The Gathering Storm - Elsewhere, Book 1

Jaquor was lying on the hard wooden bench in his cell trying to sleep when he became aware of a persistent scratching and clinking noise from nearby. He sat up in the darkness, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from his left, from the direction of the door.

“Beyon?” He whispered. “Are you hearing that?”

There was no reply from the next door cell. Beyon was obviously sound asleep. Neither of them had been fed properly for several days now and both had been led endlessly round the maze of corridors and subjected to hours of the same monotonous questions. They were tired and lethargic; too tired even to try to figure out an escape. Jaquor called out nervously, “Who’s there?”

There was a final metallic clunk and the door swung open. In the same moment a shadowy figure entered the cell and stepped silently over to where he sat. The figure spoke in a hushed voice.

“Quiet. Do you want to alert every guard in the building to the fact that you are escaping?”

The question was asked in a heavily accented contralto and Jaquor realised that his rescuer was a woman.

“Escaping? How? Who are you?” he persisted, though in a quieter voice.

“You were captured on Captain Jonas’ ship. He owes you a debt of protection. I am here to fulfil that debt. Now, we must hurry. The moon is already waning and we have much to accomplish before dawn. You stay here while I free your friend. I must close the door, in case the guard comes.”

She stepped back out into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind her. An irrational fear began to grip Jaquor that the whole bizarre scene had been some sort of hunger induced hallucination. Then, through the small hole in the wall, he heard Beyon startle awake and the woman muffle his cry and speak urgently to him in that quiet, exotic voice. Moments later she opened his cell door again and beckoned to him. He went quietly into the corridor and she relocked both doors with a diamond pick and tension wrench.

Jaquor nodded a greeting to Beyon, who grinned back, raising his eyebrows and nodding at their rescuer. She was much shorter than them and dressed from head to foot in black. She wore a hat with a narrow brim, from which dropped a gauzy black veil that hid her face. This was tucked into the collar of her loose shirt, which in turn was gathered into the waistband of her tight fitting trousers. Short boots and gloves finished her outfit, and all in fabrics that gave not a whisper of sound as she moved. The corridor was dimly lit with smoking torches, but still bright enough to render the camouflage useless, so they hurried along passage after passage, checking before turning each corner and listening for the heavy footfall of guards.

“Where are we going?” whispered Beyon.

“No!” The woman’s quiet but surprisingly abrupt command brought him up short. “No whispering. It carries through the night air like birdsong on a morning breeze. Keep your voice low and quiet; it works better. Your women are in the sanatorium. I assume you want to rescue them?”

“Of course,” replied Jaquor. “What’s a sani... wotsit?”

“Oh. A place where they care for sick people. Don’t you have those?”

“Well, yes, but we don’t have a special place to care for them. Nula takes care of any injuries we can’t handle ourselves and she’s training Noor, but she mostly looks after pregnant women. The Norns have healing magic too, and Nula and the apothecary both know about herbs. If we’re sick we stay home till we feel better. I guess in a big city it makes more sense for the sick people to all be in one place; less travelling time for the healers.”

“Yes, exactly. And in a prison especially; since they don’t get sick notes to go attend the city sanatorium when they get a tummy bug. It’s just a little further down here.”

At last they reached the sanatorium. The woman paused to peer round the final corner then slipped round, hugging the wall with her back. Jaquor and Beyon followed suit and immediately realised why. The upper half of the door was made of glass. They approached silently and just outside the door she dropped to her knees, motioning to them to do likewise. Removing her lock-pick set from a hidden pocket she set about opening the door, but was surprised to find it already unlocked. Muttering about such laxity being the downfall of civilisation she stood up, peering intently through the glass.

“Wait here,” she said to the two men and quietly opened the door. They watched her move silently across the room, feeling slightly foolish at allowing a diminutive woman to protect them, and decided simultaneously to follow her in case there were more guards than she could handle. They rounded a corner past the nurses’ desk in time to watch a man slump to the floor as the woman loosened a thin rope from around his neck.

“You didn’t.... did you?” asked Beyon in a shocked voice.

“Hardly. I don’t kill unarmed nurses. He’ll wake up in a few hours with a pounding headache is all. I thought I told you to stay put.” Her tone spoke volumes of displeasure and Jaquor could almost feel her frowning at them behind that veil.

“The women are in that room,” she said, pointing to a side room as she crossed to the door. She tried the door knob and, finding it locked, drew her lock-picks out again. In a matter of seconds the door swung open and the men rushed in to be reunited with Tisha and Eliish. Their embraces were by necessity brief and the woman in black, who still had not revealed her identity, was soon guiding them along more passageways and down stairwells towards their freedom. She halted on the first floor however and bade them wait in a small unfurnished room.

