Into the Wind (30 page)

“Seria.” This explained the strange sensations Taren had experienced the night before. “He used a mage to hide their location.” Taren shivered to contemplate what Seria and the Council might do to them both if they were captured. Surely they cared nothing for the
Witch
’s human crew. Once again he saw himself back at the Ea prison, felt Seria’s touch and the searing, burning pain that accompanied it as it worked its way into his body, squeezing his heart, causing his breath to hitch. He remembered how he’d screamed until his throat felt raw and his voice sounded rough.

“Taren?”

Ian’s voice brought Taren back to his senses. He wiped his forehead, which had beaded with perspiration. He fought the urge to vomit by taking deep breaths. “Yes?”

Ian reached for Taren’s hand and clasped it tight. “I will not let them take you again,” he said with such fervor that Taren believed him in spite of his fear. Ian wore an expression full of hatred and self-recrimination. Taren understood Ian’s regret at not having killed Seria when he’d had the chance. He also knew it took all of Ian’s self-control not to suggest that Taren dive overboard and save himself. Ian knew well enough that Taren would never abandon his former shipmates to save his own skin.

“But how did they find us?” Taren wondered aloud as he regained his composure once again. Was it possible for a mage to be powerful enough to locate a single ship on the open sea?

“I don’t know.” Ian clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “But if we survive this, I will find out.”

If
they survived. Death would be preferable to what awaited them on Ea’nu if they were captured.

Ian offered Taren a loaded pistol, which he refused. He’d never used the weapon before, and even if he managed to shoot straight, he doubted he’d be able to load it quickly enough to do him any good. “I’ll take a sword,” he told Ian, who nodded and picked one up, weighed it in his hand, put it back, then did the same with a second sword. He nodded, then handed it to Taren, who slipped it in his belt alongside the silver dagger he always wore. The words “Be safe” remained unspoken, but Taren heard them nonetheless.

By now, without a rudder to aim the ship, the
Sea Witch
had lost most of her speed and the brigantine had pulled along her port side, where the water was calmer. Ian handed the last of the weapons to the men, then shoved the pistol into his belt just as the first of the attacking ship’s crew began to board
.
He and Taren ran to join the other men who were fending off the wave of humans who swung on the ropes and landed on the
Witch
’s deck.

Taren heard shouts from the foredeck. “Stay with Bastian,” Ian said. “See what you can do to help.”

“Aye.”

Ian took off at a run for the foredeck.

Taren immediately set to helping defend the crew working the sails. Bastian shouted commands over the battle cries and the clanking of metal against metal. Above where they stood, several men had climbed the mast to free the ropes that had become entangled before Bastian was able to bring the ship about.

One of the brigantine’s men lunged for Taren, who met the man’s sword with a powerful blow from his own weapon. The vibration from the metal caused Taren’s wrist to ache, but he ignored this and set himself to parry again.

The sound of gunshots rent the air. One of the
Witch
’s crew fell from a crossbeam and hit the deck. Taren pushed his opponent back, hoping to knock him down and see to the man with the pistol, but his opponent would not be dissuaded. He swung his weapon and Taren moved out of its trajectory, though not quite fast enough: the point of the sword cut through the fabric of his shirt and he felt the sting of the wound. A shallow wound, but one he might have avoided had he not lost his focus.
“You must never anticipate the next fight,”
Rider had once told him,
“or you may not live to see it.”
Until recently, Taren hadn’t understood just how much Rider had taught him.

Taren’s opponent jabbed at him. This time Taren was ready. He aimed his sword forward and turned the blade to shield himself from the attack. The wind caressed the back of his neck, then traveled past him and blew hard enough at his opponent’s face to make the man blink. Taren grasped his sword with both hands and charged. As the blade met its mark and entered the enemy fighter’s chest, Taren felt a slight resistance. Later, he’d remember this feeling well, and it would haunt him. He’d never taken a life before, yet he could almost sense the man’s soul leaving his body.

Goddess rest his soul
, he prayed silently.

Another shot rang out, this time missing its mark but burning a hole in one of the sails. Taren guessed it would take the shooter less than a minute to reload. He shouted and ran at the man who had fired the shot, dove for his legs, and pulled them out from underneath him. The pistol clattered to the deck and Taren kicked it hard enough to send it over the side of the ship, then turned and kicked the startled man in the gut.

He joined Bastian a moment later and helped some of the men pull the ropes tighter to sheet in the sails and increase their speed. “You’ve gotten stronger,” Bastian said, clearly pleased to see him.

“And your sailing is better than I remember.” He nodded toward where the enemy vessel was struggling to raft alongside the
Sea Witch
. “Where is Rider?”

“Forward, helping your captain keep the launches from tying up.” Drops of sweat ran down Bastian’s furrowed brow, and his long hair stuck to his face. He had a wild look about him, but his eyes were keenly focused on the sails, his cheek turned so that he could feel the direction of the wind.

Indeed, Taren saw Ian and Rider, along with Barra and Aine, as they held off the launches. Already one of the small boats had lost its hold on the
Sea Witch
’s deck and was quickly being left behind.

“We’re fine here,” Bastian told him. “See what you can do to help them. There are plenty of men aft.”

“But Rider—”

“Worries far too much for my safety. I’ll be fine. I promise,” Bastian said. “Go now. We’ll be fine here—there are more than enough men to keep me safe.”

Taren glanced around, hesitated once again, then set off for the foredeck.

Twenty-Eight

T
AREN
BEAT
back yet another attack and thanked the goddess for his increased strength. Had it been six months before, he doubted he’d have been able to hold off a man so large for more than a few minutes.

It had taken him longer than he’d expected to fight his way to the foredeck, but he’d made it without further injury. To his right, Ian and Barra were fighting off Seria and two Ea men. He caught only a glimpse of Rider farther forward as he tangled with three humans a dozen feet from the bowsprit.

