The Ruby Guardian

CHAPTER 3

The first fingers of sunlight were just reaching through the line of shadowtops to the east when Emriana rode into the orchard. Honey took an easy pace, and the girl gave her dun filly free rein, content to let the horse make its own way while she enjoyed the coolness of the morning. Back in Arrabar, Emriana would never have been up that early in the day, but whenever the Matrells spent time at their country estate, the girl always liked to rise at daybreak and get in a ride. With no refreshing sea breezes able to reach that far into the uplands, the heat and mugginess would become unbearable by midmorning.

As she rode, Emriana enjoyed the smells of the ripening fruit-peaches, plums, and starfruit-that permeated the grounds. There would be a good harvest of them that year, she noted, and she smiled, thinking about all the preserves and compotes that would mean. The fresh, sweet scents almost let her forget about her problems, at least for a while, but soon enough, she found herself dwelling on them once more.

Grandmother Hetta had insisted that all the women of House Matrell spend a few tendays in the country. "We need some time to recuperate," she'd said, "to get away from our troubles for a few days." That logic seemed funny to Emriana, though, for she discovered that she had spent more time thinking about the family's difficulties, not less. As she and Honey meandered between the trees, she felt dread welling up in her all over again, thinking about all that had occurred the night of her sixteenth birthday party.

Stop it, she chastised herself. That was almost three tendays ago. Get over it. Sighing, Emriana tried to obey her own inner voice, but it was hard.

Maybe Grandmother Hetta is right, she mused. But I don't need to get away from my problems. I need to face them.

It was still hard for Emriana to accept so many deaths. Uncle Dregaul and Anista Pharaboldi certainly hadn't deserved to die. And though her older brother Evester and his good friend Denrick, Anista's son, might have deserved it, she still felt sadness at their loss-or at least Evester's. Denrick could rot in the Abyss for all she cared.

She could still see Denrick taking his fatal plunge over the third-floor railing outside her grandfather's old study, and there was no remorse. Whenever Emriana started to feel a little guilty for that lack of sorrow, she reminded herself that he had tried to rape her, even going so far as to have that squirrelly wizard Bartimus magically charm the girl into cooperating. All in all, it had turned into a rather dreadful sixteenth birthday.

Emriana sighed deeply as she rode on, trying to keep all those feelings of dread from welling up again, but it was difficult. There were still threats from that night running free. The girl wondered where Grozier Talricci and Bartimus the wizard had snuck off to. Just thinking of them on the loose in Arrabar somewhere made her shiver, and she found herself glad that she was far away at the moment. They were supposed to be locked up, she thought bitterly, sealed away from her and her family within the dungeons in the bowels of the Temple of Waukeen.

But they were not, thanks to Grand Trabbar Lavant.

The whole family suspected Lavant, but they didn't have any proof that he was behind it. He was so clever about avoiding any implications, and it made her furious every time she thought of his fat face. Whatever schemes Grozier, Bartimus, and Lavant had been planning with Evester and Denrick, they were undoubtedly still pursuing them. That thought made her stomach roil.

Uncle Kovrim had said they were trying to start a small war somewhere. The only problem was, no one was certain where.

And now, of course, Emriana thought angrily, Kovrim and Vambran have been shipped off on campaign. How convenient. With no one still inside the temple to try to find out, Lavant can do as he pleases.

Vambran and Uncle Kovrim had left only three days before, but to Emriana, it already seemed like a lifetime. They were going to Chessenta for the entire summer campaigning season. Vambran had showed her on a map the night before he'd taken the portal back to the city. Chessenta seemed so far away. She had begged him not to go, not to leave her there by herself, but he had made some silly, solemn noise about duty. It was some nonsense about the Temple of Waukeen in Arrabar loaning the Crescents to a sister temple in Cimbar to quell threats from rival cities, but Emriana knew that was just an excuse to get them both out of the Grand Trabbar's way. Vambran knew it, too, but he had his orders.

She hated that smug, fat toad Lavant.

The girl shook her head as though to dismiss the dire contemplations and passed out of the orchard into another part of the garden, where a broad expanse of lawn led down from one of the large stone porches to the pond. Quindy and Obiron, Marga's twin children, were there, playing along the edge of the water. Mirolyn Skolotti was nearby, watching the twins without being intrusive.

