The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian (33 page)

Some part of Trin’s mind wondered how they had kept their wits while everyone else had lost theirs, but a wild-eyed sailor came out of nowhere and lunged at him. Ducking the blow, he came up behind the man and without a second thought elbowed him in the back of the head. Watching him drop like a sack of potatoes gave him an idea.

“I’ll knock out the crew. Mae, hook that rowboat. We can figure out how to get him on board as soon as we have the ship under control.”

Without waiting for a response he lurched towards two men trading blows nearby. Drawing his sword, he quickly smashed the hilt against each sailor’s head in turn. The men crumpled to the deck and he looked for someone else. Hunrin abruptly appeared at his side and Trin turned to defend himself.

“I’ll help,” Hunrin growled though clenched teeth, and without waiting for an answer he leapt to a group of crazed men.

At least someone kept it together,
Trin thought.

Without warning the deck swung to the side as one man got knocked headlong into the group at the helm, causing them all to go down. Spinning freely, the wheel caused the
Sea Dancer
to bounce wildly north.

A lithe figure caught his eye as he grabbed the mast for support. Mae danced down the tilted deck like it was flat ground, knocking people out with quick, sharp blows as she passed. Stopping at a boat hook strapped to the railing, she yanked it free and deftly tied a rope to the end.

Trin was forced to catch himself when the deck jerked again. Looking toward the bridge he saw Erix, with a bleeding lip and swollen eye, back at the helm—his face white with fear and fury. As the ship straightened and curved back west, Trin regained his footing just in time to ward off a blow from a makeshift club.

Training took over and he dodged behind the mast to avoid another strike. Whipping his longsword out and up, he smacked the flat of the blade against the man’s leg so hard it buckled under him and he cried out as his knee hit the deck. Reversing the blade, he rotated around the mast and smashed the pommel into the back of his head.

A half-second later he felt something tug on the ship. Staggering he looked back at the burning city, afraid they had been attacked, but then saw that Mae had thrown the boathook like a spear, hooking the rowboat behind them.

Seeing she had things well in hand, Trin turned to help Hunrin—who had just been tackled to the deck by two men. Leaping to his aid, he tried to kick one man off—but the attacker shrugged it off. The two men continued to pummel Hunrin mercilessly for the precious seconds it took for Trin to incapacitate them. Shoving the unconscious sailors off, he reached down and pulled Hun to his feet. His face was bleeding in several places and bruises were beginning to form, but the knife thrower simply shook his head.

“Is that all of them?” he asked, spitting blood through his teeth.

Looking around, Trin saw that most of the fighting had stopped. The first mate and the few others who hadn’t lost their heads were finishing up.

Erix suddenly began issuing crisp orders: “Frey, tie up anyone who caused trouble. I don’t want them freed until we know they’ve come to their senses. Mae, get up here and tell me why you threw a spear overboard. Hun, clean yourself up and help Frey tie ̓em up. Anyone else who hasn’t gone crazy, get this ship moving!”

Without specific instructions, Trin followed Mae to the rear of the ship and listened to her explain about the boat to the captain. Glancing behind them for the first time, he saw the body in the boat and nodded. “Trin, Mae, grab the rope and pull him in. Find out if he is alive. If he is, take care of him and, by Ero’s staff, try to find out what happened to Terros!”

The two fighters sprinted to follow his instructions. Mae reached the rope first but she needed Trin’s strength to pull the small craft closer. Huffing, he pulled for all he was worth until the little boat bounced in the wake behind the
Sea Dancer
. 

“We won’t be able to pull it alongside us with just the two of us,” Trin exclaimed. “Let’s drop a rope off the back and bring him up.”

The elf beside him nodded in agreement and they set about rigging a harness to pull the man up. As soon as they were ready, they hurried to the rear of the ship and lowered it. In moments Mae slid down the rope and lightly dropped into the bucking rowboat. Wrapping the makeshift harness around the man’s arms, she quickly climbed back to the ship and helped Trin pull the man up. As soon as he could, Trin reached over the railing and grabbed the man’s tunic. With a grunt he managed to roll him over and onto the deck.

The captain glanced back. “If we don’t need that boat, cut it loose. We need every bit of speed we can get.”

Mae stood up. “I got it,” she said as she turned towards the rope, drawing her short sword.

