Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (70 page)

 
          
"For
a moment there I thought us lost," the freesword said, blue eyes intent on
Calandryll, curious and admiring, "But then you ... did what you did.
Ahrd, but you frightened them!"

 
          
He
shook his head, not sure what he had done, memory of the battle fading like a
dream.

 
          
"The
spaewife—Ellhyn—spoke of power in you," Katya murmured, respect in her
voice, "and I saw it used before, but I thought us lost then. It is a
frightening thing."

 
          
He
nodded, too weary to speak, nor knowing what to say; not knowing how he called
up such magic, nor much liking that he could, for all it had saved them. It
seemed— as Bracht had said, on another boat—that only in direst peril was he
able to unleash those forces. He did not want to think about it and began to
fumble at the fastenings of his mail, seeing that, like his hands, all splashed
with blood.

 
          
Bracht
came to aid him, unmoved by the carnage, pleased even with the battle, or so it
seemed to judge by his cheerful smile.

 
          
"Your
lessons were well taken," he grinned. "Ahrd! When you charged
them—what possessed you then?"

 
          
He
shmgged, the answer unknown, and winced as his shoulder throbbed. Bracht eased
the mail off and slipped the lacings of the shirt beneath, studying the bruises
that purpled on his ribs and back with efficient eye, probing for broken bones,
that ministration eliciting a groan of discomfort.

 
          
"You'll
heal soon enough," the Kern said briskly. "A little stiffness for a
while, no worse."

 
          
"I
fear that Tekkan's temper will be worse," Katya remarked, easing out of
her own armor. "He will have things to say on the matter."

 
          
Bracht
grinned. "But it was a fine fight, was it not? And we filled both the
barrels and our larder."

 
          
"We
lost three," she said, sadly. "Three who need not have died had we
returned sooner. I mourn them."

 
          
The
Kern's face grew solemn then and he set a hand on hers.

 
          
"That
blame lies with me. Had we not returned into the jungle ..."

 
          
Katya
shook her head, gently extricating her hand.

 
          
"I
need not have listened to you—their lives were in my charge, not yours."
Her eyes were sad, the grey clouding to stormy darkness. "The fault was
mine."

 
          
"I
swayed you," Bracht said. "Do not hold that guilt to yourself
alone."

 
          
Katya
sighed, resting back against the stepping of the mast, a tired smile fleeting
on her lips. "Three were lost," she murmured, "and I cannot undo
that."

 
          
"No,"
Bracht said, "and likely more will die before this quest of ours is
done—shall you mourn them all? Shall each be a weight on your conscience?"

 
          
The
grey eyes turned to his face and Katya nodded. Aye each one," she said
sadly. "That is the way of Vanu, and as you said to Tekkan—our ways are
different. Do you not mourn your fallen in Cuan na'For?"

 
          
"We
do," Bracht said, "but we do not carry them with us. A warrior knows
that death walks at his shoulder and he - or she accepts that dark friend. That
is the way of it, and who cannot accept that should not take up a sword."

 
          
A
shadow fell between them then and Calandryll looked up to see Tekkan standing
over him. The helmsman s face was flushed with anger and he gestured
peremptorily in the direction of the foredeck, snapping something in his own
language.

 
          
"Tekkan
would speak with us," Katya translated. "And what he has to say he
prefers be private between us."

           
It was an effort to stand, but
Calandryll forced himself to rise, following the helmsman to the bow Bracht and
Katya close behind. Tekkan stationed himself by the figurehead, the wind whipping
his silvery hair, his eyes near black with anger, a flush suffusing his tanned
cheeks. He spoke in his accented Lyssian, his voice harsh.

 
          
"Had
you returned with Urs and not gone back into the jungle, Yvra, Tomel, and
Ayrtha might still live."

 
          
Katya
nodded sadly and said, "Their deaths rest on my shoulders and I grieve for
them."

 
          
"To
go back was my suggestion," Bracht said. Katya would have waited on the
shore. Do you have blame to lay, let it be with me."

 
          
Tekkan
made an abrupt, dismissive gesture. Katya led—the fault is hers. This is a
thing of Vanu—and we do not risk the lives of comrades without good
cause."

 
          
"We
sought fresh meat," Bracht answered, anger straining his voice now.

 
          
"Costly
meat," Tekkan snapped. "Paid for m Vanu lives."

 
          
"How
could we know the savages would attack?" Calandryll interposed,
recognizing the tensing of Bracht's shoulders and seeking to avoid more open
conflict. "It was a risk—yes—but such danger was there from the
start."

 
          
"A
needless risk." Tekkan swung to face him, the anger in his eyes startling
Calandryll. "We had the deer on board, and they will see us through a
while. Had you returned then, none need have fallen."

 
          
"Perhaps,"
Bracht said, "Or perhaps the dugouts might have found us sooner,- perhaps
the savages attacked us in the jungle and we all fallen there."