“I have one more stop to make. It’s safer I go alone. Please don’t speak until I come back – you won’t know who might be passing the door.”

The minutes passed interminably as they waited in the dark silence, but eventually the woman returned, slightly bowed under the weight of their packs. They shrugged them onto their shoulders and prepared for the final leg of their escape.

“Where did you find these?” asked Tisha.

“Warden’s office. Your jewels are in there too.”

“Thank you. It was a lot of trouble to go to just for luggage.”

“Well, you can’t pay for passage if you don’t have the jewels, can you?” she reasoned. “Come on, there’s still a way to go and it’ll be light soon.”

She led them down a final flight of stairs and along the hall to an outer door. There was a guard room off this hall and the door was ajar, but the guards inside were distracted by a noisy card game, punctuated by the clinking of coins and tankards. They passed by unnoticed and left through the heavy iron door, whose bolts slid back mercifully quietly.

The courtyard outside was chilly as the day’s heat had fled into the cloudless sky and the sea breeze took easy hold high in the city. It whipped at the thin gowns the women wore and they shivered, but there hadn’t been time to change out of the grey shifts the nurse had provided.

A thin strip of pale sky was beginning to show on the far off horizon and the short woman hurried around the courtyard, beckoning them to follow her. They clung to the walls, crouching in the shadows, so that the guards stationed in the watch tower above the big gate wouldn’t see them. They stopped near the corner where the front wall of the courtyard met the inside wall of the prison’s west wing and mimicked a bird call. From up above two coils of rope snaked their way down the wall and Beyon and Jaquor had to climb as best they could on short rations and little sleep, hauling themselves onto the top of the wall.

Once there they had to lie on the wall, again hoping that the guards wouldn’t see them. From up there they could see two men lurking at the foot of the wall, holding the other ends of the ropes. They made short work of descending to the ground, hand over hand, landing silently beside the two men. Once the women had joined them their rescuer followed suit, murmuring that she had secured her rope ends to an iron ring set in the wall, which was normally used for tethering horses. She greeted the men who had thrown them the ropes quietly then urged them all to make good their escape, creeping away from the prison and its thankfully inobservant guards. They were all tired but she didn’t allow them to let up the pace, chivvying them down alleys and darting through side streets, avoiding the main avenues as they worked their way through the high city and down the hill. About half way to the markets a loud clanging bell began to sound, echoing into the oncoming dawn. The woman swore.

“That nurse must have woken sooner than I expected and sounded the alarm. Hurry; the streets will soon be crawling with guardsmen and they know where we’re going.”

They plunged down the hill, the four travellers feeling keenly the aches in their unused muscles and hunger pangs in their stomachs. Fatigue threatened to trip them up with every step, but somehow they managed to reach the low city and wind their way through the market district.

They reached the slums as the sky began to really lighten and the street women gave up their trade and went home to sleep, their erstwhile customers weaving happily back to inns and ships, or even homes of their own. It was easier for seven extra people to hide among this slight crowd than in the deserted streets of the wealthier districts and they felt their hopes rising as they approached the harbour.

Their guides slowed as they emerged onto the quayside, staying in the shadows. One of them let out a long, low whistle as they passed the Seabird. In seconds the harbour erupted with noise as fierce battle cries combined with startled yells and the resounding clash of steel on steel. The guards both on the quayside and the Seabird’s deck were taken completely by surprise and did not manage to put up much resistance.

Seven shadows drifted past the impromptu battle and up the gang plank of the Ennas-star, which had been put out in readiness. The anchors of both ships were lifted and the gangplank drawn up as the sun’s first rays pierced the clouds gathering to the east. The last of the guards were dealt with and sailors clambered up ropes to whichever ship they could reach. The sails were unfurled to catch the wind as the receding tide helpfully pulled them away from the harbour. Reinforcements sent from the garrison and the prison rushed onto the quay, but they were too late and had to stand among the bodies of those killed in the sudden uprising, watching the ships as they made their escape.

It took only a short while for the crews to sort themselves out, with those from the Ennas-star who had been on the Seabird when it sailed swinging over to their own ship on ropes. It had been a simple plan really, for those on the unguarded ship to swing across to the Seabird and free her sailors, or down to the harbour to overpower the guards there. A small team from the Ennas-star had gone to the Excise house to free Jonas, arriving back at the docks only minutes before Jaquor’s group. He came up on deck as the ships sailed, to greet them.

