Heirs of the Fallen: Book 03 - Shadow and Steel (7 page)

Daris made busy honing his blade with long, even strokes. “About time you woke up. The rest are already topside. According to that Telmon, we are soon to drop anchor.”

“Take a seat,” Sumahn offered, and rolled a third cask Leitos’s way.

After settling on the small barrel, the trio sat listening to the whoosh of the sea passing along the hull, and the soft metallic whisking noise of Daris honing his blade. The longer they sat still, the more Sumahn’s face twisted.

Daris said, “Might as well let it out.”

He had barely finished before Sumahn began speaking. “I’m tired of always running about like bumbling lackwits. What are we doing, what is our purpose?” He stabbed the tip of his sword into the center of his crude design.

Daris glanced at Leitos. “You tell him, little brother. I have—many times—but it seems my words are wind.”

Leitos shrugged. “We are trying to rescue Ba’Sel, my father, and all the rest of our brethren.”

“I know that much,” Sumahn snapped. “What I mean is, what are the Brothers of the Crimson Shield doing in Geldain and in the world? For as long as I can remember, we run and hide, pricking the Faceless One where we can, but never causing real harm. We take in the rare urchin or escaped slave, but only those who are deemed worthy to fill our ranks. Ba’Sel speaks of some ancient treaty between him and a forgotten ice-born king, but adheres to that treaty only when it suits him.”

“I suppose you side with Ulmek, then?” Daris asked, thumbing the edge of his sword. “All that proud tripe about being the ‘tip of the spear that pierces the Faceless One’s heart’ … even if in the piercing, the tip is destroyed?”

Sumahn looked around the shadowed deck. “Better a broken spear than this,” he said bitterly. “After we save Ba’Sel and the others, what then?” He did not wait for an answer. “I’ll tell you what. We will go back to Witch’s Mole, or maybe Giant’s Head, or some other rock in the sea, or maybe even return to Geldain, and there we will burrow into another cave. We will train for a war that we will never join, and scrounge and hunt to survive. In time, we will grow old and die.” He paused, looking for an argument that never came, then went on.

“All the while, Ba’Sel will replace us, one by one, and keep blathering about the world before the Upheaval and the Faceless One. He will rouse new Brothers, train them. In time they, too, will go to unmarked and unremembered graves. Perhaps another will rise up to take Ba’Sel’s place, but not before he trains that warrior to be just like him—weak, indecisive …
useless
.”

“Those are dangerous words,” Daris said with a frown. Leitos wondered how many of the others felt the same.

“And words they will remain, until you do something.”

All three jerked at Telmon’s voice. Sumahn jumped to his feet, and thrust the tip of his sword against the slaver’s neck. “What are you doing here?”

Telmon traced the length of the blade with bland eyes. Still bound at the wrists, he slowly raised a wooden cup of water past the sword, and sipped. “Your leader, Ulmek, sent me to fetch you. Thought since I was down here, I ought to take a drink.”

“Ulmek sent you
alone
?”

A watery trickle of blood escaped the bandage around Telmon’s head, rippled over the brands on his neck and down one side of his equally scarred chest. “Where am I to go, what am I to do, when my ship is overrun with such warriors as yourselves?” The indolent look in his eyes, his condescending tone, belied his praise.

“Maybe I’ll take your advice, and begin by ridding you of that ugly head of yours,” Sumahn growled, twisting the tip of his sword deeper into Telmon’s neck. A drop of blood sprang from the wound.

“Aye, you could,” Telmon said. “But you won’t.”

“And why not?”

Telmon’s eyes narrowed, and he pressed against the sword. Blood pooled on the flat of Sumahn’s blade. Telmon smiled broadly. “Because you need me, and all my fellows, to get you home.”

A murderous light sparked in Sumahn’s gaze. “We can make do with one less sea-wolf,” he growled. He abruptly shifted his weight to his back foot, preparing to thrust.

“Hold!” Ulmek bellowed.

“None of you,” Telmon whispered, “dare follow your convictions. You bow and scrape to this Ba’Sel, an impotent old man who would better serve your Brotherhood if you gave him over to vultures.”

