tormented muscles. Even Saltlick failed to outpace me – and I couldn’t help noticing how heavily he still favoured his good leg.
Inside, the crude crescent barrier was less of an obstruction than it had appeared, with a wide gap on one side and considerable space within. Fortunately, its best protection lay on the side the palace troops were approaching from, and even the open span was narrow enough to defend. I climbed a little way up the incline, the better to see what was happening while playing as small a part in it as possible, and watched as the others fit themselves into gaps under Navare’s direction – so that in a mere few moments, the natural barrier really had come to look like a fortress in miniature.
The resulting battle didn’t take long; as long as it took our opponents to realise that, with their crossbow strings wet and momentarily useless from the time at sea, even a few injured and half-drowned men could hold that boulder enclave against them. In fact, from my perspective – and it was true that my only contribution was a couple of thrown stones that came closer to hitting our side than theirs – it all seemed more a sham than an actual combat. There was some rattling of sabres, much shouting, and perhaps a thigh or shoulder nicked somewhere along the line. But the resulting retreat was eager and orderly enough to imply that the palace soldiers recognised a hopeless cause when they saw it.
Then again, what reason did they have to hurry? If their goal was to keep us from our destination then they’d already achieved it. If they wanted us dead, they had time enough for that as well. Fighting an unfavourable fight in the deepening gloom was a risk they had no need to take.
Estrada watched them go, squinting against the darkness as the last ruddy sunlight spilt against the waves and drained into their furrows. She waited until they were back around their own boat, and continued to watch until there was no light to watch by. Navare, meanwhile, posted sentries at the more conspicuous gaps in our defence and set others to looking after the injured – a difficult task when, if you counted cuts and scrapes, almost everyone fell into that category.
Having already clambered down by then, I’d confirmed to my satisfaction that neither the wound on my ankle nor the gash on my forehead were likely to prove fatal. A tentative inspection had confirmed that both were skin deep, and the saltwater had done a decent job of cleaning them. Still, I felt tired unto death – as though a part of me really had drowned out there, and what Saltlick had hauled from the depths was nothing but a tattered shell.
Once Estrada and Navare were confident that we’d seen the last of the palace guardsmen for at least the immediate future, Navare called everyone together. “We’ll need a fire,” Estrada began, “if we’re going to last out the night.”
“Especially since there’s every chance they’ll come at us again before dawn,” Navare agreed. “I doubt we’re the first boat to fall foul of those rocks, so there might be driftwood out there somewhere. After what you’ve just been through I won’t force anyone, but a couple of volunteers would be acting in all our interests.”
“I’ll go.” I wasn’t certain what impulse made me say it. I was dressed for the task, it had to be said, my dark clothes and cloak already disappearing into the twilight. That in itself was hardly a reason to risk my life, however. Then again, perhaps that was just it. I didn’t anticipate much within our enclave besides a drawn-out death. Outside at least I could weigh up possibilities and maybe see something I was missing.
No one tried to argue with me – though I couldn’t help wondering, when Navare sent out a couple of his men who’d also volunteered in different directions to my own, if it wasn’t his way of saying he didn’t expect me back. I was assigned the stretch of beach directly ahead – which meant at
Inside, the crude crescent barrier was less of an obstruction than it had appeared, with a wide gap on one side and considerable space within. Fortunately, its best protection lay on the side the palace troops were approaching from, and even the open span was narrow enough to defend. I climbed a little way up the incline, the better to see what was happening while playing as small a part in it as possible, and watched as the others fit themselves into gaps under Navare’s direction – so that in a mere few moments, the natural barrier really had come to look like a fortress in miniature.
The resulting battle didn’t take long; as long as it took our opponents to realise that, with their crossbow strings wet and momentarily useless from the time at sea, even a few injured and half-drowned men could hold that boulder enclave against them. In fact, from my perspective – and it was true that my only contribution was a couple of thrown stones that came closer to hitting our side than theirs – it all seemed more a sham than an actual combat. There was some rattling of sabres, much shouting, and perhaps a thigh or shoulder nicked somewhere along the line. But the resulting retreat was eager and orderly enough to imply that the palace soldiers recognised a hopeless cause when they saw it.
Then again, what reason did they have to hurry? If their goal was to keep us from our destination then they’d already achieved it. If they wanted us dead, they had time enough for that as well. Fighting an unfavourable fight in the deepening gloom was a risk they had no need to take.
Estrada watched them go, squinting against the darkness as the last ruddy sunlight spilt against the waves and drained into their furrows. She waited until they were back around their own boat, and continued to watch until there was no light to watch by. Navare, meanwhile, posted sentries at the more conspicuous gaps in our defence and set others to looking after the injured – a difficult task when, if you counted cuts and scrapes, almost everyone fell into that category.
Having already clambered down by then, I’d confirmed to my satisfaction that neither the wound on my ankle nor the gash on my forehead were likely to prove fatal. A tentative inspection had confirmed that both were skin deep, and the saltwater had done a decent job of cleaning them. Still, I felt tired unto death – as though a part of me really had drowned out there, and what Saltlick had hauled from the depths was nothing but a tattered shell.
Once Estrada and Navare were confident that we’d seen the last of the palace guardsmen for at least the immediate future, Navare called everyone together. “We’ll need a fire,” Estrada began, “if we’re going to last out the night.”
“Especially since there’s every chance they’ll come at us again before dawn,” Navare agreed. “I doubt we’re the first boat to fall foul of those rocks, so there might be driftwood out there somewhere. After what you’ve just been through I won’t force anyone, but a couple of volunteers would be acting in all our interests.”
“I’ll go.” I wasn’t certain what impulse made me say it. I was dressed for the task, it had to be said, my dark clothes and cloak already disappearing into the twilight. That in itself was hardly a reason to risk my life, however. Then again, perhaps that was just it. I didn’t anticipate much within our enclave besides a drawn-out death. Outside at least I could weigh up possibilities and maybe see something I was missing.
No one tried to argue with me – though I couldn’t help wondering, when Navare sent out a couple of his men who’d also volunteered in different directions to my own, if it wasn’t his way of saying he didn’t expect me back. I was assigned the stretch of beach directly ahead – which meant at
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