There and Back Again Ch. 173

It took way too long to get past the things covering the deck of the ship; I slipped several times, leaving me contemplating just how bad falling into the water from this height would be. Once I passed the coils of rope, there were more crates and barrels taking up more space. I had to keep going. Finally I reached a spot where there was room on the deck between the edge where I clung and the stuff, and I scrambled back over the railing. I crept carefully around a crate, to realise that I was right near the door that led to the cabins.

I looked around cautiously, at first seeing no one nearby. That in itself was unusual -- nighttime or not, there were usually at least a few sailors around keeping an eye on things. I peeked around the corner, and finally realised why I'd seen no one -- and why my guard hadn't challenged whoever was creeping around on deck with Dera. Three bodies lay slumped in a pile in the shadow of the crate, barely visible in the dim light from under the door. Two wore only the loose trousers that marked them as crew members; the third wore leather armour and a familiar tabard with the Theirin crest. A large pool of blood had collected underneath them and ran towards the nearest crate.

I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop the cry that wanted to escape. Other than Avanna, I hadn't gotten to know any of my guards well, but they had followed me without complaint, watching my back and keeping me from harm whether I needed them or not, and now one -- at least one, please Maker let it just be one -- had died for me. I wanted to wail and gnash my teeth...and rip whoever had killed her limb from limb.

I swallowed the sob. I don't have time for this right now; mourn later, Sierra. I took a few slow breaths and peeked around the corner again. I tiptoed towards the three bodies, crouching down to confirm that yes, they were all dead -- and to see if any of them carried weapons I could use.

My guards all carried swords and shields; I was terrible with swords, and the shields were usually too heavy to be practical for me. I hoped she might have a dagger hiding somewhere, but couldn't find anything. I checked the sailors next; the first had nothing, but the second had a long, curved knife in a sheath at his waist. Rather than trying to untie it, I just drew the blade from the sheath. It was longer than I was used to, and broader; it wouldn't be any good for the stabbing I was trained for, but it was still better than nothing. The handle was wet with spilled blood, and I gulped, my stomach twisting.

I had just stood up again, still hiding in the shadows where two crates met, when I heard rustling close by -- too close. I gripped my knife and waited. A heartbeat passed, and then another, and then a dark shape blocked the light between me and the door. Several inches taller than any elf, and wearing a dark hood that covered his face, I knew it had to be the Antivan who was after me. I had one brief moment of doubt -- he hadn't done anything to me, not yet; could I be sure he was an assassin? -- but I remembered his tone, his words to Dera...and the corpses at my feet. They didn't all spontaneously slit their own throats. I knew part of me would regret it later -- I already felt nauseated thinking about it -- but I wouldn't let this man, or anyone else, hurt my family because I was too queasy to do what needed to be done.

Before I could think about it any further, I struck from behind, wrapping my arm around his broad shoulders and slashing at his neck with the long, unwieldy blade. It was a poor attempt; I wasn't used to the longer blade, and had only the slightest idea what to do with it.

He shouted, twisting to try to throw me off; all it did was drive my knife deeper, and I held on as he collapsed down, blood and air bubbling out of his ruined throat. I'd pulled the move on dozens of darkspawn during the Blight, and while he was the first human I'd taken down in that particular fashion, I had no doubt that he was dead -- or would be very shortly.

I heard a cry behind me, and jumped up, spinning with knife in hand, blood spraying off my blade in a sickening arc. Dera stood there, unarmed and unarmoured, blood splattering onto her clothes as I completed my turn.

She dropped to her knees the moment she realised it was me, hands up in supplication. "I'm sorry, your Highness," she gasped. "They—"

"We don't have time for that," I interrupted. "Not right now." I reached down and yanked at the cloak tangled around the dead man at my feet, hacking off a long strip with my knife. I didn't get the chance to tie her, however, before the door that led to the cabins swung part way open, and I raised my knife with a curse.