James Wyatt - In the Claws of the Tiger

The hobgoblin’s smile faded quickly, and he looked down at the table. “Ah, well,” he said. “I wonder if I might request some portion of my payment in advance. My ship needs a good cleaning and some maintenance before undertaking such a long and hazardous journey.”

“I can give you the whole sum up front,” Janik said, shrugging. “I need to pay you at the House Kundarak bank anyway, and I can’t do that at the end of our journey. Shall we say, a third of it today, and the rest on the day we leave? How long will you need?”

“A third of that sum will be perfectly sufficient,” Breddan said, bowing his head gratefully. “Would a week’s time be too long?”

“My friend,” Janik said, “your ship will save us four to six months of travel. We can afford to wait a week.”

Janik and Dania delivered the good news to Mathas and Auftane, and they all spent the next several days getting ready for the trip-gathering more supplies, rounding up some rare charts of the waters of the Phoenix Basin, and purchasing a keelboat. Janik supervised delivery of the keelboat to Breddan’s ship, Silverknife , and got his first look at the ship as the smaller boat was loaded on board. Afterward, he met the others near the docks and they walked together to Forest’s Bounty for dinner.

“When he said she was a miserable vessel, I thought it was Flamer humility,” Janik said, laughing.

“Oh, no!” Dania exclaimed. “Is it really awful?”

“Let me just say that I’m glad he delayed our departure by a week in order to clean and repair her,” Janik said.

“But it’s been five days already,” Mathas said. “Is the vessel seaworthy?”

“Oh, she’s seaworthy. Look, I didn’t mean to worry you all. It’s just-well, we’re not going on a Lyrandar galleon. We’re going to spend two months on a small, cramped, dirty ship.”

“But we all agree that’s better than six months on a keelboat, or eight months on foot, right?” Auftane said.

“Of course,” Dania said, and Janik nodded. Mathas looked unconvinced but said nothing.

The sun had faded from the sky except for a line of purple along the western horizon, silhouetting the stone buildings of the modern seaport and the crumbling ruins of the ancient giant city. High above, one moon hung proudly while seven more clustered at opposite ends of the Ring of Siberys, sliver-thin crescents in the darkening west and rounded gibbous moons in the pitch-black east. The golden motes of the Ring shone bright and clear in a wide band across the sky, larger here than it ever appeared in Khorvaire. Torches blazed along the sides of the nearly-deserted street, dancing wildly in the warm wind off the sea.

An eruption of laughter came from a group of people ahead of them, just short of an intersection. Dania’s hand shot across Janik’s chest as she stopped dead.

“I know that laugh,” she hissed.

“Krael.” The name was a growl in Janik’s throat, and he turned his gaze from Dania to the cluster of people in the distance.

He started walking again, his face set in a scowl as he tried to make out details of the people up ahead. After just a few steps, he spotted Krael, towering above most of his companions by at least a head. One other member of the group was as tall-the warforged assassin. Janik gritted his teeth. At least a half-dozen people trailed Krael-or maybe more like eight or nine. Janik had only four on his side. His heart pounded. His eyes flicked over the others-a few women, one who might have been Tierese-but he did not see Maija. He was only vaguely aware of Dania beside him, grabbing his arm, trying to slow him down, hissing something at him.

“Janik, remember-Krael’s a vampire!” she said, and finally the words penetrated the rage throbbing in his ears.

It was too late. The others had seen him approaching, and Krael’s companions were spreading out to form a wide semicircle, with Krael and the warforged, Sever, in the middle. Krael stepped forward and spread his arms in a wide gesture of welcome. His massive flail hung on his back, banging against his plate armor as he walked.

“Well, well!” the vampire called across the distance. “If it isn’t my dear friend Janik Martell!”

You got the name right, Krael,” Janik shouted back. Even as his mind screamed about the danger of walking into the semicircle formed by Krael and his allies, anger drove his feet forward, closer to his adversary.

Krael Kavarat was an enormous man, as tall and muscular as any orc, though his bloodline was pure Karrnathi human as far as Janik knew. He wore a suit of full plate armor which somehow seemed too small to contain his great bulk. He also wore the characteristic helm of an Emerald Claw officer, covering half his face with its stylized clawlike design. He was clean shaven, but blond hair cascaded over his shoulders from beneath the edge of his helm.

“And Dania,” Krael said. “Back in Janik’s company since your Sentinel Marshal met his end in Karrnath?”

“Sentinel Marshal?” Janik said quietly, throwing Dania a sidelong glance. She waved her hand dismissively, keeping her attention focused on Krael.

“It’s so nice to see you all together again. Mathas too! Aren’t you going to introduce me to the dwarf?”

“Shut up, Krael,” Janik spat. The vampire’s words stung, making Janik painfully aware that they were not all together again. He felt Maija’s absence as if it were a wound. “You sent your warforged assassin after me twice, you robbed my apartment, and stole our ship. Stop talking like you’re some long-lost friend.” Janik was close enough that he didn’t need to shout, and he could see Krael’s allies closing in on both sides. Dania was close on his right, but not close enough to get in the way of his sword arm. He heard Mathas and Auftane right behind him.

“Don’t forget that I took your Maija away,” Krael said, grinning. Then the smile vanished from his face. “Her, you can have back, as far as I’m concerned.”

“What are you here for, Krael?”

Krael gave a small shrug, but a spasm of anger on his face belied his feigned indifference. “Revenge.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Janik said, pulling his sword from its sheath in a flash of steel. Like a ripple of water, steel flashed all around the ring of Krael’s allies. Dania drew her longsword. Only Krael, Mathas, and Auftane stood empty-handed.

“You misunderstand me, Janik,” Krael said. “You are not the one I want revenge against. Although I suppose it would be pleasant enough to watch you die.”

“This is a bad idea, Janik,” Dania whispered at his elbow. “Krael is strong, to say nothing of his friends here.”

“Put those weapons away!” Several of Krael’s allies turned to see Stormreach guards hurrying up the street toward them. Janik and Krael were frozen, each waiting for the other to make a move. Around the semicircle of Krael’s Emerald Claw lackeys, a few swords and flails found their way back to belts. Glancing behind Krael, Janik could see why. Stormreach didn’t entrust the task of keeping order in the city to roughnecks pulled from the farms and dressed up in uniforms. The Stormreach guards were highly trained soldiers, mostly former officers from the armies of the Five Nations, and included some real muscle in the form of ogres and an occasional hill giant. One of those giants walked up behind Krael at that moment, and the great hulk of a vampire stood only as high as the giant’s waist. Sever, the warforged assassin, tugged at Krael’s arm, looking back at the approaching giant and his two human compatriots.

Janik felt sure that the giant and the two humans could wipe the street with him, his friends, Krael, and all the Emerald Claw thugs. But he didn’t care. He had nursed this hatred and anger for three long years. He gripped his sword tightly. He wanted so badly to plunge it into Krael’s body, to hurt and kill him and make the bastard pay for what he’d done. Janik didn’t care what happened to him in the process. It didn’t matter that Krael was a vampire, it didn’t matter that the warforged next to Krael had nearly killed him twice already, and it didn’t matter that a hill giant was standing behind Krael, lifting a tree trunk over his shoulder, getting ready to clear the street with it. He didn’t care that he couldn’t win-he just wanted to fight.