After everyone came to realize that Grozier, Evester, and Denrick had been responsible for Jithelle Skolotti's death, Hetta had invited Nimra and Mirolyn to come live with the Matrells. She had insisted that Nimra be made comfortable as a way of setting things right for the woman. Both women had seemed very grateful, and Mirolyn had even found a way to make herself useful, taking on the role of nanny for the twins. It was a far better life than the Skolottis had ever known before.

They're probably annoying the goldfish again, Emriana thought as she crossed the grass to join her niece and nephew.

Obiron spied the girl first and gave her a quick wave before turning back to peer into the pond again. Emriana could see that the boy had his crossbow out, holding it ready. That surprised her a bit.

"I thought your mother told you that you could not play with that," she commented as she rode up beside Obiron.

"She changed her mind," Quindy announced on her brother's behalf without looking up.

Puzzled, Emriana glanced over at Mirolyn, who shrugged. "Marga said it was all right," the woman explained. "He's been trying to shoot the goldfish."

"Obiron Matrell," Emriana began sternly, "if you shoot one single fish in that pond, I will take that crossbow away from you and snap it in two!" Obiron turned to gaze at Emriana, saying nothing. The look unnerved the girl, but she refused to back down. "If you want to hunt something, Vambran can take you hunting when he gets back from Chessenta. We have dire-jaguars roaming the woods here," she added conspiratorially, hoping that might interest the boy more than goldfish.

"It's all right. He never hits them," Quindy said, still not looking up at Emriana. The girl was standing on the edge of the pond, gazing down between the lilies and cattails that grew in abundance right along the bank. "You should let him play, or else mother will become angry with you."

Emriana raised an eyebrow in surprise at her niece's warning. Marga had never said a cross thing to Emriana about how she dealt with her niece and nephew. And the twins had never been so brazenly disrespectful to her.

Then again, none of us has been ourselves, since-

"I don't care," Emriana said at last, trying to sound forceful. "If you want to shoot at something, go practice at the targets Vambran built for you." She gave Mirolyn a quick, knowing stare as she finished. The woman smiled back, something of a helpless look, and she shrugged.

"All right," Obiron said at last, though his tone seemed to belie his acquiescence. He and his sister began to move away from the pond, Mirolyn following them discreetly.

Unsettled by her encounter with the twins, Emriana turned Honey away and continued on her ride, and she found herself wishing all the harder that Vambran were there with her. Having her older brother away on campaign had never felt so lonely in the past. She fingered the pendant hanging on the chain around her neck, which he had brought back to her for her birthday. She wanted to use it right then to call to him, magically span the miles between them, just so she could hear his voice, perhaps telling her something humorous, but she knew it was frivolous, and a waste of the magic. Through experimentation, she had come to discover the pendant functioned more frequently than Vambran had believed, but it was still very limited, and she had to be careful how and when she used it.

Besides, Emriana reminded herself, he's busy, and he'll just get annoyed if I trouble him over something so silly.

Reluctantly slipping the pendant back inside her shirt, Emriana passed through a hedge into another part of the estate and found her grandmother also out for an early morning stroll. The matriarch of the household spied Emriana right away and waved for the girl to join her.

"A fine day for a ride," Hetta commented as Emriana moved beside her. "Or for avoiding your lessons."

Emriana snorted, almost laughing out loud. "Grandmother, I don't have tutors anymore," she said, rolling her eyes where she hoped the older woman could not see. "They spend their time with Obiron and Quindy now."

"Not those lessons, Em," Hetta replied, sounding, as she often did, as if she were having to explain simple things to a foolish child. "Xaphira returned from the city last night," the older woman said, "and she's about to take Dancer out for a run. I saw she had her throwing daggers with her, so she's probably going to go practice. If you hurry, you can catch up to her before she gets out of sight."

Emriana grinned a little bit in spite of herself. Hetta understood far better than her mother ever would what was in her heart. Encouraging the girl to follow her own path, without regard to the traditional expectations of a young girl in Arrabaran society, was just one of the many things that made Emriana love her grandmother so dearly.

She leaned down and gave Hetta a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks," she said then turned and trotted toward the stable yard, hoping she wasn't too late.

She caught up with Xaphira just as the woman was about to mount Dancer, her sorrel mare. When her aunt spied Emriana approaching, she gave a warm smile and waved the girl over.