Trin rolled the man onto his back and bent to examine him. The man was alive, but barely.  Two shallow wounds were visible. His head had been smashed against something and was still bleeding a little. The shoulder wound was a little more severe, but still wasn’t bleeding enough to account for the man’s condition.

Looking closer at the right thigh, Trin realized there was a thick bandage on the man’s leg that was soaked with dark blood—old blood. By the coloring it looked like it was a few days or even weeks old. Peeling back the torn leggings, he saw that whatever had cut him in the leg looked to be poisonous—his leg was streaked with dark grey lines where the veins should be. 

As the man’s head lolled to the side and his black hair was lifted by the breeze, something caught Trin’s eye. A long, ugly scar on the left side of his neck ran from ear to shoulder.

This man was a fighter,
Trin thought.

“Is he alive?” Mae asked as she kneeled beside him.

“Yes, but he needs some care.” He showed her the leg bandage. “Look at the thigh. Something bad did this for sure.”

She shook her head and a worried expression flashed across her elven features. “He looks like death already came for him, but he refused to go.”

“He’s a fighter, this one,” Trin replied, but then he looked at the clothes for the first time. They were worn leather, and the brown and green colors suggested something else . . . “Not a fighter," he mused out loud, "more like . . . a
woodsman
.”

She nodded in agreement. “Let’s get him below and see what we can do for him.”

Trin lifted the man’s shoulders while Mae grabbed his legs. As they carried him below and laid him on a bunk, Trin cast a prayer skyward that the woodsman would survive . . . and hopefully have some answers when he awoke.

Chapter 20:
A Thief in the Night

Long shadows cast by the setting sun blanketed the small copse of trees where Denithir had chosen to camp. Each of the elven guard went about their duties while an air of quiet tension seeped through them, causing furtive glances into the darkening trees. Taryn looked around at the elves and wondered how much more they could take before someone snapped.

A week had passed since the test of loyalty, and the only good occurrence since then had been the acceptance of Taryn into the group. Ren, more than any of the others, had talked quite a bit with him, sharing tales of his own life and young family. It helped to ease the overshadowing tension, as well as pass the time. Sometime over the last mile or two the talk had shifted to their training on Sri Rosen. Upon hearing that Murai had practically raised him, his eyebrows shot up.

“I remember Murai. Is he still as strict as a steel sword?” he asked. “I’d wager that was a rough upbringing.”

Confused, Taryn shook his head. “What do you mean? Murai was like family. I don’t think I can even recall him giving any sort of punishment.”

“Are you certain? I heard tales of him long before even I went to training. Before he went to Sri Rosen he worked for the Home Guard of Azertorn as a Setarian.”

“What’s a Setarian?” Taryn asked, annoyed with himself for never trying to know his adoptive uncle.

“A Seeker, and it’s a special office in the Home Guard. Only two or three are ever allowed the honor at any one time. From what I heard he was one of the best, and they called him Longblade because of his sword. He was renowned for his sense of unyielding justice.”

“What does a Seeker do?”

Liri, who was walking beside him, answered before Ren could, “They work directly with the Queen, and carry a rank only surpassed by the Captain of the Home Guard or the General. When something is stolen from the elves a Seeker is sent to return it—and bring justice to the taker.”

“Did you know he was one?” Taryn asked, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. He couldn’t believe she didn’t tell him.

She flashed an apologetic look. “I thought you knew. Murai hasn’t gone by the name for more than a century, and I’m sure few remember it now.”

Taryn felt the frustration mounting, but couldn’t explain why. Was he angry at Murai for not revealing more . . . or at himself for not asking? He was beginning to wonder if he knew anything at all about his adoptive uncle. Again, he considered the possibility that he had given up a real home for the fleeting prospect of one. The thought chilled his blood, and left him with a shaken resolve.

Liri nudged him and he looked at her. “Huh?” he asked, attempting to pull himself from his swirling thoughts.

“Ren asked if you would like to see an orb of his daughter?” Liri’s lips pursed as she flicked her eyebrows towards Ren on the opposite side.

“Er, yeah,” Taryn said, doing his best to recover from his momentary lapse in attention, but it proved to be unnecessary. Ren apparently hadn’t noticed, and was digging through his pack as he muttered to himself.