“It’s good to see you again,” he declared, shaking them by the hand and clasping their shoulders. “I heard what that devil did to you,” he said gravely to Tisha and Eliish, a great sorrow evident on his face. “You’ll be glad to know he’ll never do that to anyone else. I made it my personal privilege to end that man’s life, to remove some of the guilt I feel for allowing you all to be harmed while under my protection. For the rest, I owe my good friend Malden a debt for seein’ to your rescue.”

“That you do Jonas and don’t think I’ll forget,” Malden assured him.

Tisha and Eliish heard this news with mixed emotions, having done their best not to think of their ordeal at the hands of the evil Melbren while in the prison. Tisha felt relieved, although slightly guilty that a man had died for her sake, while Eliish felt as if her skin was crawling as she remembered the nauseating feeling of his hands on her body, groping and cruelly hurting her, threatening to.... she shuddered and shut the terrible thoughts out of her mind, concentrating instead on what Jaquor was now saying.

“We would like to be able to thank the woman who rescued us, if possible, but we’re not even sure which ship she belongs to.”

“Of course, of course,” replied Malden. “I’m sure there wasn’t much time for introductions last night.” He smiled as he saw her emerge onto the deck behind them.

“Ah, here she is. May I present Miss Adajznia D’Shiin.

Aside from her diminutive stature, the woman who stepped forward was unrecognisable as their rescuer from the previous night. Jaquor and Beyon were unable to help themselves from staring, a fact which was duly noted by both Tisha and Eliish, although in fact they were a little wide-eyed themselves.

Adajznia was a woman who clearly enjoyed being a woman. She exuded confidence and sensuality. Abundant wavy hair of pure white cascaded down her back as she stood observing them, hands placed lightly on her hips, her midnight eyes glistening in the sunlight. Her clothes did not differ much from those of her fellow sailors, yet she wore them is such a way as to accentuate her best features, which frankly was most of them. Several buttons remained unfastened on her crimson shirt, revealing a generous décolletage. Tight black britches met high leather boots in a way that seemed to compete for attention with the shirt. Skin which would otherwise have been milky was tanned the palest bronze by life on the open sea and contrasted starkly with her white hair.

“You’re welcome,” she purred, pre-empting their thanks.

“Yes. I mean, thank you. Thank you so much,” stammered Jaquor. “We’re all very grateful.”

“It was nothing. All in a night’s work.”

Her accent differed significantly from those of both the Meerans they had met and Captains Jonas and Malden. Where the captains spoke languorously and drawled their vowels and the Meerans spoke thickly in their syrupy voices, Adajznia spoke very concisely, rolling her ’r’s and pressing her tongue behind her teeth, which had an attractively compressive effect on her consonants. Tisha had never seen anyone who resembled this woman before but certain of her features seemed to remind her of a description she had heard. She racked her brain, trying to remember what it was. Suddenly, it came to her. Thalaenna, telling the story of Emerden’s mother. This woman was a...

“Jentsie!” she said aloud before she could stop herself. “Forgive me for being so blunt, but you are, aren’t you? A Jentsie?”

“I am,” confirmed Adajznia with pride.

“But how is that possible? How did you escape?”

“I did not escape. My mother was brought to Lytos Bor by the Raquin to carry goods and serve as a maid. She was pregnant but had managed to conceal it. One night she gave birth, weeks early and with only the inn keeper’s wife to aid her. She begged the woman not to tell her masters, and to take the baby away and raise me as her own. The woman agreed but her husband refused to accept me. They took me to the Roon, who agreed to care for me until suitable adoptive parents could be found. I grew up in the orphanage on the university campus, but I had no magic and was not allowed to mix with the students.”

“I never saw you there,” remarked Eliish. “I studied at the university a few years ago.”

“Like I said, no mixing. I could see the harbour from my window, so one day I left the campus and walked there. I was eleven. Malden found me sitting on the quay watching the ships. He didn’t know what to make of me; skinny, pale as a ghost – but I wouldn’t stop asking questions. Eventually he agreed to let me join his crew as long as I promised not to let the fact that I was a ‘stunted little white mouse’ hold me back. Ten years later and I’m second mate. So I guess it didn’t hold me back much, huh Malden?” She gave the captain a friendly swat across the arm with the back of her hand and he grinned broadly at her.

“You kept your promise, mouse. No one is more talented on this ship. She may not have magic, but the way she climbs, you’d think she was flying.”

