Exile (59 page)

He looked up the steps, seeing at least fifteen brigands jostling to attack them. They had to put to sea.

Tobazim was reminded of the night they’d escaped the winery on a floating jetty. He turned to the last two defenders on the stairs. ‘Hold them.’

Then he hacked at the rope that tied the jetty to the stair bollard. The rope was as thick as his wrist and tough. A brigand jumped onto the jetty behind him, and another followed. Iraayel tackled the second, as the first tried to run Tobazim through. Sidestepping the blow, Tobazim kicked his attacker into the water and freed one end of the jetty.

Then he darted around the fighting figures. The second rope’s thick fibres seemed to take forever to cut through. Finally, he shoved the jetty away from the steps.

Four or five of the brigands were still with them. One tried to make the jump, and Tobazim kicked him into the sea. Egrayne was only using one arm, but the last Malaunje warrior caught her attacker from behind and held him, while she dispatched him. Reoden and Imoshen shielded the little boy with their bodies. Iraayel struggled with a brigand who tried to throw him into the sea. Ardonyx was on his knees wrestling, blood soaking his belly and thighs.

Tobazim went to help him, but a brigand came out of nowhere, swinging a cudgel at his head. He tried to duck. Too slow. The cugel struck him above one eye. Stunned, he fell to his knees, head swimming. The brigand raised the cudgel to brain him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. His body refused to obey him.

The causare appeared behind the brigand. She touched the man’s neck and he dropped like a sack of grain. She didn’t even lose consciousness as she ripped the Mieren’s life force from his body and sent it to the higher plane. Tobazim shuddered at this casual display of power.

She did the same to the brigand who had Ardonyx by the throat, then went to help Iraayel, but he had already thrown his attacker into the sea.

And with that, there were no more brigands on their makeshift raft.

As they floated across the bay, Reoden went around checking each person for injury. She felt Egrayne’s shoulder and adjusted it, then reached for Tobazim.

He refused her touch, indicating Ardonyx who sprawled beside him, his belly and thighs covered in blood.

Her hands moved over Ardonyx and Tobazim saw his frown ease. A long sigh of relief left the sea captain. When Reoden was done she moved towards Tobazim, but he gestured to the injured Malaunje warrior.

‘I’m fine.’ His vision was blurry and he felt nauseous. ‘Heal him next.’

He was glad he’d insisted when she rolled the Malaunje warrior over and he saw it was Maric, from the winery. As the healer worked on him, the causare knelt between Tobazim and Ardonyx. She had such a sweet face, like spring after a cold winter...

Her hand clasped his, fingers entwined. The skin of her forearm was softer than silk, warm and tingled with power. He saw she’d taken Ardonyx’s hand, too. ‘You saved our lives, thank you.’

It was all the warning he had as she gift-infused them both. Her power, so rich and exotic, rolled through him, like waves of sunshine sending warmth into every limb. All pain banished, his mind rose beyond the everyday to a point of such acuity, he lost himself in the pattern of the brocade trim on her vest.

Lost himself entirely...

J
ARAILE READ THE
king to sleep, then bid his manservant good night and went out to the balcony. She’d been standing on one balcony or another all day. Now she heard shouting and the clash of weapons from the Wyrd’s wharf.

No!

She ran to the dining room doors and threw them open, startling Ballendin, Halargon and Nitzane, who had lingered to drink and talk. ‘They’re attacking the Wyrd wharf. Come see!’

The three men crowded around her. In the distance, they could hear the roar of fighting.

‘But Eskarnor doesn’t have any men other than his honour guard,’ Halargon protested.

‘He found some somewhere, and Cedon is down there.’ Jaraile was so angry she shook. ‘I want you down there right now. I want that wharf protected. Nothing must interfere with the handover. Nothing!’

They didn’t argue. In no time at all, they’d strapped on weapons and assembled the king’s guard in the stable yard. All around her, they mounted up.

When she tried to climb up on the horse behind Nitzane, he dismounted. ‘Be sensible, Jaraile. It’ll be dangerous.’

‘But what if he’s frightened? What if he needs me?’

Nitzane laughed and hugged her. ‘Trust us to look after him.’

But she didn’t. No one loved Cedon as much as she did.

‘We can’t be worrying about you,’ Nitzane told her. ‘Stay here.’

She nodded. ‘But–’

‘But nothing.’

And they rode off, all the kingsguard, all of Captain Ballendin’s men. Surely they could keep her little boy safe.

