The Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame - Book 1 (25 page)

In the back of Makala’s mind, she knew that the archers could pick her off anytime, for skilled as she was, she hadn’t a shifter’s reflexes to help her dodge arrows. She also knew that if Erdis Cai chose to, he could intercept her whenever he wished and toss her about like a rag doll, just as he’d done with poor Zabeth, but she had no control over either of those things. Emon Gorsedd had taught her to ignore what she couldn’t control, so she kept on running. Either she’d reach Zabeth or she wouldn’t. At least she wouldn’t simply have sat still and watched her friend be torn to pieces.

Up to this point, Makala had avoided looking through the grating, but as she approached Zabeth, she glanced downward. She saw dozens of hairless shapes moving like pale shadows beneath her, and she knew the ghouls were converging on Zabeth. Makala began swinging the manacles over her head as she closed in on her friend, just as the first mottled-fleshed hand came up between the bars and reached for Zabeth’s left arm. Makala let out a battle cry as she swung the manacles with all her strength at the ghoul’s grasping hand. The shackle smashed into the pale fingers, breaking the creature’s claw-like fingernails. The ghoul screeched in pain and withdrew its hand, but more came to take its place—many more. Makala swung her improvised weapon with desperate, almost maniacal fury as she struggled to drive off the savage ghouls and save Zabeth, but there were too many of them and only one of her. Her arm and shoulder started to go numb, and despite her efforts, some of the ghouls had managed to wound Zabeth, and the shifter sobbed as her blood ran down into the pit below them, further exciting the ghouls. Makala refused to give in. She would fight to her dying breath and if possible beyond.

“Hold!”

The word echoed through the amphitheater like thunder, and the ghouls broke off their attack. They crouched below Zabeth, hissing softly as they cast covetous glances at the blood dripping from the shifter’s wounds, but as much as they might long to, they made no move to feed. Makala stood panting for breath, the manacles dangling at her side. She turned to see Erdis Cai striding toward her. It might have been due to fatigue, but it looked as if the vampire lord walked several inches above the grating instead of on it.

“Congratulations, Makala.” Erdis Cai stopped a few feet away from her, and if he’d been walking above the bars before, he stood upon them now.

“For … what?” she gasped.

“For proving yourself worthy.”

Makala scowled. “You mean this was … a test?”

Erdis Cai smiled, and this time he seemed to have no qualms about displaying his sharp incisors. “Indeed, and you cannot possibly know how happy you’ve made me.”

“You bastard!” Makala swung the shackle at Erdis Cai’s face, intending to knock those damn teeth of his out of their sockets, but the vampire reached up and caught the chain with unnatural ease.

“The test is finished. There’s no further need to prove yourself.” Cai looked down at the ghouls crouching below.

“Finish the bitch,” he ordered.

The ghouls shrieked with delighted lust, Makala shouted “No!” and poor Zabeth screamed. But not for long.

Now that the Mire was several hours behind them and the sun had set, Hinto seemed to finally be relaxing a bit, which was a relief to Ghaji. The halfling had held his own during the escape from the Mire, and Ghaji respected that, but he found Hinto’s “emotional instability,” as Diran put it, hard to stomach. During one of the halfling’s low periods, he’d been standing at the port rail, weeping softly. Diran had taken Ghaji aside and explained that the trauma of losing his crewmates and surviving on his own in the Mire had taken a heavy toll on Hinto’s mind. They needed to be understanding and patient with the halfling while he came to terms with what had happened. Ghaji was all for being understanding and patient as Hinto’s wounded spirit healed, but did the halfling have to be so damn annoying in the process?

Hinto once more stood at the
Zephyr’s
port side, running his hands appreciatively over the surface of the railing.

“I never thought I’d ever get to see soarwood, let alone sail on a vessel made from it,” he said. “It’s so smooth that the hand slides over it as if it were ice. No wonder this craft can sail so swiftly.”

