The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [20]
The crew of the Kraken’s Wake were sleeping. A handful of sailors were sprawled across the deck. Lakashtai knelt beside a young man with a hint of elven blood in his fine features; he wore the uniform of a Lyrandar ship’s captain, a long black coat with blue and silver trim.
“Tashana’s work,” she said, touching his forehead. “Trapping their spirits in the world of dreams. We were lucky—she must have expended much of her energy to accomplish this.”
“So she’s usually even scarier? Great. That’s reassuring.”
Lakashtai closed her eyes for a moment, and the captain moaned. “Captain Helais. Return to us. Your dreaming is done.”
The man slowly sat up. “Lady … Lakashtai?” He looked across the deck. “What’s … What happened?”
“No harm has come to you or your crew, but we must leave swiftly, before the villain who did this returns. I shall see to the rest of your crew.”
“This one’s already waking up,” Lei said, kneeling next to a large, balding man with pockmarked skin. Lakashtai looked over, and Daine saw a trace of surprise pass across her usually serene features.
“That is … good. Let us check on the others.”
Daine helped the captain to his feet as Lei, Lakashtai, and Pierce disappeared below decks. “I’m Daine, and my companions are Pierce and Lei. We’re joining Lakashtai on this voyage—I hope that she made the necessary arrangements.”
The man nodded. “She’s bought the services of the entire boat, so she can bring whoever she wants, friend. I’m Helais Lyrandar.” He turned to the groggy crewman standing about. “Look alive, you lot! Check the sails, and stow the gangplank. Dulan, go see what happened to Fin.”
Sailors scattered across the decks, rubbing their heads and laughing. Daine followed the captain as he headed up to the wheel.
“Have you made this run before?” the captain asked Daine as he checked the wheel and studied the deck.
“No—my only time on the water was on the rivers.”
“Military transports, or merchant barges?”
“Military, during the war.”
“Who did you fight for?” The new voice was a loud rasp, a whetstone against granite—and a distinctly Brelish accent. It was the burly man woken by Lei; he wore a leather vest, and an iron-bound cudgel was hanging from his broad belt. One of his eyes was clouded over, and scars around the lid suggested violence was the cause. “I see Cyran markings on your warforged.” His hostility was unmistakable.
“He’s not my warforged,” Daine said. The recent treaty that officially put an end to the last war had declared the warforged to be free beings, with all the rights of other citizens of the Five Nations. “As for whom I fought for—” His sword was out in an instant, and the point flashed before the sailor’s eyes. Daine held it for a moment, then spun the blade and reversed the grip, revealing the eye-in-sun sigil of House Deneith on the pommel. “I went where my skills were most needed.”
“Lon!” the captain said. “I’ve told you before, if you’re going to serve on my ship, you leave your nation behind. This is a vessel of House Lyrandar, not Breland, not Cyre. Your war is over; let it lie.”
The giant nodded, his gaze still fixed on the Deneith emblem. Muttering an apology, he made his way back across the deck. Daine grinned and returned his blade to its sheath.
“I must apologize for my crew, Master Daine,” Helais said once Lon was out of earshot. “The markless are still bound by their petty national rivalries. It’s good to have a member of the Blademark aboard; piracy is a rare occurrence on the route I have planned, but there are always dangers on and below the seas.”
Daine nodded. It wasn’t entirely a lie—he was simply letting them draw their own conclusions. He had been born into House Deneith. The blade was his birthright, handed down from his grandfather. He had trained and served with the Blademark, and in the end, he had gone where his skills were most needed: the Queen’s Guard of Cyre. The mercenaries of House Deneith were forbidden to choose sides in a conflict. As Helais said, the houses were supposed to be above