Thieves of Blood

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Makala tensed, ready to leap out of her seat, but Erdis Cai put an armored hand on her shoulder to keep her still.

When the raiders had marched their prisoners to Onkar, they turned and marched back. Other raiders sitting in the bottom-most row, a dozen in all, now stood. They were armed with bows, and they nocked arrows and took aim at the prisoners.

Onkar gestured at the archers as he addressed the prisoners. “As you can see, if you try to escape, the archers will fire upon you. Understand?”

The prisoners, including Zabeth, nodded miserably.

“However, Erdis Cai is not without mercy,” Onkar continued. “Your punishment shall only last a short while. When it’s done, should any of you survive, you’ll get a second chance to serve the master, but I must warn you-it’s been a while since we had anyone survive-a long while.”

Scattered laughter among the audience, mostly from the raiders in attendance.

Onkar walked up to one of the male prisoners, a reedy fellow with red hair and a thatch of beard. “Hold out your hands,” he ordered.

The man did so, the chains of his manacles jingling as he trembled. Onkar took a key out of one of his pockets and unlocked the man’s manacles. They fell to the stone floor of the amphitheater with a clang, but Onkar made no move to pick them up.

He then handed Redbeard the key. “Unlock the others.”

Blinking in confusion, the man nevertheless did as he was told, and soon the rest of the prisoners were free, their manacles joining his on the stone floor. Onkar then held out his hand. The man returned the key, and Onkar pocketed it once more.

“Stay right here,” the vampire said, then he turned and headed back toward Erdis Cai, Jarlain, and Makala.

One of the other male prisoners took a step toward Onkar’s unprotected back. The commander of the Black Fleet didn’t turn around as he said, “Don’t forget the archers, lad.”

The short man hesitated and glanced at the raiders standing with arrows pointed directly at him. He lowered his head, shoulders slumped in defeat. Whatever punishment awaited him and his fellow prisoners, he had no choice but to see it through one way or another.

Makala tried to catch Zabeth’s eye, if only to let the woman know she had a friend watching for whatever comfort the knowledge might provide, but if Zabeth saw her, the elderly shifter gave no indication.

Onkar sat next to Jarlain and then shouted, “Begin!”

Erdis Cai made a gesture with his hand. In response, there came a rumbling beneath their feet, and vibrations passed through the stone seats of the amphitheater. A seam opened in the stone floor running from one side to the other, neatly dividing it in two. The rumbling continued as the seam slowly widened, and Makala understood that the floor was retracting, sliding beneath the seats to reveal whatever lay underneath. The prisoners struggled to maintain their balance as the two sections of the floor slid away from each other. Three of them-the short man, Redbeard, and a petite woman who couldn’t have been more than nineteen-stood on the left side of the widening gap. Zabeth, along with a man with long braided brown hair, stood on the right.

Within seconds, the floor had pulled back enough to reveal another surface beneath, though instead of stone, this one was constructed from crisscrossing iron bars, as it were the top of a huge cage. The space between the bars looked to be four or five inches wide, small enough to stand on yet wide enough to reach through. This latter quality became readily apparent as a mottled arm thrust upward between the bars, black-clawed hand swiping at the air. The hand was soon joined by another, and another, until dozens of them raked the air. Loud hissing filled the amphitheater, as if a pit of angry vipers had been stirred up.

“You asked what happened to the rest of my former crew,” Erdis Cai said. “Now you know.”

At the sight of dozens of clawed hands reaching through the iron grating, the five prisoners ran toward the seats, realizing that the only thing standing between them and the hissing creatures was a retracting layer of stone. There was nowhere to go, for the archers stood vigilant, prepared to loose their arrows on any prisoner who came too close to freedom.

The redbearded man tried anyway. He rushed for the steps, and the nearest archer released her arrow. The shaft slammed into the man’s left shoulder, and he cried out in pain. He fell to his knees then reached up and gripped the arrow as if he intended to pull it out.

Onkar motioned to the raider who had wounded the prisoner. She nodded, lay her bow on the ground, then stepped quickly toward Redbeard. She grabbed the mans wounded arm and hauled him to his feet, eliciting a fresh howl of pain from him. She pulled him to the edge of the retracting floor and tossed him onto the iron grating. The man tried to sit up, eyes wide with terror, but before he could move, black talons tore into him and he screamed. The hands clawed furrows in his flesh, gouged out large chunks of meat, reached into red wet openings and pulled forth glistening organs. Blood rained down from the shrieking man’s mutilated body. Naked, hairless creatures with burning crimson eyes and sharp teeth fought each other to stand beneath the grisly fountain they’d created and drink. Redbeard’s screams ended, and all that could be heard was the scuffling of the savage creatures below him, and the ecstatic moaning of those lucky enough to catch some of the blood-rain on their tongues.

