Six Heirs (34 page)

In any case, his priority for the moment was to get them off the island and return to the mainland before dawn. Which would be impossible if they continued to dawdle as they had in the cave with the arch.

What Corenn was expecting, which is to say an event even more spectacular than usual, or a meeting with their enemy, had not materialized. The visit to Ji didn’t reveal any answers. It simply allowed them to eliminate a few hypotheses.

But Grigán’s instinct didn’t fail him. If there was no one in the cave, there would certainly be someone waiting for them at their exit. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself, but he was sure. This was the kind of intuition that had saved his life more than once.

“Grigán, my friend,” Bowbaq said, “It seems like you’ve spent your whole life on this island. You scurry between the rocks like you’ve known this path for years.”

“Well, it’s true, you know. That was the ninth time I witnessed the phenomenon.”

He went quiet, hesitant to continue.

“I hope there are more to come. I’ve always liked round numbers,” he added, to lighten the mood.

“Speaking of numbers, how many people have you killed?” asked Léti.

“I don’t keep count like that,” he snarled. “I leave that to the Züu.”

“I just had an idea,” she went on. “What if we hired a Zü to kill the other ones for us?”

“This little one’s resourceful.”

“I’m not little.”

“My sincere apologies. But my compliment was sincere.”

Rey could be charming and despicable at the same time. Léti never knew how to react to him—fall in love or detest him. At least with Yan she knew how she felt. But the young man was always so reserved.

“Snuff out your torches,” Grigán asked. “We’re getting close to the beach. From this moment on, I ask that you make as little noise as possible, and this time do it for real.”

They complied. The warrior climbed on top of a rock and, looking toward their boats, watched attentively. Not long after, Rey did the same.

“Do you see anything?” Bowbaq whispered.

“I think we’re on an island,” Rey answered. “There’s water all around us.”

“I know we’re on an island,” the giant explained. “Rey, my friend, I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“It was a joke, Bowbaq, my friend,” said the actor as he slid from his perch. “Just a joke. You can’t see a thing.”

“Which doesn’t mean nothing’s there,” Grigán added. “Let’s go. Very slowly.”

They followed the warrior for a while, until he signaled a stop.

“I’m going ahead,” he whispered. “Wait for me here.”

He slipped away into the darkness, bow in hand, as he had done for his companions so many times before.

But this time, things would not turn out so well.

He refused to admit it, of course. But he went much faster, more discreetly, and thus more safely, when he was alone.

Despite the goodwill and effort of—almost—all of his companions, the group made for easy prey. They were too numerous, too loud, and worse, most of them weren’t fighters.

Grigán felt responsible for them, like a father with his children. And he had to do his best to keep them safe. He took this responsibility on himself and took a certain pride in it, despite the constant disagreements.

Like a shadow, he emerged through an opening a little bit larger than the others, walled in on either side by a large boulder stuck in the sand. The beach wasn’t much farther. He could already hear the sea.

He crouched down and inched forward, hidden by a slanted boulder. He’d long ago stopped worrying about the ridiculousness of such postures. Many battles had been won by seemingly ridiculous people, or excessively cautious ones.

He leaned against the rock, all of his senses alive, and analyzed the layout of the terrain. Where would an ordinary person hide for an ambush? Over there, surely. In that corner formed by the two huge boulders.

He proceeded to circle around, using anything he could for cover, every relief, every spot blanketed in shadow. Soon, he neared his goal.

He set down his bow and quiver, arming himself with just a throwing dagger. Then he slowly poked his head out of his hiding place, just enough for a quick glance.

He was right, which brought him only a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

A man was hiding there, leaning against the rock, a sword in hand. He kept looking toward the path. The path that Grigán, Corenn, and the others would have taken.

He wasn’t a Zü, more likely a low-level thief from the Guild, of the kind that Yan and Rey described. The man didn’t do his job very well, anyway. Grigán was sure he could get rid of him in less than two heartbeats.

But where there is one, there are others, the proverb says. Maybe many more. Definitely enough for an ambush.

Under these conditions, a reconnaissance mission all the way to the beach was impossible. Opportunities for coverage were too few and far between. And he had to warn his companions, before they started to get noisy again.

The best thing to do was to lose their enemies in the labyrinth; maybe to eliminate them in isolated combat. At dawn, he would reassess the situation.

While figuring out this problem, he had started to return when a cry shredded the silence.

