Sea of Death: Blade of the Flame - Book 3 (29 page)

Ghaji and Yvka sat behind Diran and Asenka, the elf-woman’s hand resting lightly on the half-orc’s leg. Yvka leaned forward, eyes wide, taking everything in, working to memorize every detail so that she could make a full report to her “associates” in the Shadow Network. Ghaji knew she was also keeping a sharp eye out for
anything—treasure, magical artifacts, rare plants or animals—that she might be able to claim and take back to her people. When he’d first met the elf-woman in Port Verge, when Diran and he had been working to unravel the mystery of the Black Fleet, he’d been instantly attracted to Yvka’s free spirit and love of adventure. But in the months since then, he’d come to know another side of her. She could be calculating and opportunistic, qualities that admittedly served her well in her profession, but which made it difficult to remain emotionally close to her. At times like these, he couldn’t help wondering if Yvka was with him because she truly cared about him or because she’d found their relationship advantageous to her career. Thanks to her association with Ghaji, she’d been able to turn over both Erdis Cai’s stronghold of Grimwall and the psi-forge facility in Mount Luster to the Shadow Network. Though he knew he should work harder to trust her, he couldn’t help wondering which Yvka loved more: him or the professional opportunities their relationship afforded her.

Leontis sat in the back of the boat in front of Solus and Hinto. Ghaji had never expected to encounter a Silver Flame priest as grim as Diran could sometimes be, but Leontis was that man. He held his longbow with an arrow nocked, prepared for whatever danger might threaten, but he stared straight ahead, eyes focused on a point far more distant than the island looming before them. Ghaji had seen similar looks in the eyes of warriors who had witnessed so much blood and cruelty on the battlefield that they no longer believed life was worth living and were merely marking time until Death finally came for them.

None of the companions, Ghaji included, felt comfortable around Leontis, but they accepted his presence because Diran vouched for him. They’d all tried speaking with the priest at one time or another during the voyage from Kolbyr, and though Leontis had responded to their overtures, he had always done so briefly and without enthusiasm, and before long even the ever-curious Hinto gave up.

Ghaji didn’t like heading into an almost certainly dangerous situation with a man he didn’t know well enough to trust. He hoped Diran knew what he was doing. So far, the priest had never steered
Ghaji wrong, but Diran was only human, and could make a mistake as easily as any other man.

Onu and Thokk sat behind Tresslar. The captain continued to wear his garish regalia, despite the fact that his red longcoat made for a very effective target. Thokk had attempted to explain this to Onu before they’d lowered the longboat and departed the
Turnabout
, but the captain had refused to listen. Onu grinned like an excited child as the longboat slowly wound its way through the reef maze, bringing them ever closer to Trebaz Sinara. When Ghaji had first met Onu, he’d thought the man eccentric. Now he was beginning to wonder if the sea captain was in truth insane. Thokk certainly seemed to think so. The dwarf sat with his arms crossed, brow furrowed in a scowl, occasionally shooting dirty looks at Onu and grinding his teeth in frustration. Ghaji had no idea why the dwarf continued to serve as Onu’s first mate if the man upset him so much. Perhaps in his own way, Thokk was just as mad as Onu.

Diran’s face was impassive, only the slightest crinkling of his brow giving any indication that he was anything but relaxed and calm. But Ghaji knew his friend well, and he was certain Diran was running one scenario after another through his mind: debating strategies, calculating odds, anticipating problems, and exploring alternatives.
Careful preparation is the assassin’s greatest weapon
, Diran had once told him. But Ghaji knew Diran wasn’t making his plans dispassionately. He understood the risks they were all taking to recover Tresslar’s dragonwand and prevent the terrible visions revealed by the Fury-demon from becoming reality. The priest wanted to make certain he had done everything within his power to ensure the safety of his companions, and so he continued to think, plan, and plot, and he would keep doing so until the time came for action. And when that time arrived, Diran would act swiftly, confidently, and—if the situation called for it—utterly without mercy.

