Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 12

WE LEAVE TAL AND THE horses at the Eldrin house with Terrell to await our return and reach the quayside in the last dark before dawn. The ship’s captain is waiting on the jetty, watching his sailors haul their gear and crates of merchandise on board.

Brac’s assessment of the man’s pirate background were not far wrong. The captain’s grubby clothing is clamped to his body by a broad leather harness bristling with weapons and his sun-weathered face bears the scars of more battles than I would expect for an ordinary merchantman.

In spite of the gold Brac has paid him, he does not look at all pleased to see us. A gruff bark dispatches one of the sailors to show us to a cabin on the foredeck. It is cramped and smells of pitch but I have heard worse tales from those who made their sea voyages for lower payment, relegated to making the crossing down in the hold.

I walk over to Marin’s side. He is standing in the cabin doorway, staring at the five other passengers being hastily ushered on board. They are hooded and cloaked, dark shapes in the dawn light. They soon disappear out of sight as they are led to the hatch and the steps down to the lower deck.

“Marin? You are wearing your suspicious face all of a sudden. Why?”

“I don’t know yet. But I caught a brief signal from Deris when he saw them approach along the quayside. His Elf-instinct for sensing trouble again. There is something not right about those passengers. I’ll need to watch them during the voyage. You must stay alert. While I’m focused solely on just those five, keep your senses wider, include the whole shabby crew as well.”

“Of course.” I resign myself to an edgy, stressful journey, just as I had hoped for nothing worse than storms and stale ship’s hardtack. I survey the movements of the sailors with a new sense of unease.

The timbers creak as the ship moves off. I steady my footsteps against the heave of the deck, watching the soft grey of dawn ghosting the shoreline as it recedes behind us. Clear of the calm waters of the port, the mariners shout and scramble in the rigging, unfurling full sail as the breeze quickens and pulls at the mast. Only the empty ocean lies ahead now, until the shores of Annubia are ready to reveal themselves.

The ship’s windsinger stands at the bow, her far-seeing Elf-eyes scanning the high cirrus above and the distant grey waves ahead, her sea-silvered hair streaming out behind her. I listen entranced as her voice rises and falls, weaving secret Fae harmonies into the keening wind. Within minutes her song forms into its full command, bringing strength and power to the gale as the ship leans to the will of the wind.

I steady myself against the swaying deck, feeling the deep thrumming of wood over waves as the vessel streaks forward across the first rays of sunrise. Then I see Deris walking across to sing with the windweaver and I sense his joy at being once more with his own kind for a few precious hours. The haunting command-notes of their windsong blend and grow stronger, speeding the ship south as the gale carries it over the spray.

THE SHIP DROPS ANCHOR in Al’harin on the afternoon of the second day. Even from the deck I can see how the war has left its mark, never mind that Annubia has avoided the blight of actual invasion and occupation. The disruption to trade has left many of the dockworkers without employment and beggars line the quayside. Only those lucky enough to find work on the Khalim’s support mission are loading the promised sacks of grain onto Samarian ships lined up at the main jetty.

Marin walks over to stand at my side and speaks quietly.

“Ariel. Be ready for some trouble before we can go on our way.”

My stomach sinks as I scan the grubby quayside for bandits, enemy soldiers or any other potential threats.

“Surely trouble can’t have found us already?”

“As I told you, I’ve been busy searching for it myself. Within the ship. Unfortunately it was only just now I finally discovered why, in spite of being unable to resist our gold, the captain was none too pleased to have us on board. He is smuggling the Rapathian commanders from the Port Giltar garrison on the first stage of their journey home. Paid for with gold they stole from the Samarian merchants they had been systematically robbing during their occupation of the city.”

“Where are they now?”

