Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [232]
"I can't swim," he grated.
"I can," I said. "Enough for two.”
The ship groaned and settled, creaking. Bilge water rose around us. Men were babbling and shouting. Those who weren't wounded were already in the sea, swimming for the island's shore. The ship creaked and lurched lower. I slid my arms under Urist's, holding his face clear of the water, and gauged the distance.
"It was a damn good try." He grimaced. "Leave me.”
I shook my head. "Not a chance.”
Having struck its final blow, the storm's fury had abated; or at least, it had moved onward, passing over the sea. Still, it was a long, hard swim in cold, choppy water. I slid over the lower railing, now underwater, and hauled Urist over it. He cried aloud as his broken leg, unsupported, dragged in the water. His entire body jerked at the pain of it.
"I'm sorry!" I gasped raggedly, treading water. I got him in a headlock, wedging my forearm under his chin. "Just try to hold still. Please!”
Urist closed his eyes and nodded against my arm.
Elua knows how, but I got him ashore. I kept my death-grip on him, kept his face above water. Forced my aching, leaden limbs to keep reaching, fighting the cold water that sought to leach my strength. I wasn't hale, but at least I was whole. It came down, in the end, to counting each breath I drew and reckoning it a victory. My chest ached, but my lungs kept working. The island's rocky shore was strewn with bone-weary Vralian sailors. By the time we reached the shallows, I was too exhausted to stand. I towed Urist as far as I could, crawling over rough rocks, then sat with my hands laced under his armpits and scooted backward, dragging him inch by inch onto solid land.
"You're safe," I said in a raw voice.
Urist opened his eyes and grunted. "Look at that bitch. Still sitting there.”
I followed his gaze. He was right. Out there in the grey drizzle, the ship, listing and half sunken, was hung up on the rocks. We might as well have stayed, clinging to the foredeck. I laughed helplessly. What else was there to do?
"How's your leg?" I asked Urist.
He rolled his eyes around at me. "Hurts like hell. Think I might puke. What do you expect?”
"Not much," I said wearily. "Not with my luck.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
There are sizable islands in the Eastern Sea; populated islands, islands with ports large enough to warrant being regular stops on the trade routes.
Unfortunately, this wasn't one of them.
Once we'd dragged ourselves ashore, assessed the wounded and counted the missing—one of the ten crewmen hadn't reached the island—it didn't take long to determine that we were in a bad situation. No food, no fresh water, no shelter. No sign of habitation anywhere along the barren, stony shore or the pine forest behind it. No sign of the mainland coastline we'd been following. No sign of other ships on the vast grey expanse of the sea.
Aside from the man who'd gone missing, there was one in worse shape than Urist, a fellow named Kirill. He'd swum to shore unaided, then collapsed into unconsciousness. Someone said he'd taken a sharp thrust to the belly with an oar shaft. Other than that, the rest of us sported nothing worse than bruises and grazes.
Captain Iosef gave us time to catch our breath before he began issuing orders; pointing to the ship, to the forest. His voice was tired and cracked, and I was too weary to make out a word of what he said. Five of the most stalwart sailors plunged back into the surf and began swimming for the wreck. Two others began trudging toward the forest, carrying the unconscious Kirill with them. Iosef approached us, bringing Ravi to interpret.
I listened, then interpreted for Urist. "Says we're going to have to set and brace your leg if you don't want to lose it.”
Urist didn't blink. "Just do it.”
It was an ugly process. We slit his breeches to the hip, laying the leg bare. The snapped bone hadn't breached the skin, but it tented it obscenely.
"Don't look," I advised Urist. He didn't. Captain Iosef and I conferred through Ravi, who looked sick. Elua be thanked, Iosef had set