“Get back above, vermin,” Ulmek ordered Telmon, “or I’ll let the boy have his way.”

“As you command,” Telmon said, bobbing his head in mock deference. He sauntered away, making no hurry to climb the ladder to the main deck.

“My orders were to keep these ill-begotten scum alive and hale,” Ulmek said after the slaver vanished. “Those orders stand, unless you think to displace me?”

Sumahn looked at his feet, shaking with rage. “No,” he said stiffly. “Never.”

“Away with you,” Ulmek said, moderating his tone. “And you, too, Daris. Leitos, with me.”

Sumahn jammed his sword into the scabbard strapped across his back, and went topside. Daris went with him, casting a curious glance at Leitos, before he disappeared through the hatchway.

Ulmek eyed the chained Kelrens. All had come awake by now, and they looked on with varying degrees of contempt.

“We need answers,” Ulmek said, fingering a burlap sack tied to his belt. When he brushed the bulge at the bottom, it shifted and squeaked.

“So you no longer believe Telmon?” asked Leitos.

“As you suggested, why would a sea-wolf, a man who puts red-hot irons to his skin as a matter of course, turn against his brethren at the mere loss of an ear? Together, we will find the truth.”

Leitos looked to that squeaking sack again, and with a shudder wondered what Ulmek had in mind.

Chapter 9

Ulmek chose out the biggest of the sea-wolves, a man with countless brands covering slabs of lean muscle. The Kelren peered through ropes of knotted hair with startling blue. Unlike Telmon, his grin held white teeth, if crooked.

“Tell me,” Ulmek said, “what will your fellows do when they reach these hunting grounds? Will they drop anchor and go ashore? Do you have a fortress there, some defensible ground?”

The sea-wolf shifted, rattling the short length of chain securing him to the bench. The rest of the slavers watched, eyes glittering with a strange anticipation.

“You will answer me,” Ulmek warned, his voice more menacing for the softness of it.

“Here’s an answer,” the man growled, “go bugger that boy at your side.”

Ulmek knelt down. “In the shipmaster’s cabin,” he said to Leitos, eyes locked with the Kelren’s, “you will find a small pot of honey on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Bring it to me.”

The slaver laughed. “You think sweets will loosen my tongue?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Leitos heard Ulmek say, before striding into the galley and out of earshot.

In the shipmaster’s cabin, Halan sat next to the bed, using a damp cloth to wipe Ke’uld’s feverish brow.

“Ulmek wants honey for the sea-wolf,” Leitos said.

Halan winced, and thrust his chin in the direction of the wardrobe. “Whatever you see,” he said in a cryptic tone, “it is best not to think too much about it.”

Leitos retrieved the honey, then looked to Ke’uld. “How is he?”

Halan shook his head in answer, and Leitos silently left him to tend his friend.

When he returned, the now unchained slaver lay on his back, mouth slack, a large knot forming at his temple.

“Open the hatch to the hold,” Ulmek ordered Leitos.

After doing so, Leitos helped Ulmek drag the groaning Kelren to the opening. Together they lowered the groggy sea-wolf into the waiting murk. Ulmek descended first, holding aloft a firemoss lantern, and Leitos followed. Ulmek hung the lantern on a peg overhead.

“What do you mean to do?” Leitos asked uneasily.

Ulmek glanced at him, features bland. Instead of answering, he said, “While I see to his arms, you tie off his legs.”

By the time they finished securing the ropes, the Kelren was on his back, arms and legs pulled tight. When Ulmek cut off the man’s grubby trousers, leaving him bare as a newborn, Leitos remembered Halan’s wince at the mention of honey, and steeled himself.

Ulmek used a pail to splash some thick, dark bilge water over the Kelren’s face. He came awake, sputtering and cursing. Ulmek then took the pot of honey from Leitos. With a little work, he pried off the lid.

The glassy eyed sea-wolf watched it all. “We’ve oft wagered between us whether you Brothers preferred laying with goats or men.” He brayed mirthless laughter, and thrust his hips obscenely. “Now I know. But there’s no need for honey—many a maiden has told how my nectar is sweeter than a child’s dreams.”

With a disquieting lack of emotion, Ulmek poured the thick amber fluid over the Kelren’s loins. “Tell me your name?”

