Sanctuary (50 page)

I
MOSHEN TUCKED HER
drowsy children into the bedding they’d set up in the hold and kissed their foreheads, Umaleni first then Deyne, who stirred and smiled at her before drifting off to sleep. Her heart turned over in her chest. She loved them so fiercely. If love alone could save them...

With lingering wonder, she stroked baby Arodyti’s cheek as the infant suckled at her devotee’s breast. Barely half a year old, this little girl had already survived being hidden in a chicken coop when her parents were murdered. Deyne had found her and fed her, cared for her when the Mieren found him and taken him across Chalcedonia, delivering them to Imoshen for the reward. Having survived against all odds, surely the baby girl was meant to grow up to do great things?

Tonight Imoshen wished she believed in a benevolent god who protected the innocent. But she’d seen what the Chalcedonians believed were gods, and they were only the mindless predators of the empyrean plane.

‘Here.’ Frayvia undid the clasp of her neck torc. ‘I want you to wear this.’

‘But Sorne gave it to you.’

‘Wear it.’

Imoshen leaned forward. Frayvia fastened the torc around her neck and kissed her lips. ‘May this protect you, as it has protected him all these years.’

Imoshen thought Sorne’s wits had protected him, but she didn’t protest.

Frayvia looked up. ‘What if –’

‘If the ship is taken?’

She nodded.

Down at the far end of the hold, Imoshen could hear Reoden’s people settling their sisterhood’s children.

Imoshen took her devotee’s hand and held her eyes as she gift-infused her. ‘I believe, while there is life, there is hope. Whatever happens, you must live to protect these children.’

‘I will never let you down,’ Frayvia whispered fiercely. ‘But they say I’ll die if you die.’

‘Only if you believe it.’

‘How can you be so certain?’

‘You carry my treasured memories for Uma. Would I give them to you if I didn’t think you’d outlive me?’ In truth, Imoshen could not be certain. She knew only that gift-working was not an exact science.

She kissed her devotee’s cheek and came to her feet.

She did not have the strength to look on her children one more time. If she did, it would undo her.

From now on, she had to be cold and strong.

Ducking a low beam, Imoshen threaded her way through the bales to the steps.

R
ONNYN SAID GOODBYE
to his little brothers at the mid-deck hatch. Baby Ashmyr slept in the devotee’s arms. Dropping to one knee, Ronnyn hugged Vittor and Tamaron. ‘I need you two to be brave.’

‘I wish you were coming with us,’ Vittor whispered, pulling out of the hug.

‘I have to help defend the ship. I promised Ma I’d protect you.’

‘I’ll stay and fight,’ Vittor said.

‘Me too,’ Tamaron echoed.

‘You will, when you are big,’ Ronnyn said, throat tight with pride and love. ‘Now, go below and watch over Ashmyr for me.’

‘We’ll protect him,’ Tamaron promised.

Vittor caught Ronnyn’s eye and they shared a smile. Then Vittor took Tamaron’s hand and they both climbed down.

‘They’re good boys,’ the devotee said, her voice thick with emotion.

Ronnyn touched Ashmyr’s downy head – so small, so vulnerable – and looked into Meleya’s mulberry eyes. ‘Thank you.’

She stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. ‘Ree will probably send you both down to the hold anyway.’

He and Sardeon had refused to drink the hot posset or go with the rest of the children. The devotee climbed down and his little brothers waved from the deck below.

As Ronnyn crossed the mid-deck, everything seemed clearer and more intense. Even the air was fresh and sharp. Malaunje warriors from both sisterhoods prowled the planks; most spoke softly, but some laughed too loudly, hurting his ears.

The hands-of-force from both sisterhoods had gathered all the empowered lads considered big enough to hold a weapon, and were lecturing them on what to expect. Ronnyn listened for a moment. There was no jostling or joking from the lads this evening. They were eager to prove themselves and win stature.

When Ronnyn inhaled, he could taste the tension in the air. It wasn’t just the T’En gifts rising; it felt like a storm was coming. Yet there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Although it was not quite dusk, the cabin was dark. They’d closed the shutters and bolted them. Ronnyn found Sardeon helping the two gift-warriors into their armour. As he joined them, he could feel their power rolling off their skin. It made his heart race and his mouth go dry. This evening, their usually sweet gifts held a sharp undertone, as if the threat changed them in some way.

