Chaos Descending (27 page)

Roleena sent one of her guards into the town to buy supplies while she prepared the ship to sail south. They would follow the coast, so there was no need for complex navigation, but Roleena believed in being prepared. She studied the charts that showed the dangers along the coastlines of Yelsia, Falxis, and Osla. They had a long voyage ahead, and it was doubtful that there would be many people in the usual harbors along the way. The Witch's War had left the southern kingdoms in ruins, but Roleena saw that as an opportunity. She just needed to know where to look for it.

The two days in harbor passed quickly, and when the sailors returned to their ships they looked both happy and extremely tired. She doubted that sleep or rest had been high on their list of priorities. Roleena on the other hand was well rested and ready to set sail. Many of the men were sick, so the entire day was spent just getting underway and airing out Roleena's cabin from the stench that rose up from the crew's quarters below deck.

The next day Slice appeared on the command deck. He was her first mate, but he rarely attended to an officer's duties. Rather, he kept the men below decks in line, squashing any talk of mutiny, and insuring that the sailors pulled their weight. He was her eyes and ears with the men of her crew, a savage individual who enjoyed the power he wielded too much. Roleena despised him, but she also knew that she needed him. He was loyal only to himself, much like a wolf. He was too dangerous to ignore, but as long as she kept him fed and busy, he was content.

"Captain," he said, the word always sounding like an insult somehow when he said it. "May I offer a suggestion."

"Your suggestions are always welcome," Roleena said, although she didn't mean it. She humored Slice; it was part of the price she paid to have a loyal man between decks.

"We are sailing past Selphon City soon?"

"That is correct."

"May I suggest that we raid the city," he said.

"You want
Eagle's Cry
to sail back into the harbor it was just dispatched from?"

"No," Slice said. "I thought we might weigh anchor just outside the harbor and take the jolly boat ashore. I've been to Selphon. It’s a rich town but with poor defenses. We could raid their market quickly and then put back out to see."

"It is a daring plan," Roleena said, letting Slice believe he knew more about Selphon City than she did, although in reality she had been to the port city many times and knew it well.

"As you said, there will be precious little for us to do once we leave Yelsia. The men could use some excitement."

"The Twin Cities were dull?" she asked, trying not to sound too condescending.

"Of course not, Captain. But I hate to bypass a city with such low-hanging fruit."

"I see your point. Put your landing party together and see that the men are well armed."

"Of course Captain, it will be my pleasure."

Roleena thought the idea was little more than a temporary diversion and she would have preferred to sail south as quickly as possible, but she needed to keep Slice happy. In truth, the raid would only cost her time, then they could sail south to Osla and the Torr, spreading terror along the way. She smiled. Nothing made her quite so happy as thinking of her rising fame. With every ship she sank, every cargo she stole, and every city they raided, her fame grew. Soon she truly would be known as Roleena, Scourge of the Sea.

Chapter 26

Mansel had grown up hunting. It was the one thing his father had taught him to do. The tannery kept his father busy most of the time, but when things slowed he took his sons hunting. Mansel was a good shot with his bow and knew how to set snares. In the last year he had gone out hunting when he could, providing meat for himself and Nycol, as well as trading some of the game in the village. He knew the nearby forest well enough and could track, but he wasn’t sure which tracks to follow.

The strange animals he hunted had gone back and forth so much that the tracks overlapped. Sometimes they traveled in packs; at other times they went solo. It was confusing and Mansel guessed that the strangely intelligent animals had done that on purpose. They couldn’t hide their tracks, so they had given anyone following them a confusing pattern and false trails. Without really thinking about it, Mansel moved south, toward the forest. He saw the tracks all around him, but his mind was focused on Nycol. The pain he felt was so horribly raw that he couldn’t keep tears from running down his face. He knew he would never see her again, but his mind simply wouldn’t accept that. She had been the only person that could calm him. Just being near her seemed to soothe his wounded soul. And he had left her alone when she needed him most. That thought was worse than any torture, and he knew it would torment him as long as he lived.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t mind the thought of dying. If he found out where the creatures that had taken his Nycol from him were hiding, he would gladly die killing them. There were more than the few he had seen with Quinn, and they were somehow able to communicate and coordinate their attacks. That meant riding after them alone was tantamount to suicide, but revenge was the only thing that kept Mansel moving. If not for the need to kill the creatures, he might have stayed with Nycol’s body and set the stable on fire all around them.

