Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (35 page)

Slurping noisily through a foaming tankard of ale, Admiral Massili wiped his hand roughly across his beard and looked at her suspiciously. “What do you want Jenevra?”

“It’s Captain,” she reminded him. “This is official Empire business, Admiral. I need to use one of your ships, urgently.”

Rafael began shaking, his huge bulk heaving up and down, making his shaggy head and face look like a bouncing bush. A loud booming laugh suddenly erupted as the Admiral slapped his leg, almost doubling over in amusement. He continued roaring as Jenevra stood watching him, her expression becoming colder with each passing second. As he continued to show no sign of stopping any time soon, she turned on her heel, calling to the steward to request Sergeant Brogan’s presence immediately.

On Brogan’s arrival, Jenevra began giving him orders in a voice that carried clearly across the room. “Get the men ready to leave, Sergeant. Tell D’Agostino I need him to go ahead to the coast and prepare the Admiral’s ship to leave as soon as we arrive. He can take Wulfgar and Kallan with him if he needs any large scale support. Tell Laio he’ll be taking the horses north from the harbor. He’ll need some men with him. I’ll leave that choice to you; just make sure they won’t give him a hard time.”

Admiral Massili’s smile had begun draining faster than his tankard when he heard her announce she was taking his ship. “What in the gods’ names do you think you’re doing?” he thundered.

“I told you I need your ship Admiral. You don’t seem to be taking it seriously so I thought I’d better get things organized for you. I need to sail as soon as possible. If you won’t take me, I’ll just have to commandeer the ship as Imperial Protector.” Everyone else in the room had to admire the icy composure with which Jenevra faced the wrathful mountain.

“You can’t do that!” he bellowed, his face turning crimson with rage. “You don’t mess with my ships, Jenevra! No-one does.”

“Take it up with the Emperor, Admiral. I don’t have time.” She turned her back on him and stalked out of the room.

Slamming his tankard down on the table, Admiral Massili followed her, still spluttering in fury. “Just one minute young lady; I already have orders from the Emperor.”

“So do I. Surely you can take me where I need to go on your way? I just need to go north from here Admiral. It won’t take you more than a day or so longer and you could lose that sort of time if the wind’s against you anyway. Still,” she turned away from him so he couldn’t see her smile. “The place I’m aiming for is one you’ve never been to; probably never even seen. There’s only one captain I know of who knows how to find this place.”

“Impossible. I know everywhere in these waters,” Rafael huffed indignantly.

“Not this place,” Jenevra turned to face him, shaking her head. “But if you don’t want to chart its position then I guess there’s nothing I can do about it.”

She stood silently while the Admiral grunted, puffed and generally stewed himself into a grudging acceptance. “Alright miss, you can have your way, this time. But it’s my ship and you obey my orders when you’re on it, understand?”

“Of course, Admiral,” she agreed sweetly.

The Admiral stomped off moodily, muttering under his breath.

“Nice work,” Ki-Nimh stepped out from behind a thick pillar.

“He just can’t resist the idea of a place he doesn’t know about,” she grinned.

Thanks and Goodbyes said; arrangements made for Stephan to escort Allegra back to Abalos-Colles; Jenevra and the Flight were ready to head for the coast. Stephan had spoken to Jenevra and Richard the night before and told them he was planning to ask Phillip for permission to marry Allegra. He seemed genuinely startled that they weren’t surprised.

“He’s just thick, Richard,” Jenevra observed to her remaining brother. “It’s a wonder he puts his boots on the right feet in the morning really. He looks really impressive, but that brain … it’s frightening.”

“Just remember, Jenn, you’re talking about one of the Emperor’s closest advisors there,” Richard reminded her with mock seriousness, as they both smirked.

“Looks like it’ll just be the two of us then,” Jenevra noted wistfully. “It’s weird. I feel like I’ve only just come back and you’re all disappearing before I really have a chance to know you.”

“Well, I thought I’d stick around a while, if that’s alright with you? Kian invited me to travel on the ship with you.”

Jenevra hid her surprise, smiling at him. If Ki-Nimh set it in place, he must have a reason; it wasn’t her place to question her mentor’s decisions.

On board the ship the Admiral was in full voice, bellowing orders to all and sundry. As the princess and the Flight arrived he glowered at them. “Just don’t get in my way,” was his curt instruction to them. Pointing at Jenevra he told her, “No trouble. Do you hear me?” He lumbered quickly off along the deck, scowling deeply at the sweetly innocent smile she was giving him.

