Scimitar's Heir (37 page)

As Braf’s screams died away, Uag stirred from his shock, and he lunged forward to bring his blade down in a heavy blow. The steel clove the creature’s soft flesh easily, and it spewed out a torrent of pink blood and mucus. Uag backed away again in disgust; he had killed many times, and had feasted on the beating hearts of the slain, but he had never seen anything like this living nightmare.

“Uag! The ship!”

Sepa’s shrill call caught his attention, and he realized that the deck was tilted drastically to port.

“Oh no,” he muttered, leaning over to glance into the port hatch without getting too close. Streams of mucus swirled in knee-deep water. “Fak, Sepa, we have to—”

The water in the hull roiled with motion, then slimy shapes surged up the companionway. Uag stumbled back and swung his cutlass at the wriggling creatures, but they were everywhere, and they squirmed so much they were hard to hit. Without thought, he backed away until he reached the mainsail shrouds. With the sea behind him and more of the beasts pouring from the hatch before, there was nowhere to go but up.

Uag dropped his cutlass and climbed the ratlines to the maintop without looking back. He heard his companions scream as they were taken, but paid them no heed; he could not help them. The ship listed far to port as he reached the trestletrees, and he gripped the topmast for support. The light breeze had filled the sails, and with no one at the tiller to steer,
Manta
turned slowly into the wind. As she turned, however, the sails came broadside to the wind, and the flooded port hull was pushed down into the water until it submerged. The deck was awash, the masts dipped closer to the water, and more snake-creatures squirmed aboard, dragging the ship down.

No escape
, Uag thought.

He drew his dagger, the obsidian blade he had used so many times to cut the hearts from his victims. The edge was serrated, and sharp enough to part flesh with almost no resistance. As the topmast dipped toward the school of ravenous beasts swimming below, Uag put the edge to his throat.

With one snap of his wrist, a warm gush flooded down his chest.

≈

Akrotia shook around them, and yellow-white light flared from the walls.

*Something has gone wrong,* Redtail signed to Slickfin. *We should go.* He grasped his sister’s hand and pulled, but she glared and jerked away.

*You are quick to abandon your friend, Brother,* she signed, sculling backward. *Akrotia is coming to life, and you want to leave Eelback, he who saved your life?*

*This is not as it should be,* he signed, gesturing to the hissing veins of fire that lit the stone around them. The rest of the school floated around them, their orientation chaotic in their confusion. *The scrolls say that Akrotia will live with the light of the sea, not the sun!*

*I do not
care
what the scrolls say,* she signed with one hand, while the other drifted to the dagger strapped to her slim waist. *We will not abandon Eelback!*

*And if Eelback is dead?* Redtail asked. It was clear from her posture that she would not listen to reason, but he had to try. *If he has failed, are we to die as well?*

*Eelback is
not
dead!* she signed, her gestures exaggerated with hysteria. The chamber rumbled again, and light flared from the intricate designs etched into the stone. *Akrotia is coming to life around us! How could that happen if Eelback failed?*

*I do not know, but this is not as it should be.* Redtail placed his hand upon the illuminated stone beneath them, then jerked it away. *The stone is on fire! Akrotia burns!*

Slickfin raised her hands to sign in protest, but before she could, a deep rattle of metal on stone reached their ears. The school shifted and swayed, their fins flaring in panic as all the hatches and doors suddenly closed.

Redtail darted to the nearest hatch. He wrenched at the release mechanism and pushed at the heavy portal, but it remained closed.

They were trapped.

Slowly, the water around them grew warmer, bubbles streaming from the hot traceries of light. The hot water hurt Redtail’s eyes, burned his gills, and he saw the skin of some of his companions begin to blister when they got too close to the walls, floor, or ceiling. Finally, he looked to his sister and signed defeat, but her eyes stared at nothing and her gills were still. Akrotia might be alive, but they were all going to die.

Chapter 27

Discoveries

Tim eased through the dense undergrowth, using his makeshift spear to push aside the thorned vines that had torn his shirt to a tattered mess. His foot sank into the soupy ground, and his other made a soft squelching noise as he pulled it free of the muck’s embrace. From behind him he heard only the whisper of metal on wood, and a faint squish-squish of feet in soft earth; his father had learned stealth in the past few days.

