The Last Of The Wilds (27 page)

Imi worked steadily. The hull of the ship let in water slowly and the raiders didn’t seem to mind how fast she scooped it out, so long as she, and whoever hauled the other bucket up out of the hull to empty it, kept at it. They didn’t care that she splashed herself from time to time, or slept in a pool of it at night. Without the constant immersion in water her skin would have dried out and she would have suffered a slow and painful death.

After the raiders had pulled her out of the sea they had tied her up in the open at first. The hot sun had been unbearable. Her skin had dried out and she had suffered from a terrible thirst despite the water they had given to her to drink. Pain had begun in her head and spread to the rest of her body until she could only lie slumped on the wooden floor.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in the hull, water swirling around her body as the ship rocked back and forth. Terrifyingly loud sounds came from outside the ship, deafening her. Rain, which she had seen only twice before, and the occasional wave cresting the deck, had begun to fill the hull at an alarming rate. Several of the raiders had begun bailing out the water, and when one pressed a bucket into her hands she had joined them, terrified the ship would sink and she would drown, tied to it by the rope around her ankle.

Later a raider came and tossed fish at her. She had been so hungry, she had eaten the scales, bones and flesh.

Slowly she had recovered some of her strength. The raiders’ leader had made it clear he wanted her to keep bailing out the water. She had refused at first. She was a princess. She didn’t do menial work.

So he had beaten her.

Shocked and frightened, she had given in. He had watched her work for a time, menacing her if she slowed. Finally, satisfied she was cowed enough, he had left her to it.

It was endless, tiring work and she was always hungry. They gave her so little food. Her body was thin. Her arms looked like muscle, skin and bone, and nothing more. Her shift hung from her, dirty and torn. She didn’t know how long she could keep doing this. So many days had passed. She clung to the hope that her father or one of the young fighters of her home would rescue her. It was better not to think too much about it, however. If she did, she could see too many reasons why rescue was unlikely.

Something will happen
, she told herself.
I’m a princess. Princesses don’t die in the hulls of ships. When my rescuer comes, I’ll be alive and ready
.

The five walls of the Altar met above the White. Juran spoke the ritual words to begin the meeting and Auraya joined the others to speak the short phrase that was their part. When all were silent, Juran looked at each of them, his expression troubled.

“We are here to discuss what to do about these Pentadrians in Si,” he began.

“Does this mean we are at war again?” Mairae asked.

Juran shook his head. “No.”

“But the Pentadrians have invaded one of our allies.”

“They have trespassed,” Juran corrected. “As far as we know, they have not harmed anyone within Si.”

“Because the Siyee aren’t foolish enough to approach them,” Auraya pointed out. “We must find out why they are there.”

“Yes,” Juran agreed. “That will take time. I will send the priests who have recently arrived at the Open to meet them.”

“Priests?” Auraya repeated, surprised. “Why risk their lives and subject the Siyee to such a delay? I can reach Si in a day.”

Juran exchanged a glance with Dyara before meeting Auraya’s eyes.

“That may not be wise.”

Auraya blinked in surprise. She glanced at Mairae and Rian, who looked as puzzled as she. “How so?”

He placed his hands on the table. “We know the Pentadrian leaders are powerful sorcerers. We know the remaining four are close to us in strength.”

“The one they call Shar—the vorn rider—is weaker than I,” Rian interjected.

“Yes,” Juran agreed. “You are the only one of us to face a Voice in single combat.” He paused, looking at Auraya. “The only one who has faced a still-living Voice, that is,” he added. “Fortunately, Rian overcame Shar. We can’t test ourselves against the others without risking that one of us will prove weaker, and be killed.”

“Then I will not approach if I see either of the two more powerful Voices,” Auraya said. “The weaker two should not be a problem.”

Juran smiled grimly. “Your courage is admirable, Auraya.”

“Why? We gained some idea of their strengths during the battle.”

“Some, but not a definite idea. We don’t know if the weaker two were engaged in defenses we were unaware of at the time. They may be stronger than they seemed.”