“The dark goddess granted undeath to all of the Seastar’s crew, but while Onkar and I became vampires, the others grew steadily more bestial and cannibalistic until I had no choice but to cage them.” Erdis Cai spoke in a casual tone, as if the slaughter taking place before him meant nothing at all. “Still, ghouls or not, they are my comrades-or were, and I make sure to take care of them. Fortunately, they still prove useful. Sometimes I wonder if this wasn’t the purpose our goddess had in mind for them all along.”

Little meat remained on Redbeard’s corpse now, and the feral ghouls began snapping off bones and pulling them down into their cage. A moment later, all that was left of the man were smears of blood on the bars, and the ghouls were already licking those clean as best they could.

The stone floor ground to a halt, leaving only two five foot sections for the surviving prisoners to stand on. All of them, including Zabeth, stood right at the edge, looking back and forth from the ghouls to the archers, unsure about what to do next.

Grinning, Onkar said, “Quit stalling-time to get your feet wet!”

The archers stepped toward the prisoners. If the raiders were worried about moving closer to the ghouls, they still continued forward. Even confronted with the archers, the prisoners still did not move, and Makala didn’t blame them. A swift death from an archers bow was far preferable to what the obscene creatures that had once been mortal sailors would do to them, but the prisoners hadn’t been brought here to receive swift, merciful deaths but rather punishment. The archers lowered their bows, reached out, and shoved the prisoners off the stone and onto the iron grating.

At least, they managed to shove three of the remaining four. Just as one of the raiders was about to push Zabeth, the elderly shifter spun around, snarling, eyes wide, fangs bared looking just as savage as any of the ghouls reaching through the grating. She grabbed the raider-a woman-by the arm and spun her off the stone edge. The woman screamed as she fell onto the interlocking bars, but she didn’t scream for long.

Zabeth, her full bestial aspect upon her now, whirled around and started loping toward the assembled citizens of Grimwall, obviously intent on making a break for it. Archers lifted their bows once more and loosed their arrows, but Zabeth managed to evade the missiles, ducking and dodging as she ran, moving with far more speed than might be expected for someone her age, even a shifter. The other prisoners, without Zabeth’s lycanthropic heritage to drawn on, were no match for the ghouls. Their deaths came swiftly, if not mercifully, their dying screams echoing through the amphitheater as Zabeth leaped onto the first ring of seats and continued running upward through the crowd.

Makala silently cheered her friend on, and she began to allow herself to hope that Zabeth might actually escape. Makala then felt a sudden breeze rush past her, and when the turned to look at Erdis Cai, she found he was gone. She looked back to Zabeth and saw that Cai now stood in her path. The shifter woman tried to veer around the vampire lord, leaping over a row of alarmed onlookers in the process. Erdis Cai didn’t seem to move. One moment he was standing with his arms at his sides, and the next he had Zabeth by the throat, holding the woman in the air as if she weighed no more than an infant. Zabeth kicked, thrashed, and clawed at Erdis Cai’s arm, but none of her exertions were enough to break the vampire’s grip.

Erdis Cai looked at Zabeth, his brow furrowed and his upper lip curled into a sneer. All he did was open his hand, but Zabeth flew backwards as if he’d flung her violently from him. The shifter woman clawed the air as if she were trying to slow her descent toward the amphitheater floor, but there were no handholds to be found in empty space, and she slammed back, first into the iron grating with the horrible sound of snapping bones. Zabeth tried to rise, but she collapsed back onto the grating, moaning in pain. All the ghouls were busy at the moment fighting over the remains of the four other prisoners and the unfortunate archer Zabeth had served up to them. Thus Zabeth wasn’t immediately attacked, but Makala knew it would only be a matter of moments before the ravenous ghouls went after her. Though shifters were known to be fast healers, there was no way Zabeth could recover in to time to avoid being dismembered and disemboweled.

Makala felt another breeze, and Erdis Cai was sitting calmly next to her again as if he’d never moved.

“It won’t be long now,” he said as if he were merely commenting on an approaching change in the weather.