He glanced back to see Emil push another thorny vine away with the flat of his cutlass, and smiled grimly. They both looked like hell, with mud, filth, cuts and torn clothing from head to foot, but his father was holding up better than Tim had expected. Their search, however, had not gone so well. The island’s interior was a maze of impassible mangrove swamps, treacherous bogs, and even one pit of quicksand that had very nearly claimed their lives. They had found some traces of human passage, but the signs were old and quickly lost. Their frustration ran high, heightened by fitful sleep, as every evening, clouds of biting insects descended upon them. Only by smearing their exposed skin with mud were they able to get any relief from the swarming onslaught.

But Tim felt more alive than he had in months.

While he had never wanted to be a pirate—
their wonton cruelty sickened him—the rest of it, the danger, swordplay, and seamanship, he’d absorbed like a sponge soaks up water. And the constant tension of the past few days, the fight across the landscape, and the never-ending need for stealth, had his nerves as taut as bowstrings.

A distant, unfamiliar sound froze him in his tracks. He raised a hand, and Emil stopped behind him. He looked back, pointed to his ear and then in the direction he thought he’d heard the noise. His father shook his head; he had not heard it.

Then they both heard it, recognizable now as faint laughter. They smiled at one another, and Tim motioned for his father to come near.

“We’ve found them!” Emil whispered, his eyes alight.

“I think so, Father. Now we have to get closer and have a look. Quietly.”

“Then what?” Emil asked, his hand flexing on the sword hilt.

“Then we wait until dark.” Tim smiled, and this time his father did not look so surprised, but only nodded in agreement.

≈

Cynthia lay in Feldrin’s bunk, eyes closed, her shoulders and head propped up on pillows and her son cradled to her breast. Exhaustion threatened to drag her into oblivion, but she couldn’t let herself sleep, not yet. They still had miles to go before she would feel truly safe.

Mouse snored atop the sleeping baby, his hand clenching the child’s swaddling blanket as if he’d never let it go, his gossamer-crystal wings waving back and forth in a slow, rhythmic cadence. Cynthia’s only cover was a thin linen sheet, sufficient for the breeze of her own making that wafted through the open ports, cooling the cabin nicely. Through the overhead skylight, she could see the twilit sky fading to deep blue. Someone tapped lightly on the door, then opened it. Feldrin entered, balancing a tray of food in one huge hand. Lines of fatigue and concern etched his dark face, but they softened as he looked at the peaceful trio on the bed.

“Shhh,” she whispered with a tired smile, “he’s sleeping.” Mouse stirred and perked up his pointed ears, yawning widely.

“Right.” Feldrin smiled back at her and closed the door carefully, then set the tray down on the small table beside the bunk. Stew and bread, and not a great deal of it. It smelled wonderful, and she found that she was suddenly hungry. “Sorry, but we’re on short rations. Too many mouths to feed.” He spooned up some stew, tested the temperature, and fed her. Mouse fluttered aloft and landed on the tray, but Feldrin shooed him away. The sprite scowled, then flew up and out of the hatch in search of his own dinner.

“How bad is it?” she asked around the first mouthful. The stew was salt pork, with potatoes and onions, the only fresh vegetables they had left, but it was savory and spicy. Her gaze drifted up to the deck over their heads; she knew the status of their stores wasn’t his only concern.

“Not bad,” he said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “Some injuries, but most look clean. Willow bark tea, poultices and a sharp eye will probably do fer the rest ‘til we get back. Remind me to buy Dura a case of single malt fer that mainmast repair. A wonder it didn’t split full length with what we put it through.” He spooned up more stew for her. “Morale’s good, but fer Chula. He’s beside himself about losing
Peggy’s Dream
. He’s afraid you’ll hate him fer it.”

“Hate him? How could I…” Cynthia subsided at the warning look in his dark eyes, and opened her mouth for the spoonful of stew.

“Don’t worry, lass. He’ll be fine. He’s just shaken up, is all.” He fed her a bite of bread dredged through the spicy gravy. “He lost his ship and a good number of his crew. It takes time to come to terms with that.”

“How many?” The question caught in her throat, suddenly tight.

“Forty-three in all, counting Ghelfan, Rhaf, Janley and…Edan.”

“Edan…” She took another bite of bread and chewed thoughtfully. “What do you think happened, Feldrin?”

