Heir of Scars I: Parts 1-8 (68 page)

“
Run in a circle,
Atutéko,” she said, and knew she had saved the word for too long.
Chosen Father
...

Two Battles

A
s they drew nearer, revelation of the details of the enemy ship gave little comfort. It had a single square sail with a stylized raven stitched upon, two sets of rowers, and a long carved and painted prow.

“They’re closing on us,” Hafgrim said, voicing what Adria had long thought.

She glanced up at the sails. Though the triangle on the aft mast just above her was turned all out and full, they had trimmed the squares at the main and fore more than once as the wind slowly diminished, and now the standard above the top castle waved with much less exhilaration, and the man in the nest beneath it was shaking his head as he turned to the boy perched below him on the ropes.

Captain Falburn, already adjusting to the information that had not yet reached him, cursed mildly, and this did little to encourage anyone nearby, whose eyes all turned to him.

“What say you, Captain?” Hafgrim asked evenly.

The lad from up top interrupted before he could answer. “We’ve lost the sea, ‘Cap.”

“Aye, boy,” Falburn waved him away impatiently. “And she’s drawin’ in on us, slow and sure.”

Little by little, more information came from above, each visitation giving less assurance than the last.

“Def’nly Pirates, ‘Cap...” the boy said, increasingly breathless with each bit of news. “...a ram at her fore, Sir...” and “...they looks to be light armed, but full o’ sun ‘n salt...”

But it was when the boy mentioned the onager on their forecastle that Falburn took real notice. At this he grumbled something to himself as he motioned the boy on to the chief mate with the news.

Though Josson had now taken place at the prow, the ship was small enough that the boy was scarcely needed. A raised voice could reach from anywhere on board to anywhere else, but then, even as she heard the sound of oars, Adria realized how much a keen ear among the enemy might hear words from The Echo, carried across the water with the wind.

“They have only one sail...” Hafgrim shook his head uncertainly. “Can’t we turn again, and gain more wind?”

“We’d hafta turn into ‘em, and might outrun ‘em, all things even, as their rowers tire. It might work if we get a good gust before long, but if not... well, they’ll close enough in the meantime to use that stone hurler.”

“Can they sink us... with an onager?” Hafgrim wondered. Even with the other Knights eagerly listening, he did not feel ashamed of questions.

Either he is truly afraid, and covering it with questions, or he is actually eager to learn. Either way, he shows some sense in his ignorance.

“Perhaps, but that is likely not what she means to do,” Elias answered. “A few breaches of the sails or the hull will slow us even if the wind returns. They’ll only cripple us enough to close, then either try to board us, or else breach us with the ram, and scrape up whatever flotsam floats.”

Hafgrim asked doubtfully. “Would they not want to take the ship as well?”

“Perhaps, but not while we display any strength.” Falburn nodded. “And for many, that is not their purpose anyway.”

“And that is a long battle away,” Elias nodded, perhaps to prevent Hafgrim from pursuing the captain’s intimation. “We’ve no onager, but plenty of men with arrows. We can pierce their sail as ably, and their rowers. If they cannot catch us, they cannot board us.”

Adria nodded her agreement, adding, “And they cannot board us if they cannot stand.”

“Aye, Highnesses,” Falburn nodded. “They will find us ‘nae easy to catch, nor easy to fall. We’ll hold our course ‘til they range. The wind is hers, for now, but the sea’s a fickle mistress, and we’ve got the height, and the balance of bows.”

Elias nodded over the railing at the enemy ship. “With these castles, our bows will outdistance theirs easily.”

It was then that the runner topped the stairs before the captain, leaned upon the rail post, gasping for air, “’Nae jus’ pirates, ‘Cap... they be slavers...”

Though Falburn did not curse this time, there was little need. His chin tightened under his beard, his eyelids fluttered, and his grip on the wheel knobs whitened further. He nodded, and sent the boy on, and the unwelcome news stirred among the whole crew. Now even the sailors showed real signs of tension. Adria and Elias exchanged uneasy glances, and Hafgrim shook his head, senselessly muttering, “Isn’t slavery illegal in the Northlands?”

“This is the sea, Highness,” Falburn said. “We’re ‘nae in the Northlands, nor in any high castle in the mountains. No matter this ship’s port of call, at sea anything’s law.”

Hafgrim grew silent, nodding, and he wiped his brow with the back of his glove.

Such a comment would have unleashed him once,
 Adria thought. 
Perhaps he truly will learn from this journey.
 The small tufts of hair which escaped his arming cap had already sweat-stained from blonde to brown.

Still, nodding once again to himself, and with a grim face, he donned his helm. The opening showed only his eyes, and a line from them down through the middle of his mouth and chin. He turned and rose to face the ship across the distance. He was still for some time, finally reconciled. His plume and cloak rippled their father’s colors, and he wore them well.

Adria smiled faintly, and her eyes wandered, and saw her own smile mirrored on the face of Emoni, who watched her brother with similar interest, but shifted this to Adria in another instant, without a change of expression. Their eyes held for some time, without any real will, any real understanding or sympathy. They simply held.

Adria used the strange moment to focus and center herself. Her breath deepened, her thoughts stilled, and her eyes unfocused. And in just that moment, the young girl’s silhouette appeared beneath her robes, as if cast in shadow. And her skin shone for a moment, and then deepened into the substance of water, or of fog, or of smoke. Adria was calm enough not to startle, and the vision held.

She has no... spirit
, Adria wondered, but then realized this was not quite so... And even with this realization, Emoni’s silhouette seemed to bend, as if the tide of fog and water shifted, or its smoke found new wind. She might have been something else then but a girl, something like the memory of a girl — the web of her life stretched away from her luminous half-form, into the distance, into the sea and across the horizon.