Makala’s gaze fell upon an object hanging on one of the grating’s metal bars. It was a pair of manacles, one of those that the prisoners had been wearing when they’d first been brought in. Makala remembered Onkar freeing the prisoners from the shackles, but she realized no one had ever picked up the discarded manacles. When the floor had retracted, they’d fallen into the recessed pit below, but it seemed one pair hadn’t fallen all the way.

Without thinking, Makala leaped up from her seat and started running across the iron grating toward the manacles. She didn’t concern herself with where she placed her feet, didn’t worry if black-taloned hands would come reaching toward her from between the bars. She trusted to her instincts and training and just ran. When she drew near the manacles, she reached down without pausing and snatched them up. She turned then ran for Zabeth, who was still trying to get up but with no more success then she’d had before.

In the back of Makala’s mind, she knew that the archers could pick her off anytime, for skilled as she was, she hadn’t a shifter’s reflexes to help her dodge arrows. She also knew that if Erdis Cai chose to, he could intercept her whenever he wished and toss her about like a rag doll, just as he’d done with poor Zabeth, but she had no control over either of those things. Emon Gorsedd had taught her to ignore what she couldn’t control, so she kept on running. Either she’d reach Zabeth or she wouldn’t. At least she wouldn’t simply have sat still and watched her friend be torn to pieces.

Up to this point, Makala had avoided looking through the grating, but as she approached Zabeth, she glanced downward. She saw dozens of hairless shapes moving like pale shadows beneath her, and she knew the ghouls were converging on Zabeth. Makala began swinging the manacles over her head as she closed in on her friend, just as the first mottled-fleshed hand came up between the bars and reached for Zabeth’s left arm. Makala let out a battle cry as she swung the manacles with all her strength at the ghoul’s grasping hand. The shackle smashed into the pale fingers, breaking the creature’s claw-like fingernails. The ghoul screeched in pain and withdrew its hand, but more came to take its place-many more. Makala swung her improvised weapon with desperate, almost maniacal fury as she struggled to drive off the savage ghouls and save Zabeth, but there were too many of them and only one of her. Her arm and shoulder started to go numb, and despite her efforts, some of the ghouls had managed to wound Zabeth, and the shifter sobbed as her blood ran down into the pit below them, further exciting the ghouls. Makala refused to give in. She would fight to her dying breath and if possible beyond.

“Hold!”

The word echoed through the amphitheater like thunder, and the ghouls broke off their attack. They crouched below Zabeth, hissing softly as they cast covetous glances at the blood dripping from the shifter’s wounds, but as much as they might long to, they made no move to feed. Makala stood panting for breath, the manacles dangling at her side. She turned to see Erdis Cai striding toward her. It might have been due to fatigue, but it looked as if the vampire lord walked several inches above the grating instead of on it.

“Congratulations, Makala.” Erdis Cai stopped a few feet away from her, and if he’d been walking above the bars before, he stood upon them now.

“For… what?” she gasped.

“For proving yourself worthy.”

Makala scowled. “You mean this was… a test?”

Erdis Cai smiled, and this time he seemed to have no qualms about displaying his sharp incisors. “Indeed, and you cannot possibly know how happy you’ve made me.”

“You bastard!” Makala swung the shackle at Erdis Cai’s face, intending to knock those damn teeth of his out of their sockets, but the vampire reached up and caught the chain with unnatural ease.

“The test is finished. There’s no further need to prove yourself.” Cai looked down at the ghouls crouching below.

“Finish the bitch,” he ordered.

The ghouls shrieked with delighted lust, Makala shouted “No!” and poor Zabeth screamed. But not for long.

Now that the Mire was several hours behind them and the sun had set, Hinto seemed to finally be relaxing a bit, which was a relief to Ghaji. The halfling had held his own during the escape from the Mire, and Ghaji respected that, but he found Hinto’s “emotional instability,” as Diran put it, hard to stomach. During one of the halfling’s low periods, he’d been standing at the port rail, weeping softly. Diran had taken Ghaji aside and explained that the trauma of losing his crewmates and surviving on his own in the Mire had taken a heavy toll on Hinto’s mind. They needed to be understanding and patient with the halfling while he came to terms with what had happened. Ghaji was all for being understanding and patient as Hinto’s wounded spirit healed, but did the halfling have to be so damn annoying in the process?

Hinto once more stood at the Zephyr’s port side, running his hands appreciatively over the surface of the railing.

“I never thought I’d ever get to see soarwood, let alone sail on a vessel made from it,” he said. “It’s so smooth that the hand slides over it as if it were ice. No wonder this craft can sail so swiftly.”