“I don’t know, Cyn,” Feldrin admitted. “I wasn’t payin’ much attention, but I saw he was backin’ up the stairs trying to get away from the water and that lunatic girl... I guess they went inta that chamber, and then it—”

“What?” Cynthia started, disturbing the baby. She rocked quietly until he calmed again. “Samantha was in the chamber, too? I thought she drowned.”

“When I saw ‘em, she had hold of his wrist and looked like she’d never let go. I never saw either of ‘em again after the room was flooded.” He shook his head, and added as an aside, “Flicker got out though.”

“Oh? How do you know?”

“I saw her outside, when Mouse showed up. Don’t know how they got out of there, but Mouse was ready to stay with you to the end. I had to make him leave.” He scooped up the last of the stew and fed it to her. “Last I saw Flicker, she was enjoyin’ the fire of
Peggy’s Dream
.”

“But Edan…” Cynthia chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “I still don’t know how it happened, but that was his magic I felt taking over the city. No doubt about it.”

“You said he had some of Odea’s magic as well as the fire magic. Maybe that was enough. I don’t know how or why, but it’s fer sure that the city came alive, and it was plain enough that it was fire magic. When we were a good dozen miles away you could still see it burnin’. Looks like the sun settin’ in the south, now.”

“I wish Ghelfan were here,” Cynthia said, her voice catching on the lump in her throat, sudden tears springing to her eyes. She brushed her son’s thin dark hair with her fingertips. “I want to name him after Kloetesh, Feldrin. We could call him Kloe, couldn’t we?”

“Sounds right to me, Cyn,” he said, taking her hand in his. “We owe him that much, at least.”

“Gods, Feldrin. So many people dead, just to help us. I don’t…” She sniffed and stifled a sob. “How can we...”

“I lost half a dozen good men when I was runnin’
Orin’s Pride
as a privateer, Cyn, and I beat myself near to death over every one of ‘em until Horace told me one thing: They came with us because they wanted to, not because we made ‘em.” His voice was gentle, and his huge hand brushed her cheek, wiping away her tears. Cynthia leaned into his touch. “Feeling guilty won’t bring ‘em back, and I don’t think a single one of ‘em would want you to. Especially Ghelfan.” He stood and lifted the tray. “Now get some sleep.”

“But the wind…”

“Oh, well, I fergot to tell you. We’ve fashioned a mess of sweeps from that timber we lugged along, and with all these extra hands on board, we’ve got full watches to man ‘em, so you can get some sleep and we’ll just be row-row-rowin’ along.” He smiled and opened the door. “Rest and heal up, lass. You’ve got more’n yer own mouth to feed, now.”

“Yes,” she said, looking down at their son. “Yes, I do.”

The door clicked closed and she lay back, easing her mind and letting the winds subside. There was a brief clamor on deck as sails were furled, and she heard Feldrin shout the order to run out the sweeps. Someone began a singing a slow song, almost a dirge, in the language of the natives, and others joined in. She didn’t understand the words, but the cadence and the droning tones were soothing. She breathed deeply of the evening air, and gazed up through the skylight at the indigo sky, where the first of the stars were coming to life. She let her mind drift, and finally fell into a deep, restful sleep.

≈

Tim grasped the wrist-thick mangrove roots for support and eased himself into the dark, tepid water. Behind him, Emil did the same with only slightly less stealth. Tim smiled without baring his teeth, nodding with approval as he looked at this father. Only the whites of the man’s eyes were visible in the darkness. They had covered their faces with mud to keep from being seen, for although the moon had yet to rise, even starlight could illuminate a pale face, and Tim had no doubt that the pirates would have at least one man on watch.

They pushed off into deeper water and let the sluggish outgoing tide pull them toward
Cutthroat’s
stern. Tim had recognized the ship as one of Bloodwind’s former fleet, and wondered how long her crew had been hiding out here on Middle Cay. He also wondered if Sam had lived here with them for the two years she had been missing, and if there was any chance that she was here now. He knew he’d seen
Manta
sail south, while the
Cutthroat
rounded Plume Isle’s southern point to turn back north, but she could have come back. He kept remembering the day she stole
Manta
and disclaimed their father. He hadn’t mentioned to Emil the possibility of finding her here, and he didn’t know what he would do if they did. He tried to put her out of his mind and focus on their mission.