Purchase on Amazon - Print version or Kindle
From Chapter 11 -
When
Nafre and Dayel boarded the ship that would sail them all the way to a port
near Borsta, Dayel had to stop and catch her breath. There was something off
about the ship, though she wasn't sure what it was. There was the feeling that
something - or someone - was there that shouldn't be.
"Something
wrong, girlie?" Nafre asked and Dayel decided to shake it off since she
couldn't explain it even to herself.
Her
agitation grew as they made their way to a cabin within the bowels of the
ship. It was small and windowless which
reminded Dayel of her accommodations in Niraz.
And for the first time ever, Dayel began to experience a bit of sea
sickness as the ship set sail.
"It
helps if you go up on deck for some fresh air," Nafre commented but Dayel
refused, still with the overwhelming notion that she was better off out of
public sight.
The beds
were lined up one after the other against the wall and, of course, wasn't very
accommodating for Togwas. Dayel had to choose between spreading the blankets
out on the floor or risk being pummeled by Nafre's humongous (and quite smelly)
feet. It didn't take her very long to reach a decision.
Over the
next several days, Dayel's daily activities consisted of reading, eating, and
sleeping. After her initial agitation, Dayel decided she was just fine, and
probably safer, being a recluse. Nafre,
who usually stayed out most of the day, brought food, candlesticks, and even
bathwater. Nafre never spoke about where he went or what he did all day aboard
the ship and Dayel didn't ask. In fact most days, Dayel didn't even know it was
night until Nafre stumbled through the door and collapsed across the beds.
On the
third night, one of the beds broke but Nafre continued to sleep on it anyway.
On the
sixth day, he came through the door carrying a bag of coins, a silver and
jeweled serpent bracelet, a wheel of cheese, and a bottle of vintage drink, all
of which he’d won in a card game. They
stuffed themselves, drank until they were silly, and laughed until they cried
about things that didn’t make sense the next morning.
On the
twelfth day, Dayel read until she was bored, ate leftover bread slices, and
finally fell to sleep wondering when Nafre would be back. When she woke,
presumably hours later, he still wasn't there. That uneasy feeling came back
and intensified.
Against
her better judgment, Dayel made the decision to venture outside their cabin in
search of him. Almost two weeks cramped inside four bare walls might've driven
a normal person slightly mad but to Dayel, it was familiar and familiar held a
semblance of safety. Stepping only two paces outside the door made her feel a
bit apprehensive, as if she'd suddenly been exposed.
Deep
breaths. Two more steps. Slowly now.
Her senses were only a little panicked but it was enough to distract the
rational part of her brain that reached out naturally to her surroundings. Even
if she'd wanted to prevent what was coming, she could've only done so by
calming down.
One step
at a time led Dayel down the long hallway to a set of stairs. Having only been
down them once, she wasn't sure if this was the correct stairwell to take her
above deck. She had to start somewhere
though.
As she
climbed, she mindlessly scratched at her back, an action which was becoming all
too familiar. Something back there
suddenly pierced her fingers and she hissed in pain. She stopped her ascent and
blinked several times at the red liquid oozing through the skin.
What the
hell?
Gingerly,
she reached back again and lightly ran her fingers over her scars. Between the lines of rough, mangled skin,
sharp points had broken through. She
couldn’t believe that she’d scratched them hard enough to cause scabs. But a scab wouldn't be hard enough to cut
skin, would it? She decided she couldn't
possibly know the answer to that, as she never remembered having scabs
before. The first thing she needed to do
once they docked was see a physician or apothecary.
Within
the distraction of her scars, her senses had forgotten her earlier panic. A
dark mass invaded her mind. Without
realizing the physical proximity of it, she turned in haste to run back to the
cabin. The sconces along the wall didn't properly illuminate the doorway to the
hall. Dayel could only make out a shadow before something seemed to pinch her
chest.
But it
wasn't a pinch at all. The back half of an arrow protruded from above her right
breast. The pain wasn't immediate. In fact, it didn't much register at all.
Dayel tried to take a breath but gurgled blood instead. Blackness swirled and
the stairway bent over itself. Something slammed against her face, over and
over. Stairs, she thought, as she
tumbled down them.
A simple
arrow wouldn't have had that effect on her. Poison. The arrow had most
certainly been laced with poison.
They
said she couldn't be killed. Dayel thought that was funny, considering she was
dying.
Purchase on Amazon - Print version or Kindle
No comments:
Post a Comment