Ruby Guardian (14 page)

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.

Nothing to be done about it now, he thought. And I’m alive, so no sense making the lad feel worse than he already does. I just pray that Vambran and the others made it to shore, too. It’s a long coastline, and

the tide is strong; they’re probably just farther along, out of sight somewhere.

“So you swam to shore and pulled me along with you?” Kovrim asked, changing the subject. He was genuinely impressed with the younger man’s prowess.

“Yes, sir,” Velati replied, beaming. “I was almost done for by the time we reached the shallows. It’s a good thing it wasn’t rocky along this stretch of coast, or we might both have wound up feeding the fish.”

Kovrim nodded, rubbing his chin. “Well, we’ve got to try to find the rest of the men, soldier,” he said, rising to his feet. “No time for eating right now, though those tubers look mighty tasty. Bring them along, though, and we’ll see if we can’t enjoy them later.”

The priest was on the verge of squatting down beside the younger man to help him gather up the food when he saw movement in the distance. He turned in that direction, farther along the beach, and noted several men approaching. In the bright sunlight, it was clear that they were soldiers, though they were not members of the Order of the Sapphire Crescent. Kovrim could not distinctly make out the insignia, but he did not like the look of things.

“Velati,” he said as the men spotted him and began to fan out in an obvious maneuver of hostility. The younger man stood up and turned his attention in the direction Kovrim was looking then sucked in his breath. Kovrim began to count figures moving toward them and realized there were at least a dozen. Beside him, Velati pulled his sword free of its scabbard.

“Easy, son,” Kovrim said, placing a hand on his companion’s arm to calm him down. “There are too many of them,” he said. He could feel the younger

man’s muscles tense and relax as he slipped the blade down again.

“Yes, sir,” Velati said dismally.

The enemy soldiers closed the distance and moved to flank Kovrim and Velati, several of them with bows and crossbows out and ready. By that point, the priest could see that the insignia on their uniforms was of a silver raven. He did not recognize it, but he certainly understood that they viewed the two Crescents as potential threats.

“Throw down your arms!” one of the men called out, gesturing at Kovrim and Velati.

Kovrim spread his arms wide to show that he was not attempting to threaten his foes. His crossbow had never made it out of his room when Lady’s Favor had been attacked, and he carried no other weapons.

Beside him, Velati stiffened again, yanking his blade free in a rush and taking a single, sudden step forward.

“No!” Kovrim shouted, trying to stop the younger man from his foolishness, but the priest wasn’t fast enough. He heard the unmistakable twang of several bows firing, and right before him, three missiles lodged in Velati’s chest. The young man jerked and stumbled as Kovrim flinched away, fearful that he, too, would be struck by overly eager bowmen. No shots hit him, though, and he turned back to see Velati lying facedown, blood pooling beneath his twisted, still form.

“Damn you!” Kovrim shouted, moving over to where the younger man lay. “Velati!” he shouted, gingerly turning the young man onto his back. Velati’s eyes were wide with pain, but he still breathed. Sighing in relief, Kovrim looked up at his potential captors, more specifically at the man who had ordered their surrender. “I’m going to heal him, nothing more,” he said, reaching in his tunic for the symbol

of Waukeen he kept on a chain around his neck. “I’m no threat to you,” he said carefully, hoping the other man would understand.

The soldier eyed Kovrim warily and motioned for him to hold. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You will come with us.”

“But he’s going to die!” Kovrim shouted, furious. “I’ll disarm him first, if that’s what you want, but you can’t let him perish for one foolish, youthful mistake.”

“He made his choice, and now you must make yours, old man,” the soldier said, scowling. “If you do anything other than stand up and surrender to us right now, you will be left here to die, too.”

Stunned, Kovrim eyed the other soldier, refusing to move. He couldn’t believe that a mercenary would be so callous as to let another soldier die, enemy or not. The code of war that most companies in the Reach fought by precluded such barbarous acts. “You can’t mean it,” he said at last, watching the man’s face for some sign of his real intentions.

“I do, and we will,” the soldier replied. “Now stand up. It’s your last warning.”

Kovrim shook his head, still unwilling to leave Velati to bleed to death. The young man’s breathing had grown more rapid and shallow, and it was becoming moist. There wasn’t much time left.

At that point, another soldier standing next to the leader who had been speaking moved next to his companion and whispered something in the man’s ear. The speaker jerked his gaze around to look at the second fellow and shook his head, and there seemed to be a quick argument. Finally, the second mercenary shrugged and moved back to his spot as the speaker scowled for a moment.

“I’ve changed my mind,” the speaker said at last. “You will hold perfectly still while my men search

your companion and rid him of any weapons. Only then will you be allowed to heal him. But if I sense even one false move on your part, if I see the barest hint of you casting your magic at me or any of my men, you’ll be sporting so many arrows that you’ll look like a seamstress’s pincushion. Do you understand?”

Kovrim nodded and rocked back on his heels, motioning for his captors to do their work quickly. He sat very still as the men surrounding him drew beads on him. Two soldiers trotted forward, removed Velati’s sword from the young man’s grasp, and tossed it well out of reach. They did the same with a pair of daggers and they thoroughly searched Kovrim. Once they were satisfied that neither mercenary had anything more hidden, they stepped back.

Kovrim gave the leader an expectant glance, one eyebrow raised. The other man nodded once, and the priest moved close to Velati and began to pray, his hands roaming over the wounds, the arrows and bolts still imbedded in his flesh. Feeling the surge of magic inside him, Kovrim yanked one of the missiles free just as he applied the healing orison.

Velati jumped and issued a half-strangled cry of pain, but the gaping hole in his ribs sealed itself in a moment more. Sighing with relief that the young soldier had survived that first attempt, Kovrim applied a second spell, and a third, withdrawing the weapons a split second before finishing the magic. By the third such healing, Velati was gasping and clutching at his body, obviously still in pain but stable enough to remain conscious.

“Now, you foolish boy,” Kovrim said when he was finished, “you will do exactly as I say, or I will let these men kill you and be done with your ridiculous notions of heroics. Is that clear?”

Velati looked at Kovrim, licked his lips in fear and relief, and nodded.

“Good,” Kovrim said, backing away and holding his hands up to show that he was not doing anything else untoward. “I’m finished,” he said to all within range. “He will need help walking, though. He’s still very weak.”

“That will be your job, then,” the leader said. “Now give me that coin around your neck and get him on his feet.”