How strange... It is not that she has no spirit... it is almost as if she is only spirit. Something...
 Adria blinked.
...like a ghost.

Adria blinked several times, then, slowly, and her vision normalized, and Emoni returned, seemingly as human as before. She raised her arm, with cunning grace, and her fingers brushed a few strands of hair from the corner of her lips.

And the girl blinked, for the first time Adria could remember since they had watched each other. She blinked as if the slightest or the greatest of her actions were only affectations, adopted purely out of distraction rather than necessity.

And how do I seem to her?
Adria wondered.

And suddenly she felt naked, an Aeman princess bathing among a dozen Aesidhe children. Her stomach swam with the motions of the ship upon the water, and her hands, of their own accord, moved to her abdomen to steady herself.

Emoni laughed then, slight bells in a cool spring wind, and mercifully looked away. Embarrassed, Adria glanced around the sterncastle at the others, but no one seemed to have noticed any of this.

Adria looked down at the bundled bow on the planks before her to center herself, and the sensations of uneasiness subsided.

As they ran, Adria was so consumed by her second thoughts that she did not sense that anything had changed until Mateko grasped his bow and an arrow, stopped, and turned to take aim. She reflexively dove to the side and found cover as she drew her blade.

Trailing behind them, a shape moved among the shadows, larger than an Aesidhe, but not as substantial as a bear. She glanced aside at Mateko, who hid behind a similar tree, and then over her shoulder. The other Runners had gone on, not yet noticing that she and Mateko had stopped.

Strange,
she thought, and then realized that, perhaps because of her hesitations, she had been lingering a little behind the rest. Mateko had fallen back, to keep her company or to help her keep the pace. They had not exchanged words on the journey, conserving breath, and the Runners had not yet stopped to take a rest.

What is it? 
They both signaled simultaneously, then smiled in the dim light beneath the canopy. They both turned to go separate directions, to put distance between them and keep from being surrounded if there were many enemies, or to gain an advantage on a few.

“
That is unnecessary,
” a voice assured them in Aesidhe, now rather closer than it should likely be. “
I am alone and without weapons.
”

Adria and Mateko exchanged an anxious glance, and then recognized the voice.

“Tabashi.” Adria broke cover and raised her hands out to either side, though she did not yet sheathe her blade. The Moresidhe walked toward them, now only a dozen yards distant.

“You have asked for me...” he said in Aeman. “Yet still you would raise your steel.”

“I remember what little use my blade was against you, Tabashi,” she said, a bit breathless. “It is small comfort.”

“But you were a child then, scion. Were you not?”

“
I was more a child than I am now,
” she agreed, speaking for Mateko’s benefit. “
I confess that I had forgotten about our meeting,
Moresidhe.
I apologize if I am late.
”

He still gave no acknowledgment of the humor. “
Perhaps, then, you have no need of my words.
”

By now, Mateko had also revealed himself, though he also kept his weapon half-ready, scanning about for others, and kept some distance between himself and Adria. Tabashi appeared to take no offense at the distrust.

“
The stars brighten the hills,
” he said, an old and formal Aesidhe greeting, and nodded once to Mateko.

“
You have come with enemies before
,” Mateko said flatly. “
And we are in the time of war.
”

“
The enemies you speak of are now family,
” Tabashi responded. “
While we speak, some among them follow
Watelomoksho
to the very war you run from on the banks of the river at Palmill. The wheel turns.
”

A great wheel turning, burning…
Adria knew. Remembered. Saw.

She blinked the image from her mind.

“
We fall behind,
” Mateko said simply, though it was not clear to whom. His eyes still did not meet Tabashi’s.

“
If you have words to offer, then please do so,
” Adria hesitated. “
Mateko speaks the truth. We have little time.
”

“
Time is like the river.
” Tabashi said. “
It is always flowing, but not always at the same speed, not always with the same force. And although it is easier and mostly wiser to float upon the river, still we may stretch our arms and swim towards our sea with even greater speed. Or we can turn away, and swim against our currents, to slow the pace and see more clearly the shores we wander past.
”

And while he spoke, repeating almost what Preinon had told her seasons before, much of the anxiety and fear that had been building since she had first met Tabashi nearly overcame her. Her blade was shaking where her hand trembled. Visions, memories, dreams cascaded through and around her.

I am holding my breath…

And then she closed her eyes, only a moment, and she exhaled. When she opened her eyes again, her vision widened, and the world around her slowed. She stood in the calm at the center of it. She and Tabashi alone.

“I dream of drowning.” Adria whispered. “Do you know my dreams, Watemezi?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But your dreams are not yours alone. The waking or the sleeping. I know how these are given to you. I know how these are shared.”

“Is it all decided?” She turned her head slowly. Mateko was trying to speak nearby, but his lips were slow to form the words.

She looked back to Tabashi, but he moved normally. He sighed, and rested his hands upon the ground, lowering himself to a sitting position, and blinked, twice.

“Why does this happen?” Adria asked. “This... tainábe?”

Tabashi smiled a little, and even in the dim, at a distance, she could read the lines of his face clearly with only the slightest of motions.

“Scion... it is simply what it means to be you,” he answered.

She bit her lip, nodded slightly, then sheathed her weapon as she approached him to sit.

“It... doesn’t feel like before,” she said, unsure of her exact meaning.

“It is a dream you share,” he said. “It is your gift, but there are those who know how to… deepen it.”

“But there is a cost.”

He frowned. “Like your limbs fighting the current. You will tire, and, yes… you can drown.”