Ghaji sat not far away, honing his axe blade with a sharpening stone. He didn’t know if the halfling was talking to him or merely thinking aloud. Either way, Ghaji saw no need to reply. Tthen Diran, who sat next to him, restocking his cloak pockets with daggers he’d taken from the pack between his feet, gave Ghaji a look, and the half-orc sighed.

“She’s a fine vessel,” Ghaji said, then he shot Diran a glance that said, There, are you satisfied?

Hinto turned away from the railing and came over to join them, though the halfling didn’t sit and Ghaji didn’t ask him to.

“She’d certainly make an excellent pirate ship,” Hinto said. “She’s small enough that you could get close to other vessels before they had the chance to try and evade you, and she’s fast enough that you’d be able to outrun any pursuit. She’s too small to carry a large crew, though, so you’d have to choose your targets carefully so as not to find yourselves outnumbered, but-”

“We’re not pirates,” Ghaji said. “We’re…” He trailed off, unsure precisely how to describe what he and Diran did.

“Pilgrims,” Diran said.

A bit grand, Ghaji thought, but accurate enough, he supposed.

“Why are you trying to rescue that woman? Makala, right?”

Diran expression turned grim. He returned his attention to resupplying his cloak pockets from among his collection of daggers.

Hinto leaned forward and peered into Diran’s pack. “You’ve got a lot of knives in there. Steel, iron, silver…” Hinto pointed. “Are those wood?”

“They are,” Diran confirmed without taking his attention from his work. “The foul creatures that Ghaji and I battle have varying strengths and weaknesses. Some are affected by all metals, some only by certain kinds, while others aren’t affected by metals at all. I must be prepared.”

Ghaji knew that Diran had many more types of daggers beside those he’d already named. He carried blades fashioned from stone, ivory, jade, and crystal, most of which he’d fashioned himself. He also owned several daggers that possessed magical properties: a couple that had been given to him by Tusya, his mentor in the church, while the others had been acquired during various missions over the years.

“Must make for a heavy burden,” Hinto said, eyeing the pack.

“In more ways than one,” Diran said softly.

The halfling frowned. “I just thought of something. If your pack’s full of knives, where do you carry your other supplies, such as a bedroll and the like?”

“He doesn’t,” Ghaji said. “I carry supplies for both of us in my pack. One of my primary duties is to serve as Diran’s mule.”

The priest looked up at him and smiled. “You’re stubborn as a mule, I’ll give you that.”

Ghaji grinned. “And proud of it.”

Hinto’s eyes widened and he took two steps backward. At first Ghaji didn’t understand why, then he realized he’d bared his teeth when he’d smiled. An orcish smile, even one half-orcish, was enough to give even the strongest warrior pause, let alone an emotionally disturbed halfling. Ghaji felt a sudden wave of shame. How many times in his life had he accidentally frightened people because of the way he looked? He wasn’t above taking advantage of his appearance in battle-he’d done so many times during the Last War. Sometimes he forgot the effect his appearance had on others, forgot that too often it was a mistake to relax his guard and act like he was just another person talking, laughing, and smiling with friends. He wasn’t “another person.” He was a half-orc and always would be.

“Mind if I join you?”

Hinto started at the sound of Yvka’s voice, and he stared at the elf-woman with a wide-eyed, terrified gaze.

Ghaji reached out and put his hand on the halfling’s shoulder. “Calm yourself.”

Though Ghaji’s rumbling voice could hardly be described as soothing, Hinto nevertheless took a deep breath then let it out slowly. He then looked at Ghaji and smiled.

“Thanks, Greenie.”

It took a monumental effort, but Ghaji managed not to tighten his grip and break Hinto’s shoulder.

Diran looked up at Yvka. “Please, sit down.”

“No thanks. I’ve been sitting in the pilot’s chair for hours. I’d rather stand.”

She put two hands on her lower back and arched her spine in a stretch. The motion caused her chest to bow outward and her head to lean back, her lips parting slightly.

Now it was Ghaji’s turn to stare wide-eyed.

When she was finished with her display, which Ghaji thought went on a little longer than strictly necessary-not that he was complaining-she said, “The wind’s blowing strong enough that we can do without the elemental for a short while without losing too much time.”

“It’s just as well,” Diran said. “We need to make plans before we reach Dreadhold. How long do you think it will be before we’re there?”

Yvka looked up at the stars glittering in the night sky. “Dreadhold is located off the northern reaches of Cape Far. We should arrive by midmorning tomorrow. Noon at the latest.”