Ghaji sat not far away, honing his axe blade with a sharpening stone. He didn’t know if the halfling was talking to him or merely thinking aloud. Either way, Ghaji saw no need to reply. Tthen Diran, who sat next to him, restocking his cloak pockets with daggers he’d taken from the pack between his feet, gave Ghaji a look, and the half-orc sighed.

“She’s a fine vessel,” Ghaji said, then he shot Diran a glance that said,
There, are you satisfied?

Hinto turned away from the railing and came over to join them, though the halfling didn’t sit and Ghaji didn’t ask him to.

“She’d certainly make an excellent pirate ship,” Hinto said. “She’s small enough that you could get close to other vessels before they had the chance to try and evade you, and she’s fast enough that you’d be able to outrun any pursuit. She’s too small to carry a large crew, though, so you’d have to choose your targets carefully so as not to find yourselves outnumbered, but—”

“We’re not pirates,” Ghaji said. “We’re …” He trailed off, unsure precisely how to describe what he and Diran did.

“Pilgrims,” Diran said.

A bit grand, Ghaji thought, but accurate enough, he supposed.

“Why are you trying to rescue that woman? Makala, right?”

Diran expression turned grim. He returned his attention to resupplying his cloak pockets from among his collection of daggers.

Hinto leaned forward and peered into Diran’s pack. “You’ve got a lot of knives in there. Steel, iron, silver …” Hinto pointed. “Are those wood?”

“They are,” Diran confirmed without taking his attention from his work. “The foul creatures that Ghaji and I battle have varying strengths and weaknesses. Some are affected by all metals, some only by certain kinds, while others aren’t affected by metals at all. I must be prepared.”

Ghaji knew that Diran had many more types of daggers beside those he’d already named. He carried blades fashioned from stone, ivory, jade, and crystal, most of which he’d fashioned himself. He also owned several daggers that possessed magical properties: a couple that had been given to him by Tusya,
his mentor in the church, while the others had been acquired during various missions over the years.

“Must make for a heavy burden,” Hinto said, eyeing the pack.

“In more ways than one,” Diran said softly.

The halfling frowned. “I just thought of something. If your pack’s full of knives, where do you carry your other supplies, such as a bedroll and the like?”

“He doesn’t,” Ghaji said. “I carry supplies for both of us in my pack. One of my primary duties is to serve as Diran’s mule.”

The priest looked up at him and smiled. “You’re stubborn as a mule, I’ll give you that.”

Ghaji grinned. “And proud of it.”

Hinto’s eyes widened and he took two steps backward. At first Ghaji didn’t understand why, then he realized he’d bared his teeth when he’d smiled. An orcish smile, even one half-orcish, was enough to give even the strongest warrior pause, let alone an emotionally disturbed halfling. Ghaji felt a sudden wave of shame. How many times in his life had he accidentally frightened people because of the way he looked? He wasn’t above taking advantage of his appearance in battle—he’d done so many times during the Last War. Sometimes he forgot the effect his appearance had on others, forgot that too often it was a mistake to relax his guard and act like he was just another person talking, laughing, and smiling with friends. He wasn’t “another person.” He was a half-orc and always would be.

“Mind if I join you?”

Hinto started at the sound of Yvka’s voice, and he stared at the elf-woman with a wide-eyed, terrified gaze.

Ghaji reached out and put his hand on the halfling’s shoulder. “Calm yourself.”

Though Ghaji’s rumbling voice could hardly be described as soothing, Hinto nevertheless took a deep breath then let it out slowly. He then looked at Ghaji and smiled.

“Thanks, Greenie.”

It took a monumental effort, but Ghaji managed not to tighten his grip and break Hinto’s shoulder.

Diran looked up at Yvka. “Please, sit down.”

“No thanks. I’ve been sitting in the pilot’s chair for hours. I’d rather stand.”

She put two hands on her lower back and arched her spine in a stretch. The motion caused her chest to bow outward and her head to lean back, her lips parting slightly.

Now it was Ghaji’s turn to stare wide-eyed.

When she was finished with her display, which Ghaji thought went on a little longer than strictly necessary—not that he was complaining—she said, “The wind’s blowing strong enough that we can do without the elemental for a short while without losing too much time.”