“Where is that blasted . . . ah, here it is.”

Withdrawing a small memory orb, he handed it to Taryn. Despite the size of the glass ball, the image of a blond, curly haired elf stood clear inside. Grinning wide, the elf child couldn’t have been more than a few years old.

“She’s adorable,” Taryn exclaimed, and Liri echoed his statement.

“Just turned four a couple of months ago, so my wife had this made for me. I think the mage overcharged her, but I can’t dispute the results.” He took it back from Taryn and gazed at it with pride before returning it to his pack. “Denithir is about to have his own you know,” he said, reseating his pack and turning back to them.

“Really?” Liri asked, “He’s in his fourth century isn’t he?”

Ren nodded towards the captain’s back and lowered his voice. “They had trouble conceiving for quite some time. I don’t know how they did it, but he found out just a few days ago that his wife was with child. Before he was summoned on this journey they were discussing names. I’ve never seen him so proud.”

—A hurried call hissed from the lead scout, and in an instant they were all on guard.  Diving into the brush on either side, the entire command of elves evaporated in a heartbeat, waiting and barely breathing for fear of discovery. A moment later a whisper came back that it was only a deer, but the false alarm had had just as much effect as a real one.

Returning to the trail, they lapsed into silence, their attention focused outward once more. Still trying to calm his pounding heart, Taryn knew the conversation was over. The oppressive feeling of fear had surged back like a blast of hot air, and it would be some time before it would change—if it changed.

The further east they traveled, the more difficult the journey had become.

Traveling through the southern lands had provided a chance for Taryn to see more of the southern kingdom of Talinor, but had proved hazardous on multiple occasions. Heavily armed patrols of humans roamed the country like they were at war—which he had to admit wasn’t far off the elves’ attitude. Villages they had managed to pass boasted makeshift palisades and watchful guards. They had been forced to circumnavigate several times to avoid encountering humans. There was no doubt that if they encountered anyone a fight would be unavoidable—and would result in humans flooding towards them within hours.

Now patrols had increased in size and strength, with many of them mounted on long-legged horses. Avoiding them had become almost impossible, and without Kryll they would have been discovered and killed long ago. Dour and exceptionally strong for an elf, he had lived in the Forest of Numenessee his entire life and felt more at home in the woods than in a city. His uncanny instinct for trouble had more than once saved their skins when they would dive into hiding and watch men gallop by not a moment later.

But the constant vigilance was taking a toll on everyone, including Taryn. With hardly a word spoken for the rest of the day, the tension just seemed to build. By nightfall, nerves had been rubbed raw and tempers were on the verge of explosion as they bunked down a day's journey from the Oracle’s temple.

Taryn gnawed on his dinner of cold meat and dried fruit, wishing he could identify the source of his agitation. What he wouldn’t give for a hot meal, but they couldn’t risk a fire being spotted. Deep down he found he was still grateful for the excuse so he wouldn’t have to start one. Early in their journey, he’d been tasked with both the fire and the preparation of the evening meal. On both counts, he wasn’t asked again.

Laying down, Taryn sighed and looked up at the few stars just beginning to twinkle in the inky sky. He glanced at Liri to tell her something, but on spotting her tense expression he realized she still wasn’t in the mood to talk, so he forced himself to relax and fall asleep.

It felt like only a minute before he felt a silent footstep beside him. In a fraction of a second he palmed his sword and rolled into a defensive crouch before seeing Kryll's arm extended to touch him. Shock emanated from Kryll’s darkened face.

"How did you hear me?" he whispered in confusion, "I made no noise."

Taryn shrugged, not wanting to explain his uncle's teachings. The older elf waited for a second, but seeing Taryn wasn’t going to answer he whispered again, "Denithir said you can take the second watch if you'd like."

Hiding his surprise, Taryn nodded and worked his way to the position on the perimeter that the elf had indicated. Settling into place with his back to a large oak, Taryn checked his surroundings before pausing to consider Denithir. After the battle in the woods he'd still been standoffish, but not overly so. Taryn had volunteered to take a watch every night but he had been politely turned down. This night marked the first that Denithir had relented and allowed Taryn to be one of the four sentries that were posted each night. A glimmer of hope blossomed as he realized that perhaps the strict elven captain had begun to trust him as an asset, and not just as a guest.