"Grandmother Hetta told me you were going for a ride," Emriana said. "Care for some company?"

Xaphira grinned and nodded. "Sure, Em. But first, I want to give you something." The older woman walked Dancer over next to Honey, and Emriana noticed a small wooden box tied to the back of her aunt's saddle. Xaphira undid the ties and lifted the box up, holding it out for Emriana to see. "Open it," her aunt suggested.

The box itself was made of rich, dark wood, smooth and finished so it gleamed in the sun. It was thin and wide, like a container made to hold fine silver. Emriana reached out and lifted the hinged lid.

Inside, the box was lined in shimmering cloth. It held a row of four beautiful daggers, each nestled in its own indentation. The handles were made of carved ivory and were etched and inlaid with adamantine and emeralds. The blades, also of adamantine, were double-edged and had been polished to such a reflective sheen that they could have been mirrors.

Emriana was stunned. "Oh, they're beautiful!" she breathed, tentatively reaching out and removing one. It felt exactly right in her hands, balanced perfectly.

"They're throwing daggers, and they've been enchanted," Xaphira explained. "Once you master the art of using them, you'll be hard-pressed to find their equal."

"Thank you!" Emriana said, running her finger along the blade lovingly. "I don't know what to say!" She felt so happy; she thought she was going to cry.

"Say, 'I will work hard with you to learn how to use them, Aunt Xaphira,'" the woman said, mimicking Emriana's own voice. She closed the box and held it out toward her niece.

"Oh, I will!" Emriana said, taking the box from her aunt and cradling it. "I will! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome. Now, are you ready to ride?" When Emriana nodded enthusiastically, Xaphira smirked. "Last one to the rope swing is a meazel!" she shouted then put her heels into Dancer, who launched forward, eager for a run.

Laughing, Emriana kicked Honey and charged after them.

The two riders raced across an open field and toward a line of trees, Xaphira perhaps five lengths ahead. There was a trail there leading through the woods toward a swimming hole, and Emriana's aunt disappeared into the foliage along that route. The younger girl was close behind and gaining.

Dancer kicked up great clods of dirt and leaves into the air as Xaphira guided the horse along the wooded trail at a full gallop. Emriana, following closely behind, had to duck low against her mount's neck to avoid the flying debris. Taking such cover slowed her progress, though, and her aunt began to pull away. Grimacing, the girl heeled Honey to pick up the pace when they reached a straightaway along the path, hoping to close the gap and possibly even pass her quarry.

Suddenly, Xaphira drew rein and swerved to one side, sending Dancer through an opening in the undergrowth and across a dry streambed in a single leap. Emriana could not react quickly enough to follow without risking a stumble by Honey, and with only a heartbeat's hesitation, she relented, shooting past the turn and onward, remembering a second crossing a number of paces ahead.

You're not winning today, Emriana thought, glancing through the trees at her aunt, who was on the far side of the streambed and once again paralleling it, a little behind the girl's position. "Come on, Honey," she urged her horse. "Let's go, girl."

As if understanding her rider's urgency perfectly, the dun leaned hard into its gallop, surging ahead a little more. The path narrowed and turned slightly, and Emriana ducked low again to avoid the branches and vines that whipped past her head. The horse and rider became almost one, a single, fluid entity navigating the forest in harmony.

Emriana noted a familiar shadowtop trunk, large and dead, split long ago by lightning, and knew the crossover was only a few more paces ahead. She risked another glance back over her shoulder, hoping that she and Honey had enlarged the gap sufficiently that, when she crossed the streambed, they would be able to cut off Xaphira and Dancer. Her aunt was not in sight.

Emriana gave a subtle smile. That's it, she thought proudly. We've got her.

The break in the bushes and vines appeared ahead, and Emriana slowed her horse the slightest bit, just enough to make the turn safely.

"Em! Stop!" Xaphira called from behind her.

Em darted a quick look in that direction and saw her aunt in the streambed itself, still astride Dancer, though the horse had slowed and was rearing up on its hind legs.

Emriana hesitated, hearing the urgency in her aunt's voice, but Honey knew the route well and didn't respond when the girl began to draw on the reins. The horse slashed through the gap at just the right angle, clearing the bank of the streambed in a single bound. In her indecision, Emriana was not ready for the leap, and she was jostled awkwardly in the saddle, bouncing hard when Honey landed. She felt herself sliding off the horse, losing her grip and flailing wildly.

