Outcast Chronicles - Sanctuary Part 44
They all looked at each other.
*We're from a winery,' Vivane said, gesturing to himself and his brother, *but we used to fish on the river.'
*That's a start,' Sorne said. *Anyone else?'
They shook their heads.
*When would we go?' Tiasely asked.
*We'd have to escape just before they returned from the raid,' Sorne said. *Then I'd come back here. If last night is anything to go by, they'll celebrate and get drunk. That'll be the best time to steal the skiff.'
*But how do we know when they're due to come back?' Yosune asked.
*We'll watch the old woman. She'll know.'
*They're leaving,' one of the smaller boys said.
All the children ran to the cellar doors. The tallest climbed up to peer through the gaps in the panels.
Sorne watched the Maygharian put to sea with his fleet of the skiffs and his merchant vessel flagship. Half a dozen children, a very pregnant woman, three old men, the tavern keeper Loris and a girl of about fourteen waved them off. Every able-bodied man and woman had gone on the raid.
As though released from work, those left behind spent the afternoon frolicking on the beach. The children played, while the old folk and pregnant woman watched. They all went to bed early.
It was the perfect opportunity, but Sorne had to time their escape. Too soon and the children would be left exposed on an uninhabited island. Too late and the Maygharian and his cut-throats would return.
And even if he timed it perfectly, slipped back and stole a small skiff... Sorne had a theoretical knowledge of the sea. He'd watched captains plot courses. He'd watched first mates bellow orders to sailors, to lower or raise sails. He knew how to tack before the wind. He knew Ivernia lay to the south-west and the port of Sorvernia, which was home to the Sagoras, lay halfway down the southern island.
If he put to sea in a skiff with these children they could all die.
But if he didn't...
KNOWING THEY WEREN'T welcome, Ronnyn and Sardeon had slipped into the empowered lads' cabin late when everyone had already spread out their bed-mats. As soon as Ronnyn opened the cabin door, the feel of so many gifts packed into one chamber hit him.
It was powerful and raw, and it should have triggered his own gift, but nothing happened. It frustrated him, but more than that it frightened him. He felt robbed, as if he'd lost the ability to speak; he could still hear and understand, just not communicate.
Several of the lads were still awake, playing cards. Vittor nodded to them, then laid down his cards one-handed. *I claim the sisterhood. I have the all-mother, both seconds and a gift-tutor.'
The others laughed and threw in their cards.
In another corner, two lads arm-wrestled. Toryx spoke to his friends and they all cast Ronnyn and Sardeon filthy looks.
There was not a lot of floor s.p.a.ce left. Ronnyn chose a spot against the wall, near the door to the bathing chamber, and they unrolled their bed-mats.
The laughter and talk went on for a long time. Ronnyn lay still and pretended to sleep. He didn't think Sardeon was asleep either. At one point he woke because the tang of gift was so strong on the air. He heard muttering and realised one of the lads was having a bad dream and his gift had surged in response to his nightmare.
Ronnyn put his arm over his head but he couldn't escape the pall of power that surrounded him.
Chapter Thirty-Two.
THAT NIGHT, WHEN Sorne lay down to sleep, the little ones wanted to be next to him. The ones furthest from him would wake, climb over the sleeping bodies and wriggle in beside him. After a while, the child who had been shoved to the edge would wake and the process would be replayed. It happened over and over. He didn't mind. It meant he slept lightly and was awake when the raiders arrived.
The Maygharian's second had been wise to suspect trickery. The first Sorne knew of it was when he heard a shriek from above. It cut off abruptly, followed by a thump and heavy footsteps.
Deep voices spoke, their words indistinct.
Sorne slipped from the tangle of children and climbed the steps to peer into the tavern. Someone had lit a lamp. He saw the old woman, Loris, sitting on a chair, her face obscured by a man's broad shoulders.
*Tell us,' the man ordered. When he didn't like her response, he slapped her and stepped back.
Blood covered her mouth, chin and chest, but anger burned in her pale blue eyes as another raider stepped into view.
*It's really simple,' the second man said. *We know the Maygharian sea-king has been successful. We want to know where he keeps his spoils. You'll tell us before we're finished, so save yourself the pain and tell us now.'
*And then you'll kill me. Why should I tell you a thing?' She spat a gob of b.l.o.o.d.y phlegm at him.
He swore and back-handed her, knocking her off the chair.
Sorne heard whimpers behind him and hurried down the steps. He gathered Tiasely, Yosune and the two big boys. *Take the children into the shadows. Hide. Bad men have come.'
Then he returned to the top of the stairs to peer through the crack. He spotted four raiders and the old woman. Of the three old men who usually slept on the tavern floor, only one was present. He lay in an ever-widening puddle of blood.
Hopefully, the other two had slipped out to warn the women and children.
Even as Sorne thought this, a fifth man returned. *They got away, but there's cunny here. I found this.' He held up a pale night gown and sniffed it. *Still warm, smells of a"' He broke off as two of the raiders launched themselves out the back steps, and he followed, yelling that he wanted his share. Sorne could hear their taunts as they searched the nearby buildings.
This left the leader and his brute.
The leader cursed and turned.
Loris had grabbed a knife from somewhere. She sprang for him, slashing his chest.
Sorne threw his shoulder at the door, felt it give. Slammed into it again and stumbled into the tavern.
The leader grappled with Loris, his chest bleeding freely. The brute turned to Sorne. Seeing a white-haired, one-eyed half-blood come out of nowhere, he stood stunned for a heartbeat.