Seria’s expression hinted at the pleasure Taren knew he must feel to be so close to capturing two of the sharpest thorns in the Council’s side. He pushed aside the memory of his time in the Ea prison. He was stronger than a memory. He would fight without fear, and if need be, he’d die before he allowed them to take him again. All around them, Rider’s men fought the brigantine’s crew, but Taren could hear none of the melee, so focused was he on the fate of those close to him and on his wish to protect them.

Bastian managed to stabilize the
Witch
’s course as a half dozen of her
crew guarded his position while he barked commands to the men manning the aft sails. That the
Witch
was no longer dead in the water was a testament to Bastian’s skill, but the
Witch
still wouldn’t be able to outsail her attacker. Now that the
Witch
was no longer in irons, the brigantine’s captain was forced to maneuver his ship so she wouldn’t strike the
Witch
’s side, but she had no difficulty maintaining her proximity.

Taren watched in horror as a second brigantine joined the first a few minutes later, forcing Bastian closer and closer to the first ship. At last, too far upwind to use the sails to steer, the
Witch
slowed and drifted.

Even as he fought, Taren imagined the wind snaking tendrils around him, caressing his body. As if heeding his thoughts, he felt the wind at his neck tickle the hairs there. Another strong gust buffeted the deck of the ship, strong enough that his attacker was forced to brush his hair from his eyes in order to better see Taren. Taren took the opportunity to thrust his weapon at his attacker’s chest. His aim was true. The man fell to the deck, mortally wounded.

Goddess rest his soul
, Taren prayed once more for the man whose life he’d taken. He took no time to join another fight, however, as he tried to make his way to Ian and Barra. Another man now fought by Seria’s side, and to their right, Rider fought several men. Seeing this, Taren barely avoided a swing from his opponent. As his fear for Ian, Rider, and the others grew, the wind whipped about them. Taren smelled rain on the air, but hadn’t it been clear before the attack? The distant rumble of thunder caused the wood beneath his feet to vibrate.

Taren couldn’t deny it any longer.
He
had caused the storm. And though it frightened him to realize that he had little idea how to control this power, it also pleased him that the weather might make the fight more challenging for the enemy. With this thought, the sky grew darker and heavy droplets began to fall.

He wiped the water from his eyes and tried to focus on blowing the enemy’s ship off her course, but his opponent swung again and he barely moved in time to block the strike. Movement off the starboard side caught his eye.
Another ship?
This vessel was far larger than the brigantines. The crew of the
Sea Witch
might be numerous enough to defeat the smaller cadres the brigantines carried, but another square rigger?

Behind Seria, Rider had managed to subdue one of his opponents but was still struggling to overcome the other two. Taren had no time to waste. He needed to help Rider and Ian. He used the distraction of the new ship to his advantage and kicked his opponent, then swung his sword and sliced through the muscles of his sword arm. The man’s weapon fell, and before he could react, Taren punched him hard enough to send him sprawling on the ground.

Taren ran to where Ian had been fighting and found him immobilized by two Ea, a third with his weapon touching Ian’s chest, over his heart. Seria, clearly pleased, watched a dumbfounded Barra, who stood, weapon at the ready, pointed at Seria. Taren didn’t notice the two men behind him until they knocked the sword from his hand and pinned his arms behind his back.

“Kill him,” Ian spat.

Seria laughed. “He won’t kill me. Will you, Barra?” Barra’s hand trembled and, with it, his blade. “No. You won’t.” Seria pressed Barra’s blade downward.

A muscle in Barra’s cheek jumped as he looked directly at Ian and said, “I’m sorry, Captain.” He dropped his sword, which landed with a thud on the wooden deck.

Taren met Barra’s gaze for a moment. Barra’s face reddened and he looked even more forlorn. “I’m sorry, Taren,” he mumbled. “I never wanted to hurt you. But I….”

Upon hearing these words, Taren parted his lips in shock. “You? It was you, in the water? In the battle with the humans?” He’d seen what he thought was a tail, and then—

“I couldn’t find you on deck,” Ian’s face contorted with rage as he fought to free himself from the men holding him. “It wasn’t the mizzen that hit Taren.
You
went after him. You bastard! You tried to kill him! Did you ask to search for him in town so you could finish the job?”

Barra stared down at the deck, clearly terrified to meet Ian’s eyes.

“You see, Dunaidh,” Seria said, his expression serious once more, “there are some of our people who are still loyal to the Council. Unlike you.”

Taren didn’t need to see Ian’s face to feel Ian’s anger and grief; he felt them as well. The wind blew harder and the rain stung his face.
No. Not Barra.
Barra had tried to kill him. Barra had helped the
Witch
’s navigator plot their course. He’d probably given their heading to Seria and the humans. Barra had betrayed them all.
Barra wanted to kill me?

“Ian Dunaidh,” Seria said in a voice both self-important and self-satisfied, “you have been tried in absentia and convicted of the crime of high treason against Ea’nu. By the Council’s authority, you will die for your crimes against our people.”

Did Seria mean to execute Ian here while all his men watched? No doubt the gesture would go far to instill fear in Ian’s men as well as Seria’s—human and Ea.

“No!” Taren shouted as he struggled against the men who held him.

Seria laughed, then withdrew his pistol and aimed it at Ian. “What will you do about it, boy?” he asked. “If you lay a hand on me, my men will run him through.”

Taren heard the sounds of a scuffle from the aft deck. Several of Seria’s men ran toward them. “There’s another ship, sir!” one of them shouted.

A cannon blast shook the
Sea Witch
, and shouts and screams carried on the wind. Taren guessed one of the attacking ships had been hit, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Ian and Seria.