Tasasne thanked Sardeon. Grimly efficient, she turned to Ysattori. ‘Ready?’

Ysattori nodded and they kissed solemnly, then left the cabin.

Sardeon swallowed audibly and Ronnyn glanced to him. His choice-brother looked like he might faint at any moment. It struck Ronnyn that he was more afraid of Sardeon disgracing himself, than of him being killed.

‘I won’t falter when it counts,’ Sardeon assured him. ‘Although I may pass out, afterwards.’

Ronnyn felt a smile tug at his lips. The bathing chamber door opened as Gift-tutor Sarodyti and her devotee came in. Ronnyn hadn’t seen them since the incident on deck, and he was so relieved he could have hugged them both. Devotee Parnia’s head was bandaged and Sarodyti looked a little pale, but they were both on their feet.

‘Did Ree say you were to help us defend the cabin?’ the gift-tutor asked.

Ronnyn glanced to Sardeon.

‘I see. Then it’s off down to the hold with the rest of the children.’

Before they could object, Hand-of-force Cerafeoni strode into the cabin, herding the injured empowered lad ahead of her. She gave Ronnyn and Sardeon a sharp look, but when she spoke it was to Sarodyti. ‘This is Vittor, Saro. He’ll help you defend the cabin.’

The lad drew breath as if to argue.

Cerafeoni silenced him with a look.

He nodded, clearly unhappy.

‘More balls than brains,’ the hand-of-force muttered. But she thumped his good arm as she went to leave, only to find Reoden had come in behind her.

The healer gestured to Ronnyn and Sardeon. ‘What are these two boys doing here, Saro?’

‘They refused to go below.’

‘They might as well fight,’ the hand-of-force said. ‘If the sea-vermin take the ship, they’re going to kill them anyway.’

‘Cera...’ Reoden protested.

The hand-of-force shrugged. ‘When we face death, it’s time for plain speaking.’

‘So it is.’ Reoden took Sardeon’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead. ‘You have always made me proud. Always.’

He nodded, wine-dark eyes glittering with tears.

Then she cupped Ronnyn’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead. Amusement glinted in her eyes as she looked on him. ‘You have made such a difference to all our lives. Lucky was the day you came to us.’

He wanted to throw his arms around her, but the hand-of-force led her away, discussing the deployment of warriors. Ronnyn glanced to Sardeon. He looked pale and startled, as if he hadn’t really expected to win the battle of wills and now that he had, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

‘I like your choice-mother,’ Vittor said.

‘Come here, boys.’ Sarodyti led the three of them over to a pile of weapons. She gestured to the windows. ‘If the sea-vermin break through, we are to beat them back. We don’t want them attacking our defenders from behind. Understood?’

They nodded.

‘Spears would be more use than knives,’ her devotee muttered. ‘With spears we won’t need to get too close.’

Sarodyti nodded. ‘Go fetch some staves from the Malaunje supplies, Parnia. We’ll tie the knives to the end.’

She slipped away.

When she had gone, Sarodyti turned back to them. ‘Check the shutters.’

They’d already been checked more than once, but Ronnyn was happy to have something to do.

As they made sure the last shutter was secure, Vittor said, ‘I should be outside, with the other empowered lads.’

‘At least they didn’t try to make you drink a hot milk posset,’ Sardeon said.

He snorted.

Ronnyn grinned.

Sarodyti’s devotee returned with half a dozen stout wooden staves. She and Sarodyti began strapping knife hilts to the ends, their gnarled old hands flying. It seemed wrong for these two elderly women to be frantically preparing weapons, but the sea-vermin wouldn’t spare them.

Ronnyn swallowed. He glanced to Sardeon. ‘Come on. We should help.’

They joined in, and the task was completed all too soon.

‘I hate waiting,’ Vittor said. ‘How long before they attack, gift-tutor?’

‘We’ll hear them attempting to board the brotherhood ships first,’ she said. ‘The all-fathers have formed a circle around the three sisterhood ships.’

‘There’s only four of them,’ Sardeon said. ‘It can’t be much of a circle.’

The gift-tutor conceded this with a nod. ‘The smaller brotherhood ships will be in the most danger.’

At that moment they heard an eerie, echoing horn. To Ronnyn it sounded like the mating challenge of a sea-boar. Dimly, through the ship’s wood, they heard shouting, and the clatter of metal on metal.

‘It’s begun,’ Parnia whispered.

