"You have good taste in wine, Haaken. It nearly broke my heart to pour it out so we could use the bottles, though I admit we saved a few swallows for ourselves."
Ghaji leaned down and swung the broken bottle at Haaken's throat, but the Coldheart commander managed to deflect the blow with his forearm. Haaken followed by bringing a knee up and ramming it into the half-orc's gut. Breath whooshed out of Ghaji, and Haaken shoved him back.
Haaken knew Ghaji wouldn't be off-balance for long, and he shoved himself to his feet and started to run. Unfortunately, the deck remained coated with ice and his boots slid out from under him. He landed back-first onto the deck, and now it was his turn to have the wind knocked out of him. As he struggled to draw in air, he looked back toward the hatch and saw that Diran had emerged from the hold and was helping Ghaji to his feet.
Haaken felt a wave of frustration. He couldn't pull in enough air to shout for his people again, and he wouldn't be able to get up in time to defend himself against Diran and Ghaji. A few more seconds, and it would all be over…
"Don't move!"
Haaken looked up and saw Barah coming toward the hatch, three other Coldhearts in tow. They held their swords in one hand while holding onto the starboard railing with the other to keep from sliding on the ice-coated deck. Haaken had to admit they didn't make the most intimidating attack force approaching like that, but he was glad to see them just the same. The deck would prove just as slippery for the priest and half-orc, and they didn't have real weapons. They couldn't hope to stand against his people!
He turned to watch Diran and Ghaji's reaction and saw the priest reach into his sleeve and withdraw several shards of glass. His hands blurred as he hurled the makeshift weapons, and Barah's mouth opened wide to scream, but all that emerged was a wet gurgle followed by a spray of blood. A shard was embedded in her throat. Diran managed to strike the other two as welclass="underline" one in the throat and the second in the eye. Barah fell to the deck, as did the two Coldhearts who'd had the misfortune to join her.
For the first time since meeting Diran Bastiaan that afternoon at the King Prawn, Haaken wondered if it wouldn't have been better if he'd swallowed his pride and just walked away.
Haaken was finally able to fill his lungs, and he put every ounce of air into shouting. "Coldhearts! To arms!"
He didn't wait to see if his cry for help had been heard. He slid himself starboard across the deck toward Barah. Her eyes were wide and staring, and though her body still twitched, Haaken knew she was dead, or close enough to it to make no difference, but right now he wasn't interested in mourning her loss. He was more interested in using her body as a shield against Diran's glass shards. He slid around behind her and propped her up using his wounded hand. It hurt likes blazes, but he needed his free hand to defend himself against Ghaji. He drew a dagger from his sheath, hunkered down behind the still-twitching form of his second in command, and waited for whatever would happen next.
Diran had been aiming for the throats of the three Coldhearts, and he would've considered himself lucky if he'd managed to take out even one of them, given how difficult the glass shards were to throw. He knew he had the Silver Flame to thank for all three of the Coldhearts going down-that or sheer dumb luck.
"Do you think the others heard him?" Ghaji asked.
Diran didn't have to answer, for more Coldhearts came at them from both directions, weapons in hand, gripping the rail to keep their footing.
"The cold works to our advantage," Diran said. "They can only come at us single file."
"What direction do you want? Fore or aft?"
Diran didn't have to think about it. "Fore. The wind's blowing in that direction."
"Then I'll take aft."
The two companions linked arms to steady themselves as they shuffled across the icy deck away from the open hatch and toward the starboard railing. They took up positions back to back-Diran facing fore, Ghaji aft-gripped the railing, and prepared to meet the oncoming Coldhearts.
It was an awkward, slippery battle, though it was made somewhat less so when Ghaji managed to liberate a sword from one of the attacking Coldhearts. When it was over, Ghaji had a shoulder wound from a sword thrust, and Diran's left hand was broken from when a Coldheart had gotten close enough to slam the pommel of his sword against it, but that Coldheart, like the others, was dead now. The only one who remained alive was Haaken. The Coldheart commander-or former commander, since all his people had been slain-still huddled behind the body of the woman Diran had killed with a glass shard to the throat.
"Is that all?" Ghaji asked, sounding disappointed. Blood flowed freely from his shoulder wound, but the half-orc warrior paid no attention to the injury.
"I believe so." Diran turned and placed his good hand on Ghaji's shoulder. He concentrated and felt warmth spreading outward from his palm to radiate through his friend's shoulder. Diran could sense the healing power of the Silver Flame reparing Ghaji's wound. When the task was complete, Diran concentrated on turning that power inward and healing his broken hand. Within a few moments, it was done. He flexed his fingers and found them nimble as ever.
"Thanks," Ghaji said. "What now?"
Diran noticed that his friend didn't take his gaze from Haaken. The Coldheart might not appear to be much of a threat at the moment, but after what the man had done to them this day, neither Ghaji nor Diran would underestimate him again.
"If Haaken truly is the last remaining Coldheart aboard, then there's no one sailing this vessel. One of us had better take the tiller."
"After we take care of Haaken."
Diran knew exactly what his companion meant by take care. "There's no need to kill him. We can tie him up and put him in the hold."
"We got out," Ghaji said. "He could too."
Before becoming one of the Purified, Diran would've slit Haaken's throat without thought or remorse, but he'd forsaken the shadowy path of the assassin when he'd taken his vows, and he no longer shared his body with the dark spirit that Emon Gorsedd had implanted in all the recruits of the Brotherhood of the Blade. The dark spirit muted its host's positive emotions while heightening the negative ones, making it easier for Emon's assassins to kill without conscience. Diran had broken free of the Brotherhood years ago and dedicated his life to the service of the Silver Flame. Diran thus avoided killing unless it was absolutely necessary. Haaken was no longer a threat so there was no need to slay him, but he knew Ghaji didn't see it that way.
"Perhaps we can locate his supply of amber sleep and use it to-"
The Maelstrom gave a sudden violent lurch and the sound of splintering wood filled the air. The impact knocked Diran and Ghaji off their feet and sent the two companions sliding across the icy deck. The vessel listed to port, and they continued sliding until they hit the railing on that side of the ship. They lay there for a moment, gripping the railing tight and waiting to see if the Maelstom was going to move any more. When it became clear that the vessel wasn't going anywhere, Diran and Ghaji stood as best they could on the tilted deck.
Diran looked in the direction of the bow and saw that the ship had run aground on a dark, forbidding, rocky shore.
"I believe we've arrived at Demothi Island," Diran said.
"Land ho," Ghaji muttered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They searched the Coldhearts' ship and found Ghaji's axe and Diran's cloak and daggers in one of the cabins-the one belonging to Haaken, Ghaji guessed, or perhaps that should be belonged, for since the Maelstrom had run aground, they'd seen no sign of the wounded man. If Haaken had been tossed overboard by the impact, he wouldn't have lasted long in these frigid waters, and even if he'd made it to shore, without a fire to dry and warm him, he'd succumb to the cold soon enough. Still, Ghaji would've preferred seeing Haaken's dead body for himself. He'd been a warrior too long to take anything for granted-especially the death of a foe.