The captain laughed richly and the ‘mouse’, who could not have looked less mousy, shone with pleasure at his praise. Adajznia clearly looked on this man as a father figure, thought Tisha, spellbound by her astounding story. Clearly they would want to talk to this woman more about her heritage and their mission, but not now. Not until they had slept and eaten. As if he read their minds, Malden announced that they would be shown to cabins to sleep and would meet again later in the day when food had been prepared. They went below decks and sank gratefully onto their bunks, falling quickly into a deep sleep.

They slept for several hours, although the women were both tormented by dreams of their captivity which haunted them and left them feeling weary even when they woke. Dinner was, rather predictably, fish, but it was delicately seasoned and served with a rice dish fragrant with herbs and studded with peas and beans. To those who had been on a prison diet for the better part of a week it tasted like ambrosia.

“Five days?” asked Beyon. “Was it that long?”

“To be honest I’m not sure whether it felt like more or less time than that,” admitted Jaquor.

“Our friends will be so worried,” fretted Eliish. “And will they have enough food and water for such a delay?”

“I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow night,” reasoned Tisha.

They ate their fill with the crew and then Malden asked them to join him in his quarters. Jonas had been rowed across from the other ship and Adajznia also joined them below decks. Malden asked Adajznia for a full report on the escape and Jaquor explained again the purpose of their mission for the Jentsie’s benefit. She was visibly shaken when she learned of the extent of her people’s plight, but had mixed feelings about seeing them again.

“I’ve never met my mother. I only know of her what the inn keeper’s wife told the Roon. Her name was Safiina, she loved me and she wanted better for me than a life of slavery. My father was called Nyono. I don’t know if they still live, if I have siblings, other family..... or they might all be dead.”

“Now Dajz, that doesn’t sound like you,” coaxed Malden. “Not turning into that little mouse again, are you? If they’ve passed on, we’ll avenge them; if they live, we’ll celebrate. Simple as that, eh?”

Adajznia met his eyes and set her face firmly. “Simple as that,” she confirmed staunchly, but Tisha saw in her eyes for the first time a degree of uncertainty.

Eliish balked a little at Malden’s rather violent pragmatism, and he noticed.

“My lady, I think if you’re put off by the notion of vengeance, a battle might not be the place for you. That’s our code and it works for us. Work hard, sail fast, sell high, fight when the sun is hot and make love in the moonlight. It’s a good life, right Dajz?”

“The best,” grinned Adajznia, somewhat bolstered by the reminder of their creed, such as it was.

“Well, that calls for a drink,” announced Jonas, going to a sideboard and returning with a bottle and glasses on a silver tray. He filled the small glasses and handed them round, then raised his in a toast.

“May your sails be full of wind, your hold full of cargo, your purse full of gold and the Excise man full of holes,” he said before downing the firebrandy and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Najzda-jha’iil!” returned Malden and Adajznia in the traditional Myrial toast, while the others simply raised their glasses and nervously sipped the burning liquor.

“Good brandy, my friend,” said Jonas to Malden then he walked over to the window to watch the sun set into the waves on the far off horizon.

“Expensive brandy, my friend, so don’t make too free with it,” retorted Malden, joining him at the large window in the rear of the cabin.

Adajznia set her glass on the table and looked at the four forest folk.

“It’s not a drink to be sipped,” she smirked. “Fire brandy must be drunk swiftly, bravely – enjoy the burn; it reminds you that you are alive! You’ll grow to like it; try.”

“We’ve tried it before; I don’t think I’m that brave,” said Tisha.

“Come on, it won’t kill you. It might feel like it at first but it won’t, I promise.”

She refilled her glass and raised it in front of them, encouraging them with her free hand to do the same.

“Okay; Najzda-jha’iil! It sort of means ‘to live the best life!’ Drink!” She put the glass to her lips and threw her head back, swallowing the fiery liquid in one gulp. The others echoed her toast and followed suit, their eyes smarting as the alcohol burned their throats. Tisha coughed and spluttered.

“Sorry, I don’t know why anyone would do that more than once,” she managed to croak.

Adajznia laughed, refilling her glass again and offering it around to the others. Tisha refused but the men and, to Jaquor’s surprise, Eliish accepted another round.

“I’d forgotten that toast,” said Jaquor. “I remember now people saying it at the circus in Lytos Bor. I remember my father saying it.” Nostalgia filled his eyes as he thought of his old home.

Adajznia was quiet for a moment, but the high emotion seemed to make her uncomfortable and she changed the subject.