She shrugged. “If Rian could defeat Shar then I can too. We know the bird woman—Genza—is next in strength. I’m willing to take the risk that I can overcome her alone.”

“And could you defeat them both at once?”

She hesitated as doubts rose.

Juran spread his hands. “Do you see the danger now? Think of our own vulnerabilities.” He looked at them one by one. “What if you were all absent, and the remaining four Pentadrian leaders attacked Jarime? I could not stop them alone. What if they are watching our movements, planning to ambush and kill us individually if we separate?” He shook his head. “When we are alone we are vulnerable.”

Mairae made a small noise of disbelief. “Surely you don’t mean for us all to stay in Jarime from now on? How can we defend other lands? What of our alliance agreements?”

Auraya nodded in agreement. Travelling to Si was a risk, but one worth taking.
What do you think of this, Chaia?
she found herself thinking.

Juran grimaced. “Our priests and priestesses can deal with most threats. We will send them out to gather information before tackling anything ourselves.”

“That’s hardly going to work in Si,” Auraya pointed out. “They’d never arrive in time.”

“When we have Siyee priests and priestesses that will no longer be a problem.”

“Which won’t happen soon enough for this threat. It will be years before any are—”

A sudden shift in the corner of her eye distracted her. She looked around and realized the movement was not physical, but magical. A familiar presence brushed her senses.

, Auraya.

She suppressed a sigh. Her celestial admirer had returned, and as usual it was at a time when she didn’t need the distraction.

“What is it, Auraya?” Dyara asked quietly. “What do you see?”

Auraya looked at Dyara. “You don’t sense him at all?”

Dyara shook her head. Auraya quickly glanced at Mairae and Rian, who looked bemused. Juran was frowning. Then all expressions changed to awe and pleasure and their eyes shifted to a place behind Auraya. She looked over her shoulder to see a glowing figure standing there.

n, the god said in greeting.
Dyara, Auraya, Rian and Mairae
.

“Chaia,” the others replied reverently, making the sign of the circle. Auraya hastily followed their gesture. She had grown so used to Chaia’s presence, it was easy to forget the formalities the White usually followed when any of the gods appeared.

The god began to walk around the table slowly.

s you know, we prefer to allow mortals to choose their own paths most of the time. Occasionally we steer your course, as we have a responsibility to guide your actions when they do not agree with our purpose. He stopped and looked at Juran.
I must intervene now
.

Juran’s eyebrows knitted together. He looked down at the table.

r purpose is to protect our followers, not only yourselves, Chaia said.

Juran flinched. “Protecting ourselves at the expense of others was not my purpose,” he said, looking up at the god. “It is the long-term protection of Circlians that I am concerned with. If one of us dies, all Northern Ithania will be vulnerable.”

Dyara nodded. “I agree. If Auraya dies in Si it may lead to more deaths in the long term.”

Chaia smiled.

f Auraya dies, then we will chose a replacement—
though I doubt we would find another so talented or Gifted
.

Despite the praise, Auraya felt a chill. She had thought herself ready to risk her life for the Siyee. Now, knowing that the gods had intended her to take that risk, she felt fear stirring somewhere deep inside her. She felt… expendable.

Just like any soldier
, she thought.
Well, that’s what we are. Powerful, immortal, Gifted soldiers in the service of the gods
. The irony of what she had just thought struck her.
We are called immortals only because we do not age. If we face the sort of conflict Juran fears
—
if we must constantly risk our lives in order to protect Circlians
—
then we may prove shorter lived than ordinary mortals
. She straightened her back.
So be it
.

“I chose to serve the gods and I don’t intend to stop anytime soon, though it would be a joy to join them” she told the others. “I will not take any unnecessary risks. And remember—I can be back here in a day if you need me.”

Juran met her eyes and held them, then nodded and turned to Chaia.

“Thank you for your wisdom and guidance, Chaia,” he said humbly. “I will send Auraya to Si.”

The god smiled, then vanished. Auraya felt him move out of the reach of her senses. When she looked at Juran again he was regarding her with an unreadable expression.

