But Ruen didn't seem to hear him. He passed the edge of the tent encampment and stopped, listening to something on the air.
'This way,' he said, and began running.
Icelin hurried to follow. She could hear them now, the sounds of running feet pounding against the sand, gaining ground with each step.
They circled a caravel that had had its hull split in two. The jagged wood opened a dark maw into the ship's interior. Icelin thought Ruen meant them to hide inside, but suddenly, Ruen stopped short and cursed. He shoved her behind him and reached for a weapon at his belt. He'd forgotten the fish knife was long gone.
'They're herding us!' he shouted to Sull, just before the men jumped them.
Two figures leaped over the side of the ship, landing on either side of Ruen and Icelin. One had bright, corn silk hair, the other was dark and compactly built. Ruen skidded on the sand to avoid plowing into their sword points. He dropped into a crouch and swept out with his leg, catching the two men at the ankles. He hit so hard Icelin thought she would hear the bones in his leg crack. But they did not, and the two men stumbled and fell.
'Behind us!' Sull drew his mallet and cleaver. He charged a second pair of men coming from the rear. Before they could reach for weapons, Sull cut a wicked gash across the first man's arm. He backed off a pace, clutching his arm and shredded shirt.
His companion came in low, dodging Sull's swinging mallet. He wore dirt-caked traveling clothes and a hooded, threadbare cloak. He brought a broadsword up to halt Sull's advance.
Sull was no trained fighter, Icelin knew. But what he lacked in skill, the butcher made up for in sheer ferocity. He twirled the cleaver once, letting the bloodied weapon dance in his hand. He smiled at the man with the sword, and the whites of his eyes were huge in the campfires' glow.
'Come on, dogs!' he shouted, stomping the ground, feinting left and right between his two opponents, letting his size intimidate the men and keep them on the defensive.
Caught between her companions, Icelin wrenched a loose board from the ship and swung it at the dark, burly man before he could rise to his feet. The plank hit him in the chest; a protruding nail tore into his skin. The man screeched in pain and fury.
'Run!' Ruen barked at her. The man with corn silk hair brought his sword down in an axe chop. Ruen dodged, and the blade buried itself in sand. He rolled away and came up practically between the man's legs. He snapped out a fist, connecting just below his attacker's ribcage. The blow would not trouble the man, Icelin thought. She had seen the glint of mail through his thin shirt.
To her shock, the man whooped out a breath and bent double. His sword dropped, allowing Ruen to come in around his guard. He locked an elbow around the man's neck, jerking sharply to the left.
The loud crack sent a sick coldness through Icelin's body.
'Beware, lass!'
Icelin turned in time to see Sull's mallet fly from his hand. The butcher fell back, clutching his arm against his chest. Blood dripped through the gaps between his fingers.
Horrified, Icelin dropped the board and started to run to him.
She felt a presence rise up behind her. She'd forgotten the dark-haired man. She tried to spin, but the sand slowed her. Large hands grabbed Icelin around the waist and slammed her sideways into the caravel's hull.
Icelin felt the breath leave her body in a rush. Her head hit an exposed board. Stars burst in her vision. She tried to call a spell, but her mind wouldn't function. She collapsed back against her attacker's chest. He manhandled her to the ground, pinning her arms in front of her while he fumbled for a piece of rope at his belt.
Icelin struggled wildly. Sand raked her wounded forearm. The pain was unlike anything she'd felt before, but she had to keep her hands free. She had to have magic. She wouldn't let them take her…
Somewhere behind her, she could hear Sull snarling, his cleaver whistling in his hand. The dark-haired man wrenched her hands together, tying off the rope. Ruen leaped to his feet and started toward her, but was distracted by another figure coming out of the night. This one was tall, agile in motion. The moonlight revealed a face covered in puckered scars.
'Bind her mouth!' Cetest cried. 'She is a wizard.' He noticed Ruen and dtew a sword. 'Shenan!'
Icelin could see no one else, but a breath later, magic erupted behind Cerest. Icelin smelled the burning, and chemical heat seared her eyes as an arrow streaked through the night, aimed at Ruen.
'Acid!' Icelin cried.
The dark man grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head back. She couldn't see Ruen, could only make out the night sky and the distant flakes of starlight visible through the clouds. She heard the arrow impact wood, hissing as the spell fizzled out.
The dark-haired man used his teeth to pull off one of his dirty leathet gloves. Stuffing it in her mouth, he looped more rope around her head, binding the glove tight to her face until she choked.
Icelin felt herself lifted, tossed over the man's shoulder. He moved offinto the night, around the ship wreckage, away from the sounds of fighting. She could not see if Cerest was following.
Icelin squirmed and tried to scream, but she could force no sound through the gag. They moved out of the campfire light, and the night grew pitch black. She could see nothing of her surroundings except the dark-haired man's broad back.
She prayed Ruen would help Sull. Over and over she begged the gods that they would escape. But even if they did, Cerest and his men would be gone in the night. Sull and Ruen would have no idea how to track her.
Abruptly, the man carrying her stopped. Icelin felt his hands leave her. She heard him fumbling with something. Metal clicked against metal: a door lock.
Now was her opportunity. She might not get another. Bracing herself, Icelin threw all her weight to the right.
She toppled off her captor's shoulder, raising her bound arms in front of her.- She hit the ground hard on her stomach amid the cries of the dark-haired man. He recovered from his surprise and immediately crouched, grabbing her ankle so she couldn't run.
Icelin grappled with the gag at her mouth, tearing away leather, rope, and hair that had gotten caught against her face.
Her captor was on top of her now, trying to wrestle her hands down, but it was too dark for him to get a proper grip on her. Wherever they were, there were no torches or lantetns nearby to provide illumination.
Icelin thrust her elbow into the man's ribs. The pressure on her back slackened. She ripped the gag aside and screamed at the top of her lungs. The shrill sound pierced the night, and even the dark-haired man shrank back in momentary fear.
Several things happened at once. Her captor recovered and pushed her onto her side, backhanding her across the face. Dazed, Icelin flopped onto her back. She tasted blood on her lips. Her face felt hot. At the same time, footsteps were approaching rapidly from somewhere in the distance. Icelin's heart lurched-had Ruen and Sull come for her? — until she heard Cerest's voice.
'Strike her again, Greyas, and I'll split your tongue down the center,' the elf promised. 'Shenan, would you mind?'
'Of course,' said a new voice, feminine, and as peacefully melodic as Cerest's. How many had the elf set upon her? Icelin thought. Hopelessness seized her, and with it came a hysteric frenzy.
She struck out, and by chance caught the dark-haired man in the throat. Icelin screamed again.
'Sull! Ruen!'
'Quickly, Shenan,' said Cerest calmly over the noise.
Icelin heard the honeyed voice speaking in an even, arcane rhythm. A cold mist stole over Icelin's mind. Her body felt heavy, and her eyes burned as if she had not slept in days.
'No,' she cried. But the word came out slurred, feeble. Icelin trembled, fighting to stay awake, but it was no use. She went limp on the cold ground, and all the melodic voices receded.
Ruen's fist glanced off jawbone, and the latter of Sull's opponents turned his full attention to Ruen. His arm still dripped blood freely from the wound Sull had dealt him. Ruen tipped his hat to the side and smiled before launching a flurry of numbing blows to the man's torso. The ring on his hand burned silver; Ruen felt its magic coursing through his bones, propelled on by his natural speed.
In his peripheral vision, he noted the tracks Icelin's captors had left in the sand. They were not the tracks of the Watch. He'd known it as soon as the ambush hit them. If he hadn't thought it was Tesleena's party pursuing