Eventually his horse stopped moving. It shifted nervously, shaking Mansel out of his fog of grief. At first he wasn’t sure what the problem was, but his instincts told him that something was different. He slipped out of the saddle and walked ahead of his horse, studying the ground. They were close to the line of tall pine trees that crowded the lower slopes of the mountains to the south of the valley. The grass was choked by pine needles, the ground beneath packed as hard as stone, making his job of finding tracks almost impossible. But then he saw something different. It was only a small trace of blood, but the more he searched, the more he found. It was a trail of blood—just a drop or two here and there—but the trail led in a straight line into the forest.

Mansel tied his horse to a tree. The closer he got to the creatures, the less chance he had of surviving on horseback. Men feared a horse and rider, but in this case Mansel's horse was more afraid of the strange animals he was hunting than the creatures were of him. His mount might turn suddenly, rear, or trip in its panic. He couldn't worry about his horse and fight the creatures, so he decided to go alone. He was just about to march off into the forest when he realized that the odds of his return were slim. He couldn’t leave the horse tied to the tree. He went back and stroked the horse’s calm face.

“Nycol loved you too,”
he said, as he untied the long, leather reins and looped them around his saddle horn. “She would want you to survive. Perhaps someone else will love you as much as she did.”

Tears blurred his vision and he had to blink rapidly to clear them away. The horse stood silent and still beside Mansel, almost as if the animal was lending him strength. Mansel wasn’t sure how long he stood there, letting the tears fall as his pain ached so horribly inside him, but suddenly the horse bolted. It turned and ran away from the forest. Mansel whirled around, drawing his sword. The animal was nothing more than a blur of white fur as it raced toward him. It jumped, the long, narrow muzzle stretching wide to rip out his throat. Mansel’s sword struck first. He swung hard, and the blade slashed through the animal’s open mouth before getting stuck fast in the small, bony skull. The creature’s momentum carried the beast straight into Mansel, who fell hard and lost his grip on his sword. He had to wrestle the creature’s convulsing body off of him, but the animal was dead.

Mansel wrenched his sword free and marched steadfastly into the forest. The sun was up and the air was cool. The pine trees were mixed with cedar and spruce, all combining to give the forest a wonderful, woody smell. They also cast long shadows and made plenty of hiding places for more of the creatures. It crossed Mansel’s mind that the animals weren’t hard to kill. They were ferocious, fast, and strangely intelligent, but they died just like any normal creature. Had he simply been hunting them he would probably have climbed a tree with his bow, picking them off one at a time as they passed by his perch. But he had no intention of killing the creatures slowly or from a distance. He wanted to fight them tooth and nail, to see their blood and smell their offal as he slaughtered them.

He didn’t have to wait long for his chance. He came into a small clearing where a huge boulder was covered with moss. On top of the bounder sat the alpha, the largest of the creatures. They had thick, wide bodies and short legs, yet they moved faster than any wild animal Mansel had ever seen. When he’d shot down the two animals who had taken the little girl from the village, two more had been sent after him. They chased him for a short while, their ability to keep pace with his galloping horse more than a little frightening, but they didn’t have the stamina his mount had. He had eventually outpaced the vicious creatures, but he had no intentions of running now.

He brandished his sword as four more of the creatures came out from behind the boulder. Mansel guessed that he was facing the last of the pack, since one of the creatures was limping. Any of the creatures was capable of killing Mansel if he wasn’t careful, and five would surely rip him to pieces, but he didn’t care. He wanted their blood and he was determined to get it no matter what it cost him.