“The gods have favored you with unusual Gifts,” he said. “I should have seen that they intended you to use them. Be careful, Auraya. It is not just your unique abilities we would sorely miss if we lost you.”

She smiled, touched. “Thank you. I will.”

Juran looked at the others. “That is decided. We had best inform our guests.” He looked at Auraya.

“I’ll tell them,” she said.

As they rose and the sides of the Altar began to unfold, Auraya thought of Chaia’s appearance. She had wondered what he would think of Juran’s argument. Had she called to him without realizing it? Had he been close enough to hear their conversation before then while still beyond the limit of her senses?

These were questions she would have to think about later. For now, she had best consider how to approach these Pentadrians in Si without putting herself, or the Siyee, in danger.

Old Grim looked up as the woman entered the room, and kept looking. High cheekbones, hair black as night, a good figure—though it could do with a bit more flesh on it. As the lamplight caught her eyes he saw that they were green. Wrinkles appeared around them, betraying her age as she smiled at her companion.

Would have been a beauty when she was younger
, he thought.
Who’s that she’s with? Ah, Marin. Can’t help himself. Got to have a look at anything new. I can remember him picking over the beach as a boy, looking for things washed up by the tide
.

Marin introduced the woman to his regular drinking companions but didn’t stop. To Grim’s surprise the man looked up at him, winked, then guided the woman across to Grim’s table.

“Evening,” Marin said. “This is Old Grim,” he told the woman. “Grim, this is Limma Curer.”

“Evening,” Grim said, nodding at the woman. She smiled easily. He caught the smell of herbs and something earthier. The family name was probably an accurate description of her trade.

“Limma is interested in stories about The Gull,” Marin said. “I told her you’d met him. She actually believes me.”

“Does she?” Grim felt an old resentment begin to simmer, but when he tried to glare at the woman his anger faded again. She met his eyes steadily. There was something about her manner. She wanted something from him. He couldn’t imagine he had anything to offer—apart from his story.

Intrigued, he lifted his goblet. “A long story needs a wet mouth.”

Limma laughed and reached under her tawl. He glimpsed many pouches underneath and the smell of herbs and cures grew stronger. Turning to the drinkhouse owner, she tossed him a coin. He caught it neatly, and nodded as she told him to keep their cups full. Marin and Limma settled onto the bench opposite.

“So you’ve met The Gull,” she said. “How long ago?”

Old Grim shrugged. “I was young, barely more than a boy. Thought I’d see a bit of the world, so I got work on boats moving up the coast to Aime. When I got there, I found work on a trading ship. It wasn’t what I expected. It’s always hard work, but I learned then that the bigger the boat, the more concerned people get about making sure everyone knows who takes orders from who. I was pretty low in the beating order, so to speak.” He grimaced at the memory.

“There was a boy on the ship. He didn’t have a name. Everyone called him ‘boy.’ One day it came to me that nobody ever bothered this boy. He gave them no reason to, but on this ship being quick at your job didn’t save you from a beating.

“I started watching this boy. He was a fair lad, but none of the bullies had a go at him. In fact, they acted like they were scared of him.

“One day he sat down beside me during the meal break. He told me this wasn’t the right ship for me. He said I needed a smaller boat and I’d make a good captain. I was better off setting myself against the sea than other men.

“Deep in my heart I knew he was right, but I wanted to see the world, you see, and he was just a boy. What did he know? So I stuck it out.

“A few weeks later, when we were about to leave the port of Aime, he spoke to me again. He pointed to a smaller ship and said they were looking for crew. I thanked him for telling me, but stayed on. Others got off and I felt proud of myself for not giving in.”

Old Grim stopped as a serving boy placed three fresh goblets on the table. He drank deeply, sighed, then scratched his head.

“Where was I?”

“The boy warned you a second time,” Limma said.

He stared at her in surprise. She smiled knowingly, but said nothing. Grim wiped his mouth and continued on.

“We were only out at sea a few days when the sky turned black and the wind began to scream at us. We couldn’t see more than a few strides. I heard the boy telling the captain that they were headed for rocks and should hove to starboard. He said it with such… authority. The captain cursed the boy and told him to get below decks.