“Don’t they have strong drink where you come from? I suppose if you’re only used to water this might be too much. I had my first taste of firebrandy when I was eleven.” She toasted again and they all drank. Eliish found that her throat burned less this time and her head was becoming pleasantly fuddled, slowly erasing distressing thoughts of the past days which had been haunting her during their confinement.

“But you were only a child!” exclaimed Tisha.

“What does that matter? I wasn’t about to board Malden’s ship until he drank my health; I’m not an idiot.”

Eliish blinked in surprise, then remembered the code – protection was promised with a toast. “But surely he wouldn’t have done anything to an innocent child?” she ventured, glancing at the captain.

“Okay; one, I was not about to take that chance and two, what makes you think I was so innocent?” She poured a last draught of Malden’s brandy and tossed it back, winked at them and left the cabin.

Tisha and the men stared after her, but Eliish just smiled and helped herself to more brandy.

“Eleven?!” exclaimed Tisha. How much could she possibly have done... seriously, at eleven?”

“Tisha, I don’t think she was ever that much of a child,” said Eliish, laughing. “But maybe she didn’t mean that.”

Malden and Jonas, who had been talking at the other side of the cabin, returned to sit with them. Malden looked at his bottle of brandy and winced at how empty it was.

“Dajz likes her brandy,” observed Jonas.

“Correction, Dajz likes my brandy,” complained Malden. “I should know better than to invite her for a drink.”

Jonas turned to Tisha and Eliish. “How are you ladies recovering?” He asked. “I know you were harshly treated by Melbren. Frankly, I’m surprised you look so well.”

“So are we,” replied Tisha. “It was the strangest thing. We woke in the sanatorium the morning after we were captured and we were virtually healed. We couldn’t understand it – still can’t, in fact.”

“Hmm. What did the nurse say when he saw you all better so quick?”

“We managed to hide it from him; stayed in bed, pretended to sleep, insisted on changing each others’ dressings on the pretext of modesty. By the time you came we were acting almost recovered, so he figured forest folk are unusually quick healers but I don’t think he suspected magic.”

“Is that what it was - magic?” said Jonas.

“It seemed that way, but we don’t know whose. No one knew we were there,” said Tisha.

“Sounds like a seer with some serious reach,” suggested Malden. “The Roon could do it, but why would they be tracking you?”

“Who knows why the Roon do anythin’,” remarked Jonas dismissively. “They all mysterious in their high towers, livin’ forever and keepin’ they secrets.”

“I thought they taught everyone with magical talent,” commented Jaquor.

“Yes, they taught me and my sister,” added Eliish.

“Oh yes, they don’t want folks flarin’ all over the city, usin’ magic without control, but trust me, they don’ tell all their secrets to no one,” warned Jonas. “Only one person ever came close to learnin’ everything they know, and they drove her out and imprisoned her on an island, or so I hear.”

“You mean Raya,” said Beyon. “Some of our friends are on their way to see her. She isn’t dangerous, is she?”

“Friend, it all a matter of context. To some folks, I’m dangerous. Very dangerous. To others I’m a charmin’ and loyal compatriot.” He gestured expansively, indicating that they should include themselves in the latter category. “I imagine Raya could be very dangerous if you gave her reason to count you among her enemies, but she got no reason to hurt your friends, right?”

“Right,” confirmed Tisha, a little uneasy at Jonas’ reminder that there was a hard, unyielding core under his pleasant exterior. Life had been so much simpler back home, where everyone understood everyone else, and Tisha felt suddenly homesick. She tried to push the feeling away and concentrate on the conversation, but it persisted in the pit of her belly. Jaquor was asking Jonas whether he thought Raya was powerful enough to affect them from such a distance and whether she would bother.

“I don’ know about that,” replied Jonas. “I never met the woman. But if she has decided to take a hand in things, you just be grateful she came down on your side.”

“Beyon,” murmured Tisha in her husband’s ear, “take me to bed please. I’m suddenly very tired. I wish we could just go home.”

Beyon was startled by his wife’s plea and made their apologies immediately, leading her to their small cabin. Tisha seemed subdued as she undressed and slid between the sheets.

“Are you alright, Tish’?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her. She nestled tightly into him, pressing herself along the length of his body as if she would never let him go. The pent up tension of the previous several days was suddenly released in a torrent as if a gate had opened and let all the worry and fear flood through. Ready tears fell hot and salty to form a pool above Beyon’s collar bone. He held her close as she sobbed brokenly, unsure of what else he could do or say. He had never seen her so fragile or distressed; but then she had never before been imprisoned, interrogated, beaten or locked up far from home and unsure whether she would ever be free again. Eventually the storm subsided and she lay quietly, only an occasional shuddering breath giving evidence of what had gone before. Beyon brushed her hair and cheek with his hand, kissed her forehead and stroked her arm until at last she spoke.

