King of Ashes by Raymond E. Feist
Circling carrion birds showed Declan where to go, and as he rounded a curve in the road he almost shouted in relief. Roz sat with her back against a rock, waving a blade weakly at two buzzards that seemed unwilling to wait for her to die. Declan chased them away and knelt beside her. Roz smiled weakly and said, ‘About time,’ then passed out.
He quickly examined her wound and found she had deceived the slavers by cutting widely but not deeply. The cut had soaked her tunic and trousers quickly: they were covered in enough blood to make the slavers confident she was dead, but not enough to kill her quickly. Declan took off his shirt and used her dagger to cut it into rude bandages, and then did his best to staunch the fresh blood seeping from the caked wound, He lifted her into the wagon as gently as he could and tried to position her comfortably between the sacks of goods to keep her from too rough a ride, but he knew time was of the essence.
As he turned the wagon and urged the mules to their fastest pace, relief at Roz’s survival battled with his fear that he would be too slow getting her into Mila’s care. The day was not even half over, but since the morning his life had changed more than he could have possibly imagined just hours before.
• CHAPTER EIGHT •
An Unexpected Change of Tide
Hatu’s attention began to drift and he shook himself alert. The greatest trap of being lookout in a situation such as this was lulling oneself into a false sense of calm. The other risk was having an overactive imagination and seeing things in the dark that weren’t there. An advantage of their position was that they’d almost certainly hear another ship approaching before they saw it. So listening was key.
It was still easy for the mind to wander every few moments, and for Hatu that meant revisiting old slights and unanswered questions, or the face of a girl.
He felt himself stir thinking of Hava and pushed aside the image of her at the bathing pools. Lately he had been thinking of her as more than simply a friend. That last day at the school near Corbara, something unspoken had passed between them, something different, and Hatu found it both arousing and disturbing. He didn’t fully understand it, but it had led to his missing her.
Yet without much bidding, thoughts of her returned: memories of their years growing up, and their odd friendship.
She was the only student who could best him in training. He usually beat her in combat, though once in a while she had anticipated his moves and defeated him, so he could never take a match with her for granted. The same held true for Donte, for with any bout involving strength, he won over everyone on the island, hut in other competitions Hava and Hatu won their fair share. The one place she always was victorious was the long races. Hatu could beat her in dashes, but if they were running cross-country, she always ended up in the lead. Donte teased Hatu mercilessly about that, claiming that Hatu couldn’t beat her because he was too intent on staring at her arse. Donte ignored the fact that he couldn’t beat Hava either. And while he would never admit it to Donte, he did think Hava had as fine an arse as any he had ever seen. She wasn’t exactly what most of the boys would have called pretty, but Hatu liked the way she looked, and always had.
Refusing to admit his attraction to her was important to him, especially when he competed against her and Donte watched. He was supposed to feel towards her as one would feel towards a sister, and yet somehow that had changed just before they separated; it bothered Hatu in ways he had no words for. Anything beyond friendship was forbidden, and he might never see her again anyway, a possibility that at times brought him close to rage.
His embarrassment over Donte’s teasing had caused him to focus on besting Hava in every contest they had, which only made him less effective at winning. He shook himself out of his reverie. If he wasn’t thinking about her body and face, he still fixated on her – that gentle kiss on the cheek, the feel of her hand on his – and so he used his rising anger to force the memories aside. He needed to stay alert.
All was still quiet, the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore the only sound breaking the silence. The weather on Garn was mostly predictable in these latitudes; more extreme weather was common in the deeper oceans. Here, currents between the islands were far more worthy of concern than any sudden storms or surging tides. The currents were constant, until they were not, as reefs broke apart and sand shifted, and suddenly a safe narrow passage became treacherous.
The moon rose before dawn, as it did this time of year. The tides would shift gently to the east, and perhaps the weather would change a little. The weather in these waters was rarely violent this time of year, though when storms did come, they tended to be wild and life threatening. Out at sea, few vessels could survive the rare heavy storms, and sheltering from them was the only safe option.
The moon lightened the horizon and for a moment Hatu wondered at it. According to one of the masters at home, Master Tagaga, the moon was either very small and close to them, or very large and far away. He concluded that it was probably the latter, because it moved so slowly across the sky. Hatu was mildly curious as to how he had come to that conclusion, but not enough to ask Master Tagaga; the teacher tended to talk at great length, more so when he was drinking, and he was rarely as entertaining as Master Bodai.
Still, those lectures had stirred Hatu’s imagination, making the young man wonder about things he had not considered before. Independent thinking and asking too many questions were not behaviours encouraged among students who might some day join the Quelli Nascosti. Had he been Coaltachin born, he’d have been halfway up their ranks by now, if the masters judged him favourably. Hatu knew he’d never be a sicari; he wondered what his fate would be.