Chapter Forty-Three

S
ORNE HELPED THE
children out of the net that had hoisted them onto the deck. They thanked him, then ran to the side of the ship, where Malaunje and T’En, adults and children crowded to watch the fighting on the wharf.

‘I lost the chest, Sorne,’ Igotzon said. He was dripping wet.

‘What?’

‘The people on the stairs panicked. I was knocked into the sea. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorne.’ Frayvia threw her arms around him. She kissed him and he forgot everything.

R
ONNYN DREW HIS
brothers and sisters close as all around them people pointed to the wharf overrun with Mieren. He should never have left his mother behind. How was she going to get to the ship now?

‘Is that the healer?’ Aravelle asked, pointing to a knot of defenders fighting a rearguard action down the steps to the floating jetty.

‘Where’s Ma? Where’s our baby brother?’ Vittor asked, his voice rising in panic.

‘See the way the healer’s holding her arm across her chest,’ Aravelle said. ‘I bet baby Ashmyr’s inside her vest.’

But there was no sign of their mother, as the causare and the healer urged a small boy onto the jetty. Only a few T’En and Malaunje warriors survived, and they battled at the base of the steps, trying to hold back the attackers.

‘I think they’ve cut the jetty free,’ Aravelle whispered. Sure enough, the floating jetty left the base of the stairs, and the last of the attackers were beaten back and thrown into the water.

The whole ship cheered.

‘And now there’s a rowboat going back for them,’ Aravelle said.

‘But where’s Ma?’ Vittor repeated.

They all looked to Ronnyn. He was the last one out of the cart. He knew the healer had done everything she could, but...

A storm of tears shook Vittor’s small frame. Aravelle hugged him. Sobbing loudly, Itania threw herself into Aravelle’s arms. Ronnyn went to console Tamaron, but his little brother was no longer by his side. Where had...

Ronnyn turned around and looked across the deck to see a Mieren warrior holding a knife to Tamaron’s throat. A dozen armed men surrounded the warrior.

‘Bring out Prince Cedon,’ the man yelled.

‘No,’ Ronnyn protested.

S
ORNE FROZE.

‘Bring out Prince Cedon or the boy dies.’

‘Eskarnor?’ Sorne looked over Frayvia’s head to see the baron surrounded by his fiercely loyal honour guard. Eskarnor held a knife to Tamaron’s throat.

‘Come on,’ Eskarnor said. ‘Why should Wyrds care who takes Prince Cedon?’

‘Where is the prince?’ Sorne whispered to Frayvia.

‘In the far cabin, with the healer’s T’En children. They’d have half a dozen gift-warriors, but...’

He assumed her hesitation meant Eskarnor had a point. Why risk one of their own for the hated king’s son?

‘Bring him out here or the boy dies.’ Eskarnor shook Tamaron, who whimpered.

Sorne saw Ronnyn come to his feet, raising the cane like he meant to use it. The lad would get himself killed.

‘Take me instead.’ Sorne stepped forward, unbuckling his sword belt and tossing it aside. ‘Take me hostage.’

‘You?’ Eskarnor’s eyes gleamed. The baron would gladly gut him, just because he could.

‘We have him,’ a one-eyed sisterhood gift-warrior announced. She left the cabin with four other warriors, who fanned out. Sorne could see by the way they watched Eskarnor, they were judging the right moment to attack.

‘This is the prince.’ The one-eyed gift-warrior led a small boy. He had fine white-blond hair and pale blue eyes, and did not walk with a limp. In his face, Sorne saw Jaraile’s sweet features. Sorne was not handing Prince Cedon over to die at Eskarnor’s hands.

‘Looks like I don’t need you, half-blood,’ Eskarnor said.

The one-eyed gift-warrior gestured to attract Eskarnor’s attention. ‘Let the T’En child go and you can have Prince Cedon.

‘Oh, no. You send the prince to me.’

Slowly, she walked Jaraile’s son forward. Meanwhile, her warriors tried to flank Eskarnor’s party. Sorne feared they’d panic Eskarnor’s men and Tamaron would be killed in the confusion.

‘So you planned to kill the prince and implicate Nitzane all along?’ Sorne asked and deliberately began to edge closer to distract Eskarnor.

‘Nitzane’s a fool, but I’m not. No closer, half-blood.’

‘How did you stage the attack on the wharf?’ Sorne asked. ‘I’ve had people watching the port. Your men-at-arms haven’t filtered in.’

‘Why should I sacrifice my men when there’s a slum full of hungry vermin ready to die for a chance to loot your wharf?’