He didn't hesitate but ran screaming straight at the animals, who surprisingly enough, scattered from his attack. The limper was the slowest and Mansel was able to hack into its back with his sword. Death’s Eye severed the creature’s spine and it fell instantly. The rear legs no longer moved, but the creature pawed at the ground in a feeble attempt to escape. Mansel raised his sword, screaming in fury as he drove it straight down, point first, into the animal’s head.

There was just enough time to jerk his sword free and step back as the next animal jumped toward him. Mansel brought the blade up and caught it in his free hand, holding the flat of the blade toward the attacking creature. Its long, gaping muzzle snapped down on the sharpened edges, shattering teeth and severing the end of its tongue before flipping over Mansel, who had fallen backward. The creature’s yelps of pain were awful, but Mansel didn’t have time to be satisfied with the pain he’d caused. The other two creatures were rushing toward him, and he barely had time to scramble back to his feet.

The last two animals slid to a stop before attacking. They were just beyond the reach of Mansel’s sword. Gripping the weapon that Zollin had crafted for him made Mansel feel strong, the pain of his grief was dampened, and he felt a thrill as he slashed at the animals.

For a long moment as the creatures growled at him, Mansel forgot about the alpha. Then he felt a sudden sense of danger, almost as if Nycol had whispered a warning in his ear. He dove to the side and felt a searing pain erupt along his lower leg, but then he was thrusting his sword in the nearest animal's side as it dashed toward him. The blade sank into the creature's chest, before it bounded backward and collapsed. Mansel rolled to his knees and slashed at the alpha who feinted toward him, then jumped nimbly out of reach.

The other animal was circling slowly, giving Mansel a chance to glance down at his leg. The gashes didn't look too deep, but there were three solid cuts and a much shallower fourth scrape. His thick boot leather, which reached all the way up to his knee, had saved him from a much more serious wound. Still, his blood was flowing freely ,and when he stood up he felt it running down into his boot to puddle around his foot.

Mansel stayed close to the large boulder, opting for the protection it gave him over the possibility of escape. The animals were trying to pin him in, but what they didn't know was that Mansel had no desire to flee. He was there to kill the wretched creatures who had stolen his Nycol from him, and he meant to avenge her, even if he died in the process. He held Death's Eye in his right hand, spinning it around in the air to keep his wrist loose and keeping the animals at bay for the moment. With his left hand he drew his dagger. It was a very plain weapon, just dull steel, an unpolished brass cross guard, and a rawhide wrapped handle, but it was razor sharp. He had used the dagger to kill the animal that had attacked him when he was starting a fire in his cabin, and it was still sticky with the creature's blood.

The alpha feinted again, but Mansel wasn't drawn off guard. Instead he held his ground and watched both animals. The smaller of the two moved closer, but didn't attack. The alpha snapped its jaws, making a loud clack, but it wasn't in reach and slipped quickly back. Mansel guessed that the alpha planned to keep Mansel's attention, forcing him to defend himself on one side while the second animal attacked him from his blind side. It was a good plan, simple but effective. And while Mansel understood the strategy, he had no intention of letting the creatures take control of the attack. He just had to wait long enough for the second animal to be almost in position.

He did his best to look frightened, waving his sword at the animals whenever they growled or feinted toward him. Mansel was glad that they respected his sword. If they had attacked without any caution, he could have killed them, but they would have done the same to him. While he didn't fear dying, he didn't want to fail at his task. He wanted to make sure all the creatures were dead.

The second beast was almost ready to attack. He couldn't wait anymore. He dug the toe of his boot into the dirt and pine needles, then kicked the debris toward the alpha. The larger animal sprang back instinctively, while the other, smaller creature attacked. It wasn't quite ready, so its leap was short and not as far to Mansel's back side as it could have been. Mansel was expecting just such a move and swung his sword hard in a back handed slash that caught the creature's muzzle. It screeched in pain, but Mansel was already swinging his sword back toward the alpha. He was too slow, and the creature knew it. Mansel saw its huge, white body hurtling toward him, the long, narrow muzzle open wide to sink its oversized canines into his throat. But it didn't see the smaller dagger, which had a blade about as long as a grown man's hand from palm to finger tips.