It troubled him, but at times he felt relief; obedience was paramount, and giving your life for Coaltachin was a very real possibility. He knew he was different from the other students – no one else shared his ruddy-cheeked complexion and copper-gold hair – but it was more than just where he was born. Hatu didn’t know how he had come to the school or who his people were. He’d been taught to ask few questions, and only then when instructed.
There had been subtle signs, things he had only begun to recognise in the last year or so, that told him that he was different: he had been protected in ways other students were not. He was exposed to the risks of training but had been sheltered from grievous harm. Occasionally a student would be seriously injured and unable to train further; they were rarely killed, but it did happen. Hatu’s instructors had always found a way to lessen his risk. He did not know why, and as with so many other things in his life, that only frustrated him and made him angry.
He tried to focus on the horizon, but the dark sea and sky were blending, and staring into a dusky void brought images to his mind. Unbidden, Hava returned to his thoughts, and he recounted their lives at the school. As children they had played and trained together. Like Donte, she had been in his life every day until their missions away from their home island of Morasel had separated them.
He remembered the first time that being close to her had stiffened his flesh and the embarrassment he’d felt, for it was that time of maturation when he was still a boy but a man’s body was coming into form. Donte had been his ally, defending his friend at the bathing pools from the depredations of the other boys. Now Hatu wondered if Donte had been sheltering him from their mocking or sheltering the other boys from Hatu’s potential rage. Hava was not the only girl to cause such a reaction, and he was not the only boy of their age to react to a girl in that way. The instructors were dismissive when questioned; they said they would outgrow such things and simply reminded them of the rules against having sex.
Hatu wasn’t concerned about breaking the rules and knew Hava never would, but he was concerned that she might see him become aroused by her when they were naked in the bathing pool or during training. He wanted nothing to change their friendship.
He shook off his musing and just resigned himself to missing Hava.
He glanced over at Donte and saw he was alert and still watching f
Hatu tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but something kept pulling his thoughts back to Hava, perhaps because he was returning to their home island and there was a slight chance he might see her again. He wondered why he felt such a void when he thought of her; perhaps because he had believed she would always be there, and then suddenly she wasn’t. A part of him had been removed when he saw her the last time, as he hurried to the docks in Corbara.
Then, something changed.
Hatu’s instincts warned him that danger was upon them. He glanced at Donte, who was staring into the darkness to the west; it was easy to be lulled into watching the moon rise and ignore any threat out of the gloom.
Donte was barely visible in the faint moonlight, a dim chiaroscuro lightly outlined on one side, but Hatu could see his attention snap towards him. Donte nodded once. He had felt something, too.
Just as Hatu was about to shout a warning, he heard the sound of water erupting on both sides of the ship, followed by the sound of heavy bodies landing on the deck. Looking down between the gathered sails and in the dark, he could only make out the shapes of strange men moving oddly across the decks; they seemed to be undulating rather than crawling. Despite that, they were swift.
Men who had been asleep on deck were roused in moments, and then the screaming began. Hatu looked over at Donte, whose eyes were wide enough to reflect the rising moonlight, and he shook his head in a silent admonition not to move.
More men began to scream.
Hatu froze in shock for a moment. These were men of Coaltachin, hardened fighters no matter what role they played now. They were unyielding and not easily frightened, yet the sounds from below were of utter, primal terror.
In the faint light from the moon, Hatu could only see shapes below, made more obscure by the frantic action. The men seemed to be writhing on the decks, trying to escape what attacked them: beings somewhat larger than men and moving with inhuman speed. He saw a creature reach a deckhand, strike him down or embrace him, then launch itself into the air, arcing into the water with a loud splash. Hatu looked to Donte and saw the vague image of his friend made motionless by the horror unfolding below.
Confusion crushed Hatu, rendering him unable to think. He tried to peer further into the darkness, willing himself to see what was occurring below. He felt panic rising as the unseen horror drove his imagination into a primitive place, turning him into a cornered prey animal. Not being able to see was worse than seeing, as the sounds indicated that his crew were being completely overwhelmed. The cries of rage and anger common in battle were absent, replaced by a collective wail of pure terror that would have been impossible for Hatu to imagine moments before.
He again looked over at Donte and from what little he could make out in the darkness, his friend was as rooted by fear as he was.
Donte sensed Hatu looking in his direction and pointed downwards, then made a motion with his hand, again indicating they should stay right where they were. Whatever the things on deck were, their undulating movement didn’t suggest that they could climb the rigging, and Hatu was of no mind to argue with Donte’s logic.
The sounds of terror fell away as the men below were killed or swept up and carried into the sea. Muffled screams were the last sounds the two lads in the rigging heard from the deck, followed by a pair of splashes into the sea. Then silence fell.