“Sorry, I’m not really sure where that came from.”

“Don’t be sorry, my darling. You’ve been through so much – it’s hardly any wonder.”

“I was so frightened. Not so much of Melbren, although he was evil, but of never seeing you again. Eliish was a rock; she got me through it, but she’s not you. When all this is over I want to go back to the carnival and never leave again, okay?”

“Deal,” laughed Beyon. He looked deep into her eyes and his gaze sparked in her a need to be even closer to him; to reaffirm their deepest connection. To his surprise she wrapped her limbs around him and brought his head down until their lips met.

A little later in a cabin nearby Jaquor had a similarly disconcerting experience, although his was somewhat reversed. In a heady, firebrandy induced burst of desire Eliish hurried them back to their cabin, barely waiting till the door was closed before kissing him lustily, pulling at the fastenings of their clothes in a frenzied need to release the knot of tension inside her. She felt driven, overpowered by her need; heedless of his thoughts or wishes she pulled him down onto their bunk, desperately pursuing a climax that had much less to do with love or even sex than forcing the stopper out of the bottle of her emotions. Her feelings had been tightly constrained for days, shoved to the side from the necessity of supporting Tisha and from the fear that if she allowed her panic and the trauma of what she had endured at Melbren’s hands to consume her she would lose her wits.

There was a small, rational part of Jaquor’s mind that wondered whether she was in too vulnerable a state, whether he was in some way taking advantage, even though she was in far more control of the situation than he was. He tried to think what he should do, but her hands were everywhere, her kisses greedy and determined, her body moulding to his, driving every coherent thought from his mind.

As the final moment subsided, as the fog of desire lifted and conscious thought regained control, he heard her cries of pleasure turn into something else, something unnerving. Her chest heaved and tears welled in her eyes as hysteria took over. She pushed his body away from her yet clung to his arm as if it were a lifeline, as if that were all that stopped her from floating away from him, or from sanity itself. Her racking cries consumed her, sucking the breath from her, tearing at her reason. For long minutes that seemed to last an eternity Jaquor could only watch her, listening to her frightening, pleading sobs, unable to even put out a hand in comfort. Finally she began to talk, to try and offer him some explanation. She stammered in half sentences, unable to finish them; unwilling to say aloud what had happened to her, as if saying it would confirm its reality, yet needing to say it, to purge it from herself.

“He would have.... if they hadn’t come... he nearly... because I wouldn’t talk... he was going to r...r...ra... his hands... all over me and I was so, so... scared...” phrases punctuated by cries and gasping, panic-filled breaths. Jaquor’s heart broke to see her so wretched, so out of control. Knowing that she had endured so much, and that he had been so close but powerless to help, was like a dagger in his chest. She gripped his arm harder and drew a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

“If Lieutenant Jaemen hadn’t come, he would have raped me,” she panted, almost with a confessional air, searching his face with frightened eyes, as if testing him to see whether this fresh horror would change his feelings for her, would make him see how dirty she was, how contaminated by him. Jaquor held her closer, whispering whatever comforting words he could think of as he felt a futile anger towards her now-dead tormentor building inside him. He told her he loved her over and over, and her panting, hysterical sobs gradually subsided and her breathing returned almost to normal. Her eyes lost their wild, tormented look and met his steadily.

“Say that again, that last thing you said,” she whispered, the tremor almost gone from her voice.

“He’s dead and you’re free. I love you and I will never let anyone hurt you again,” he repeated.

A half-smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she closed her eyes, able to sleep peacefully for the first time in days.

Jaquor watched her, eventually falling asleep himself, but his sleep was tormented by a question.

“How did he die?”

Jaquor had risen early, dressed quietly and left the small cabin so as not to wake Eliish. He paused at the door, listening to her slow, steady breathing. The peaceful, smiling sleep she had initially embraced had been disrupted several times during the night by dreams; nightmares from which she had awoken sweating and crying out in alarm, or had struggled through still unconscious while Jaquor stroked her hair and tried to talk her out of them. The broken night’s sleep and the pain of watching her in such torment had left him exhausted but determined to find an answer.

He had climbed the stairs and stomped across the deck to where Malden stood at the starboard rail enjoying the morning breeze and the salt spray in his face. The captain turned to look at him.

“I beg your pardon. To whom are you referring?”