Diran nodded. “Do you have any friends on the island who can get us in to speak with Tresslar?”

“The Shadow Network is not without connections in Dreadhold,” she said, “but I personally have no relationship with anyone there. I’m afraid I’ll be of little help this time.”

“Don’t worry,” Diran said. “Ghaji and I are used to providing people with reasons to let us enter where we’re not always permitted.”

“Or wanted,” Ghaji added.

Diran grinned. “Indeed. I’m sure we’ll be able to get inside, one way or another.”

“Will we have trouble docking?” Ghaji asked. “The Zephyr isn’t exactly an inconspicuous ship, and our arrival will be unscheduled.”

“The dock is rarely used,” Yvka said, “as there’s little traffic coming and going from Dreadhold. Also, guards watch the sea carefully, ever alert for the approach of raiders who may be coming to help a comrade escape. We’ll just have to make berth and hope we can talk our way past the dockmaster.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to bribe him?” Ghaji asked.

“If it were anywhere else but Dreadhold, I’d say yes,” Yvka said, “but the members of House Kundarak run the prison with rigid efficiency and unwavering adherence to the rules. They cannot be bribed.”

Hinto sniffed. “I don’t trust anyone who refuses to take an honest bribe.”

“You could stay at Dreadhold,” Diran said to the halfling. “The warders would surely help you return to the mainland if you wish, and if nothing else, you’d be out of danger.”

“I thank you for your consideration,” Hinto said, “but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay aboard the Zephyr.”

Ghaji frowned. “Didn’t you hear what Diran said? You’d be safe in Dreadhold.”

“I’m safe right here. You three found me in the Mire, and you three got me out. The way I see it, you’re all good luck charms, and I’ll be safe as long as I stick close to you.”

Ghaji nearly groaned. It seemed Hinto had attached to the three of them like a stray puppy that had received a bit of food and a few kind words from a stranger. Wonderful.

“Since Tresslar works in the prison, I think we’ll have an easier time getting in to speak with him than if he were an inmate,” Diran said, “but we’ll need some sort of cover story.”

“Why?” Ghaji asked. “Why not just introduce ourselves to the warden, explain what our mission is, and ask to speak with Tresslar?”

“Ordinarily, that’s just what we’d do,” Diran said, “but there’s one problem.” He looked at Yvka.

“That problem is me,” she said, “or rather, the people I work for. Officially, they don’t exist. If we tell the warden the truth, he’s bound to ask some uncomfortable questions, and though I am as committed to finding the Black Fleet as you are, I cannot reveal anything about my employers in the process, especially not to a representative of a dragonmarked house.”

“I see,” Ghaji said. “Then we go with a cover story.”

“We’ll make landfall on Dreadhold, and Ghaji and I will enter the prison while you and Hinto remain with the Zephyr” Diran said. “We’ll speak to Tresslar and hopefully learn where Erdis Cai makes port. Once that knowledge is ours, we’ll rejoin you and set sail once more. Easy as that.”

Ghaji looked at his friend. “It’s never easy.”

“Try to be optimistic. Perhaps this will be the first time.”

“Are you willing to wager on it?” Ghaji asked.

Diran thought for a moment. “No,” he said with a sigh.

“However things go for us on Dreadhold, we’ll need to be well rested,” Yvka said. “Diran, as long as the wind’s strong, would you mind taking the tiller for a couple hours?”

“Not at all.”

“Perhaps Hinto can keep you company,” the elf-woman said. “He must have some absolutely riveting stories about his time at sea.”

The halfling nodded enthusiastically. “That I do! One of my tasks aboard the Pelican was to serve as chief ratcatcher. Why, one time I caught thirty-seven rats in a single afternoon.”

“Do tell,” Diran said in a tone that indicated he’d like Hinto to do anything but continue.

“Oh, yes! It wasn’t easy, mind you. The first seventeen gave me no trouble really, but after that-”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Yvka said, “I’ll take my leave.”

She looked at Ghaji’s hands. He still held his axe and sharpening stone, though he hadn’t been doing anything with them while they’d talked.

“You’re obviously quite skilled with your hands, Ghaji,” Yvka said. “There’s something in the cabin that makes a squeaking noise and keeps me from falling asleep easily. I thought perhaps you might be able to find whatever is causing the noise and fix it for me. If you could, I’d appreciate it. Very much.”

She gave Ghaji a look full of promise, then turned and headed for the cabin.

Diran smiled. “You’d better go, my friend. It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting when she has a squeak that needs tending.”