The Hidden Fire (Book 2) (13 page)

Kyric
doubled the tempo.  It wasn’t long before he felt like he couldn’t go on.  He
looked at Rolirra and she met his eye.  She was near exhaustion as well, but the
unspoken covenant he saw there allowed him to push through it.  She needed him
to keep leading without fail, and if he did his part, she would match him step
for step.

They
danced on, never looking away from one another.  As the stars began to fade,
the island shook hard for a moment, and they collapsed to the ground, still
holding hands.  When the sun came up they saw the island had butted against a
shore where dozens of tiny streams cascaded down a long steep slope.  At the
top of the slope, an ancient pine forest lay on a tableland veiled by rain.

They
climbed down from the island, and up a rocky path that followed one of the
streams.  A thick overcast hung low over the forest.  Cresting the slope, they
passed into it, and into the rain, the floor of pine needles soft against their
bare feet.

“We’ve
made it,” Rolirra said.

The
rain was cold.  They found a place where a huge tree had fallen against an
outcropping of stone.  A sheet of rough grey moss draped down from one limb,
and Kyric tore it away.  They found a narrow dry place beneath the fallen tree
and lay down there, covering themselves with the blanket of moss, huddling for
warmth.

He
awoke with Lerica in his arms, fitted against him like a spoon.

There
was almost no light.  A thick cover of clouds blotted out the sunrise, and it
began to rain, lightly, gently, not much more than a drizzle.

All
the Ilven were up at once, looking at him with tired but grateful smiles.  They
all knew the plan.  They signed thanks to him in Cor’el.  Quickly surrounding
Rolirra, they all spoke at once until she hushed them and told them to stop
making a scene.

‘
It’s
not enough
,’ Kyric signed to her.  ‘
It would take weeks of this to flood
the river
.’

She
nodded.  ‘
Yes.  I must think upon it
.’

The
Ilven broke into smaller groups, some fetching the cold fish, others washing
themselves in the rain.

He
turned to find Lerica standing beside him.  “So you can really do it.  You can
call the rain in your sleep like some kind of dream magician.”

She
had been privy to his conversation with Rolirra that first night.  He had
wondered why she never asked him about it.

“It’s
not like that,” he said.  “It’s not magic — or hell, maybe it is.  I don’t
know.  I think of it as a separate reality that overlaps this one.  Rolirra
seems able to draw me into it.  I don’t even know if I can go there on my own.”

Thurlun
didn’t present a slave to Aiyan that morning, instead he strutted about the
camp in a leather hat and rattan cane, barking out orders, swatting at the
Ilven, harassing the hunters as they gathered provisions and packed the
longboat, chiding the sharpshooters about dry powder and keeping their locks
covered with oilcloths.  All the time with Aiyan’s locket hanging from his
belt.

Lerica’s
brow darkened.  “He’s already given up on his game.  This is bad.”  She and
Kyric stood waiting for the first net to be laid.

As
Thurlun crossed the camp, Guppy at his heel, Aiyan stood.  “In the end,” he
said, “it will bring madness.”

Thurlun
stopped and turned.  “What?”

Aiyan
pointed to the locket.  “Only those with the essence of the warrior may bear
the flame without harm.  When carried by the unworthy, it will burn their
spirit.”

Thurlun
froze, water dripping from his hat.  “Still think you’re better than everyone,
do you?  You think you’re special because someone gave you a special locket?” 
He drew his pistols and handed them to Guppy.  They were wheel-locks, and Kyric
knew from his own pistol that they would fire in the rain.

“You’re
going to show me how to open this,” Thurlun said, “But first I’m going to beat
the arrogance out of you.”

He
stepped forward, raising the cane, and Aiyan took a fighting stance.  Even
chained to the stump, he would easily take Thurlun’s cane away and thrash him
with it.

Thurlun
paused.  “Do I have to bring those two kids over here and have Guppy hold the
pistols to their heads?  You will take it, Candy.  You will take it indeed.”

Aiyan
turned his back as Thurlun struck him furiously with the cane.  He covered his
head and took it in silence.  Everyone had stopped working, and there was only
the sound of the blows over the gentle fall of the rain.  Aiyan soon dropped to
the ground, curling against the stump, protecting himself as well as he could. 
Thurlun lashed him again and again, and blood began to show through Aiyan’s
shirt.

