At that moment, Horial slipped back into view. "They're mustering a large sweeping force and entering the tree line," he reported. "It looks like they're coming after us."
"Then the rescue has to wait," Vambran said. "On your feet. We're going deeper into the woods."
With one look back, Vambran set out. He hoped he wasn't taking his remaining command into more trouble.
CHAPTER 7
The first sensation Kovrim Lazelle became aware of was a steady, painful throbbing in his head, centered on a spot on the back side of his skull. After that, the priest became conscious of numerous other aches throughout his body, as though he had been beaten and battered by a gang of club-wielding thugs. He groaned and began to move his arms gingerly, feeling gritty, wet sand beneath the palms of his hands. The sounds of the surf crashing against a nearby shore brought the man to full awareness, and he began to remember bits and pieces of his plight.
Images of great tentacles and a shattering ship flashed in his mind's eye, and Kovrim remembered trying desperately to scramble to the deck, stumbling as part of the flooring beneath his feet cracked in two. As the planking all around him began to snap and split, the priest saw sunlight and seawater rushing at him, and… nothing more. Somehow, he had drifted or was dragged to shore.
Kovrim opened his eyes and blinked at the bright, glaring sun shining in his face; then he rolled over, away from the intense light, and tried to sit up. The motion nearly made him retch, and he sank back down, closing his eyes again and panting. His head felt swollen and filled with cotton, and the pain radiated down to his gut, making him queasy. He just wanted to find a quiet, shady place where he could drift back off to sleep, but he knew the risks of remaining exposed too long to the heat of the sun. Taking a deep, calming breath in the hopes that the fresh air would settle his stomach, the priest tried again to sit up, reaching back with one hand to feel gingerly at the painful lump at the base of his skull. Something had walloped him pretty hard, he decided.
Squinting, Kovrim began to peer around and discovered that he was on a beach, right at the edge of the tide line. The waves that tumbled to shore rolled up to a point just a pace or two from his feet, and he could see twin drag lines from there in the drier sand. Someone had brought him to that point. With one hand shading his eyes, the priest began to examine the beach more closely, noting the rough, rocky ground just above the sandy stretch, and beyond that, he could see the tops of a line of trees that stretched as far in either direction as he could look.
There seemed to be no one else around.
Kovrim attempted to rise to his feet and almost regretted the move, as he swayed unsteadily, feeling the pounding increase in his head. He stood very still for several seconds, letting the queasiness subside, and he reached down to his belt and checked a pouch. Thankfully, the potion he had stored there when the Crescents had begun their journey aboard Lady's Favor was still safely tucked inside. He drew forth the small vial, pulled the stopper free, tipped his aching head back, and downed the contents. The familiar fiery flavors of pepper oil and burnt meat cascaded down his throat, but he ignored the taste and waited for the effects. A moment later, as he felt the concoction settle in his belly, Kovrim also felt the pain in his skull and joints ease away. Though the potion did not assuage every little stab of hurt, it was enough to relieve the pounding in his head, and he sighed in profound relief and recapped the vial, then tucked it away again.
Once he felt better, Kovrim began to make his way up the beach, toward the line of trees. If nothing else, the blessed coolness of shade was going to be a welcome change. The priest had taken perhaps a dozen steps or so when movement from ahead of him caught his eye. He stopped and peered toward the tree line, trying to get a better view, and he half smiled in relief as he noted a man dressed in the white and blue of the Crescents moving there, crouched over and studying the ground.
Not wanting to draw undue attention to the two of them in case there were threats nearby, Kovrim did not call out, but instead started walking again, intending to catch up to his compatriot. As he drew closer, he noted the identity of the soldier, a younger man named Velati Fenisio, an eager fellow who had signed on with the company in the spring. The trip aboard Lady's Favor to Chessenta had been Velati's first assignment.
A fine way to begin his soldiering career, Kovrim thought wryly.
The priest could see that Velati was rooting around in the grass, and as he got closer to the young man, he realized that Velati was foraging for tubers that grew wild in the underbrush. The young mercenary already had an armload full when he turned and spotted Kovrim moving toward him.
A smile broke across Velati's face, and he waved to the priest. "I got you as far out of the surf as I could, then I went looking for food," he said brightly, heading back down onto the beach to join Kovrim.
The priest felt his knees growing wobbly and sank down onto a bit of stone just the right height to serve as an impromptu seat. "Where are we?" Kovrim asked as Velati moved to stand beside him.
Velati shrugged. "Not sure," he said as he dumped the armload of roots to the ground at the older man's feet. "Wherever we are, there's no one else around," he added, settling onto the ground next to Kovrim.
Kovrim closed his eyes and took several long, slow breaths, still feeling weak from his ordeals. His stomach rumbled, a typical aftereffect of magical healing. He eyed the tubers eagerly, almost not even caring that they were still raw and dirt-covered.
No, he admonished himself. Must cook them first, or you'll be squatting in the bushes for the rest of the day.
"Do you have any water?" Kovrim asked the soldier, noting ruefully that his own waterskin had apparently vanished.
"Yes, sir," Velati replied, handing a nearly bulging skin over. "Drink up."
Kovrim took the skin gratefully and tipped it to his mouth, drawing several large mouthfuls and gulping them down. The liquid, though warm, did almost as much to soothe the priest's discomfort as the healing draught had. Finally, he handed the skin back to Velati with a nod.
"So, how did we get here?" Kovrim asked the younger mercenary. "Where are the rest of the Crescents?" Surely they didn't all go down with the ship, he thought, remembering the tentacles and feeling cold in the pit of his stomach. "Where is Vambran?" The fact that he and the young man appeared to be alone on the stretch of beach worried the priest. Then he shook his head, dismissing his pessimistic notions.
Vambran can take care of himself, Kovrim thought. He doesn't need me to look out for him.
Velati shrugged then said, "Lieutenant Matrell gave the order to drink our water-walking potions, and the ship was being ripped apart by that… that thing." He shuddered then seemed to regain his composure. "I got thrown into the water when Lady's Favor split in half, and you splashed into the drink near me, out cold. I heard the order to retreat, but there were two ships between us and shore, so I hid both of us among some debris until no one was watching, and I began to drag you away from the fight. I had to swing wide of the area to avoid the pirates, and about halfway to shore, the magic of the potions wore out." At that point in his tale, the young man looked forlorn. "I had to remove your breastplate and let it sink, sir," he said ruefully. "I'm terribly sorry, but it was the only way I could keep us both afloat after that"
Kovrim gave the young man a half smile and waved away the apology. "You did fine," he said, though he lamented the loss of the enchanted armor, for it had served him well in campaigns many seasons before, and he had grown quite fond of it.