Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 29

“DERIS, WHAT’S THE MATTER? The captain has weighed anchor and will be calling for his windsinger as soon as the ship passes the port boundary.”

He looks up at me, his face drawn and sad.

“Ethelyn has been kept prisoner on this ship for two years, ever since the pirate captain robbed and sank the merchant vessel on which she and her mother were passengers. They were trying to reach Samaran to join our havens.”

“And she didn’t tell you this before?”

“The smugglers hold her mother hostage in a house just outside Port Giltar. When we were heading south, she felt that revealing her secret carried too much risk if we could not turn back to help.”

“What about the new Annubian captain?”

“She believes he is a good man but he speaks little Samarian beyond the essentials for navigation and trade. And no Elvish at all. If we are to free Ethelyn and rescue her mother, it will demand stealth and skill. And good communication.”

I keep my reply to a cautious whisper, unwilling to upset the distraught windsinger any further.

“If Ethelyn’s mother is in fact still alive, Deris. Now the pirates have discovered they have lost their ship and their partners in crime, her value as hostage is gone.”

Ethelyn looks up, her green eyes bright with tears.

“She is still alive!”

I really should remember how sharp Elvish sight and hearing is.

“Sorry, Ethelyn. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just trying to work out the best approach.” I try not to think about the inevitable delay this will cause at a time when we really do need to reach Maratic as soon as possible.

The windweaver reaches her hand to mine.

“No, really, I am not protesting from being upset. The smugglers have used her to threaten me yet again. Even though she is a useful slave to them, they say they will kill her if I do not redirect the wind to drive the ship into the bay just beyond Port Giltar, where they will attack the vessel and reclaim it for their own.”

“And you have the power to do that?”

“Yes. But I cannot send these good men to their deaths!”

“That will not happen. But could you wind-hold the ship to move slowly from where they can see it passing the entrance to the port, as far as the bay where they will be lying in ambush?”

“Of course. But how will that help?”

“We will have a conversation with our Annubian captain and ask for his assistance.”

THE CAPTAIN LISTENS solemnly to my plans, which are really Marin’s plans now, since my beloved––fortunately––corrected several rather rash oversights in the original.

The Annubian looks very young in spite of his efforts to look older with his neatly-trimmed beard and oiled ringlets, but he seems to have filled his unexpected new role remarkably well after making only one return voyage.

“You speak true? Is no risk to my men or my ship?”

Marin runs his finger once more across the marine chart that outlines the Samarian coast. “Just a few hours’ delay while we deal with the problem and then Ethelyn turns the ship around and brings your cargo into port.”

“But then I lose my beautiful windweaver?” The young captain’s deep brown eyes rest sorrowfully on Ethelyn’s face.

She is quick to reassure. “Not immediately! I hated the crimes of my previous captain but I do not despise your honest trade. I will stay with you until you find another singer to replace me.”

“Thank you, Ethelyn.”

But I notice he still looks sad.

DERIS SPENDS THE ENTIRE voyage at Ethelyn’s side, blending the notes of their windsong to such power and beauty as I have never heard before. The ship feels like it is flying over the waves with the urgency of their shared command. All too soon, the coast of Samaran draws a long line of green and white along the dusky evening horizon. As we approach Port Giltar the wind coils and turns and the ship slows down dramatically.

It is time to make ready. The mariners have been warned of the deviation and they are careful and quiet as they lower the small boat over the side.

The captain’s face grows even more sorrowful as he watches Ethelyn and Deris share a long parting kiss before the Fae warrior runs across the deck to lower himself down to the unstable skiff bobbing on the waves.

Marin and Brac take the oars and row toward the headland. I hear soft cadences of Deris’ windsong and feel an errant breeze pushing us a little faster across the swell. I turn and watch his fingers weaving a few additional ripples to the wind.

“Deris, you are full of surprises. I had no idea you had this skill.”

He smiles dreamily. “Neither did I. It seems I had no cause to use it until I found the sea.”

“Keep weaving. We’re nearly there.”

I have never seen him like this before. I hope he can remember how to fight. Ethelyn has delivered us to the point nearest the house where her mother is enslaved and we should be across the heather to reach it in less than an hour.

The skiff scrapes against the barnacle-encrusted rocks of the headland. Marin jumps out and holds the bow steady as Brac, Deris and I scramble through foam and waves to dry ground. We wait while Marin ties off the craft to a ragged outcropping and then follow him along the slippery rocks to the edge of the moorland. A short climb over awkward terrain of shrubs and tussocks brings us to the flat crest of the coastal hills.

A lone light shines in the distance.

“I think that is the house.” Deris points to the faint glow. “If our guess is correct, most of the smugglers will be down in the cove, waiting to ambush the ship. Ethelyn said there were usually around twenty of them on land at any one time since the war started, making contact with Rapathian commanders and setting up transport to bring their loot to the port.”

Marin scans our surroundings. No other houses in sight.

“With luck, they may only have left four or five of their number at the house.” He gives the signal and sets off across the heather at a run with Lupine following close at his heels.

We regroup outside the house. It is larger than I anticipated and if there ever was a garden around it, the moorland reclaimed it long ago. According to Ethelyn, all the inner rooms have been stripped out to form one large hall to host the planning meetings of the smugglers and their Rapathian clients.