“Waiting outside the secret compartment on the lower deck where they had been hidden during the voyage. The captain is preparing to get them off the ship as soon as we are out of the way.” He makes a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure we are not being overheard. “When I failed to find their hiding place I tried another technique. I allowed Dragar to get close enough to the captain to make some of his own offers of bribery, and thus I learned a few more details. It seems our half-pirate is already well known for smuggling Rapathian loot out of Samaran. Even though he is Samarian by birth, he has been working with the Sharktooth crime syndicate that operates out of Al’harin.”

I can feel the heat of Marin’s anger at another Samarian betrayal. I lay a hand on his arm to try to calm him.

“This is actually good news. It puts us in the right place to stop this criminal. Permanently. What else did you discover?”

“His conversation with Dragar confirmed that the deserters’ booty is inside those heavy crates being heaved out of the hold.”

“And Dragar didn’t consider that you might overhear and understand his conversation in Rapathian?”

“Probably not. I suspect he feels he has nothing to lose.” He looks round as Nem hurries across the deck toward us, strapping on her weapons. “I briefed Nem just now. She knows where to find the city guard. The rest of us need to hold back from disembarking, to delay the unloading until the Annubian soldiers get here.”

I watch Nem slip between a couple of bulky sailors and drop neatly onto the jetty before disappearing into the streets of Al’harin. Deris steps into position at my side and then Brac appears, the chain of Dragar’s shackles gripped in a beefy hand. The big Northerner clamps the chain around the ship’s rail and fixes furious blue eyes on his prisoner.

“Wait here while we show you what happens t’ your deserters who try t’ avoid making reparations for the damage they caused. If you take my advice, you’ll stay well out of it.” He moves across so that the four of us are blocking the ramp to the jetty and guarding each other’s backs.

The sailors heaving the first crate across the deck start  yelling at us to get out of their way.

Marin doesn’t move. Except to turn and speak to Brac.

“Brac, you have the loudest voice. Make sure everyone on the quayside can hear you explaining to these misguided sailors exactly why we are refusing to let them come ashore.”

Brac obliges. First in Samarian, and then in Annubian. Pause, then repeat. A curious crowd starts to gather on the quayside.

The ship’s captain appears, brandishing a heavy sword, the gold rings in his long hair glinting in the sun as he moves.

“I knew you people were trouble! Get your miserable carcasses off my ship!”

It takes him only a few moments to work out that this is not going to happen and his only recourse is to scream orders at his men to attack. The hooded deserters emerge from their hiding place and line up behind the smuggler. Yes. They have weapons concealed under those dark cloaks and their movements show that they know how to use them.

I can still sense Marin’s fury at another Samarian betrayal, his burning compulsion to deal harshly with the smuggler captain. I focus on defending his flank while leaving him to get on with what he needs to do.

The skinny fighter heading directly for me probably thinks he has picked the smallest and easiest target and I am looking forward to proving him mistaken. He is surprisingly strong for his build and a competent swordsman to boot. It takes several parries in the confined space of the deck before I can thrust aside his weapon to stab him through the throat. He goes suddenly rigid, which I take as an opportunity to shove him over the side into the murky waters of the port.

Dragar stands impassively, watching the corpse sink below the waves under the weight of spare weaponry still strapped in his leather harness. He makes no effort to interfere. Not that Brac’s expert chain-tether has left him much room to move in any case.

When I look round, Marin is still cutting his way past two of the pirates, his sights still firmly set on their captain. I manage to help him out with a low slash across the ankles of the nearest thug that sends him crashing to the bloodstained deck. Marin barely has time to give a quick nod of acknowledgement before removing the head of the other and leaping forward to take on the pirate captain.

The blast of a war-horn announces the moment the city guard arrives and the fight is almost over. A dozen heavily armed Annubians pile on board to overpower the surviving sailors and deserters and bind their hands.

Marin wrenches his blade from the smuggler’s heart with grim satisfaction and turns to address the guard captain in fluent Annubian.

“Those men over there in the dark cloaks are escaping Rapathian commanders. And I suspect there are many hidden corners of this ship with more crates of looted treasure from Port Giltar.”

