‘Yes, isn’t that interesting?’ Denaos commented as he walked away. ‘Violence solves yet another problem.’
‘That doesn’t mean I have to like it.’
‘You don’t, of course,’ he replied, ‘but what would you have done differently?’
She looked down, rubbing her arm. ‘Nothing, I suppose. ’
‘Then let us content ourselves with the present, bloody and body-strewn as it may be.’
‘Don’t act like you’re some great warrior,’ Kataria snarled at his back. ‘You were more than willing to run away when it was still an option.’
‘I was,’ he said without turning around. ‘And if we had done as I suggested, there’d be much less dead and we’d all be happy.’ He offered a limp-wristed wave as he headed for the companionway. ‘Let us consider this the next time we all decide that I’m not worth listening to.’
Asper muttered something under her breath, fingering her pendant as she walked towards the sailors who were already pulling up bodies, sighing over their companions and tossing their fallen adversaries over the railing. Dreadaeleon made a move to follow, but staggered, leaning on the railing.
‘I can. .’ He paused to take a deep breath, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. ‘I can help. I’m. . just a little winded, is all. Strain and all that. Just. . just give me a moment.’
‘Take all the time you need,’ she said coldly. ‘There will be a lot of prayers to be said. I wouldn’t want you to subject yourself to that kind of ordeal.’
He made an awkward attempt to follow her after an even more awkward attempt to retort. Instead, he was left furrow-browed and sneering as he stalked the opposite way, leaning heavily on the railing.
‘As though it’s my fault I’m surrounded by the ignorant masses.’ He stopped, glowering at Lenk. ‘You swing a big piece of metal and make a mess on the deck and you get a smile.’ He poked himself hard in his sunken chest. ‘I electrocute three men as humanely as possible and I’m the heathen?’
‘Well,’ Lenk replied, admiring his own blade, ‘you must admit. . it is pretty large.’
The boy’s face turned as red as his eyes had just been as he staggered past the young man and disappeared into some corner of the ship, muttering under his breath.
Lenk paid it no mind as he walked to the railing and the angry chew-mark where the chain had been dislodged. The Linkmaster continued to dominate the horizon, even as it became a black beetle on the water. Even as its prey continued to outrun it, he could see no hurry aboard, no frenzy of movement as orders were barked for the ship to give chase. It faded into the distance, until he could see nothing of the men aboard it, hear nothing of their voices.
But he continued to hear, continued to see. The bell’s song lingered, echoing inside his head just as loudly as if it were next to him. Just as if they were before him, he could see the black-clad man’s bone-white lips, twisted into a wide and knowing smile.
And, lingering behind them all like gently falling snow, the sound of a thought given a voice, muttering. .
‘Are you aware that we won?’
He whirled about with a start to see Kataria smiling, leaning on her bow. Her eyes were soft now, two emeralds gleaming lazily under heavy lids.
‘If you want to cheer,’ she said, ‘I won’t think any less of you than I already do.’
‘If there’s anyone who should be cheering and demeaning themselves, it’s you,’ he replied, glancing at the cleanup taking place along the deck. ‘Lots of dead humans. . must be a good day for you.’
‘Only a few over a dozen,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Barely a dent in their numbers. Nothing worth celebrating.’
‘You’re aware that I’m human, right? Because, really, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that remark.’
‘Well, it’s not as if any of the humans I like died.’ She followed his gaze as a drowsy-looking Quillian appeared to assist Asper. ‘In fact, several humans I don’t like survived.’ She sniffed the air, scratched herself. ‘Still, good day.’
Supposedly.
He suspected he should agree; a day that ended with someone else dead instead of himself usually qualified as ‘good’ for an adventurer. He suspected that his next thought should have disturbed him quite a bit more than it did.
This time, dead bodies just aren’t enough.
Had this been a chance raid, some simple act of piracy like he had originally suspected, of course he could take pride in the fact that he could still stab people and thus was still employable. But this hadn’t been a chance raid, there were too many factors screaming that this was something worse.
The calm demeanour of a famously bloodthirsty and deranged breed of murderers, a man who had no business being in the company of such towering and fierce creatures, a bell that sang instead of a ballista that shot.
A chill crept up his spine.
‘Staring. .’
He could feel it immediately, almost heard her eyes turn hard behind him as they bore into him, digging under flesh, searching, studying. He gritted his teeth, tried not to twitch under her gaze. But something inside him lacked willpower. He felt something shift under his skin.
‘Make her stop.’
‘You’re worried.’
When he turned, her smile was gone. He saw her, then, without the heat of battle to cloud his mind. She was weary: sweat slicked her skin and seeped into the cuts on her muscular physique, her hair clung in dirty clumps and the feathers she wore whipped about her wildly. She was the very vision of savagery, the image conjured up when people spat the name ‘shict’.
And she was staring at him with eyes full of concern.
‘You’re thinking.’ Her ears twitched, as if hearing his very thoughts.
His breath caught in his throat at that idea. ‘We won,’ he gasped, ‘they lost.’
She nodded intently.
‘But they didn’t curse. They didn’t scream. Wouldn’t you have?’
‘If we had lost and I wasn’t dead, probably.’
‘They were calm.’ He turned a glower over the sea. ‘They shouldn’t have been.’
A hand was laid on his shoulder. He felt her through the leather of her glove and the cloth of his tunic, felt her heartbeat just as he knew she could hear his. Just as he knew he should pull away, just as he knew that she didn’t touch humans if she wasn’t pulling arrows out of them.
Just as he knew he could not.
Everything went silent inside him. The wailing drone ceased, the smile vanished from his mind. He could feel himself grow warm again, feel the blood pump through him, coursing under her touch.
She turned him to face her, he did not resist. Her eyes were not soft, but not hard. He had no idea what lurked behind her green orbs as she stared into him, just as he had no idea what to do.
‘It’s over,’ she said with a certainty he hadn’t heard from her before. She smiled. ‘Stop thinking.’
He watched her lay her bow upon her shoulders, looping her arms up and over it. Her hair drifted in the breeze and carried the scent of her sweat into his nostrils as she walked away. It filled his breath, now deep and regular again as he repeated calming words to himself.
‘It’s over.’ He rubbed his eyes, laid his sword against the railing and leaned backwards. ‘It’s over.’
He heard the voice. It was soft, fading even as it spoke, but he heard it. He heard it speak a single word, ask a single question.
‘Over?’
And then, he heard it laugh.
Three
By the time Lenk clambered up the stairs leading to the helm, the cheering had died down. A few fellows enthused at not being killed had dared to clap him on the back once Kataria had left his side, finding boldness in the absence of his maligned companion. Their enthusiasm was slain as surely as their fellows, however, when they cast a glance upon the deck and surveyed the work that had to be done.