Gervaise D’Agostino had served on the Admiral’s ship before being pulled for the Imperial Flight, so he was soon back at work with his old friends. The other men of the Flight arranged themselves around the ship in inconspicuous spots. Six of them had stayed behind to help Laio with the horses and supplies. Bernardo was one of them, and Jenevra felt as though something was missing seeing him left behind on the shoreline as the breeze carried the ship out of the bay.

Deprived of their mountains, Jenevra and Baudoin found a certain comfort in scrambling up and down the masts and riggings much to the amusement of the Admiral’s crew. Rafael was far less amused when he spotted the barefooted Princess on the highest yardarm, strolling across it as if it was the deck. “Jenevra Couressime!” He screamed; purple veins on his neck standing out, not that they were highly visible under all the hair. “Get down here now!” The princess swung easily down a rope, landing with a final bound in front of him. Clenching his fists and trying to get control of his temper, he gritted his teeth. “Where is this place you want to go to?”

“North.”

He closed his eyes. “Where, north?”

“Don’t really know. It’ll become clear when we get near it,” she said lightly. “Just keep heading north, Admiral. We’ll find it.” She stretched up and patted him gently on the cheek. “You know you need to relax a bit. You’re looking awfully tense.” She skipped prudently out of reach before he could form a response, and went looking for Ki-Nimh who was standing at the front of the ship with Richard and Brogan.

Ki-Nimh gave her a disapproving look. “Why do you keep irritating him? We’re relying on him to get us to the Island.” He paused. “You need to start adjusting your thinking again before we reach the Temple, Nimh’a. Dai-Nimh won’t be thrilled if he has to start over again with you.”

“You’re right, Ki-Nimh. I’ll go get changed, maybe that’ll help me focus.” She disappeared into the ship, to the tiny cabin Rafael had allocated her. Digging through her pack she pulled out clothing she hadn’t worn since leaving the Island; misty colored loose trousers and light jacket, tied around the waist with a wide sash of a darker gray. Carrying her pair of swords in her hands she emerged into the bright daylight again, heading back to Ki-Nimh at the front of the ship.

Her mentor smiled. Bowing formally he greeted her, “Nimh’a”

“Ki-Nimh,” she returned a deeper bow.

“I think it’s time to get the talisman out,” Ki-Nimh said softly.

Nodding, she lifted the talisman on its chain, holding it in her hand, eyes closed, and facing out across the sea. After several long minutes she turned puzzled eyes to him. “Nothing,” she said. “Ki-Nimh, there’s nothing.”

“Try again.”

Allowing her mind to sink deeper into the mists that had covered her when the talisman had first been triggered, Jenevra reached out searching for some sign from the Island. Faintly she felt something hovering at the very edge of consciousness, like the shadow of a moth around a dying flame; a warning, a hint of darkness. Pulling herself back from the trance she looked at her mentor. “Nothing much, Ki-Nimh. There’s something there, but I can’t reach it.”

“Direction?”

“That way, I think.” She pointed to the northeast. Talisman clasped tightly in her hand, she stayed at the bow, until one of the lookouts called “Sail” several hours later. Totally ignoring the Admiral’s instructions, she bounded quickly to the top of the mast scanning the horizon for the ship that had been spotted. As they came up on it she drew a sharp breath; it was the boat that had carried her away from the Island, drifting.

“Ki-Nimh! It’s the Order’s ship!” she called down to him.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

As they closed on the ship, the Admiral gave orders for grappling hooks and ladders to be brought up ready to board the apparently unmanned vessel. Before anyone could get across though, Jenevra had swung out on a long coil of rope, catching the rigging and sliding to the deck of the smaller ship. Ignoring the ranting Admiral back on the deck of his own ship she looked around swiftly. There was no sign of the Captain or any of the crew. By now the hooks were dragging the two ships closer together and she could hear Rafael alternating between shouting orders and threatening her. “There’s no-one here,” she called across to them. “Not a soul. No sign of a struggle either.”

The Admiral’s men hesitated. Sailors are superstitious at the best of times and a ghost ship was certainly not a good omen. D’Agostino wasn’t going to leave his Captain alone on the ship though and swung himself over onto it. Seeing one of their own brave enough to go galvanized the rest of them into action, and soon a whole bunch were scouring the small ship for anything worth having.

