chest. The Wikuni managed to scream only once before he was reduced to a smoldering pile of melted steel and ash.
"This is not the time, Kerri!" Azakar said, squeezing her around the middle. "If you start killing them, they will start killing us!"
"They killed Tarrin!" she screamed. "They killed my brother!"
"And you're going to lose your sister if you don't stop!" he said in a powerful voice. "Look around you! They have us surrounded, and Tarrin wouldn't approve if you got everyone else killed!"
Keritanima looked around. There was Allia, a murderous look in her eyes, but her head was tipped back with a dagger point held to her throat. Dolanna was laying on the wharf, and Keritanima didn't know if she was dead or unconscious. Dar had a bear Wikuni holding him in a powerful grip, a claw at his throat, and Faalken had his hands raised with muskets pointed at him, looking at Dolanna in clear worry and concern.
"Bring them, quickly!" someone shouted from the ship. Wikuni started jabbing at Keritanima and those around her with the bayonets fixed to the barrels of their muskets. They were herded, Azakar still carrying Keritanima, to the gangplank of the ship, where what looked to be an Admiral or other very high-ranking officer stood at the top. He was a leopard Wikuni, with spots over each of his yellow eyes and a scar running on the right side of his muzzle, the scarline devoid of fur. "Come quietly, and we leave those behind alive," he said in a strong voice. "Resist us, and we'll leave them all like your friend over there, but either way, you will be coming with us. Even if we have to drag you back in chains."
Keritanima glared her rage at the officer, but she remained silent. Rage had overtaken grief, but she kept enough control of herself to know that it was not the time to fight back. The lives of everyone else depended on her good behavior. "Alright, but I promise you this," she said in a hissing voice. "You will pay for killing my brother. I swear it on Kikalli's spear."
"Then blame Jander," the man said, staring right at her. "He's the one who told us where you were, where you were going, and how to deal with the Were-cat so he couldn't destroy us before we could get control of you."
"Jander!" Miranda gasped. "Jander sold us out?"
"I prefer to think of it as doing his patrio
tic duty," the man said idly. "Take them below, and cast off. Leave the others unharmed, so long as her Highness here behaves herself." He turned and started walking away. "And one more thing, your Highness. We have operatives here. If you start misbehaving once we're at sea, I'll have them kill your friends. Keep that in mind before you start hatching your little schemes."
Keritanima looked back as someone grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her out of Azakar's arms, looked back to the dock, looked back to soemthing that would forever be burned into her soul.
Tarrin, laying in a pool of his own blood. He laid there, and he was all alone. That hurt her as much as seeing him like that, seeing that nobody was there to comfort him as he breathed his last. And it felt like she was leaving a part of her own soul with him.
Chapter 9
The mood in the small cabin was grim.
Dolanna sat on the edge of the bunk, holding a shirt to the grievous wound in Tarrin's chest, flanked by Faalken and Allia, who held his paw in her delicate hands as both stared down at him in grief-stricken worry. He had lost so much blood, laying there on the dock! The Wikuni wouldn't let anyone get close to him until well after the clipper and its accompanying frigate were a good distance away. And then they let everyone go and retreated, without hurting anyone else. The entire time, Tarrin lay there and bled onto the wharf, losing precious moments and precious blood, dying in front of them. She was amazed that he had survived for so long. But Tarrin was strong, and his will to live was formidable. That was the only thing keeping him alive now.
There was nothing else she could do. She felt so helpless! The wound had been inflicted by a silver arrowhead, and that made it unhealable by anything other than time. But time was the one thing that Tarrin did not have. His life hung by a thread, and Dolanna had seen enough to know that the wound was mortal. No matter what she did, it would not be enough. Without magical healing, Tarrin would eventually give up, and then he would die. His stubbornness was the only thing making his heart beat. He was already pale, the pallor of death, losing the blood that helped color his skin, and looked dead already.
"Dolanna, how is he?" Faalken asked in a very worried voice, looking down at him.
"Silence!" Dolanna snapped, holding the shirt harder to his bare chest. She had to stop the blood. If she could just stop the bleeding! Then he may have a chance! She could feel his hearbeat through the shirt held up to his chest. She could feel it slowing more and more, becoming irregular in its rhythm, see that his breathing was becoming shallower and shallower. He was starting to falter!
"No, Tarrin, do not give up!" she said in a desperate tone. "We are here for you!"
But her pleas had no effect. His heartbeat stopped for a span of seconds, each an eternity to her, then it started up again, much weaker than before. It managed only a few beats before it stopped again, and then he let out all his breath in a slow sigh.
Then she felt someone behind her. Dolanna turned to look, and gaped in astoundment as Triana stepped through the doorway. As tall as Azakar and as lithe as Allia, the strong-featured Were-cat took only one look at the three of them, and then at Tarrin. Her expression never changed from its stony mask as she reached out and put her paws on his chest, between Dolanna's hands, and looked right at her. "Don't move it," she said. "And be careful. When I do this, he may jump."
Dolanna nodded wordlessly and pushed down hard. She never felt anything, but Tarrin's body suddenly convulsed, and he took in a powerful breath, as if he'd been dunked into a icy pond. Then he collapsed back to the bed, his hearbeat and breathing stronger.
"What did you do?" Allia asked in worry.
"Gave him the strength he needs," she replied in her powerful voice. "Now keep that bandage on the wound. I'm not done yet."