“Back
to work,” Ral shouted to the river crew.  “Start hauling on that net.  We have
a catch to get in.”  They turned their backs and began to pull.

The
sound of the beating went on, the crack of each blow making them cringe now. 
It went on agonizingly long, and each lash became a horror as they thought the one
before had surely been the final stroke.  Tears ran down the faces of the Ilven
to be lost among raindrops.  One of the women sobbed aloud with each crack of
the cane.

At
last there was a blow and none followed.  Kyric looked over his shoulder.

The
cane had been reduced to splinters.  Thurlun threw it down and whipped Aiyan
with the locket and chain.  “What the hell is this?” he screamed at Aiyan.  “You
will open it, Candy!  You will open it now!”

Aiyan
stayed on the ground.  “First you must call me by my name,” he said, his voice
husky and strained.  “I am Sir Aiyan Dubern.”

Thurlun
clutched the locket and tore at it with his fingernails.  “Goddess damn it!” he
bellowed.  He snatched his pistols from Guppy and stomped back to his hut.

Aiyan
stayed on the ground for a long time before he picked himself up and sat on the
stump.  He moved very slowly and swayed a little, as if he felt faint.  At
length he managed to get his shirt off and let the rain run over his back, his
head hanging down between his knees.

“He
doesn’t look so good,” Lerica whispered.  “He doesn’t even look like he can
walk.”

“It
looks bad, but he’s had plenty worse.”

The
work became more difficult as the footing turned slick, and then muddy.  It was
hardest on the pickers, as they had to drag the rays, wriggling and fighting,
up the shallow slope to the tables.  At one point Kyric slipped, and slid
uncomfortably close to an angel ray’s stinger before Lerica pulled him back.

The
accident at the tables happened in the mid-afternoon.  Those working at the
river heard a shout and a scream, and by the time they stopped and looked it
was over.  A ray had got loose while they were trying to strap it to a table. 
Two strap-men had been stung in an instant.  One of the pickers tried to re-hook
it as it flailed back and forth, but instead had pierced its halo, and the ray
covered him and one of the cutters in a spray of venom.  The four of them died
before anyone could help.

Thurlun
came out and went up to the table, spitting out a curse with every step. 
Tebble was the overseer there, and Thurlun dragged him aside by the collar for
a quiet dressing-down.  While they were taking the bodies away to be dumped in
the swamp, Thurlun came back for a quick conference with Guppy and Ral.

“Four,”
said Thurlun, still fuming.  “All of them experienced.”

“With
the rain and all,” said Ral, “we should probably go back to a one-net
operation.”

Guppy
shook his head.  “Too bad.  We were getting half again more halos this way.”

“We
can keep running both nets,” Thurlun said  “We’ll replace the strap-men from
the haulers.  One man short on each net won’t make much of a difference.”  He
glanced at Aiyan, who hadn’t moved all day.  “As a matter of fact, make it
those two.”  He pointed to Kyric and Lerica.

Ral
nodded.  “And the pickers?”

“The
pickers can make do as they are.”

“That
leaves someone for a new cutter,” Guppy said with a sigh.  “What a shame.  That
girl was really good at it.”

Thurlun
looked the crew of slaves up and down for a moment, not finding what he
wanted.  “Pull one of the old women off the island,” he said.  “Cutting doesn’t
require any strength.”

Ral
escorted Kyric and Lerica up to the tables.  “Remember,” he told them, “get the
stinger tied down first.  And tell the pickers to keep their hooks in until you
have the ray completely secure.  When the cutter starts in on the halo, be sure
you’re well back.”

He
presented them to Tebble.  “Your new strap-men.”

Tebble
stared at Lerica a little too long.  “I wish I had more strappers that looked
like her.”

“Don’t
let the colonel hear you say that,” Ral said.  “Not after this morning.”

Guppy
arrived with Rolirra in tow.  Kyric had thought he would choose her over the
other woman.  She looked frightened and uncertain.  She had never thought she
would have to do this.

The
blotches on Tebble’s face had faded some, but he still looked flushed with
anger all the time.  That wasn’t far from the truth.

“Get
into your leathers,” he growled.

In
addition to a serrated knife, the cutters were given leather aprons, along with
caps and long-sleeved gloves.  The strap-men got aprons as well, but nothing
else.  At least he and Lerica had shirts and trousers, thought Kyric.

