CHAPTER 13
The part I didn’t expect was the fire. It engulfed me in a towering pillar of flame.
My nostrils filled with brimstone, and though I wanted to choke, my breathing was un-ailed.
Even now, the memory of those flames haunts me.
I can feel them licking up my body and lapping at my flesh.
I can hear the crackling and popping of my skin. I can feel it consume my very bones.
It was this violent eruption that invoked in me the madness to go to her. I could not be held back.
—Entry from the private diary of Jerris, Dragonbound
ELDRETH
Late Summer, Maymon 1036
The seas were rough, befitting the mission as well as the waning moon.
Soon, it would be new, offering me the black night I needed for this fool’s errand.
I questioned my sanity for agreeing to it.
Dane insisted it was vital for both my betrothal and the Riht.
The latter I loved dearly, and the former, well, who knew what the future would bring.
Not that there was any other choice now.
I welcomed the icy sea air against my face, the tang of salt on my tongue, and even the sting in my eyes.
The small vessel I captained was light, quick, and would easily handle the shallow Inraen coastline.
Already, we were halfway down Inra’s western coast. I hated that land.
It was hard and dry. Its trees were short, as were its people.
I cared nothing for this tiny continent, yet my betrothal was meant to reclaim and better its people and its land.
Dane was determined, but I knew Inra would never return to the fold of the Riht.
This all better be worth it. I sighed, and the sea air swallowed the sound.
“Review the plan, Sellan.”
“Yes, Captain. We land tomorrow at dusk, less than a league north of the summon point. We take one company inland to find the missing ranng. If we’re lucky, they’ll be at the old campground where we left them.
One party will circle east, another south, to ensure they aren’t being tracked.
We extract them and exit immediately, departing before dawn. ”
“Excellent.” I clapped my second on the back. “What could possibly go wrong?”
“Anything.”
I quirked an eyebrow, unlikely to be seen in the dark.
“Never trust an Inraen, if you ask me.” His usual high timbre had dropped an octave.
“You think Dane was wrong to send us?”
“No. Dane had his reasons. He’s playing some long game none of us can see. Always something turning in that great mind of his.”
I grumbled my assent.
The sea tumbled, and the wind stayed strong through the following day.
Each gust promised luxurious speed. We docked before dusk, to find our hidden camp nestled in the Inraen forest abandoned, tents empty, and only our permanent guard hidden in the trees.
Fortunately, I’d allowed time to send an extra two groups to scout before the rest of the troop would start to move.
“Captain,” Yaego called out, the swiftest scout in my contingent of warriors, “there’s a party of soldiers making their way down the coastline. The rest of the area is clear.”
“Thank you, my friend. Take some rest with the boat.”
She nodded her fully shaved head, grasped my forearm, and turned back toward the shoreline. The plan was in motion. It was well-formed and well-practiced, as was everything with my ranng. Tonight was no exception. But it wasn’t my warriors I worried about.
I watched Yaego depart, then turned to Sellan. “One party along the coast. Unusual.”
Sellan nodded. “Perhaps scouting for something? Us?”
“No, Yaego would’ve marked them as scouts.” I ran a hand down my short beard that had grown over the days at sea. “We keep alert. Spread the party’s description amongst the troop. Let’s hope we avoid them. I have no wish for bloodshed this night.”
Sellan nodded and set off with his orders.
With night well underway, I led half the troop in small groups through the forest, the other half behind with the ship.
We were no lumbering Inraen army, clomping around in noisy, even rows.
No—we were a force of subtlety, stealth, and precision, at one with nature.
Each warrior picked their way through the path in silence.
Years of hard training, much of it under me, gave us our speed.
Woe be it to any party not on their guard.
A Riht force like ours could be upon them before they even thought to look up from their campfire, let alone draw a blade.
This was also how our sizable force came unnoticed upon a group of six men collected around a small fire. There was no sign of our missing ranng, but something told me we’d still found our quarry.
“I plan ‘o take a proper bath an’ get this grime offa me,” one man announced in a thick accent. “Three months withou’ un.”
“Ye smell like i’ too.”
The other men surrounding the fire chuckled.
I raised a fist, halting the troop. I didn’t recognize these men, but if I was right, there was only one among them that I would. They were hired men, speaking in Mayoran. Based on the accent, they were mercenaries, likely outcasts from Volaach, not native Inraens.
One slow step at a time, I circled the camp. With a single command, my warriors could plant arrows in every chest. They’d be dead before they knew they were under attack.
The youngest in the group jeered some nonsense across the camp, and the rest peeled into raucous laughter. Then, he stood—prompting more hoots and hollers—and strode toward the fire. He raised his arms, spun full in a circle, then bowed.
I rolled my eyes. Fucking attention whore.
“Gentlemen, our time here is finally at an end. Be at ease, my promised rescuers are here.” He gave another annoying little bow. “Come, come!” he called out in Rihtish.
With a sigh, I rose and approached the fire. The rest of my ranng held back, ever cautious and in position.
“Brother!” At my approach, he held his arms wide as if he had just performed some great trick. More likely, he had noticed the soft bird calls Sellan was repeating to signal our arrival.
We clasped forearms before I was pulled into a swift hug. It was a ruse for my brother, slightly taller than me, to whisper in my ear.
“They’re well paid, but toothless on your left has a strong allegiance to himself and is eager to find a way to double-cross.”
I glanced over my shoulder and marked the man in question, grinning like an idiot, more teeth missing than present.
“We’ll take them halfway up the coast and dump them,” he added.