Her misfortune probably saved Emriana's life, for at that moment a blurred, golden-brown shape sailed silently over her head, fangs and claws flashing through the air where she would have been otherwise.

"That could be trouble," Adyan Mercatio drawled, moving to stand next to Vambran Matrell near the bow of Lady's Favor and pointing out over the waters of the Vilhon Reach. The lieutenant glanced at his sergeant and saw Adyan grimacing. The expression caused a scar that ran from the middle of the man's chin to the left side of his jaw to crease and glow white in the morning sun. Vambran followed Adyan's gaze toward the horizon and shaded his own eyes as he stared, squinting against the sea spray, at what the sergeant had spotted.

Two ships, fast cutters by the looks of them, had just rounded a spit of rocky shoals jutting out from the Chondathan coast, headed directly for Lady's Favor. Vambran put his spyglass to his eye and took a closer look, scanning the rigging for a flag or standard. There were none.

Using his glass to study the decks of the two ships, Vambran began counting men. In addition to the sailors scampering about in the rigging and across the decks, a number of others stood idly, watching. There were perhaps two dozen such individuals on each ship. Vambran even caught sight of a man peering through a glass just like his, seeming to stare straight back at him. The other man, tall and skinny and dressed in a long blue coat and a crimson hat, pointed right at the lieutenant and said something to a companion, a shorter, rotund fellow in a sleeveless tunic.

"Trouble, indeed," Vambran said, turning and handing his glass to Adyan. "Corsairs, it appears, for they show no colors."

Adyan put the glass to his own eye and peered across the waves. "Well, they sure seem to find us very interesting," the sergeant said, studying the two ships, which had closed the distance considerably since the two mercenaries had first spotted them. "Damn."

"Exactly," Vambran replied as he spun about, intent on finding Captain Za'hure. "Trouble, indeed," he repeated.

Before Vambran was halfway across the forecastle, someone was already shouting orders from somewhere aft, and sailors were scurrying every which way, running to adjust the rigging and shift the sails. Vambran could already feel Lady's Favor lean as she began to change direction, turning so she could catch the wind more fully in her sails. The move was taking the ship farther out into the Reach, away from the coast and the two approaching cutters.

"Captain Za'hure," Vambran called when he spotted the short, barrel-chested man stroking his long, curly sideburns and quietly issuing instructions to his first mate. Za'hure turned to regard the lieutenant, his bushy eyebrows furrowed impatiently. "Aye?"

"Why are you headed into deeper waters?" Vambran demanded. "Our orders are to make best time to Cimbar, and we're still three days out, by your own reckoning."

One of Za'hure's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And what good will that be doing us, if we slink into port with an empty hold?" the captain asked. "We've got pirates on our tail, Lieutenant."

"Surely you don't think two ships are enough to bother us?" Vambran asked, gesturing back over the starboard side of Lady's Favor, where the pair he had spotted earlier were still closing. "I've got an entire company of Crescents on board."

"And while your company be dancing with those dogs, who'll be tending to the louts on the other four ships?" Za'hure countered, pointing back over his own shoulder.

Vambran felt a cold feeling grow in the pit of his stomach as he peered past the captain toward the stern, where four more cutters were visible, pursuing them out to sea. "Six," he breathed, stunned.

"Aye, six," Za'hure said. "They must think that cargo of yours be worth a good spot of coin."

"But it's nothing but campaign supplies!" Vambran said. "Blankets, extra weapons, and provisions for my men!"

The captain grimaced. "Be telling that to them," Za'hure replied. "But I don't think they be listening, so I aim to outrun them."

"Can you?" Vambran asked, eyeing the pursuers worriedly.

Za'hure shook his head. "Nay, Lady's Favor isn't meant for running, Lieutenant. But hopefully, with the wind behind us, those dogs'll lose interest and hunt for easier prey."

The captain opened his mouth to add something, but a shout from the crow's nest cut him off. "Three more ships, two off the port bow, one off the starboard bow!"

"Blast!" Captain Za'hure roared, stomping up the steps to the quarterdeck. Once at the top, the man turned and peered ahead, bringing his own spyglass up to one eye. "They seem hell-bent for boarding us, don't they?"

