enemy.
XXV
27 Marpenoth, the Year of the Gauntlet
'Are ye sure we'll find the swabbie here?' Khlinat Iron-eater asked. He sat in the saddle of a seahorse they'd borrowed from the sea elves, and shaded his eyes against the morning sun with one hand. 'That ship has surely seen some better days, I'm thinking.'
Seated on a seahorse as well, Pacys nodded, feeling his heart race as he neared the boy he'd searched for. The hero's song played in his head, making his fingers itch for the yarting slung across his back in a waterproof bag.
'He's here,' Pacys assured the dwarf.
A guard of twenty sea elf warriors rode with them as the seahorses cut across the ocean's surface. The ship's crew had already seen them and hurried across the decks to get into defensive positions.
'Well, and they're surely promising a heated welcoming if we're the wrong 'uns,' Khlinat said.
'We're not.'
Pacys guided his mount toward the ship, the seahorse straining only a little to catch up to it. When he drew abreast of the caravel, he found himself looking up at half a dozen bowmen with only tattered mercy and trust left in their souls.
'State your business and be quick about it,'7 a woman dressed in black ordered from the railing.
Tin here to see Jherek,' Pacys called up.
'How do you know him?'
Tin Pacys the Bard. I'm a friend.'
The woman glanced at the sea elves. 'We haven't seen too many friends lately,' she said, 'and damn few of them promise to come from under the sea.'
'Lady-' Pacys began.
'Captain.' The woman's voice was unrelenting.
'As you will, Captain. As Oghma is my patron, I'm only here in Jherek's best interest.' Pacys kept his voice loud to be heard over the slap of the waves breaking against the ship's bow and the whip-crack of the canvas pulling tight in the rigging. 'I know that he's wasting away, unable to control the darkness trying to consume his soul. I promise you, if you don't let me come aboard and speak to him, you're going to lose him. We'll all lose him.'
A bearded warrior stepped forward and said, 'Let him come aboard, Captain. He's speaking the truth.'
The ship's captain hesitated.
Td know if he was lying,' the warrior said.
The captain nodded to her crew. They put away their bows and dropped a cargo net over the side, leaving it caught up at the top.
'Climb on,' the captain said. 'We'll pull you up.'
Jherek sat beside Sabyna's bed, his forearms resting heavily on his bent knees, his forehead pressed against them. He held her hand, hot daring to let it go, afraid she might drift away from him in her sleep.
Glawinn continued using his power on her daily, but there were no healing potions left. Now, every day, the ship's mage lost ground. Her wounds festered, growing larger, taking her away from him a piece at a time.
The young sailor was ragged and unkempt. Not an hour passed that he didn't feel pain-hers as well as his. He ignored the knock on the door, not wanting to deal with
Glawinn trying to get him to eat or leave. If he had kept his distance from Sabyna, she would have been fine, but he'd returned.
'Young warrior,' Glawinn spoke softly, 'someone has come to see you.'
'No.' Jherek knew he was being petulant, but he'd had enough of looking at other people.
'Jherek.'
The musical voice captured the young sailor's attention, striking a chord deep within him. He found it immediately uncomfortable. 'Go away.'
'I can't. I've waited all my life to meet you.'
Shamed by his own lack of manners, knowing Glawinn wouldn't think well of him either, Jherek pushed himself to his feet and opened the door. It took him a moment to recognize the two men standing beside Glawinn. He'd met both of them the night Iakhovas and the pirates attacked Baldur's Gate.
'Hail and well met,' the old man said.
His clothes were wet, almost dripping, and he smelled of the sea. He offered his hand.
'You're the bard,' Jherek said, his tired mind wandering through all the memories. He clasped the old man's arm.
The bard bowed and said, 'Pacys.'
The resonance continued in Jherek but he still didn't understand where it came from.
'Hail and well met, swabbie,' the dwarf greeted him good-naturedly.
'Khlinat.'
Seeing the dwarf sailor standing there brought the beginnings of a smile to Jherek's lips. He took Khlinat's arm and felt the powerful grip.
'Hear tell ye've been betwixt some proper demons' brews since these old eyes last seen ye.'
Jherek nodded quietly and glanced back at Sabyna. 'It's been far harder than anything I could have imagined.'
'This is the one who holds your heart?' the old bard asked.
Pacys glided into the room, in motion before Jherek even knew it. He stood by her bed and trailed his fingers across her feverish brow.
Jherek didn't know how to respond. Sabyna never had the chance to let him know her mind after he'd revealed who he was.
The look in your eyes is all the answer I need,' Pacys said softly. The love you share is a powerful thing.'
Tears clouded Jherek's vision but he didn't let them fall. He spoke through a too-tight throat. 'As it turns out, I wasn't the man she thought I was.'
'On the contrary, my boy,' the old bard said, 'it's you who aren't the man you think you are.'
'Can you help her?' Jherek had put off the question because he'd been afraid of the answer.
Sadly, Pacys shook his head. 'No. The young lady lies beyond any help I might give her.'
Jherek tried to will himself into a state of numbness but couldn't. The resonance within him that the bard's presence elicited wound him up inside.
'You should go,' Jherek said.
'I can't. I was sent here to find you and to help you.'
Jherek shook his head. The only way you can help me is to help her.'
'You don't know all there is yet.'
The old man took the waterproof bag from his shoulder and opened it. He sat on the floor of the small cabin.
'What are you doing?' Jherek demanded.
Pacys's practiced fingers brushed the strings lightly. He twisted the knobs at the end of the instrument, adjusting the string tension. When he brushed the strings again, creating a mellow note that seemed to fill the room with light and warmth, he smiled and said, 'Blessed Oghma, after being under the sea for so long and not able to practice, I thought I might have lost the gift.'
'You have to go,' Jherek said sternly, unable to believe the audacity of the bard.
Pacys effortlessly played a tune. It was soft and quiet, melding the gentleness of a stream running over smooth rocks and the sight of the wind through winter's bare tree branches.