Lerica
gave him a significant look.  She glanced at the knife in Rolirra’s hand, then
at Tebble.  He carried a machete in his sash, and so did the overseer at the
other table.  “I don’t see where it would get us,” he whispered to her.

Tebble
pointed with his chin.  “See these mops and buckets we have here?  They’re for
swabbing your aprons.  But if you get any angel juice on your skin, you mop it
off as fast as you can.  
If
, and only if the ray is secure.  You drop
the rope or put anyone else in danger and you will be food for the crocs. 
Understand?”

While
they got into their aprons, the pickers brought a ray and placed it on the
other table for the crew that waited there.  They were able to watch for a
minute, to see how it was done, and then another team of pickers dragged a
thrashing angel ray up their table and it was their turn.

Placing
the ray on the table was the most awkward part of the whole process.  The
pickers had to choke up on their poles, getting uncomfortably close to the
struggling ray, in order to heave it onto the table.  One of them had set his
hook too close to the edge of the ray’s wing fin, and it tore through as he
lifted.  They had to set it on the ground and re-hook it, and all the time it
oozed its poison.

There
were no actual straps, only lengths of ropes that tied to belaying pins fixed
along the edge of the table, much like those on a ship.  Kyric and Lerica each took
a rope’s end and whipped it over the stinger and tied off.  This kept it from
flailing about, and now they could get a loop around it and tie it down hard.

The
pickers still held the ray to the table as Lerica tossed another length of rope
over its back to Kyric.  They pulled down hard and tied off.  They did this two
more times and signaled the pickers to unhook.  The ray lay still for a moment,
and with its fins spread like wings, it was a strangely beautiful creature. 
Its grey backside was graced with lime green tiger stripes.  Kyric could
imagine it gliding through the water, sleek and majestic.

“Everyone
stand back,” Tebble barked.  He shoved Rolirra forward, and she nearly slipped
in the mud.  “Go do your job, old hag.”

She
stood facing the head of the ray, like the young woman at the other table had,
raising the knife to cut in a back hand motion.  The ray was much bigger than
her; she looked small and frail standing next to it.

“Be
sure to get underneath the skin,” Tebble called to her.  “That way we get all
of the halo.”

She
began to cut.  The creature jerked violently, a stream of venom spraying out
sideways from behind its gills.  Rolirra jumped back, dropping the knife.

Tebble
made a face.  “Good Goddess!  What are you doing?” he shouted at her.  “Pick up
the knife and get on with it.”

Gripping
the knife more firmly, she went in for another try.  She cut hard and deep
beneath the halo, sawing with the knife as the creature bucked.  It was low,
and difficult to hear, but the ray made an airy whistling sound as it thrashed.

Kyric
had to look away for a moment.  Everyone knew that taking the halo killed the
rays, and that they died in agony, but it was different to have to watch it up
close, smelling the venom, hearing its soft cry.

Rolirra
pulled back.  She was weeping.  ‘
Must I make it suffer so greatly
?’ she
said-signed.

“It’s
only a fish,” Lerica snapped at her, “and a nasty one at that.”  She stepped in
to take the knife away, signing, ‘
Here.  Let me do it
.’

“Don’t
touch that knife,” Tebble warned.  “It’s her job — she’s the one who has to do
it.”  Drawing the knotted rope from his sash, he shook it at Rolirra and said,
“Get back in there and get that halo before I tan your hide, old woman.”

Kyric
took a step forward, not sure what he would do if Tebble tried to whip
Rolirra.  Tebble saw the look on his face and dropped the rope, drawing his
machete and looking Kyric in the eye.

“Were
you going to say something?” he said in a taunting voice.  “Please say
something smart.  I want you to.”

Rolirra
pulled herself together and finished cutting off the halo.  The ray struggled
for several minutes before it died.

An
extra slave wheeled the cart over to their table.  He had a length of rope with
a regular fish hook on the end.  He used it to drag the ray off the table. 
When the cart was full he would dump the dead rays into the swamp.

Kyric
shook his head.  The way this whole operation worked was lunacy.  Men who
fished for their living would never have set it up this way, especially not
those backed by business financiers.  And what about the ship that brought them
here?  It should have stayed as a base of support instead of leaving them on
their own for three months.  He wondered if the Baskillians that Thurlun dealt
with were pulling something shady within their own empire.