Vambran didn't bother to answer. He spun away, running for the companionway and calling for his men to roust themselves. "Adyan! Horial! Assemble the Crescents! We've got trouble coming! Sound the call! 'Green Grow the Fields!'" As he reached the stairs leading down into the bowels of the ship, the lieutenant could hear Horial sounding his horn, beginning the notes of a signal song, the particular tune ordering his men to assemble on deck and quaff a particular potion included among their equipment.

Trusting that the members of the Order of the Sapphire Crescent would respond quickly and efficiently, Vambran darted down the steps into the lower deck of Lady's Favor, headed toward the cabin he and Kovrim had been sharing during the voyage. The lieutenant reached the narrow door and swung it open, stepping inside the tiny room.

"Uncle Kovrim," Vambran said, moving toward the lower bunk and kneeling down beside it. "There's trouble."

The man lying on the thin mattress groaned and rolled over in the dim light of the single lantern, which hung from a hook in the wooden beam overhead. The glow had been reduced to a tiny flame, and it took a moment for Vambran's eyes to adjust sufficiently to the darkness.

"What is it?" Kovrim Lazelle asked. "What's going on?"

"Pirates," Vambran replied, reaching down to try and help his mother's brother sit up. "Nine ships of them, trying to surround us."

"Nine!" Kovrim exclaimed, starting upright. Then the man groaned and sank back down again. "Waukeen, I hate the sea." The older priest swallowed loudly a couple of times then took a slow, deep breath. "What does Za'hure say about it?"

As if in answer to Kovrim's question, the ship shifted to one side, its timbers groaning, and Vambran could feel himself listing against a tight turn. The motion made Kovrim gasp.

"I wish he wouldn't do that," the man said.

"When we thought there were only six, he was going to try to outrun them by turning with the wind, but three more are ahead of us, now. I didn't wait around to see what he would do next, but I guess he's trying to slip past a couple of them. I ordered the company to assemble on deck. Horial's sounding 'Green Grow the Fields.'"

"Probably wise, considering there are nine," Kovrim said. "Don't forget to drink up, yourself."

Suddenly, a horrendous roar deafened the two men, and Lady's Favor lurched to one side, as though she were trying to leap out of the water.

"Gods, what was that?" Kovrim muttered, trying to rise to his feet.

Vambran could barely hear his uncle for the ringing in his ears. He staggered against one wall of the tiny room, nearly bumping his head on the wildly swinging lantern. "Up top! Now!" he shouted, spun about, and scooted out through the door again as best as he could with the ship listing so sharply to one side.

Back topside, there was a mad scramble in full force. Men were shouting at everyone and no one, and Vambran could see several of the mainsails scorched and dangling free in the wind, with a number of their ropes flapping in the breeze, burning or smoking. Already the ship was slowing, losing its motivation as the sails were consumed. The Crescents seemed to be gathering in a general group, though there was no space or means for them to assemble into any sort of proper order.

In the next instant, Vambran felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, and the next thing he knew, he was facedown on the steps leading to the forecastle as a thunderous crack snapped through the air over his head. He didn't need to see the flash of brilliance to know that it was a lightning bolt. With his hands clamped over his ears, Vambran rose to one knee in time to see one of Lady's Favor's three masts listing awkwardly to one side, tipping over toward the sea. Only the tangle of rigging kept it from going all the way over, but already, several ropes had snapped, and the others were unraveling.

Why in the Nine Hells are they attacking the ship? Vambran wondered. It's as if they cared not a wit for what we might be carrying.

Another horrendous blast boomed overhead, and Vambran felt the waves of heat wash over him as the fiery ball of magic burst among the sails. Two men who had been high among the ropes screamed and fell, their bodies singed and black. One hit the deck and bounced along its sloped surface, and the other fell directly into the sea.

At that moment, the lieutenant wished that his newfound sorcerous talents had manifested themselves a bit more strongly, for he would have liked to have slung a magical salvo or two back toward the nearest ship. But his skills were still fledgling in many ways, and he knew that no arcane force he could conjure up would have an appreciable effect against the massed strength of nine pirate ships.

Better to save them for the close-in fighting, he thought.

Lady's Favor pitched sideways with an even more horrendous shudder, knocking Vambran from his feet, and it was followed by two more. When the lieutenant managed to regain his balance and look up, several dark, slimy tentacles, as thick as trees, had snaked up over the side of the ship's rails, holding fast to the doomed craft.