 
          
"Do
you of Cuan na'For deal in 
perhapses?”
 Tekkan
retorted. "Or does reality have some place in your dealings? The
reality
of these events is that three Vanu folk lie dead. And that blame rests with
Katya."

 
          
Calandryll
saw Bracht's hand clasp the falchion's hilt and stepped closer. Katya moved
between the Kem and the helmsman.

 
          
"The
blame is mine," she said softly. "I accept it."

 
          
"Better
you listen to your own conscience than the persuasions of this warrior,"
Tekkan advised coldly. "Do you heed him, we'll likely reach Gessyth
crewless."

 
          
Bracht's
jaw tightened: Calandryll clasped his wrist. Tekkan saw the movement and smiled
bitterly.

 
          
"Do
you answer all argument with a blade?"

 
          
"I
answer insults thus," Bracht said.

 
          
"Bracht
sought only to furnish us with more meat," Katya said, urgently now.
"Sufficient taken here negates the chance of further danger. I weighed
that and chose to heed him. That decision was mine alone, and I grieve that it
was wrong. But do not lay the blame on Bracht. Nor let this come between
you."

 
          
Tekkan
studied her face for long moments, then ducked his head; a single, curt nod.

 
          
"So
be it. May your conscience resolve the matter— but there will be no more forays
save in numbers. Nor shall you three venture shoreward again."

 
          
He
turned then to Calandryll, the anger faded a little from his eyes, and said,
"You threw those canoes like feathers on the wind, as easily as you turned
us back once—why did you not use that power earlier?"

 
          
"I
do not command it." Calandryll shook his head helplessly. "I do not
understand it. Not then, on the
Narrow
Sea
, nor here, nor any time it has come to my aid.
It comes—I can say no more.”

 
          
Tekkan
grunted, his face thoughtful. "You at least saved lives," he said.
"More would have died had you not summoned that power."

 
          
Calandryll
nodded and looked to Bracht, seeing the Kem still tensed with anger, then to
Tekkan. "Is there peace between you?" he asked. "What lies ahead
leaves no room for anger, I think."

 
          
The
helmsman favored Bracht with a speculative stare and slowly ducked his head.
"Words of wisdom," he allowed, "I would not have this between
us. We are different, I think, and that is an ... obstacle. But I'd see it removed.
Shall we agree on that, warrior?"

 
          
For
a moment Calandryll thought Bracht would disagree, would seek redress for what
he saw as insult, but then he, too, ducked his head, hand leaving the falchion,
the tension his face.

 
          
"We
shall agree."

 
          
Tekkan
smiled then, shortly and with little humor, his eyes moving to Katya where she
stood at Bracht's side, their expression doubtful. “Best see those hurts
tended,” he grunted, and left them.

 
          
Calandryll
relaxed, watching the helmsman stride back to his tiller, taking the beam from
the golden-haired man who held it as might a parent take a child from one
entrusted briefly with its care.

 
          
"He's
a prickly conscience," Bracht murmured.

 
          
"He
cares for all on board," Katya said, her voice defensive. "Each loss
cuts him deep."

 
          
"He
need not have rebuked you so," Bracht said.

 
          
"I
led," she answered. "He had the right."

 
          
"The
helmsman commands the captain?" Bracht frowned. "The ways of Vanu
are, indeed, strange."

 
          
"This
vessel is his command," she told him, looking to where Tekkan stood on the
low poop. "The securing of the Arcanum is my task; this vessel his."

 
          
"Even
so," Bracht said, "he presumes much."

 
          
"Fear
edged his tongue," she murmured. "He was afraid harm had come to me,
and that sharpened his temper."

 
          
"I'd
not see him test it on you."

 
          
Bracht's
voice was soft: Katya turned to look into his eyes, her own troubled; as
though, Calandryll thought, sne wrestled with some inner problem, indecision
creasing her brow. Then she sighed, reaching up to smooth long strands of pale
gold hair from her face, the slight movement of her head both resignation and a
negative.

 
          
"You
do not understand," she said quietly. "You praise my sword skill, but
in Vanu that is unusual. In Vanu I am considered ... different."

 
          
"In
Cuan na'For you would be admired," Bracht declared gallantly.

 
          
"You
do not understand," Katya repeated. I have told you that we fight no wars
in Vanu peace is prized higher there than battle skill. We fight only when we
must; when we are forced to it. Quara and her archers? They are hunters—they
would sooner use their shafts on game
than
men. And none can use a blade as well as
I."

 
          
She
paused, looking out over the sunlit ocean. Calandryll watched her face, sensing
inner conflict. Bracht studied her in silence, waiting for her to speak again.
When she did it was in a low voice, tinged with sadness, as though the very
talents the Kem admired caused her regret.

 
          
"I
was chosen for this task because of that skill," she said at last.
"Because it suits me better for what needs be done. That alone causes
Tekkan ... discomfort. And fear for my safety adds to his concern."