'You didn't even bother to really question me, did you?' said the skipper. 'In your arrogance, you thought I'd simply roll over and let you plunder the most sacred things in my life. Well, my work is done now. You have lost Erienne and I have led those most able to stop you to die correct path, while we sail in an entirely different direction. And all the time, the world turns a little further and your hopes of murder recede.'
Selik looked at him, his mouth hanging open, a line of spittle dripping from the slack, nerveless left-hand side. He even stepped away a little, though the dagger point remained steady.
'But the forces of right must not be denied,' he whispered, a fervour creeping into his eyes. 'You have betrayed every living thing in Balaia.'
The skipper could see the hate beginning to grow, could feel the tightening of the hand at his throat and the wobble of the dagger in
front of him, its unfocused point shimmering. He knew he didn't have long.
'You're too late, Selik. Erienne will be united with her child and together they will destroy you and everything you stand for. If that is what I am betraying, then I will die content. So push home your dagger, Black Wing, you cannot threaten or hurt me any more.'
Selik looked over his shoulder. Under full sail and in calm waters sheltered from the storms, the Elm drove on at exhilarating speed. To where, the skipper didn't know and cared less. Eventually, the sea bed would rise to meet the keel of the ship but the skipper knew he wouldn't live to see it.
The dagger point came closer still. The skipper didn't flinch.
'And of course, if I do kill you, your crew will refuse to sail. I am not such a fool as you believe,' said Selik.
The skipper laughed. 'Look behind you, Selik. They have refused already. You have lost and I have won.'
Selik swung the skipper around so that he could look along the line of the ship. The elven crew were still there in the rigging and near the lines and stays. Even mops and buckets still rested on the deck and plumb lines lay in coils. But the crew were motionless. All of them. Waiting.
'Turn this bastard ship around!' roared Selik. 'Or your beloved captain dies.' Not one of them moved.
'Your man has the wheel,' said the skipper smoothly.
Selik sneered. 'Yes. He does. Turn us into the centre of this channel.'
'But-'
'Do it now! How hard can it be. Turn the wheel.' The skipper watched as the Black Wing soldier turned the wheel. The Ocean Elm began to come about, jibing across the wind, sails snapping briefly into a run before starting to pick up the new tack. They needed trimming to make the most of the direction. He didn't have to turn to know what his crew were doing now. Every one of them was moving from his post to come to stand below the wheel deck, or as near as their captors would allow.
'Get back to your work!' shouted Selik.
'No one may turn this vessel without the permission of the
captain,' said the skipper quietly. 'They will not lift a finger to your order.'
But Selik was looking at the sails filling as the ship turned further and the sneer returned. 'But it doesn't look like I need you anyway, does it, dear captain? And I'm sure your crew won't let themselves drown because of some obscure rule of the sea, will they? You, of course, will not get the chance to find out.'
And as the dagger punched upwards and his head roared with brief pain before the end, the skipper knew Selik would soon be joining him, embraced by the Gods of the Sea.
They would make their own judgement and exact their retribution.
Chapter 35
The going was occasionally tricky but never particularly dangerous. While the Protectors drove on, oars biting into the choppy waters, a picture of precision synchronisation, The Raven, sail full, slammed quickly down the channel, soon leaving the long boats in their wake.
With soaring cliffs to the left, lost in the low cloud, and a jagged series of smaller rock islands to the right, the wind whistled across the skiff, forcing The Raven to sit to starboard to balance the pull of the sail.
One hand on the main sheet, the other gripping the tiller, Denser sailed under the watchful but approving eye of The Unknown who still stood, hand on mast or mainstay.
Denser's heart raced, his mind a fog of excitement and sorrow. Their speed was a joy, rushing them towards Lyanna, the daughter he hadn't seen in too long but who would cost him the life of Erienne. He looked at her. She sat on his right, one hand clasping the gunwale, the other on his shoulder. She was staring at him from under the hood of her cloak.
He smiled at her and her hand gripped his shoulder a little more firmly, massaging it through his heavy cloak. He nodded, unable to say anything. They'd been inseparable these last few days and had known a closeness, a oneness, that they had never experienced before.
It had been born partly of desperation of course but there was far more to it than that. The sense that what they had to do was right and that though they would be parted forever, the love they knew would live on in Lyanna. Denser was sure already, though, that he would never get over losing Erienne.
But they were cried out now. What could or should have been was unimportant. Dreams and plans could not be made. Now, there was
reality to deal with, and Denser had to focus on saving his daughter so that his wife could die for her.
He looked away again, adjusting the tiller slightly and edging out the main sheet as the latest gust grew stronger. Not far now.
The Raven had their initial view of Herendeneth as the afternoon began to drift towards dusk. It looked at first sight a blank wall of
unapproachable rock, but all over its grey face, green poked out as if
through part-open doors, fronds cut off unnaturally though the remnants waved in the wind.
Erienne drew sharp breath. 'The illusion's breaking up everywhere. They'll be able to see the house from above, I'm certain of it.'
'We need to know the situation,' said The Unknown.
'Why don't you fly up there and take a look round now, love?' suggested Denser. 'Let them know we're coming, spend a little time with Lyanna before we have to get busy.'
Erienne beamed. 'What a lovely idea.'
T am known for them occasionally,' said Denser.
Erienne half-stood and flung her arms around the Xeteskian, kissing him passionately.
'Disgusting display,' said Hirad, mouth wide in a grin.
'Certainly is,' said Denser, disengaging himself and pulling the tiller back towards him from where Erienne had pushed it with her body.
She steadied herself, prepared the spell and took to the air, hovering behind and above Denser, and leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
'Don't be too long,' she said.
He reached up and cupped her face in one hand. 'I'll see what I can do.'
She flew away south, keeping low and out of the worst of the wind that blew hard above the cliff line, soon becoming a small dot in the dull sky. Denser watched her go, jealous that anyone should have the benefit of her love bar him. Even his daughter.
'Tell you what,' said The Unknown, looking down on an increasingly green Ilkar. 'Fancy a look behind us, Ilkar? We need to know if there's anyone coming after us and how far they are away.' ij
Ilkar nodded. 'Anything to get off this rickety assortment of bobbing logs.'
'Don't get too close,' said Hirad.
'Don't worry,' said Ilkar pointing at his eyes. 'These are very good.'
Jevin sailed down the right of the channel as Ren had advised. His lookouts kept watch fore and aft and when the shout came and the sign was relayed from the crow's nest, he wasn't surprised. But the sight saddened him.