James Wyatt - In the Claws of the Tiger

“Sea of Fire!” Janik swore, clutching his chin. “That’s what happens when people get in the path of your crusades? I guess I’m lucky it was just your gauntlet and not your sword-or your wooden stake.”

Despite the fury that clearly raged in her heart, Dania extended a hand toward his chin but he flinched away. “Hold still,” she said, her voice gentle. This time he let her touch his wound, and warmth spread from her touch. “I shouldn’t have hit you,” she said, though her voice was still sharp with anger. “I’m sorry.”

Janik didn’t answer. He looked down and rubbed his chin, which showed no sign of a cut or bruise. A faint, pleasant tingle was all that remained. A jumble of memories bubbled up inside Janik that hurt far more than the punch had-the feeling of Maija healing his wounds, an earthier sensation somehow, where Dania’s touch was fire. But Maija’s touch had always held more than healing. It was also full of love, and often passion. Bonded to that thought, competing with it, was the memory of the night when Dania had held his chin and kissed him for the first time. He had thought at the time how different her touch felt from Maija’s, but now they seemed more alike than different.

“When I speak of sacrifice, Janik, I don’t mean plowing over innocent people.” The angry edge was fading from Dania’s voice, but Janik turned away, looking back at the tiny ship far behind them. “You will understand before this is over.”

Janik heard her footsteps thumping away across the deck. When he turned around again, Mathas had gone as well. He leaned on the bulwark, staring out at the distant ship until darkness shrouded it from his eyes. Then, for a long time, he watched the moons make their way across both sky and reflective sea.

I can’t see her any more,” Dania said, and Janik slammed his fist into the bulwark.

The four companions were perched at the prow, less than a week from the end of their journey across the Phoenix Basin. Two weeks had passed since the ship appeared behind them. A week ago, she had come even with them, though she kept her distance. For all their apprehension, the passing of the other ship had been uneventful. Dania and Mathas could see figures moving on the deck, but even when Dania borrowed the lookout’s spyglass, she was unable to identify them.

The other ship never closed within hailing distance or showed any threat. Janik even entertained occasional doubts that Krael was on the other ship-maybe it was a Morgrave or Wayfinder expedition to Mel-Aqat or some other site in the great desert Menechtarun. Maybe she was keeping a safe distance out of fear of pirates. Most of the time, though, he listened to his dread, and as the ship sailed out of sight ahead of them, he felt a crushing defeat.

“How long until we make land?” Janik asked no one in particular.

“I just checked with Breddan,” Auftane answered. “We’ll probably wake up on the fourth day from now in sight of land, and once we choose our harbor, we should drop anchor by midday.”

“And how much faster is Krael going?”

“Well, it took him two weeks to gain about twenty miles on us,” Auftane said, furrowing his brow in concentration. “So he’ll probably make landfall sometime during the night, just before we arrive.”

“So his head start will depend on how much darkness he still has once he lands,” Janik said. “If he gets to shore only a little before dawn and he needs to stop, then we could easily catch up and pass him in our first day’s travel.”

“Assuming we get to shore well before sundown,” Dania said.

“And passing him might not be that simple,” Mathas said. “If he has soldiers with him, they could set up patrols around their camp. We would have to give it a wide berth to avoid them.”

“And are you vampire experts sure he can’t travel during daylight?” Janik said, looking from Dania to Mathas.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Dania said, even as Mathas shook his head.

“No?” Janik said, his eyebrows raised.

“He has enough people with him to crew a ship,” Mathas said. “In theory-”

“That’s enough people to carry his coffin through the jungle?” Janik said.

“If not his coffin, then maybe an urn holding his mist form-or something,” Dania said.

“But the living ones need to rest, too,” Auftane pointed out. “They can’t travel night and day.”

“But it’s possible they could take the lead early on and keep it,” Janik said. “That’s exactly what I didn’t want to hear.”

“You worry too much, Janik,” Dania said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t know how it will turn out until we’re there. Let’s concentrate on getting to shore and getting to Mel-Aqat as quickly as we can.”

“You’re right,” Janik said. He sighed, then smiled. “As much as it pains me to admit it.”

A playful push from Dania sent Janik off balance, and he stumbled a few steps, laughing.

The sun rose on the fourth day and no one needed the lookout to point out the ship’s masts rising in the distance ahead of them-or the land rising gently from the water ahead of her. The ship’s sails were furled, and even Dania and Mathas could see no one moving on deck. A rocky beach stretched out beyond the ship, giving way to a line of low bluffs crowned with dry, brown scrub.

Janik spent the morning on the prow, unable to eat, watching the miles between them and the shore diminish with agonizing slowness. His stomach was clenched in a knot-the reality was sinking in at last that he was returning to Mel-Aqat. Last time they had passed this very stretch of coast, but had continued farther to the south, making land at the edge of the desert. He couldn’t say he remembered this place, but it was familiar-its shape, its looming shore, the sense of untamed wilderness, and the heat weighing on him. Just for a moment, he was sure he saw something large and predatory lumbering along the top of the bluffs, solidifying that sense of utter wildness. Stormreach, in many ways, felt like just another city, though the hill giants working with the city watch were exotic-not something you’d see in Sharn, let alone Fairhaven. But this was Xen’drik, and everything Janik associated with it. Ahead lay new land to be discovered … and one old defeat he had to face again.

Breddan approached the shore slowly. He didn’t have charts to show the dangers that might lie in the water-Janik doubted such charts existed-and the wash of sand from the beach ahead clouded the water so they couldn’t see any reefs, rocks, or sandbars that might obstruct their path or tear the hull. Breddan also tried to avoid getting too close to the other ship, which the lookout had identified as Hope’s Endeavor .

How Krael had managed to leave Stormreach on that ship was a mystery to them all. Janik had expected the Stormreach watch to keep a close eye on that ship above all else, but it was possible that Krael and his allies were strong enough to fight their way onto the ship and sail out of the harbor. Neither the lookout nor Mathas and Dania, with their sharp elf eyes, could see any sign of life aboard that ship, but that only made the crew of the Silverknife more uneasy about getting close to it.

About half a mile from land and roughly even with Hope’s Endeavor , Breddan declared that they would go no closer, and gave the order to drop anchor. Dania and Auftane had been getting the keelboat ready to launch, moving all their supplies onto it and checking it for any damage it might have sustained.

“We part ways here, Janik Martell,” Breddan said, joining Janik on the prow.

“Yes, this is it,” Janik replied. “I am most grateful for your work, Breddan Omaar.” He shifted to the Goblin tongue and clasped his fist to his chest. “Your ancestors’ swords were keen and strong,” he said with a small bow.