Hatu remained motionless, afraid that whatever horror had visited those below still lurked. He could hear the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore and the faint sounds of creaking wood as the ship rocked mildly, causing loose rigging and tackle to fill the night with occasional rattling.
Time dragged as the moon rose higher and its faint light gradually gave more clarity to what had occurred below. The decks glistened with water and blood, and Hatu suspected that when dawn came, the bodies strewn about would be seen clearly.
Silence overwhelmed him. He was terrified to move, yet every instinct told him to climb down, leap over the side, and make the short swim to shore, to get as far away from this place as he could. He kept looking at Donte, who would occasionally look back. Neither lad was willing to leave their seemingly safe perch yet.
Hours dragged by.
The false dawn in the east brought light enough to see the carnage below Hatu and Donte in shades of black and grey. The two youngsters sensed it was time to climb down and decide what to do next. They descended gingerly, their lingering terror keeping them as quiet as possible.
Once on the deck, they could see body parts and blood everywhere, but not one recognisable face. It was as if those not carried away had been literally torn to pieces and those pieces scattered in every direction.
Donte’s face was ashen as he whispered, ‘What do we do?’
Hatu understood his friend’s reticence to speak loudly. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied in hushed tones as he glanced around. He felt that if he looked long enough at the bloody work, it might somehow make sense. ‘Is anyone else left alive?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Donte. ‘It’s been quiet for a long time, haven’t heard a sound. It sounded like those things got below, down the companionway.’
‘What were they?’
Hatu said, ‘Matron Mona told us sea stories. Ocean men, maybe.’
Donte said, ‘Ocean men? Sea naga? Water demons?’ He looked to the east as the sun edged above the horizon. ‘They are just stories.’ His expression showed his refusal to accept the possibility that mythical creatures had attacked the ship and killed or abducted everyone but them.
‘This is not a story!’ snapped Hatu, pointing at the carnage surrounding them. He instantly lowered his voice. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Whatever those things were, they were big and they came out of the water, and they dragged half the crew into the sea.’
‘Why did they take them?’ Donte asked, as if somehow Hatu could make sense of this for them both.
‘I don’t know!’ Hatu kept his voice down, but his tone revealed that his anger was now threatening to break the surface. ‘I have had the same training as you. Why would I know when you don’t?’
Donte lowered his eyes, shaking his head as if he couldn’t bear to consider a myth come to life. ‘What do we do?’ he repeated.
Hatu looked around and said, ‘We can’t sail this by ourselves. So we need to find another way to get to Coaltachin.’
‘A boat?’ said Donte, pointing at the gig hanging off the stern. ‘We could manage that.’
‘To where?’ asked Hatu.
‘Anywhere but here,’ replied his friend. ‘Do you know where we are?’
Hatu considered. ‘Roughly. I sailed with Master Bodai and with Master Cardina on a few short trips, before we were sent to Numerset. I thought I knew where we were before we turned south and ran from those three ships.’ He pointed in a northerly direction. ‘If we go that way, we should find the Clearing and, in a day or two, ship traffic.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Donte.
‘What about those things?’
‘Maybe they sleep during the day, like bats or owls. They didn’t attack until night.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right,’ said Hatu as he started to climb the stairs to the stern castle. Then he halted.
‘What?’ asked Donte.
‘I’m going below.’
‘Why?’ Donte grabbed his arm.
‘Food, water, whatever else we might need. Start getting that boat ready.’
Donte nodded. His expression communicated that he was more than content to cede the visit below to his friend. Hatu hurried down the companionway and pulled aside the heavy canvas curtain that separated the crew bunks from the captain and mate’s quarters.
Hatu moved to the captain’s bunk and opened the footlocker next to it. He had no idea what to expect but judged that if there was anything important inside, and he didn’t bring it home, he’d be held responsible.
Inside, he discovered the captain’s
A quick look in the galley made him gag, as he found the first severed head. A galley boy named Chou stared at him with blank eyes. Hatu grabbed a bag and filled it with hard bread, dried fruit, and jerky. No variety, hut enough to keep him and Donte fed and strong enough to row for a week or more, should they need to.
Putting thoughts of the waiting dangers aside, Hatu grabbed a couple of shirts hanging from nails and two heavy jackets; the weather at sea could turn suddenly, even during the mild season.
He reached the top of the stern castle as Donte released the second davit pin; all they needed to do was untie the ropes and lower the gig. It was a narrow, light boat, but it had a short mast and a sail, as well as oars, so they should be able to conserve their strength at times, if the journey proved a long one.
‘I wish we had more water,’ said Hatu as he put the food and water he had fetched from below into the boat. ‘We’ve got full barrels, but most of the crockery in the kitchen is smashed.’ He held up two stoppered bottles. ‘This is all I could find,’ he said, and handed them to Donte. ‘I’ll fetch some water skins.’