The guard captain cuts a striking figure with his heavy mailshirt and helmet over scarlet Annubian robes. He makes a formal bow, one fist laid across his polished breastplate.

“Noble ally of Annubia, our thanks for preventing these enemies from running free to ravage across our land. I have already appointed a new captain who will take your treasures back to Samaran. Together with Annubia’s generous gift of grain from the Great Khalim.”

As he breaks away to shout orders to his men I feel Nem tugging at my arm.

“Ariel! We need to move. The lucky navigator who has just been gifted this pirate ship by yon guard captain has expressed his gratitude with a team of horses for us. But he has little time to buy them and pass them on to us before he needs to get here, take control of the ship and engage a crew.”

I fall into step beside her. “That was a speedy bit of bargaining.”

She shrugs. “Eldrin use of initiative. I assured the guard captain that Marin had already taken over the ship and would exchange it for the horses we need. An outrageously low price for a fast sea-going vessel, but it suits our purpose well enough.”

“You did not doubt the outcome of that fight then?”

She looks surprised. “Of course not. Even without having me there to help you through it.”

I follow her across the quayside, listening to the dull clanking of Dragar’s chains as the others keep close behind. We have barely reached the start of Al’harin’s twisting streets when one of the filthy beggars suddenly steps in front of me, blocking my way. Fierce dark eyes stare at me from over the grubby scarf covering the rest of his face… and they look somehow familiar, although I cannot quite remember from where or when. I feel Marin press close to my side, quick on the defensive, and I can tell from his stance there is already a dagger in his hand.

Then the stranger leans close and whispers.

“Ariel! You must come with me. Zandar told me you would be here in Al’harin.”

I know that voice. “Farhaz? What are you doing here?”

“Shh. Not now. Come quickly. You have made yourselves far too visible already with that little show of swordplay.”

Marin intervenes, quick to catch the urgency in his voice.

“We are in as much of a hurry to leave the city as you are. Can you ride with us?”

A moment’s hesitation before Farhaz acknowledges.

“I will fetch my horse. How will I find you?”

“The wolf will lead you to us.” Marin stoops to give Lupine her instructions as Farhaz disappears into the narrow alleyways of Al’harin.

Nem’s contact is waiting impatiently only a few yards away, in the rear courtyard of the city garrison. With six horses, ready saddled. He gives a hasty salute and hurries off to the quayside to claim his lucky prize.

Marin mounts and leads the way onto the dusty west road out of the port before reining in a little to ask me what in the name of the Five is going on here.

“We really needed to buy provisions for the journey before we left the city, so I hope your friend has thought about an alternative.”

“Marin, I have no idea. But Farhaz is the Nishan who trained me in assassin skills at Rahimar. He is not easily intimidated, so if he is telling us to move on, then I’m sure the threat is real.”

I glance over my shoulder to see Farhaz galloping toward us in pursuit of Lupine, his dark rags flying out behind him. He draws abreast of us in a cloud of yellow dust.

“There is a Nishan safe house not far ahead. Follow me.”

After a few minutes he turns his horse down a narrow track that weaves between vineyards and olive trees to a sprawling farmstead nestled in a grove of oranges. It looks peaceful and productive, a most unlikely safe house for the Annubian League of Assassins, but then I suppose the whole point is to avoid being conspicuous.

A boy runs out into the paved courtyard to take the horses as soon as we dismount. Farhaz leads us into a spacious reception room, cool and white-painted.

“Please, sit. Someone will bring food and drink in a few moments. From the direction you took out of the city, I assume you are heading for Rapathia?”

It is Marin who answers. “We are. But we need somewhere secure to lodge our prisoner before we can discuss our plans further.”

“Of course. This way.” Farhaz leads Marin and Dragar from the room and returns a few minutes later minus prisoner.

His face is grave as he addresses me once more.

“Ariel, Marin has explained a little about your mission to Rapathia and I understand its significance for my country as well as yours. But the Nishan need your help. That is why I have been waiting for you for several days now.”

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