“That pig Melbren. How did he die? Did Jonas tell you?”

Jaquor was glowering; he needed to know that although he hadn’t wielded the knife, Melbren had still been suitably punished.

“He did tell me. But are you sure you want me to tell you? Will it make you feel better to hear that he begged, that it was slow and painful, that Jonas tortured him the way he tortured your woman?”

“Yes,” answered Jaquor. “Much.”

“Well I’m sorry you feel that way. Carrying bitterness and vengeance around with you till it eats away at your soul does you more harm than good, and harms your enemy not at all. He’s dead, son. Your woman is avenged and he can’t hurt anyone any more. Why not leave it at that?”

“I can’t. I need to know how. Please.”

“Very well. Cleanly, with a sword in his belly at the end of an honourable fight. He did not beg nor did he repent. The blood soaked his shirt and spurted from his mouth as he died. He couldn’t speak. His pain was great but it was no torture. Jonas is not that sort of man. Vengeance is consequences. He was evil – he died. It is not lowering yourself to the other man’s level; making yourself as depraved as him. Who would that serve?”

Jaquor mulled that over for a moment, but could find no fault in it. A thought occurred to him.

“Jonas said ‘full of holes’ in that toast. ‘May the excise man be full of holes.’ What did he mean?”

“The fatal blow was not the first. He had many other cuts and blows. Melbren was not an accomplished swordsman by all accounts.”

“I see.” Jaquor sighed and watched the waves.

“Son, if you don’t mind my saying, you have a fine woman there and she’s been through a deal of trauma. If I had a woman like that I wouldn’t want to spend my day dwelling on death. Go below; make her happy. Help her forget.”

Malden clapped him on the shoulder and grinned at him, then went back to watching the sea. Jaquor shook his head, then smiled at the captain’s wisdom and turned to go below decks.

Roween was wandering along the shore, paddling her feet in the water. Her skirt hem was tucked into its waistband at the sides to keep it from getting wet. She would need to alter her clothes when she eventually made it back home. Already some things were beginning to feel tight. She felt pensive, wondering what her parents would say when they saw her. She didn’t know where they would live; her new little family, if Harson came home that was.

A small voice in the back of her mind persisted in telling her how foolish she’d been and although she tried not to listen, she knew it was right. She would be afraid to ask him to live in her parents’ home and even more so to live with him and his father, but neither of them had money to build a new house of their own. She was pondering this dilemma and staring disconsolately out to sea when suddenly she became aware of a small black dot on the horizon.

As she watched the dot it gradually became two dots and they grew bigger as the minutes went by. Suddenly Roween realised what she was seeing and she turned and ran back along the beach, kicking up sand as she went and calling out.

“They’re coming! They’re coming! The ships are coming – look!”

The atmosphere in the camp had been growing more tense and fractious for days as supplies grew short and people began to doubt the wisdom of the whole enterprise, but suddenly it was as if a weight was lifted from everyone’s shoulders and relief was evident on every face. There were shrieks of joy and bubbles of infectious laughter. People hugged and spun each other round, dancing on the sand and running through the surf. Prince Illion, Garron Moor and Sergeant Smith emerged from the tent where they had been in conference, trying to decide whether they should cut their losses and return home. They were soon caught up in the general excitement as everyone ran to the water’s edge to watch the ships approach.

Several people set about catching fish, so that they could provide dinner for the sailors and their friends when they arrived. Illion asked the various platoon commanders to reinstate some order and begin packing up and organising for an early departure the following day. It was decided that they would remain in their tents that final night, as boarding ship and arranging sleeping quarters for everyone was likely to take some time.

For Vineder the relief was palpable, feeling as he did somewhat responsible for the situation. His eyes lost their haunted look for the first time in days and returned the smiles of people who just recently had been glowering behind his back. It seemed all was forgiven and he was glad.

After several hours the ships had drawn near enough to make out people on the decks and in the rigging and by late afternoon those that knew them could identify Beyon, Tisha, Jaquor and Eliish, waving to them from the prow.

Eventually the ships could come no closer for fear of running aground. They dropped anchor and lowered several small row boats into the water. In a matter of minutes they reached the beach and the long-awaited arrivals were greeted enthusiastically as the boats were hauled up the sand.

Jaquor brought Malden and Jonas forward to meet Prince Illion, who was standing a little way back with some of the platoon commanders. Adajznia came with them, curious to meet people from the forest. She was intrigued by the tall, thin Elves with their pointed ears and noble bearing and fascinated by the Equiseen, equally noble but much more muscular in build and such legs! Jaquor caught her looking speculatively at a handsome young guardsman and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t consider that too seriously if I were you. They’re quite strict about things like that.”