“It’s just as well,” Diran said. “We need to make plans before we reach Dreadhold. How long do you think it will be before we’re there?”

Yvka looked up at the stars glittering in the night sky. “Dreadhold is located off the northern reaches of Cape Far. We should arrive by midmorning tomorrow. Noon at the latest.”

Diran nodded. “Do you have any friends on the island who can get us in to speak with Tresslar?”

“The Shadow Network is not without connections in Dreadhold,” she said, “but I personally have no relationship with
anyone there. I’m afraid I’ll be of little help this time.”

“Don’t worry,” Diran said. “Ghaji and I are used to providing people with reasons to let us enter where we’re not always permitted.”

“Or wanted,” Ghaji added.

Diran grinned. “Indeed. I’m sure we’ll be able to get inside, one way or another.”

“Will we have trouble docking?” Ghaji asked. “The
Zephyr
isn’t exactly an inconspicuous ship, and our arrival will be unscheduled.”

“The dock is rarely used,” Yvka said, “as there’s little traffic coming and going from Dreadhold. Also, guards watch the sea carefully, ever alert for the approach of raiders who may be coming to help a comrade escape. We’ll just have to make berth and hope we can talk our way past the dockmaster.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to bribe him?” Ghaji asked.

“If it were anywhere else but Dreadhold, I’d say yes,” Yvka said, “but the members of House Kundarak run the prison with rigid efficiency and unwavering adherence to the rules. They cannot be bribed.”

Hinto sniffed. “I don’t trust anyone who refuses to take an honest bribe.”

“You could stay at Dreadhold,” Diran said to the halfling. “The warders would surely help you return to the mainland if you wish, and if nothing else, you’d be out of danger.”

“I thank you for your consideration,” Hinto said, “but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay aboard the
Zephyr.”

Ghaji frowned. “Didn’t you hear what Diran said? You’d be
safe
in Dreadhold.”

“I’m safe right here. You three found me in the Mire, and
you three got me out. The way I see it, you’re all good luck charms, and I’ll be safe as long as I stick close to you.”

Ghaji nearly groaned. It seemed Hinto had attached to the three of them like a stray puppy that had received a bit of food and a few kind words from a stranger. Wonderful.

“Since Tresslar works in the prison, I think we’ll have an easier time getting in to speak with him than if he were an inmate,” Diran said, “but we’ll need some sort of cover story.”

“Why?” Ghaji asked. “Why not just introduce ourselves to the warden, explain what our mission is, and ask to speak with Tresslar?”

“Ordinarily, that’s just what we’d do,” Diran said, “but there’s one problem.” He looked at Yvka.

“That problem is me,” she said, “or rather, the people I work for. Officially, they don’t exist. If we tell the warden the truth, he’s bound to ask some uncomfortable questions, and though I am as committed to finding the Black Fleet as you are, I cannot reveal anything about my employers in the process,
especially
not to a representative of a dragonmarked house.”

“I see,” Ghaji said. “Then we go with a cover story.”

“We’ll make landfall on Dreadhold, and Ghaji and I will enter the prison while you and Hinto remain with the
Zephyr,”
Diran said. “We’ll speak to Tresslar and hopefully learn where Erdis Cai makes port. Once that knowledge is ours, we’ll rejoin you and set sail once more. Easy as that.”

Ghaji looked at his friend. “It’s
never
easy.”

“Try to be optimistic. Perhaps this will be the first time.”

“Are you willing to wager on it?” Ghaji asked.

Diran thought for a moment. “No,” he said with a sigh.

“However things go for us on Dreadhold, we’ll need to be
well rested,” Yvka said. “Diran, as long as the wind’s strong, would you mind taking the tiller for a couple hours?”

“Not at all.”

“Perhaps Hinto can keep you company,” the elf-woman said. “He must have some absolutely riveting stories about his time at sea.”

The halfling nodded enthusiastically. “That I do! One of my tasks aboard the
Pelican
was to serve as chief ratcatcher. Why, one time I caught thirty-seven rats in a single afternoon.”