‘And the harbour-master?’

‘His strongarms have orders to bring me every small boy-child they find. But they were only a diversion while I boarded the causare’s ship and got my hands on the prince.’

‘Cedon, no!’ Reoden cried.

Sorne turned to find Imoshen’s party had climbed aboard. As Ronnyn and Aravelle pleaded with them to save their brother, Reoden handed them the newborn.

Sorne saw the healer take in how Eskarnor held the little boy. She opened her arms. ‘Come to Ree-ma, Cedon.’

The prince ducked away from the gift-warrior and ran towards her. The instant he started moving, the gift-warriors attacked Eskarnor and his men.

Sorne was already running.

Too slow. He saw the baron cut Tamaron’s throat, cast him away and run for the side. Sorne dropped to his knees beside the boy, and clamped his hands over the wound. Too much blood.

‘Out of the way.’ The healer thrust him aside. ‘Get back!’

He felt her power like the heat of a naked flame and knew it could consume him. Tamaron’s brothers and sisters were too close. Sorne picked up Cedon. ‘Back! Everyone back!’

He drove them away until they were a safe distance from the healer.

‘Can she save him?’ Ronnyn asked Sorne.

‘She couldn’t save Ma,’ Aravelle said.

‘She deliberately provoked Eskarnor. She must have thought she could save your brother.’ Sorne only hoped the healer was right.

The gift-warriors dispatched two of Eskarnor’s honour guard who were too slow going over the side of the ship. Then they cleaned their weapons and formed a circle around her and Tamaron.

‘K
EEP THE CHILDREN
back, this is powerful gift-working,’ Imoshen told Sorne. She was so angry she shook as she stepped over the two dead Mieren. ‘Throw their bodies overboard. No honour in death, for those who have no honour in life.’

While several Malaunje moved to obey her, she approached Reoden’s hand-of-force.

‘Stand back, Cerafeoni. I only want to help,’ Imoshen said. ‘Ree’s already exhausted. She tried to heal the children’s mother, then she healed all of us who were injured in the scramble to escape the wharf.’

‘Imoshen’s right, Cera,’ Reoden’s voice-of-reason said.

Seeing Nerazime, Cerafeoni’s shoulders sagged. ‘We couldn’t save both boys. We–’

A soft thump made the circle of gift-warriors step aside. The hand-of-force sank to her knees and rolled Reoden over. ‘All-mother?’

Nerazime joined her, touched the healer’s face and closed her eyes. ‘She’s drained her gift.’

‘Is our brother all right?’ the children cried. ‘Is Tamaron all right?’

Imoshen knelt beside the small, bloodied boy. He was cold and pale and so very still. But under all that blood, there was a neat silver scar across his throat.

A wave of relief made Imoshen dizzy. ‘I can’t be certain.’ He’d lost a lot of blood. She hoped Reoden had been able to heal him before his mind began to shut down. Usually the healer urged the flesh to knit, and that was enough to speed the body’s natural healing process. Due to the nature of Tamaron’s wound, she’d had to heal him completely. ‘We’ll know tomorrow.’

‘Can we see?’ the children pleaded.

‘Let them come over, Sorne.’

The children crowded close, peering over her shoulder or crouching beside their brother.

‘Why isn’t he moving?’ the eldest boy asked.

‘He needs to rest,’ Imoshen said.

The littlest girl began to wail. Imoshen came to her feet and caught Nerazime’s eye. ‘See to the children, Nera.’

The voice-of-reason beckoned a Malaunje servant, who led them away. Meanwhile, the gift-warriors carried Tamaron and the healer into the cabins under the foredeck.

‘Ree-ma?’ Prince Cedon tried to get down out of Sorne’s arms. ‘Wants my Ree-ma.’

‘She needs to rest,’ Imoshen told him.

‘I should take Cedon back to his mother,’ Sorne said.

‘No.’ Imoshen held out her arms and the prince went to her. She tucked his head into the curve of her neck and stroked his hair. ‘This is what’s going to happen. You go back and tell King Charald we have his son. We could sail out of the headlands with him right now and he would never see the boy again. But we will return the prince, if our conditions are met.’

J
ARAILE PACED UP
and down the balcony. She wished she could tell what was happening. Her stomach churned, and she felt sick with worry. She’d given up praying to the Mother. Now she prayed to the Warrior. Just let little Cedon be safe.

Heavy footsteps on the dining room floor. She spun around. ‘Is he–’