The three of them watched as she kept her paws on him. They couldn't see anything that she did, but Tarrin lost the pallor that had denoted the loss of blood, and his breathing stabilized into a very slow rhythm. "Keep that bandage on him," she said again. "Don't move it until I tell you to."
"Why are you doing this?" Dolanna managed to ask, keeping her elation that he seemed to be improving to herself. "Tarrin said you meant to kill him."
"I've meant to kill my other children from time to time as well," she said gruffly, keeping her paws on him. "He's no different."
"Your child?"
"He is now," she snorted. "And I don't let my children die unless I'm the one that kills them. Who did this to him?"
"It was the Wikuni," Allia said quietly. "They ambushed us. Tarrin never had a chance."
"I saw them," she said. "I'll deal with them later. Right now, I'm needed here. You, out," she said, looking at Faalken. "Stand at this door and kill anyone that tries to come in. You, go get some hot water and rags. We need to clean the wound before we dress it," she ordered of Allia. "You, Sorceress, stay here. I need your Sorcery."
"I cannot heal him."
"I know, but you can use your power in other ways. We need to get this rag off of him and bandage him without reopening the wound, and we'll need your power to do it."
"As you command," she said obediently. "Allia, Faalken, do as she says. Tarrin's life is in her hands."
"Is he going to be alright?" Allia asked hesitantly.
"I can't promise anything, but he's tough. I think he'll make it, if we're very careful."
Allia burst into tears, and Faalken embraced her. "Go on, my dear ones," Dolanna said gently. "Tarrin still needs us."
It was like trying to find a way out of nowhere.
Tarrin's consciousness floated in a sea of blackness, and he was curiously detached from his senses. He'd felt that way before, and a part of him seemed to understand that he'd been hurt. But he couldn't recall when or how it happened. He floated in that sea of nothingness for either a second or eternity before the first fringes of sensation reached him, wondering what had happened.
The first sensation was pain. A chronic wave of pain that seemed buried in his chest, and emanated out in pulses timed with the beating of his heart. He was somewhat accustomed to feeling pain, but this was something new. Even in his detached state, he could tell that it was intense, acute pain, pain that would leave him thrashing about in agony if he were fully conscious. But it felt strange to him, knowing that it was pain, yet not reacting to it as he felt that he should. To him, it merely was, and though it was a bad sensation, there was no fear or worry in it for him, and it couldn't seem to touch him.
But that pain became more and more focused. He began understanding it, realizing that it was the pain of a deep wound, and it became clearer and clearer to him. It did start to feel for him, and he began to get uncomfortable with it lodged inside him the way it was. But as the sense of the pain sharpened in him, so too did other senses. He became fuzzily aware of sounds around him, of someone holding his paw, of the feel of sheets against bare skin. A cool sensation on his skin, like the air of an autumn night. But overwhelming all of them was the pain.
It was in his chest. It went through his chest, like a spear of pain that drove right through his heart, and it was the beating of his heart that made the pain throb through him.
He had no idea where he was, what had happened, or why he was there. Wherever there was. Everything seemed hazed over his semi-conscious awareness, and he found it hard to even think. He couldn't remember anything, and images from his memory seemed to drift through his mind randomly. Memories of his life before Jesmind, memories of Jesmind and the Tower. Strange memories, things that seemed like they belonged to someone else. Of him and Allia and Keritanima in the baths, laughing and playing like children in the empty chamber, splashing at one another. Of the day he found the strange gossamer wing that still resided in his special box, one of his most prized and treasured possessions. Images of his mother, Elke Kael, holding her axe lightly in her hand and teaching him the best way to hold a sword. Of the many fights he'd had with Jenna when both of them were very young. How they had hated each other when they were very small,
only to outgrow it and have it turn into a powerful friendship when they entered adolescence. He couldn't remember when that had happened, of which memory was older than which, or even of what had happened recently. The images were a jumble, and he couldn't sort out which ones were long ago, and which were only last month.
He felt someone squeeze his paw. It was a strong contact, strong in physical power and strong in the sensitivity of the touch. He struggled to find some way to tell whoever was holding his paw that he knew it was there, that he was nearly awake, but he couldn't figure out where his paws were.
The effort had cost him, more than he realized. He spiralled back into the unfathomable blackness.
The next time he clawed himself near the surface of his sleep, things seemed different. The pain was still there, but it seemed somewhat duller now, as if time had taken the edge off of it. There was warmth now rather than cold, and he could sense light striking his eyelids. He could hear garbled voices, and it seemed that his ears were trying to discover the direction from which they issued. There was still someone holding onto his paw, squeezing it gently. But this time, he had enough sense of himself to understand which muscles to use to respond.
"Dolanna!" a voice said in a frenzy. For some reason, he could understand the words now, when before it was nothing but a jumble, but he couldn't identify the voice. "He squeezed my hand!"
About that time, he managed to remember how his nose worked. The scents in the place where he was were thick, and the air was a bit stuffy. It was someplace small, someplace with no windows to let air flow. The coppery smell of Allia was the first one he managed to pick out, then he could identify the lavender scent of Dolanna. Dar's dusky scent registered to him, as did the leathery smell of Faalken. There were other scents in the room, a few he couldn't identify, but the musky smell of Triana was almost immediately recognizable.
He didn't have the energy to be surprised. She was in the room, at that very moment. Why was she there? And why wasn't she trying to take his throat out?
The Questing Game Page 38