Jumping easily back to the Admiral’s ship, Jenevra landed near Ki-Nimh. He looked deeply concerned now, and all trace of levity had disappeared from Jenevra’s manner too. “We have to find the Island, Ki-Nimh. Something is very wrong.”

He nodded; his lean face stern. “Keep going with the talisman, Nimh’a. It’s all we’ve got now.” He went to talk to the Admiral leaving Richard and Brogan with Jenevra. “Don’t leave her alone, whatever happens,” he ordered. “You remember how suddenly the last talisman event happened?” he reminded Brogan. “It could be the same again … or worse. Just make sure someone is with her.”

Jenevra stayed at the bow all night. Just after midnight Finn Corrigan and Ki-Nimh arrived to relieve Brogan and Richard. The night remained uneventful but, just as the first rays of golden sun were beginning to thread their way through the curling tendrils of sea mist; dappling the black waters of the horizon with tiger stripes, Jenevra suddenly clutched hold of her throat with both hands, gasping.

“What is it, Nimh’a?” Ki-Nimh held her tightly. “Are you alright?”

She nodded; her face ashen and her eyes watering. “Yes,” she gasped for air. “It hurts, Ki-Nimh. I mean
really
hurts.” She put a shaking hand on his arm. “We need to sail that way.” She pointed almost due east. As she slumped forward, unconscious, Kian felt for her pulse.

“Corrigan, go tell the Admiral to head east.” Finn disappeared silently.

Jenevra’s eyes flickered open. “Ki-Nimh?”

“Lay still, Nimh’a. It was the talisman again.”

“I know. But it was different; and it’s gone now.” She pushed to her feet, swaying shakily; her breathing ragged.

“Gone?”

“Gone,” she confirmed. “There is nothing; nothing at all.”

They exchanged a long, troubled look. “Go get whatever you need and meet me back on deck,” Ki-Nimh ordered softly.

In her cabin she delved once more into her pack, pulling out a roll of cloth which she laid out on the bed. Unrolled it contained a gleaming assortment of slim bladed knives from which she made a careful selection, sliding them into the wide sash around her waist. Checking over her swords carefully, she slipped them into loops positioned across her back on the sash, and headed up onto the deck again.

Within a few moments Ki-Nimh was there outfitted in the exact same manner except for the single long sword at his side; a Master’s sword. Side by side they faced into the sunrise, tense and wary, waiting for some sign that the Island was near.

 CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

As thicker patches of mist began to lift, two simultaneous cries of “sail!” and “land!” rang out over the ship. To the west, almost at the horizon, a ship was disappearing. To the east, just a short way ahead, was a large Island covered in light colored trees.

Jenevra pointed towards the Island and the helmsman steered a straight course for the small spit of land that she indicated. Fortunately, the Admiral’s ship was small enough to get close to the natural jetty the land provided.

Ki-Nimh paced back and forth, uncommonly impatient as they waited for the helmsman to bring them close. Jenevra stayed more or less on one spot, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet slightly, hands opening and closing reflexively; eyes fixed on the Island. They could have been the only two people there; their focus was palpable. With curt instructions to half of the Flight to follow her in silence, Jenevra and Ki-Nimh drew their swords and literally flowed over the sides of the ship; their ash colored clothing rendering them almost immediately invisible as they disappeared into the pale green light of the ferns and bamboo groves.

Trying to keep up with them Brogan swore under his breath. Master Ki and Jenevra knew every inch of the place intimately, but none of the Flight had ever been here before. How could he protect the Captain when he didn’t even know where she was? There was no sound to follow. Signaling the Flight to stay together he led them up the steep hillside, through the tall whispering trees, trying to catch up with the princess and her mentor.

Emerging from amongst a thick stand of bamboo at the top of the hill, Jenevra and Ki-Nimh slipped noiselessly behind the cold stone of one of the Temple buildings. The place was silent. Not a bird or other creature could be heard: no sounds of the usual life of the Temple and its inhabitants. As Master, Ki-Nimh motioned for Jenevra to stay where she was while he moved down the steep steps that ran towards the central courtyard. Making a second gesture he sent her along the top level to come out on the steps at the opposite end of the building.

