Together they scrambled through the brush at the edge of the beach and ran up the hillside. When Geran risked another look over his shoulder, he could see dozens of men seizing burning brands from their bonfire and starting up the hill after them. The slope was treacherous in the dark; loose soil and rock slipped under their feet, and he had to keep an eye ahead to make sure they didn’t flee into a bluff they couldn’t scale, as well as watching the pirates who followed.
He found their way blocked by a thick patch of brush at the foot of the cliff and realized they were climbing up by a different way than he’d come down. He paused, trying to find his bearings, but the half-elf took one glance and pulled him toward the left. “There’s a better path over here,” she said. Geran decided to trust her judgment and followed after her. With her elf blood, she could probably see in the dark much better than he could. When they got around the thicket, he took the lead again and steered her toward the spot where he’d left his horse.
They reached the boulders where Geran’s horse was tethered. The animal, a big, gray gelding, scented danger and pranced nervously. Geran sheathed his sword-he hated to do that with blood on the blade, but he’d just have to clean it up as best he could later-and unlooped the reins as the half-elf climbed into the saddle. Then he hauled himself up into the saddle behind her and set his heels to the horse’s flanks. They pelted out of cover along the trail as the first of the pirates reached the top behind them. The swordmage risked a glance backward and saw angry corsairs running after them brandishing torches and cutlasses. Then he leaned forward in the saddle, arms around the woman in front of him, and urged the gelding to its best speed.
His horse’s hoofbeats thundering in the night, Geran galloped out of the cove with the pirates’ captive on his saddle and leaping red firelight behind him.
TWO
11 Eleint, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
After a hard run of a mile or so to gain distance on the pirates, Geran slowed his horse to a canter and rode for a time. When he judged that they’d put any immediate pursuit well behind them, he let the horse settle into a trot, its breath steaming in the cool night air. The night was clear and cold, but the moon was up now; its silver light glittered on the Moonsea to their right. The woman shivered in his arms, and he realized that she was clutching only a shred of her torn dress over her torso. For that matter, he was still soaked from his moonlit swim. “I think we’ve outrun them for now,” he said. “We can stop for a moment. I have a spare shirt and cloak in my gear.”
She turned her head to look back at him. “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I’m freezing.”
He reined in and dropped down out of the saddle. Then he offered a hand to help her down as well, trying-but not entirely succeeding-to keep his eyes fixed on her face. She crossed her arms over her chest with an awkward grimace, and he made himself turn his attention to the satchel behind the saddle. He rummaged through it quickly and found his spare clothing. “Here. You’re welcome to it.”
He turned away and watched the trail behind them, giving her the privacy to dress as well as she could. There was no sign of the pirates behind them. He guessed they’d covered three or four miles pretty quickly; the marauders must be at least a quarter hour behind them, if indeed they were still giving chase. He heard rustling and the sound of tearing cloth. Then the halfelf spoke again. “I’m decently covered now,” she said. Geran looked back to her; she had ripped off the ruined top of her dress and tucked his oversized shirt into what was now a very uneven-looking skirt. His cloak hung down to her ankles, and she hugged it close around her shoulders. They regarded each other for a moment.
“I’m Geran,” he told her. “I mean you no harm. If you like, I’ll see you to Hulburg and help you on your way once we get there.”
“My name is Nimessa Sokol.” She held the cloak tightly around her collar, as if she meant to hide inside it. “We were bound for Hulburg. We were supposed to land there this afternoon.”
“You’re a Sokol?”
“Yes. My father is Arandar Sokol.” She glanced over Geran’s shoulder at the trail leading back along the hills toward the cove. There was a smudge of orange light flickering against the hillside. “Is it safe to linger here?”
“No, we should keep moving,” he said. Geran didn’t know any of the Sokol family personally, but he knew of them. They were from the city of Phlan, a few days’ sail west of Hulburg. Like many of the wellborn folk around the Moonsea, they were merchant-nobles; they had interests in several cities, including Hulburg. “It’s a little less than twenty miles to Hulburg, by my guess. Too far to ride tonight, but I think we can put the pirates well behind us.”
“Then yes, I’ll be happy to let you see me to Hulburg. But you won’t have to go to any more trouble on my account. My family’s coster has a trading concession there. I’ll be fine.”
“In that case, I suggest we ride another few miles and then get off the trail. We’ll be home by noon tomorrow.”
“Home?” Nimessa looked more closely at Geran. “Of course. You’re Geran Hulmaster, the harmach’s nephew. You’re the one who fought the King in Copper and killed Mhurren of the Bloodskulls. We heard the story. But what in the world were you doing by that beach? You must be mad to challenge so many enemies at once.”
Geran allowed himself a small smile. “I’ll answer, but let’s ride while we talk.” He helped Nimessa up into the saddle again, not that she really needed the assistance, then settled himself behind her. They rode eastward along the crest of the coastal hills, following the winding trail. The moon draped the dark landscape in silver and shadow; it was clear enough that the promontories and inlets for several miles ahead were visible, and the Moonsea was a great, gray plain stretching out of sight on their right. With Nimessa’s slim body in front of him and her golden curls just under his nose, it did not seem like such a bad night for a ride after all.
“How did you come to find me when you did?” Nimessa asked.
“An accident. I left Thentia early this morning and was looking for a place to make camp for the evening when I stumbled across the pirates and your ship. I was about to ride offwhen they brought you out and tied you up.” He shrugged awkwardly, even though she couldn’t see him. “I couldn’t leave you in their hands without at least trying to help, but I had to wait until it was dark before I could move. You saw the rest.”
“The fire on Whitewing?”
“Yes, I’m afraid that was my doing. I figured that she was a loss already, so I might as well deny the pirates their prize while making a distraction.” They rode on for a short time, and then Geran sighed. He hated to ask what he asked next, but he thought he’d better. “I watched for a while, Nimessa. I didn’t see any other captives. Were you the only one they spared?”
“Yes.” She looked down. “There was no one else left to save.”
“Were you-” he began, and then he stopped himself. He was going to ask if she’d been traveling alone, but he knew better. A young noblewoman of a good family would have been accompanied, most likely by a maid-in-waiting or a kinsman. There was a chance that the pirates would spare wellborn captives in the hopes of winning a rich ransom, but somehow he doubted that they’d intended to ransom Nimessa back to her family. And if they hadn’t intended to ransom her, no one else in her party would have been worth keeping alive. He let the question die on his lips. He could only imagine what she’d seen and been through. Even if she was made of stern stuff, it would not be easy on her.
After a while he realized that she was shaking inside his oversized cloak, and she failed to stifle a sob. He frowned behind her, trying to decide if it was kinder to leave her to her thoughts for a time, distract her with meaningless conversation, or draw her out and let her tell her story. Half an hour ago you were thinking of her as a princess in a Waterdeep romance story, and you the brave knight, Geran fumed at himself. She’s seen more murder and cruelty in a few short hours than most people do in a lifetime. And he’d certainly contributed his own share with his furious skirmish on the beach. All she knew of him was that he’d stolen her out of a pirate camp, savagely cutting down anyone in his path. Regardless of the reasons he gave for his actions, she had to wonder whether his motives were honorable or not.