James West - Shadow and Steel

Leitos unlocked his shackles, then his father’s.

Adham wrapped him in a fierce hug, then abruptly pushed him to arm’s length. “I take it you are not alone-unless you learned how to sail a ship?”

“The rest are above.”

“The sea-wolves said they killed you all, before the storm forced them to flee.” Unshed tears shone in his gray eyes. “I did not believe them. Not for a moment.”

Ba’Sel caught Leitos’s shoulder. “Weapons?”

“There is too much wreckage to be sure,” Leitos answered.

Ba’Sel ordered the hold scoured for anything with which to fight. In short order, the Brothers had armed themselves with iron-headed mauls, a pair of adzes, belaying pins, and splintered pieces of planking.

Leitos tried to press his sword into Adham’s hand, but his father took the dagger instead.

“I want to be close to these bastards when I spill their guts,” he growled.

In the brief time it had taken to arm themselves, the hold had almost become impassible. The Brothers swam to the ladder, and climbed to the rowing deck. Before they could join the battle on the main deck, a tremendous column of seawater shot up through the hatchway they had just escaped. What was left of the Night Blade’s hull shattered around them like an eggshell, and a foaming blast of seawater washed Leitos and the Brothers out of the wreckage, and across a coral reef.

Another debris-laden wave rolled Leitos off the reef into deeper water. Gasping, he struggled to stay afloat while holding his sword. Brothers bobbed to the surface close by, most coughing and entangled in coils of rope. A few stood on the reef, looking around in astonishment. More still swam away from the grounded ships, making for the distant shoreline.

“Leitos!” Adham called.

Leitos swam toward his father. After a few strokes, his feet touched the sandy bottom. “We need to go back for the others.”

“There is no need,” Adham answered, pointing at what was left of the two ships, the reef holding them fast.

Moonlight played across the debris, and Ulmek stood on the highest point of the Night Blade’s ruined bow. He raised a firemoss lantern, peering about. Behind him, some of the Brothers began lining up Kelren prisoners on the tilted deck, while others tossed lines to those swimming nearby.

“Dealing with these bastards will make for a long night,” Adham warned, swiping a strand of seaweed from his cheek.

“We cannot kill them,” Leitos said. Adham gave him a sharp look, and he added, “As our prisoners told us, we do not have the seamanship to make the return journey. Besides, we will need them to build us another ship … if that is possible.”

“He speaks the truth,” Ba’Sel said, gazing at the leaning palm trees growing above a pale ribbon of shoreline. Higher, a shadowed and dense forest guarded the way to a mountainous land.

“One of our prisoners,” Leitos said, “named these the hunting grounds. He always laughed when he said it, as if our coming here would mean our doom.”

“I would speak with this man,” Ba’Sel said.

Leitos shook his head. “Telmon will never talk to the living again.”

Ba’Sel grunted. “Then perhaps one of these others will.”

“Rest assured, they will talk,” Adham assured him.

“First,” Ba’Sel said wearily, “we must get our men and the prisoners ashore. Then we set a guarded camp. I do not know what dangers these lands hold, but we must be prepared to meet them.”

Hours later, in a burst of gold and crimson, the sunrise brightened the leafy green foliage that climbed the flanks of sharp ridgelines and soaring mountains, the highest peaks of which hid amongst banks of mist. From Leitos’s vantage point, the curving shoreline gave way to a terrace of black rocks to the south; to the north, pale sands climbed out of the sea and became dunes covered in patches of tough grass.

Ba’Sel’s thoughtful expression spoke of vague familiarity. “If I do not miss my guess, we are standing on the shores of Yato, the largest island in a chain of the same name. I saw a map as a boy. Hundreds of isles stretch to the south and east, like a great claw cutting through the Sea of Sha’uul.”

“And how does that serve us?” Ulmek groused.

Leitos knew the man was happy to have rescued Ba’Sel and the others, but he did not know how he felt about relinquishing command. Without question, he was back to his usual ill-tempered self.

Ba’Sel fingered a scabbed lump at his hairline. “Poorly, unless Pa’amadin favors us. Even before the Upheaval, those who flourished on these islands were a warlike folk. By all accounts, the Yatoans were not given to trade, or forgiving of outlanders. They proved so hostile in guarding their islands that even the Suanahad Empire, with its hunger for conquest, gave Yato a wide berth.”

“Yatoans,” Ulmek murmured. “Where have I heard that name?”

Ba’Sel glanced at Leitos and quickly away. “Zera was of these lands.”

“So she claimed,” Ulmek said. “Only a fool would trust the words of a lying demon-born. But that is of no matter. We should double the guard at once. Telmon suggested these lands are a danger to us.”

“No,” Ba’Sel said. “Our scouts have found no spies, we have suffered no trouble, and so we will show no outward signs of hostility. If there are any watchers, we will show them that we mean no harm, and perhaps they will help us.”

Ulmek shook his head in disgust, and Leitos found himself torn. Fighting the Faceless One’s minions had left him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment-after a long year of training, he had finally begun his avowed quest. And the night before, when Ba’Sel had spoken of making ready, Leitos had been sure the encounter with the Kelrens had changed the man’s heart. But it had not, and his renewed passivity left Leitos deeply troubled.

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Leitos avoided his father’s pointed look, and tried not to think about standing on the place of Zera’s birth. Unlike Ulmek, he had no trouble believing Zera in this matter.

Feeling more exhausted than ever, Leitos settled onto the sand. Through the night, while the tide was out, the Brothers had gathered every weapon they could find from both ships. After that, they hauled the prisoners ashore, along with a small stockpile of barrels, crates, and any other supplies they could rummage. After the tide retreated again, Ba’Sel intended for them to return to the ships, and retrieve whatever else they could find of use.

Between the battle on Witch’s Mole and that aboard the Night Blade , the Brothers of the Crimson Shield had lost a dozen men. Thirteen lost, if the murmurs about Ke’uld’s chances proved true.

Leitos looked down the shoreline. Ke’uld briefly thrashed about, and Halan stilled him with a gentle hand. His scimitar lay across his legs, and he eyed the roped Kelrens.

With all that had happened since departing Witch’s Mole, Leitos had nearly forgotten about Ke’uld’s wounds. Now the Brother’s occasional outbursts served as a stark reminder of his declining strength. A fever burned in him, and even at a distance Leitos could make out the sweat coating his skin. Fresh bandages covered his shattered leg. Those wrappings only served to keep flies away. Had the Brothers still been on Witch’s Mole, they could have used various healing herbs and potions to aid him. But in this strange land, they had not had time to hunt for anything that might help.

“If he has any chance,” Ba’Sel said now, following Leitos’s gaze, “we’ll have to take off his leg at the knee. Even that may not be enough.”

“Better to give him to the sea, than to make him a cripple,” Ulmek countered. “It is what I would want for myself.”