There is only one man on guard outside and he falls silently to Deris’ blade. Lupine scouts around the walls, sniffing at the crack under the door and the gaps between the shutters. After two circuits she returns to Marin and reports in her usual series of snuffles and whimpers, while Marin double-checks her information with his soft voice and hand signals. He looks up, a wry smile on his face.

“She thinks there are five men who have not washed in a long time. And one Elf-woman who smells sweet and fresh.”

One more reason to feel sympathy for Ethelyn’s mother. Sharing a house with these smelly oafs would be bad enough even without the threats and slavery.

Marin signals his next set of instructions to the silver wolf. She positions herself in the shadows beyond the corpse of the lookout, gazing up at the moon.

And howls.

I have never heard a wolf-howl like it. The sound rises and falls, echoing around this lonely valley and drifting out to sea. The four of us wait, poised on either side of the door, unsure what the reaction will be. Maybe none of them will come out to check on their companion but…

The heavy wooden door creaks open far enough for a scraggly head to poke outside.

“Tonos? Where you gone? Deal with that damn wolf will you?”

Another ear-rending howl from Lupine provokes a hasty retreat and the door slams shut. Maybe our luck is out and we will have to risk breaking in after all. Then luck does one of those unexpected turns that you always hope for and seldom get. The door opens again and a slight figure is pushed outside, a long broom clutched in one hand and a heavy fire-iron in the other.

“Yer go see what happened to Tonos. And scare off that Five-cursed wolf while yer there.” The coarse voice is the same as before, and the door slams shut again.

Marin moves like a silent shadow to bring one hand over the Elf’s mouth and the other on the fire-iron before pulling her aside. He does not dare risk even a whisper until he has her well clear of the building and has to endure several sharp blows from the broom handle before he can talk her down.

“Ithala! Your daughter sent us to rescue you.”

She looks up at him, her face breaking into a smile of relief. “Ethelyn is safe?”

“Safe and on the ship with a new captain. Now, please stay here while we go inside and deal with the thugs who had you imprisoned.”

“Not likely. Give me a weapon.” Ithala peers at the cut on Marin’s forehead and frowns. “Sorry about the broom.”

“No problem.” He hands her both his daggers and draws his swords before walking with her back to the door.

She knocks timidly on the heavy boards.

“I scared the wolf away but it had already killed Tonos. Let me in.”

The instant the door opens, Marin’s boot kicks it wide and the five of us pile into the room. The smugglers are big, but clumsy and unprepared.

It doesn’t take long. Marin steps over the bodies to stand outside the door, scanning the dark horizon.

“I can see torches on the hillside over there. I think that must be the last of the gang crossing over to the northern cove to wait in ambush. Grab as much wood as you can carry. If we are to warn Ethelyn as we promised, the fire must be big enough to see from a distance. But we need to move quickly.”

Ithala steps in front of him. “I know these paths. The men would escort me to the town to carry back their supplies, and also to that cove to collect shellfish. That is why they know it well enough to plan an ambush.” She tips her head defiantly. “But now I also know it well. Follow me.”

She sets off at a run, following narrow but smooth paths through the heather and we make better time than we did through the sedge-tussocks on the way here.

From the top of the last rise the beach below shines clear and pale in the moonlight. The dark shapes of the pirates move across the flat stretch of whiteness to where several of their number stand in the breaking surf, holding six large skiffs steady in the water. The grain ship is further out to sea, silhouetted against the moonlit waves and still moving very slowly toward the shore.

Marin scans the scene with a warrior’s experienced eye.

“It seems they have been recruiting for this attack to be sure of retaking the ship. I estimate at least fifty heavily-armed thugs on that beach. No doubt they have dozens of ropes and grappling hooks stowed in those longboats and the first attack will be done by stealth.”

Deris is humming softly, reading the wind.

“Ethelyn cannot hold the ship in this pattern for much longer. It is harder to constrain the wind than to direct it.”

Angry shouts break out on the beach below.

Marin listens attentively for a moment. “The pirates have noticed that she is holding back. They are arguing about whether to put the boats out to the attack now, or whether to stick to the plan and wait a little longer. Quick! Gather dry sticks and grass to kindle this wood.”

Within minutes he has set flint and tinder to the pile of firewood and broken chairs we took from the house. The flames leap out of the darkness, aided by the flagon of cooking oil I spotted in the kitchen just before we left. The yelling and cursing from the beach takes on a new and sinister edge as someone sees the fire and screams a warning.

Deris has that faraway look in his eyes again.

“Ethelyn must have seen our signal. I can feel the wind starting to shift. But it will take some time to turn the ship back out to sea.”

I hear the soft swish as Marin draws crysteel. He dips his head to the beach.

“Then we must go down there and stop them launching those rowboats. I judge they can still cover the distance before that laden merchant ship can escape.”

Ithala’s boldness is suddenly replaced by well-advised caution. “Five against fifty heavily armed pirates? I have some skill with a blade, but I am no Elemental. The Fae know when to use stealth as well as brute force.”

Marin raises an eyebrow. “I’m open to ideas. But I gave my word to the ship’s captain that I would protect his mariners. I will not break my pledge.”

Ithala stares at the milling crowd below us, her face anxious but blank. It is Deris who breaks the impasse.

“Wait! Let the first three skiffs launch. I think I can hold them in the waves until you have dealt with those fighters still on the sand.”

“You think you can?” Marin seems as aware as I am that this is a very new skill for our warrior friend.

Deris steps lightly to the top of a pile of boulders, grim determination on his face as he stares out to sea.

“I will make sure I can.”

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