As for Ghaji … well, he wasn’t anticipating their landfall with the insane glee that Onu was, but he had to admit that he
was
curious to see if Trebaz Sinara lived up to its fearsome reputation. So far, it had been something of a letdown. He’d expected—

The twang of a bowstring vibrated through the air, and out of
the corner of his eyes, Ghaji saw the shaft of an arrow blur by as it flew skyward. A second later, came the sound of the arrow striking something meaty with a dull
thwok!
followed by an ear-splitting screech of pain. Ghaji looked up in time to see a monstrous winged lizard that looked something like a wyvern with the head of a jungle cat come spiraling downward, Leontis’s arrow buried in its heart. The creature was easily the size of the longboat, and when the thing struck the reef on their port side, the rock cracked and partially crumbled. The beast ended up laying half in, half out of the water, eyes wide and staring, forked tongue lolling out of the corner of its mouth.

Everyone in the longboat, including Onu and Thokk, turned to look at Leontis. The dour priest already had a second arrow nocked, its point trained on the cat-headed lizard, just in case the thing turned out not to be quite as dead as it appeared.

“My apologies if I startled you,” Leontis said, never taking his gaze off the cat-head. “But the beast was flying a little too close to our vessel for my liking.”

Ghaji noticed Diran staring intensely at Leontis, and for a moment, the half-orc couldn’t figure out why. Then he realized: Leontis’ beard had grown fuller, his eyebrows bushier, the hair on the back of hands more pronounced. A feral gleam had come into his eyes, and—though Ghaji thought this last might just be his imagination—Leontis’s teeth seemed sharper.

After that everyone kept a closer watch, especially on the sky, as Solus continued using his mental powers to pilot the longboat through the reef-maze toward whatever dangers awaited them on Trebaz Sinara. Everyone except Ghaji, that is.

He watched Leontis.

Even with Solus’s expert guidance, the longboat took several hours to maneuver through the reef-maze, and it was late afternoon by the time they reached a secluded, shadowy cove. Diran had hoped they might find the
Zephyr
anchored here waiting for them, but the
cove was deserted. The lich had likely moored the elemental sloop elsewhere. They reached shore, disembarked, drew weapons, and scanned their surroundings, alert for the least sign of danger. While the others kept guard, Solus employed his telekinesis to pull the longboat onto the rocky beach, tie the craft down, and secure it with rope lashed to pitons.

“You keep that up, Solus, and we’ll start getting fat from all the exercise we’ll miss,” Ghaji joked.

It was difficult to interpret warforged body language, but from the way Solus thrust his arms down stiffly at his sides—not to mention the way the psionic crystals embedded into his stonework began to flicker erratically—Diran guessed that the construct was upset.

“I did not mean to deprive you of the opportunity to maintain good health,” Solus said. “As I am a construct, I have some difficult understanding the physiological needs of others.”

Hinto glared at Ghaji. “Don’t let the green-faced blowhard upset you, friend. He’s just making a joke at your expense.”

Solus looked at Ghaji for a moment, and Diran feared the psiforged might use his mental abilities to take some manner of revenge. But then a strange noise issued from the construct’s throat, a combination coughing and choking sound.

“By the gods!” Onu said. “I do believe your stone and metal friend is attempting to laugh!”

Solus stopped. “That is the proper response to a joke, is it not?”

Diran smiled. “Yes, my friend. It is.”

Solus nodded in satisfaction. “Good. But there is little ambient psionic energy in the area for me to strengthen my crystals. I will therefore need to be cautious in expending what energy remains to me.” The psiforged looked at Ghaji. “I’m afraid you will get more opportunities for exercise, my friend.”