Ronnyn glanced to Sardeon. His new choice-brother trembled ever so slightly. Ronnyn hoped, for Sardeon’s sake, that he wouldn’t faint and disgrace himself.

If Ronnyn was honest, he hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself either.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

T
OBAZIM SHRUGGED HIS
shoulders, feeling the brotherhood’s all-father armour lift and settle. The helmet restricted his vision and dulled his hearing, but the sight of him and his two seconds in their traditional armour would inspire his warriors.

He gripped the rail as he watched the sea-vermin approach the fleet. There were so many vessels of all shapes and sizes that they had no trouble surrounding the fleet. A wall of sound grew as the sea-raiders’ vessels manoeuvred into position, every deck crowded with chanting, screaming Mieren. Some of the vessels were so small Tobazim wondered how they dared sail out of sight of land.

‘Pond scum...’a Malaunje sailor muttered.

‘Don’t underestimate the pond scum. They’re brilliant sailors and they’re desperate,’ Ardonyx said. He caught Tobazim’s eye and gave the slightest of nods, the agreed-upon signal.

Ardonyx might be commander of the fleet, but Tobazim was all-father of the brotherhood. The order to attack should come from him. Tobazim appreciated the courtesy.

‘Norsasno!’ Tobazim yelled down to the mid-deck. ‘Fire at will.’

The hand-of-force strode across the deck,yelling to the archers in the rigging. ‘You heard him. Make every arrow count.’

Hueryx’s hand-of-force echoed his command.

A rain of arrows flew towards the crowded decks of the sea-vermin’s vessels.

The enemy shouted abuse and waved their weapons, their faces painted to resemble vicious animals. It didn’t seem to matter how many were struck down with arrows; others filled their places, screaming defiance. The sea-vermin seemed hardly human.

Fear crawled around Tobazim’s belly like a hungry worm. Sweat broke out on his skin.

They’d prepared the ship as much as possible. Ceyne was below deck in one of the Malaunje cabins with the injured. Valendia had rallied and was at his side. Athlyn had volunteered to support the Malaunje on the lower deck.

Ardonyx nudged Tobazim and pointed. On the decks of the nearest enemy vessels, sea-vermin swung grappling hooks in preparation for boarding and archers let loose a rain of arrows. These rose, hissing through the air. Some hit the rigging, some overshot and a few landed on the deck.

Norsasno strode towards Tobazim and Ardonyx, the many panels of his armour glinting like fish scales. An arrow skidded across his shoulder.

‘Why don’t they let the grappling hooks fly?’ Tobazim asked Ardonyx.

‘I think they’re waiting for...’

A horn sounded. It echoed across the sea as it was repeated from boat to boat.

Impossible as it seemed, the volume of sea-vermin’s howls and screams increased. Grappling hooks soared, whistling through the air.

Thunk... thunk.

The hooks hit the rails, bit into the wood and caught, weighted down immediately by eager raiders trying to scale the higher ship.

Axe in one hand, long-knife in the other, Tobazim severed the nearest rope, sending Mieren toppling into the sea between their vessels. But almost immediately, another three hooks bit into the rail within arm’s length of where he stood and more agile raiders clambered up.

It was always the same with the Mieren. No regard for life, not even their own.

How would he hold the
Victorious
?

Paragian’s ship had taken position on the far side of the causare’s. The two smaller brotherhood ships had manoeuvred to the prow and stern of her ship. The two small sisterhood ships nestled in close to the causare’s, but there was still enough space for the sea-vermin vessels to worm their way between the T’Enatuath ships.

There were so many raiders, all willing to die. How would they save their people?

As he thought this, Tobazim realised he’d begun to think like Ardonyx. He fought not just for his brotherhood, but for the T’Enatuath.

A
RAVELLE SAT WITH
her back to a bale. Through the ship’s sturdy oak planks, she could hear the roar of the sea-vermin’s attack. Although muted, it was terrifying; like a great storm, battering the vessel.

Her two-year-old sisterlay stretched out beside her as she drifted off to sleep. Singing softly under her breath, Aravelle trailed her fingers over Itania’s back. This was how her mother used to sing the little ones to sleep. But the gentleness of Aravelle’s touch and the sweet melody were a lie. She seethed with anger.

They’d lost their home and their parents. They should have been safe once they joined the T’Enatuath. Instead, they had known only danger. Would the Mieren never leave them alone?