Swords poised, each of them descended the steps to the large terrace that ran in front of the storage buildings. Reaching it together they stared at the scene in front of them; the Temple buildings and courtyard that were home to both of them. Only now could they see underneath the vine covered trellis that shaded the courtyard. Only now did they see what had happened to the Order as they gazed, stunned, upon almost sixty gray clad bodies lying in pools of congealing blood, curdled with clumps of fallen blossoms, under the pale morning sun. Moving slowly down to the courtyard their eyes were wary, senses reaching out for danger, but there was no sense of it; just the overwhelming stench of death. Swallowing hard, Jenevra blinked back the tears that threatened her vision. “Ki-Nimh?” she managed a hoarse whisper.

Checking one of the bodies lying sprawled on the floor, he just shook his head.

Raising her eyes from the carnage, Jenevra noticed another corpse lying on top of a shorter flight of stairs. “No,” she breathed. “Ki-Nimh!” She ran across the courtyard, bare feet slipping in the slick blood. Flying to the crumpled body, she rolled it over. Like every other body they could see, this one had also been decapitated, but there was no mistaking it; Dai-Nimh was dead. Kneeling at Dai-Nimh’s side, Jenevra bowed her head on the hilts of the swords she held in front of her. Silently she prayed for him, and for the men, old and young who lay slaughtered below them.

As Ki-Nimh joined her, the Flight began to arrive at the top of the hillside, Brogan calling loudly for the princess, faltering into silence as they too discovered the fate of the Order. Walking along the terraced level, they reached the princess and Master Ki.

“What happened, Captain?” Simon, the young swordsman, was looking around him with horrified eyes. In two missions with the Flight this was the second massacre he’d seen.

“Who would commit murder in a place like this? It is a Temple; it’s a sacrilege.” Farid’s deeply held beliefs were highly offended by the sight of the bodies, clad in Temple robes, lying on the cold stone.

Jenevra stood up. “It was an execution.” She sheathed her swords, walking back down to the bloody floor and stood, looking around. “Ki-Nimh?” she asked again, but louder, more insistently. “Who’s missing?”

Ki-Nimh lowered Dai-Nimh’s body reverently to the ground, straightening the old man’s limbs and smoothing the blood soaked robe over him. “What do you mean, Nimh’a?”

“I count fifty nine. You, Misha and I make sixty two. There are three of us unaccounted for.” She took a deep, shaky breath and said, “We have to find the heads.”

Simon threw up.

Taking the Flight into account as if seeing them there for the first time, Jenevra sent Simon, Sasha, Danya and Dillon back to the ship, ostensibly for supplies. She sent Gavin Logansson with them to make sure the Admiral found some reason to keep them there. “Dillon certainly doesn’t need to go through this again, and the others are too young.” Focusing totally on the situation in front of her, the young princess appeared coldly unemotional.

Brogan cleared his throat pointedly.

“Feel free to go too if it’s getting to you, Sergeant” she said acidly. “This is my family. I’m going nowhere until we know who we’re looking for.” Frowning, she gazed around again. “It makes no sense. Why go to the bother of moving the heads? What’s the point?”

“Time,” Ki-Nimh observed cryptically; sudden grief making his stern face look much older. “The longer it takes us to find who’s missing, the longer the culprit has to make his escape.” Penetrating steely eyes connected with Jenevra’s. “One of our own did this. They know that we would not leave them like this.”

“They also know we would come, so why not wait for us and finish the task? At the most they would only be facing five of us, and they’ve just killed almost sixty. It doesn’t add up, Ki-Nimh.”

“Time,” he said again. “And emotional manipulation, to some degree. Those who weren’t here are all in danger. This slows us down while the murderer has a head start on the next victim.” He moved briskly towards her. “You’re right, though, we need to find the heads.”

“Captain,” Brogan interrupted. “What should we do with them?” He indicated the bodies still lying where they were found.

“Can your men lift them into the Temple?” Ki-Nimh asked. “Each of us has a place in there. The Nimh’a can tell you who’s who and where each of them should go.”

The Flight began the gruesome task of moving the headless bodies, while Jenevra pushed open the heavy bronze doors of the Temple. One of her favorite tasks at the Temple had been to fill the small prayer lamps with the fragrant oils that would burn with a green light, carrying their prayers to heaven with their scent. The perfume hit her senses as the doors swung open, making a confused muddle of her feelings. Bowing before she moved in to light some of the small lanterns from the one constant light burning by the door, she carried the larger lamp forward towards the altar.