Sorne charged him, took him in the belly and drove him into the bar. He heard the man's spine crack. Stepping back, Sorne pulled the long knife from the raider's belt and the sword from his sheath, then let him fall.
As he turned, he looked through the open tavern door and saw a small, single-sailed fishing boat anch.o.r.ed in the shallows.
The sound of smashing gla.s.s made him spin around to find the leader throttling Loris. She'd just broken a bottle over his head, but she was failing.
Sorne rushed the raider.
Thrusting Loris aside, the man drew his sword and swung at Sorne, who deflected the blade, catching it on his sword hilt, and stabbed him under the ribs with the knife.
The leader of the raiders fell to his knees, then pitched forward.
Loris lay on her back panting, amidst spilled alcohol and the toppled lantern. As Sorne went to her, she lifted a hand to protect herself.
He knelt. *Are you all right?'
She nodded.
*I'm going, and I'm taking the children in the skiff.'
She didn't argue.
He sprang to his feet and turned towards the dark cellar steps, where he saw the eldest two boys watching.
A scream reached them through the tavern's open back door, followed by desperate shrieks. The other three sea-vermin had found the women and children.
*Stay here. There's more of them,' Sorne told the boys. *I'll be back.'
And he ran out the rear door. He hadn't been outside the tavern, and he'd only ever seen the settlement at night. There was a jumble of buildings, but light only spilled from one open door and he ran towards it.
The single room was a shambles. Bedding lay strewn across the planks, and an old man lay in a puddle of blood, gasping. He pointed out the back door as someone shrieked again.
Sorne ran through the room to a back verandah. Here the earth fell away and he could see bushes silhouetted against the starry sky. Right below him the three raiders had the fourteen-year-old girl on her knees, by her hair.
One of them looked up, saw Sorne and went to warn his companions.
Sorne jumped the railing. Thumping into their backs feet first, he drove two of them to the ground. The third released the girl, who scrambled away as Sorne rolled to his knees.
The two he'd knocked to the ground were still down, but the third drew his blade and tried to run Sorne through before he could rise.
Sorne ducked lower and deflected the sword stroke. His blade snapped off not far from the hilt, but he was already driving the knife up into the man's groin. His attacker screamed and crumpled.
Before Sorne could rise, he was tackled from behind. He fell forward and rolled out of the way as a sword buried itself in the dirt near his face. A man stood over him, pulled the sword free and went to strike again.
Sorne lifted his broken sword to deflect the blow.
A skinny arm snaked around the man's head as the girl cut his throat. He toppled and she spat on him.
Sorne s.n.a.t.c.hed the raider's fallen sword and came to his feet. When he looked around, he saw Loris had come to the girl's aid. The old woman clutched her stomach and collapsed as the third man pulled his sword free.
The attacker turned to confront Sorne, who moved into position, sword tip raised, knife arm behind him. The girl backed off.
They circled each other on the uneven slope. When the light from the open backdoor was in Sorne's eyes, the man struck, swinging his sword in an arc that would have taken off Sorne's head.
He dropped, stepped in and under, and gutted the man with the knife.
The man fell to one side, and Sorne leaned forward on one arm, gasping for breath.
After a moment, the dizziness pa.s.sed and he lifted his head to see a dozen small faces watching him from underneath the verandah: the sea-vermin's children.
The fourteen-year-old girl eyed Sorne. He struggled to his feet, feeling light-headed and shaky. The very pregnant woman came running through the shack, one hand under her belly, a meat cleaver in the other.
She looked at Sorne, then to the fourteen-year-old.
*It's all right,' the girl said. She beckoned the children. *You can come out now.'
Sorne ran around the building and up the lane between the two shacks. Something moved in the shadows behind a water barrel.
Sorne reached in and hauled out a third old man, who whimpered and lifted his hands.
Letting him go, Sorne ran out onto the street to find the tavern well alight. Flames poured into the dark night. The roar of the fire drowned all other sounds.
Horror gripped him. He'd told the children to stay in the cellar.
Sorne ran towards the rear door, but flames beat him back. Desperate, he ran around the front of the tavern, took in the empty beach, the skiff at anchor and the overturned rowboat.
He made for the cellar doors. The heat was incredible, singeing his face, searing his throat with each breath.
He kicked the cellar doors, pulling burning timber apart to reach the children. Before he could get to them, the roof of the tavern fell in with a terrible crash. Flaming cinders swirled around him, landing on his shoulders. The tavern was nothing but a raging inferno.
Someone grabbed him, dragged him back and rolled him on the sand, beating at his head. He tried to fight them until he realised his hair was alight.
A bucket of water was dashed across his head and shoulders.
He gasped, tasting salt on his tongue.
The fourteen-year-old girl backed off with the empty bucket and the old man watched him, wiping his sooty hands on his stomach.
Sorne struggled to his knees in the sand and stared at the tavern. Only the sh.e.l.l remained. Most of the building had fallen into the cellar, where flames still burned fiercely, crackling and roaring. Smaller flames licked the remaining upright beams.
Tears streamed down his wet face.
He lifted his hands to wipe the tears away, only to discover his palms and fingers were blistered.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
He shrugged them off. Why had he left the children?
The hand persisted, tugging at his singed shirt.
He glanced at them.
Tiasely?
Seeing his stunned expression, she smiled and led him over to the rowboat. When she knocked on the boat's belly, one side of the boat rose and the children crawled out. All of them.
Sorne fell to his knees, stunned with relief and joy as they swamped him.