“What is it to you?”

“When I tell others about this, your name will remind them of whom I speak … keep things clear in their minds.” Ulmek dropped the empty pot, and slowly drew his dagger.

“Guess,” the Kelren snarled.

Ulmek held the blade before his face, admiring its edge. “Just a name,” he whispered, moving to stand over the sea-wolf. He abruptly sliced the dagger across his palm, then clenched his fist. Blood squeezed between his fingers, dripped onto the man, covering him with small crimson coins.

“Your pain does not frighten me,” the Kelren scoffed. As Ulmek’s blood continued to drip, the sea-wolf’s bravado gradually vanished, until he began bucking against the restraints. “What are you doing? What do you want?”

“Your name,” Ulmek said again, as if it were the simplest of requests. He shook the sack at his belt. Whatever was hidden within the burlap prison stirred, making the coarse fabric dance. “For the moment, a name is more than enough.”

Looking at the sack, the slaver’s eyes bulged. “Rallin,” he blurted. “Rallin of the Blackfish.”

Ulmek cocked an eyebrow at Leitos. “Surely, he jests?”

Leitos shrugged uncomfortably. “Why would he?”

“ ‘Tis true!” Rallin bellowed.

Ulmek knelt at the slaver’s side. “You have done well, Rallin of the Blackfish. Now I need to know the best way to get aboard the
Night Blade
.”

The sea-wolf stiffened, resoluteness replacing the panic in his stare. “I’ll never tell, you accursed—”

Rallin’s retort became a short scream when Ulmek thrust the dagger under his kneecap. When he stopped digging, Rallin’s head dropped back. “You cannot break me,” he panted.

“You mistake me,” Ulmek said; Leitos had never heard or seen the man look so serene. “I do not want to ‘break’ you. I want to rescue my men. Surely you understand?”

The sea-wolf held silent, and Ulmek worked the blade deeper into the joint, steel grinding through gristle and sinew. The sound set Leitos’s teeth on edge.

Sweat sprang from the slaver’s pores, and a stink of terror wafted from his skin, an odor Leitos knew all too well from the mines of his childhood. He felt no pity, for men like this had chained his people and countless others, all without a care that most would suffer horribly and eventually die in the hands of Alon’mahk’lar.

When Ulmek canted the blade, prying up Rallin’s kneecap, the man lost control of his bladder. Ulmek’s nose wrinkled in distaste, but he did not relent.

“Tell me how to take the
Night Blade
, and I will leave you with the ability to walk. Hold your tongue, and….” Ulmek levered the dagger. A hissing screech burst through Rallin’s teeth.

“I do not think my dagger will loosen his tongue,” Ulmek said, and withdrew the blade.

The sea-wolf lay gasping. His rolling eyes found Leitos. “Kill this inbred bastard for me, free those above, and I’ll see that you are safe among my people for the remaining days of your life.”

A shiver of revulsion passed over Leitos’s skin. “You think I would betray my own for the promise of becoming one of you?”

“The Faceless One rewards his followers,” Rallin said.

“The Faceless One seeks to destroy all humankind,” Leitos answered hollowly.

“Lies, boy! Exaggerations and blasphemies, spread by fools. I tell you, we have lives worth living. We serve him, and in return, he rewards us, allows us to sail and take plunder of his enemies—our enemies. Stay with these men, and you’ll be hunted all your days. The Brothers of the Crimson Shield are the true betrayers. Stay with them, and you’ll die by the sword or wither in chains. Side with us, and reap the blessings of our master.”

Leitos said nothing, but he noticed Ulmek’s scrutiny.

“Well, little brother, what will it be?” Ulmek asked. Leitos frowned at the question, spoken as if there was actually a choice. Ulmek dropped his gaze to Leitos’s hand. He had unknowingly drawn his sword. “Will you cut me down and free him?”

“No. Never,” Leitos said. “I … I meant to end his drivel.”

“Then why not do it?”

“Would you stop me?”

“No.” Ulmek stood away with an inviting gesture. “Kill him. He and those like him have preyed upon your people long years, much as they have preyed upon mine. He deserves death. Take your vengeance.”