Here for less than ten seconds, and already giving commands. I sighed. “Nice to see you, too.”
WITH THE help of the troop, dismantling their mercenary camp was a short affair.
I grabbed one of my brother’s sacks, wrapped in a thick tan cloth—almost white.
I shook my head. Light cloth in a dark forest would shine like a fucking beacon, even at night.
Any Riht should know better. I signaled to the two closest to me to collect the remaining bags.
Within minutes, the fire was doused, and the half-dozen men were ushered in a single line toward the coast, flanked by my warriors.
The stars shone down on us, blessing our journey. I smiled at the black moon and focused on my steps. Within an hour, we would be at sea, making our way back home. I itched to get back.
The journey for these men would be much more difficult than it was for my trained group.
I saw their eyes searching about in the darkness.
We’d be better off just leaving them here.
I stopped before my brother and handed him a length of rope, which I had looped through my belt for exactly this reason.
One by one, we moved down the line, connecting all six men.
Sellan took the lead. He guided our small contingent through the softest patches of earth, trying to minimize the clomping of the Volaachi mercenaries’ feet.
As we neared the end of the trees, Yaego’s earlier warning prickled the back of my mind.
I moved to the front and hissed into my brother’s ear, “Step softly.”
He answered with a tsk.
I turned as we walked, scanning the full perimeter.
The camp was far behind and out of sight when a clamber of metal rang out through the night, followed by men shouting. Inraen men. Yaego appeared before me.
“Trouble,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“How long?”
“Minutes. The Inraen soldiers were headed straight for the campfire. We need to set sail immediately, or we risk being seen.”
“Take the lead.” I handed her the sack from my shoulder, and Yaego took Sellan’s place. “We’ll follow.” I waited for Yaego’s sharp nod before dashing toward the firelight. The clash of blades grew louder with each step. Cries sounded into the night. Cries of death.
I nodded to Sellan, not needing to explain my thoughts after years of battle and training together.
Sellan nodded and slipped back into the trees.
My face hardened into a grim mask as I took in the group before me, then I exploded out of the copse onto rough sand.
The pommel of my sword met the first man’s head with a sickening crunch.
The man next to him was already on the ground, completely still.
Three of my warriors were surrounded by the remaining eight Inraen soldiers, two of which wore officers’ mail.
From my troop, one man was bleeding, but the two women were unharmed.
Three Inraens bled heavily. They would fall soon.
I didn’t want to see more. I sliced at the nearest officer, a hulking brute.
He brought up his sword in time to deflect the blow, but not the knife I sent flying at his companion.
It buried into the shoulder gap of the second man’s sword arm.
He screamed, dropped his weapon, and fell to his knees.
I could see the fear in the man’s eyes—fear that was all too familiar.
This was no seasoned soldier. This was an honorary officer, no doubt forced to fight in his king’s army by some idiotic Inraen tradition.
I had seen men like these—lordlings, nobility, and gentry alike—enough to turn my stomach.
They were ill-equipped buffoons with god complexes.
Still, the fight was unfairly in our favor.
I drew my second blade and attacked. The first brute fell in three blows.
His lordling companion tried to rise, but I kicked him down, sparing his life—if he survived the shoulder wound.
I turned to meet the third officer just in time, parrying his sloppy but powerful overhead strike.
His eyes were wide with panic. I struck low, aiming to disable him.
I had no interest in killing untrained men.
This officer was quick and jumped out of range.
I rolled, staying low and parrying three quick strikes from above as he swung at me in desperation.
I swiped at his knee and scored a hit. He went down and, thanks to my mercy, would live to see another day.
I glanced over my shoulder. My warriors had taken care of the last few Inraens, but judging by the blood, they had not left survivors.
The lordling tried to rise again, still clutching his shoulder. I locked eyes with him and said to my warriors in Mayoran, “Let’s move.” He stilled, and something like relief washed over his face.
I turned when metal rang out again. It sang, not in the way a sword cuts through the air, but in the way a blade sings when sharpened, sliding against a hard surface.
The third one, who I’d spared, had a sword protruding straight through his mail-covered chest. His eyes bulged from his head.
They were young, too young, as I watched them dim.
The lordling screamed, ignoring his wounded shoulder to crawl toward his fallen companion.
I looked at my warrior responsible, standing behind him. “Branye,” I breathed. “Why?”
Her hard eyes flicked to the right.
It was Praeth, her lover, clutching a side soaked with blood.
Even in the dark, I could see the loss of blood was staggering.
I grabbed the man around his middle. All I could do was hiss, “Run,” to the pair of women as I hauled Praeth over my shoulder.
My friend might live if we moved quickly, but he might yet die.
Either way, we would all surely die if there were more Inraen soldiers nearby.
This was meant to be a mission of stealth, not a large-scale battle.
My eyes flicked back to the lordling, helmet discarded, wailing the name of his dead companion. Something tugged at that familiar spot in my mind, but there was no time to consider it. We would have to add two to our crew for the journey home.
“Get up.”
Hate-filled eyes turned toward me. “Die in a ditch.”
“If you want to live, get up and follow. Otherwise, you can join your companions where they lie.”
Sellan stepped forward out of the copse, shaking his head. No other soldiers were near enough to interfere.
“Bring him,” I said to Sellan, switching back to Rihtish, “and see that he lives.”
Sellan reached out with a length of rope to bind the man’s hands. I didn’t wait to see more with Praeth over my shoulder and bleeding steadily down my side and back. I took off toward the ship. We needed to get out to sea.
The sea was safety. The sea was the way home. The sea was hope.