David Dalglish - Wrath of Lions

It did not. The stone craft slowed, bobbing to a stop mere feet in front of him. The anchor-Ki-Nan had dropped the anchor. The bow was greatly damaged, split nearly down the middle and scored with scrapes and gouges. Several arrows protruded from the port side. Fear gripping his heart, Bardiya sloshed through the water and grabbed the moaning figure whose hand was still wrapped around the tiller. The hand fell limply away as he scooped the man up like he would a child.

“Is it him?” Onna asked, pacing back and forth on the jetty.

Bardiya looked down at his quarry. Ki-Nan’s eyes were closed, one of them swollen, and there was a gash along his brow. Blood covered his threadbare clothes. Bardiya pressed his head to Ki-Nan’s chest and could hear his heart beating. Tears flowed down his cheeks.

“He’s here-wounded, but alive.”

Onna tethered the damaged skiff while Bardiya loped away, climbing the rocky precipice with his friend tucked gently in his arms. He headed straight for his parents’ cabin, which had gone unused since their murder. It had been built for men of a normal size, so Bardiya had to drop to his knees just to enter. Dust rose in a thick cloud when he placed Ki-Nan on the straw-filled bed. Bardiya lit a few candles, then pressed his hands against his friend’s chest, pouring all the healing energy he could gather into him, praying that he had not used up Ashhur’s good graces on the elf boy.

He worried for naught, for Ashhur’s healing magic was just as strong within him as it had ever been. After a few minutes, the white glow faded from Bardiya’s hands. Ki-Nan’s face was clear of bruises and scratches, and the shoulder that had hung down near the bottom of his breast had been reset in its socket. He groaned and rolled over, his eyes still closed. Bardiya slumped to the ground, exhausted. His own eyes drifted shut a few moments later, and he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, it was nearly morning, the sky a purple bruise. The candles had melted down to nubs, dried wax forming frozen tears that were suspended from the table. Bardiya glanced at the bed, where his friend was sitting up, flexing his hand and feeling his forehead and cheeks, as if making sure they were still as they had always been. He did not look in Bardiya’s direction.

“You healed me,” Ki-Nan said suddenly, his voice quiet and sad.

“I did.”

“Thank you.”

“I would do it again in a heartbeat, my friend.”

For a moment both were silent, then Ki-Nan groaned. Bardiya reached over and gave his friend a comforting squeeze, his massive hand nearly swallowing Ki-Nan’s arm.

“Something bothers you, so tell me what it is. What happened during your voyage?”

Ki-Nan tugged on his thick growth of beard.

“I found the Lion’s ships,” he said. “Floating between the Isles of Gold beyond the Crags.”

“Did they see you?” Bardiya asked. His heart began to race, a thump-thump-thump that felt nearly strong enough to rattle the world.

“I don’t think so,” Ki-Nan replied. “I beached the skiff on one of the archipelago’s many small islands, one crowded with thick vegetation. From there I watched for two days as the Lion’s ships were loaded with supplies and soldiers. The boats then departed the inlet, sailing northeast, toward the mainland. They must be planning to invade our home, Brother, and there were so many it took nearly a full day for them all to disappear over the horizon. Only when they were gone did I dare shove the skiff back into the water and begin the journey home.

“The sky filled with black clouds, and powerful gales pounded my sails. I had to pull them down, which left me with nothing but the oars to fight the waves. It was hard to breathe with all the water, and it all made my head pound like a drum. At night it was worse-trust me on that.”

“I cannot imagine,” Bardiya said, giving Ki-Nan’s arm another squeeze.

“There is more,” said Ki-Nan. “When the skies cleared, I tried to force my tired body to raise the sails. I was almost done when I saw it behind me, gaining on me. It was a midnight ship flying the Lion’s banner, making nary a sound as it glided across the water. I tried to outrace it, but it was so fast, and it had closed half the distance by the time I caught my first sight of blessed shore. They started loosing arrows the nearer I came. Couldn’t do much but duck and pray as the bolts flew over my head, striking the sides of my skiff and tearing little holes in my sails.”

Ki-Nan paused for a moment, took a drink from the cup of water on the table beside the bed. Bardiya didn’t press him.

“I panicked,” he continued. “I rowed as fast as I could, even though another barrage of arrows came racing toward me. But the wind stayed strong, and I kept just ahead. Then I managed to steer my ship straight into the Canyon Crags.”

Ki-Nan smiled, which seemed like a strange expression to have in such a moment. He almost began to laugh as he continued with his tale.

“Ashhur heard my prayers, Brother. The skiff never ran aground, and it didn’t scrape along the jagged stones. That damned ship was far too large to follow me, another answered prayer. I floated there among the Crags for two days, right at the mouth of the Corinth, too frightened to make for land. I was certain the ship was waiting for me, you know? I boiled seawater to drink, using parts of my own skiff as firewood, and speared fish with a sharp, broken board. Wasn’t good at it, mind you, but I caught at least one fish a day to ease my hunger. At last, when I could take it no longer, I inched my way out of the Crags.”

“And the demon boat?” asked Bardiya, his heart beating fast.

“Nowhere to be found,” Ki-Nan said. “So I began my way home, staying as close to land as I could, drifting in and out of consciousness. The last I remember, I was still many miles away. I don’t even remember arriving here.”

“Ashhur protected you indeed.”

“He did, Brother. He did.” Ki-Nan shimmied on the bed, looking uncomfortable. “But do you know what this means, Bardiya?”

The giant sat silent for a moment, thinking on the story he’d just heard. A niggling insect of doubt inched its way into his stomach, but he swatted it away.

“To us?” he said, determined to stay the course he had set. “It means nothing.”

“Oh, but it does. It changes everything . The Lion is coming, and he is angry. By now the god’s ships have already unloaded their soldiers onto the soils of Paradise. By now our brothers and sisters in creation and faith are dying. Ashhur may be the more noble deity, Bardiya, but in the ways of violence Karak is his better. He will crush our creator and the rest of Paradise, and then he will come for us.”

Bardiya sighed. It was like speaking with Patrick all over again.

“You cannot know this, my friend.”

“I can. The midnight ship…the demon riding it…any god willing to bring such treacherous beasts into his employ knows nothing of mercy. Believe me, Karak will surely march on our soil, and he will destroy us all.”

To that, Bardiya nodded. “Perhaps, but it changes nothing.”

“What?” asked Ki-Nan, looking baffled. “Why not?”

“We made a promise, Ki-Nan. We pledged ourselves to Ashhur’s teachings. We pledged ourselves to peace. It would be wrong to turn our backs on that.”

“Are you saying it would be a sin to defend ourselves?”

“I am.”

Ki-Nan looked away.

“Remember when I was a boy,” he asked, “and you took me into the lowlands to teach me lessons of the gods?”

“I do,” Bardiya said, furrowing his brow. “You were eight or so at the time. Why do you ask?”

“Do you remember when we stumbled on an antelope that had been separated from its herd? It was being stalked by a pack of hyenas. For a long while afterward, I could hear their cackling in my dreams.”