“Ki-Nimh.” Her voice choked, Jenevra leaned one hand heavily on the door frame, her head bowed. “I’ve found them.” Fifty nine heads had been carefully piled on top of the altar, now defiled with the blood that had still been dripping from them.

A few hours later, Admiral Massili and Richard came ashore. A group of men were carrying water up from the sea, scrubbing the Temple courtyard. Most of the remaining members of the Flight were in the Temple with Jenevra and Kian. Rafael and Richard had been horrified that Jenevra was there in the midst of the carnage, but she blankly ignored their protests that she should return to the ship, and continued her task of identifying the dead Nimhin.

The interior of the Temple was surprisingly large, with small alcoves built around the edges of the main chamber. Each of the alcoves contained a single mat where one member of the Order could rest, pray or meditate. With all of the remaining corpses now reunited with their heads and placed around the Temple in their alcoves, there were six unclaimed spaces; four close to the altar, two near the doors.

Jenevra moved towards the doors. “This is mine.” She stood by one alcove and pointed directly across at the alcove opposite. “That’s Misha’s.”

Ki-Nimh nodded, thoughtfully. “This is mine. That one belongs to Oran-Nimh, that one is Alvar-Nimh’s. They’re both well into their eighties. I’d be surprised if they were capable of making the journey back here at their ages.” As he turned to the last space, his eyes closed in a belated comprehension; an almost visceral disgust as he realized that the Master who had ordered Misha and him to follow the princess to Salanova was almost certainly the one responsible for the carnage.

Jenevra stood next to him. “Jai-Nimh,” she whispered, remembering the number of times he’d called her in before the Masters’ Council criticizing her work, her behavior; trying to have her thrown out of the Order. “They would all have trusted him, Ki-Nimh, but I still don’t understand why they would stand in neat lines waiting for him to kill them.”

“Nimh’a,” Ki-Nimh thought carefully about his next words. “We can find out; or, at least you can. It’s not an easy thing to do, but it would have to be you or Misha and, obviously, Misha’s not here.”

“Let’s do it.”

Ki-Nimh held his hand out. “Not so fast. You need to understand what it is you’ll have to do.”

“Ki-Nimh, when have I ever not done what you asked of me?”

“This is different. If I had another way to do this I wouldn’t ask you. The other things were tests, things I’d gone through myself. I knew what I was asking you for. I’ve never done what I need you to do.”

“Can we please just get on with it?” One of the last bodies Jenevra had identified had been Dion, a young initiate at the Temple—the son of the innkeeper and his wife at Frann, who had been so kind to her when she first returned to Maressia. She remembered how she had assured them of Dion’s progress, and how happy he was at the Island. Now, she knew, she would have to return to tell them of his death … betrayed by a man they had all trusted.

Kian sighed; impatience was still her greatest weakness. “Go and sit in my alcove, Nimh’a. Start clearing your mind. You’re going to have to go into what happened here to find out.”

“How?”

“We’re getting to it. Just clear your mind as much as you can.”

Jenevra settled onto the mat in Ki-Nimh’s alcove, beginning the process of deep meditation, closing her eyes, and mind to the extraneous noise around them. As her breathing slowed, Ki-Nimh began talking to her softly, reminding her of the normal routine of the Temple, the activities she’d taken part in daily for so many years. He placed one of the prayer lamps nearby for its fragrance to help her memory.

Ki-Nimh took a deep breath. “I’m going to give you something to hold; something that was here at the Temple. You need to tell me what you can see through it.” From two alcoves down Ki-Nimh retrieved Dai-Nimh’s head, placing it carefully into Jenevra’s hands. Hearing the growing protest from the Flight, the Admiral and Richard, Ki-Nimh turned on them all. “If she can stand it, so can you,” he hissed at them. “You can wait outside if you’d rather.” He turned back to focus totally on Jenevra who seemed to be struggling with the contact she’d been asked to make. “Come on, Nimh’a,” Ki-Nimh urged. “You have to see through his eyes. We have to know what happened.”

Half an hour later, as Ki-Nimh led her slowly back out of the trance, she was paler than ever, and obviously shaken, but still ready to try to push, unsteadily, past them all. “Misha! Jai-Nimh wants the talismans and he’s going after Misha next!”

“Nimh’a!” Ki-Nimh grabbed hold of her arms, forcing her to sit back down in the alcove. “You’ve already sent Misha a warning, don’t you remember?”