26
Sacrifice
“How many times do I have to tell you—she’s sleeping.” Shia was getting more than a little tired of this pestilential human and his endless questions.
“Yes—as far as I know, she’s all right, yes—I think that Wolf is with her, and no—I am not going to wake her—in fact I can’t.”
“But—”
Shia rounded on Forral with a wrathful snarl, further irritated that several of the Nightrunners who crewed the ship took this as a sign to beat a hasty retreat, leaving herself, Khanu and Forral in sole possession of the bows.
“Wretched human! Would that I had never let you know I could speak with you like this! Now listen.” She walked up to the swordsman and put her forepaws on the ship’s rail, so that her golden eyes blazed directly down into his. “For the last time, Aurian didn’t follow us because she had to rescue Chiamh. She did such a stupid thing because the Windeye is her friend. They are now somewhere on the sea in a small boat, and though I can’t talk to the Mage unless she wakes, her sleeping thoughts seem not to be unhappy, so I would guess that Wolf is all right and she probably succeeded in what she set out to do. Yes, I’m worried about her too, but no—there’s nothing more we can do to find her until daylight comes—SO GO TO SLEEP!”
Smoldering, Forral turned his back on the great cat, and looked out over the rail into the darkness. I almost wish we hadn’t found out that the bloody creature could communicate with me like this, he thought, not really caring whether Shia “overheard” the thought or not. Bad-tempered bugger! I was only asking. You can’t blame me for being worried.... Then a new thought exploded into his mind—a thought so vast, so shocking, so fraught with dangers and possibilities.
I can talk to Shia courtesy of Anvar’s Mage blood, can I do the other stuff—the proper magic?
A shiver went through the swordsman that was half-fear, half-excitement.
“Steady,” he told himself. “Don’t get too carried away. Before you go trying anything, this will take a bit of thinking through.” Perhaps he should ask Aurian—but if he could manage on his own, would it not be better to surprise her?
In truth Forral was desperate to impress the Mage, for he felt he had been of little use to her so far—a situation that not within his normal experience.—Since he had arrived in this strange body, he had been at a constant disadvantage—everyone else seemed to know what was going on, new friendships had been made between old comrades and these new folk; Parric and the Xandim being a good example. Though people tried to be kind to him, he knew that his occupancy or Anvar’s body made them very uneasy. They had known Anvar, had all been his friends and companions, could not help feeling like a stranger and an interloper, sighed. This was not turning out at all the way he had imagined it would—but maybe the magic would make all the difference. It was certainly worth a try—and in the meantime, he would make himself useful by going belowdecks to see how old Vannor was faring.
The swordsman was halfway across the deck when a new thoght struck him. He had never seen Parric since he had been aboard—in fact, he was certain that the Cavalrymaster not aboard the ship! What in the name of all the Gods become of him?
“Did you see it?” Iscalda shuddered. “Just as we were pulling out of the cavern. That hideous black shape—it was hunting down the soldiers.. ..”
“I wonder what it was,” Schiannath mused.
“Better not to know.” Iscalda pulled her cloak around her shoulders. “It looked a ghastly way to die.”
“At least Chiamh escaped that,” Schiannath said heavily.
“Poor Chiamh—he sacrificed himself to save our lives.” Iscalda leaned on the railing of Yanis’s ship, the Nighthawk, and looked back the way they had come, though there was nothing to see but dark sky and darker ocean. “Forral is talking nonsense—I saw Chiamh fall, Schiannath, I saw the soldiers hacking at him, over and over. There was no possible way the Windeye or anyone else could have survived that.”
Schiannath put his arm around her shoulders. “He was very brave,” he said quietly. “All those years our people ignored and despised him because he lacked the presence of his grandmother—yet which of them would have possessed the courage for such a deed?” He sighed. “It is a double tragedy. Chiamh should have taken a mate long ago, had he not been forced into his solitary existence by the mockery of the folk who should have respected and revered him. He had no heirs, Iscalda—his bloodline ended here, tonight, in a foreign land. The Xandim no longer have a Windeye, and never will again. It is as though, at a stroke, we have become blind and deaf to the deeper world around us.”
“Try telling them that,” Iscalda said bitterly. “They won’t care. Most of them don’t think beyond fornication and filling their bellies. That’s a deep enough world for them. Save for Chiamh and his ilk, we haven’t advanced much further than the herd animals from which we were created.”
“Some of us have,” Schiannath told her comfortingly. “At least we have learned to look to greater heights and wider horizons. And in Chiamh’s memory we’ll take the others with us—if we have to drag them every inch of the way.”
In the light of the small lantern that hung from the mast, he saw Iscalda’s eyes flash as she looked up at him sharply. “Will you go back and fight to be Herdlord again?” she asked in amazement. “After you led so many into slavery at the hands of the Phaerie, I would suggest we avoid our brethren at all costs. Why, they’ll tear us limb from limb if we try to return!”
“Would you rather live out the rest of your life as an exile?” Schiannath demanded. “Don’t you think we’ve seen enough of that?”
“I—” Iscalda’s reply was snatched from her mouth by a blast of chill air. A great, dark shape loomed over Schiannath and Iscalda, blocking the light from the lantern. They heard shouts, screams, and curses as the remaining crew and passengers scattered for cover. There was no time to draw a sword—the Xandim hurled themselves to the deck as the entity swooped down upon them.—Schiannath, protective as always, tried to throw himself in front of his sister—and had the breath knocked out of him as the creature came crashing down on top of him. When a bony and all too human elbow caught him in the face, he scarcely knew whether his eyes were watering from the impact, or he was weeping with relief. He eased himself out from beneath a thrashing wing and helped Linnet right herself, then pulled Iscalda to her feet.
The winged girl was incoherent with fright, and it took Iscalda some time to calm her, while Schiannath, mopping at a bleeding nose, kept back the curious Nightrunners who crowded around in curiosity—now they had been reassured that it was not a Death-Wraith who’d come hurtling down on their ship. Bit by bit, Iscalda coaxed Linnet’s story from her. When the fighting had started, the young girl had been sensible enough to stay well out of danger—she had flown up to the roof of the cavern and had stayed there, clinging to a portion of the rock. She had been paralyzed with shock and at the sight of the carnage that was taking place below her, and had been too terrified to leave her perch, even when the ships departed.
Only the Death-Wraith had finally had the power to move the winged girl—her refuge was no longer safe, not from this terrifying monstrosity who could fly as well as she. When the wraith had vanished into the tunnels to hunt down the soldiers, Linnet had seized her chance and swooped out of the entrance, heading out to sea, away from the appalling bits she had witnessed. Lost in the darkness as she was, she’d have perished for sure, had she not caught sight of the pinpoint twinkle of the Nighthawk’s lantern, far out across waves. In the dark, she had badly misjudged her landing, at luckily, Schiannath and Iscalda had broken her fall. Telling her story had calmed the winged girl considerably, she could look around with comprehension and with concern for her friends, seeking the comfort of familiar faces. The one face that she truly wanted to see, however, was missing. “Where’s Zanna?” she demanded fearfully of Iscalda. “Is she all right? She did escape, didn’t she?”