The companions laughed, and Ghaji gave Solus a friendly slap on the back. Diran then turned to examine their surroundings. Craggy black stone covered the shoreline, giving way to dirty-white sand a dozen yards inland, and beyond that a thick forest. The trees were a strange mixture. Some, such as fir, ash, oak, evergreen, and elm,
were common to the Principalities and their presence on the island came as no surprise. But other trees—palm trees, orange blossoms, and cyprus—rightfully belonged to far warmer climates. And even though winter was drawing closer by the day, the warmland trees looked as robust and healthy as their Lhazaar counterparts.

“Is this how you remember the area?” Diran asked Tresslar.

The artificer nodded. “It was a patchwork conglomeration of different landscapes and flora, just like this. While I don’t recall this cove specifically, since Solus ransacked my memory for the directions to get here, I’m confident this is the location where we made landfall. I remember Erdis leading us into a forest.” Tresslar pointed toward the treeline. “That one, I suppose.”

“That is what your memories showed me,” Solus said. “But time and emotion can color one’s recollections, rearranging them, blocking unpleasant details, or re-interpreting them so they seem better or worse. I did my best to sort out truth from misremembered half-truths and outright distortions, but …” The psiforged trailed off with a very humanlike shrug.

“We understand,” Diran said. “We shall go cautiously and assume nothing.” The priest took a quick inventory of the group. All wore backpacks containing food and water, among other supplies, and all were armed with their chosen weapons. Diran held a pair of daggers—one steel, one silver—and Ghaji gripped his elemental axe. Asenka had drawn her longsword, and Hinto his long knife. Yvka held no obvious weapons, but Diran knew the pouch hanging from her belt contained various magical items constructed by the devious artificers of the Shadow Network. He’d seen the elf-woman use her devices to devastating effect in the past, and he had no doubt their magic would serve her well again this day, if required. Solus needed no physical weapon, just the power of his mind. Thokk held a mace whose handle was pitted with small concave spaces, as if it had once been encrusted with jewels, The weapon might not be a thing of beauty, but it would still perform its function well enough when wielded with dwarven muscle. Onu’s weapon was a light rapier that he kept swishing back and forth through the air as if it were a toy. The captain of the
Turnabout
hadn’t removed the tiny metal ball on
the rapier’s tip used to prevent accidental injury when simply sparring with an opponent. Diran was certain everyone else had noticed as well, but no one had said anything, perhaps having come to the same conclusion as Diran: given Onu’s overly enthusiastic personality, everyone might be safer if he left the little metal ball where it was.

Leontis held his longbow with an arrow nocked and ready. Diran’s old friend appeared calm enough, but there was a gleam of excitement in his eyes as if he were eager to head off into the forest to begin exploring—or perhaps hunting. Diran hadn’t failed to notice the minor transformation Leontis had gone through after slaying the aerial monster earlier—the increased length of his beard and hair, as well as the sharpening of his teeth. Diran had hoped that those feral touches might recede as time passed, but they had remained. It was as if Leontis had held the bestial side of himself in check as long as he could, but the wolf was beginning to fight its way out. Back in the inner courtyard of Kolbyr’s palace, Diran had been fully prepared to honor Leontis’s request and release him from his curse, much as it would have pained the priest to do so. But he’d remembered the visions the demon had shown to him, especially the image of a wolf’s head, its eyes shining with human intelligence. Diran had stayed his hand then, because he realized that Leontis had a role to play in the events to come—though for good or ill, he couldn’t say. Now, seeing the first signs of lycanthropic change in his old friend, Diran was beginning to question his decision. Had he once again allowed emotion to cloud his judgment, just as he had with Makala? Would more weight be added to the burden of guilt Diran carried on his shoulders. And if so, how would he ever be able to bear it?

Tresslar held his revealer out before him and slowly moved it from left to right then back again. When he was finished, he lowered the device to his side, a disappointed look on his face.

“No sign of the Amahau yet. Perhaps once we get moving …”

Diran nodded. “Then let’s be on our way. We have precious little daylight remaining to us, and we shouldn’t waste it.”