“Shame. They look so strong and.... enticing.”

“Never mind, Dajz. Come and meet the Prince.”

“A prince? Really? Ooh!” She shimmied her shoulders in delight as she spoke and smiled broadly.

“Dajz, he’s married,” sighed Jaquor, shaking his head and laughing at her incorrigible nature,

“But she’s not here, no?” asked Adajznia as she walked past him, following along behind her captain. Jaquor hurried after them to make the introductions.

“Your Highness, may I present Captains Malden and Jonas, who have agreed to convey us to the Chasm and who are also eager to join us in the fray, if that is agreeable to you.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, gentlemen,” said Illion. “I would, of course, be glad of your company in battle, if you are indeed willing.”

“Gladly, ya’ Highness, gladly,” replied Jonas, shaking the startled Elf by the hand. “We’ve not been in a really good fight for some time now and to be honest my men are getting a bit antsy. It’ll be a pleasure to draw swords with you. And to share the plunder, nat’rally.”

“Indeed, Highness,” added Malden with a deep, flourishing bow which surprised Illion all the more. “You do us a great courtesy in making your kind offer of participation. It will be an invigorating battle, I’m sure. I have never fought a Raquin, nor even seen one, in fact.”

Malden’s polished urbanity contrasted sharply with Jonas’ hearty warmth, yet Illion immediately liked both men. He was inviting them to join him for dinner when there was a pointed cough from Jaquor’s elbow.

“Oh, your Highness, might I also present Miss Adajznia D’Shiin, first mate of Captain Malden’s crew?”

Adajznia stepped forward and Illion wondered how it was possible he had not noticed her before. Everything about her appearance insisted on being noticed, from her almost incandescent white hair and huge black eyes to the extremely provocative way she managed to wear an ordinary shirt, britches and boots. For additional effect she had now added a black waistcoat, buttoned tightly under her bust in a way that, if possible, drew even more attention to her figure. There was also a sweet, floral scent with a slight hint of musk which floated around her and which was quite intoxicating. She wound her lips into what managed to be both a smile and a pout at the same time and held out her hand to Illion in such a way as to indicate that it was to be kissed, not shaken.

Illion was thrown at receiving such a demure gesture from this contradictory creature, who wore distinctly masculine garb but left no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was definitely female. He took her hand and kissed it courteously, but Adajznia used the gesture to draw herself nearer to him so that there was precious little space between them. This put Illion in the unfortunate position of having to look directly downwards in order to make eye contact with her. It was unfortunate because her eyes were not all he had a good view of as she smiled up at him.

“Your Highness,” she breathed in her exotic accent. “It has never been my pleasure to meet royalty before. How do you do?”

“I’m, er... very well, thank you,” replied Illion, who could feel a blush creeping up his neck. You are most welcome, Miss Desheen.”

“D’Shiin,” corrected Adajznia, then, “My, but you’re tall. Will you be travelling on board Captain Malden’s ship?”

“Actually I think the Elves are to board the Seabird,” interjected Jaquor smoothly. “Your Highness, did you want to send a message to your wife with the wagons when they leave for home tomorrow?”

“My wife? Oh yes, my wife, of course. Yes, I would. Thank you Jaquor. I’ll go write that now. Do excuse me, Miss D’Shiin.”

Illion walked away, tugging at his collar. Adajznia smiled languorously and turned to Garron Moor. She held out her hand again, this time to be shaken.

“And you are...?”

“Captain Moor. I command the Equiseen contingent.”

“Absolutely delighted to meet you, Captain. I’ve never met an Equiseen before. Tell me, are you all so... burly?”

This last was breathed as she extended one finger and ran it down Garron’s bicep. He made a strangled noise and stepped back hurriedly, muttering excuses about having duties to attend to, before turning and striding purposefully away.

“Was it something I said?” pouted Adajznia.

“Dajz, you are terrible!” mock-scolded Malden. Are you determined to drive away all our hosts?”

“Pssh! Nonsense. They clearly had pressing business. You’ll see them at dinner.”

“You’re not joining us?” asked Jonas.

“No, I think the atmosphere might be a little oppressive in there. I’ll stay out here and eat with the many, many lovely soldiers. I’m sure I can find someone out here who wants to play.

She sauntered off, allowing the movement of her limbs to be rolling and sinuous, causing the head of every man she passed to turn and follow her. Which was, of course, exactly what she wanted.