The voice was Léti’s.

Grigán had been gone for some time now, and Rey was beginning to get impatient. It was hard enough for him to bear the attitude of the old man, as he had disrespectfully nicknamed Grigán, and his obsession with controlling everything. But the fact that he was wasting time on top of that was tough for Rey to swallow.

The others waited obediently, their backs against rocks, or seated in the sand. They were all good people, sure, but far too timid for his liking. Apart from Léti, perhaps, they all seemed to accept the warrior’s orders as if they had done so their entire lives. Rey couldn’t go along with that.

He clambered on top of a boulder and attempted to pierce the darkness of the night. But all he could see was the sea, a slightly darker color than the island, and he gave up.

He was a city dweller through and through. Up until recently, he had only traveled between cities, taking the shortest route possible. On this deserted, desolate island, he was out of his element. As if he were closer to the realm of death. His death.

He tried to banish this unpleasant thought. In Lorelia, the streets were always lit and rarely deserted. The teeming city life, with its countless festivals and the impressive density of taverns and other entertainment establishments, didn’t lend itself to pessimism. Whereas here...

Finally, he admitted it. Yes, he regretted the vision they had seen of the other world. He felt a kind of sadness and an inexplicable frustration he had never known before. He wasn’t the only one, judging from the others’ lost expressions.

So much for the old man’s orders. He was going to break the ever-so-important silence. He needed to talk.

He went over to Léti, searching for an amusing way to strike up a conversation...and froze midstep, his eyes fixed in one direction.

A man had just appeared, right in front of him.

Rey lunged at him so swiftly that he surprised even himself. The stranger, just as surprised as Rey, reacted with much less agility and found himself with his back on the ground and a dagger to his throat before he could even draw his blade.

If he had been alone, Rey wouldn’t have hesitated for an instant to slice his steel blade through the man’s filthy skin. But some sense of decency, being in the presence of his naive companions, as well as the memory of the other world, prevented him from killing the stranger in cold blood.

It all happened very fast. Rey smelled the man’s awful breath. He read the panic in his eyes. Then he heard Léti let out a dreadful cry, and something struck him brutally on the head.

As soon as Léti saw Rey bolt for no apparent reason, she stood up to find the actor subduing an armed stranger.

No one had heard the man approach. Yan, sitting close to her, was daydreaming, as he often did. Bowbaq was lost in his contemplation of the stars, and Corenn was resting with her eyes closed.

Léti’s first emotion was relief. This stranger was clearly an enemy, but it was fine, since Rey had subdued him—and without Grigán’s help, even.

Then she felt anger. Anger toward herself for not reacting as quickly as Rey. She hadn’t even reacted at all.

Then hysteria overtook all of her other emotions when she saw the other men.

She heard herself yelling to warn Rey and watched, powerless, as one of the strangers clubbed the actor on the head.

She brandished her knife in front of her, in front of her enemies, in an improvised combat position. She didn’t even remember grabbing the weapon.

Bowbaq placed himself between them and her, blocking the way with his massive body. Léti felt someone pulling at
her clothes. She pivoted around, rage filling her body, ready to take on her assailant.

It was only Yan. She realized he had been calling her for a while now. She finally understood what he was saying.

“Come on! We need to leave! Léti, come with me!”

She followed him without knowing why. Maybe because it was Yan. Because he had called to her.

She couldn’t think straight. All she wanted was to keep her grip on the knife.

She clasped the weapon, gritted her teeth, and started running as she never had before.

Bowbaq had spontaneously confronted the strangers without knowing what he was going to do next. He was overjoyed to hear Yan and Léti get away. Then he noticed that, among the group, Corenn was in the most danger, so he leaped two yards to place himself in front of her.

There were several assassins. He counted at least five, but the shouts and clanging of metal that could be heard all around didn’t bode well.

The giant didn’t know what to do. The cluster of men standing before him remained still, encumbered by Rey’s body lying on the ground and impressed by their new adversary’s size.

He took a slow step forward, looking hard into the nearest man’s eyes. He had often seen Mir do the same with his prey. The assassin unconsciously stepped back, forcing his fellows to do the same.

Bowbaq swung his gigantic arm forward and ripped the club from its owner’s hands. He had taken an oath never to
kill anyone, no matter who, but his enemies didn’t know that. Regardless, he felt a little better armed than barehanded.