Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [92]
The only thing that bothered him was knowing what he was supposed to do next. Narros's story hadn't included that. He paused in his playing, watching embers caught up in the rising smoke die only a short distance above the flames. Moonlight kissed the breakers rolling against the shoreline only a short distance away. He pulled their sound into him and made it his.
"Oghma help me," Pacys whispered to the dwarf, "but I have never in my life felt so alive. It should be sinful to feel this good."
"Aye," Khlinat agreed. "But ye and me, we know the truth of life, songsmith. That every day you trod upon this earth, a bit more of ye dies. Ye soon run out of new things, new places, new people. A wandering man, that's what I always wanted to be, but I've stayed in one place for far too long. This quest ye be upon, now there's a true calling for the measure of a man. That's part of why I wanted to tag along with ye, to sup the dregs from your adventures. Marthammor Duin willing, there'll be no few of those."
Pacys touched the yarting's strings, exploring all that was new to him. "I only wish I knew better where we were supposed to go. Starmantle is the closest city of any size."
"Ye worry too much about things that will take care of themselves," Khlinat said. "When it's a quest ye be following, why ye are the compass rose on the map. Ye can't help but go in the right direction no matter how wrong it may seem at the time. Ye mark me words, songsmith, and mark them well."
The old bard believed in his new friend's confidence, melding it with his own, but a cold tingle touched him as well. With a sense long born of traveling and being on his own, Pacys knew they were being watched. He caught the dwarfs eye and said, "We've attracted attention."
The dwarf slid one of his hand axes free and ran a thumb across the sharp blade. "I thought I felt something nosing around. Maybe 111 go take a look."
Pacys put a hand on the little man's arm. "No. I don't think that will be necessary."
A shadow stood in the forest, lean and somehow regal, part of the dark landscape, yet somehow apart from it as well. Moonlight flashed from the shiny surface of what Pacys believed to be the man's clothing.
When the man first stepped forward and his dark skin and silver-white hair glistened wetly in the campfire light, Pacys thought they'd drawn the attention of a drow elf. The man had the easy, liquid movements all the elves exhibited. He went naked save for a harness that supported a brace of knives and shiny leggings. He carried a long-bladed spear in his right hand.
Khlinat swore fiercely and bounded to his foot, swiveling on his peg as he set himself with axes in both hands. "All right, ye black-hearted backstabber, let's have at ye!"
XVI
9 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet
As Jherek rushed the mage in the enchanted chair, the pirate behind him leaped forward and went for the sword scabbarded at his waist. He had it out before Jherek reached him.
The action attracted the ship's mage's attention. The man threw himself from the chair. Abandoned without a strong hand at the keel, Breezerunner listed out of true, wallowing against the river current now instead of cutting through it cleanly. The wind and sails warred with the push of the river, rocking the ship with bigger and bigger swings.
Jherek moved easily with his stolen cutlass, parrying the helmsman's blow and listening to the yells of the pirates as they woke the ship. Still not quite back to his fighting trim, the young sailor moved too slowly to get his return blow back on time after a successful parry. The pirate blocked it inches from his face.
Swearing, calling on darkest evil to descend on Jherek, the pirate slid his steel along the young sailor's and stepped inside his guard. Before Jherek could anticipate it, his opponent headbutted him in the face. Blood streamed from Jherek's nose, leaking the salty taste down into his mouth, and it felt like the back of his head was exploding all over again.
Jherek staggered back, barely able to get his cutlass up in time