Page 34 of Death's Mistress (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 1)

“They were burly, muscular men with shaved heads and those awful scarred and sewed mouths. They had nets, and ropes, and clubs. They were hunters … and we were just prey.” He blinked. “I remembered when hunting parties from my village would march across the grassy pastures in the headlands with nets, banging pots to chase down goats and round them up for the winter slaughter. The Norukai were just like that. They came after me and Ian.

“We both screamed and ran. Ian was ahead of me. I made it to the base of the cliffs and started to climb before the first two slavers caught up to me. I was just out of their reach, but my foot slipped, and I fell. The men grabbed me, swung me around, and dropped me to the rocky beach. It knocked the wind out of me, and I couldn’t make a sound. But Ian was yelling from halfway up the beach. He had almost gotten away.” Bannon sniffled. “He could have gotten away.

“I fought back, but there were two of them, and the Norukai were strong. They tried to pull my arms together so they could lash my wrists. Another slaver grabbed my feet. I couldn’t get away, couldn’t even scream. Even when I caught my breath, my voice was hoarse. I thrashed and kicked.

“Just when they were wrapping a rope around my wrists, I heard an even louder shout. Ian had turned and come back, yelling at the slavers. They threw a net at him, but it missed. He just shrugged them off and came running toward me. In the struggle he snatched up one of the Norukai cudgels and bounded across the rocky beach, leaping over tide pools. He came to save me.

“Ian swung the club. I heard a skull crack—it was one of the men trying to tie me. Blood gushed from his eye and nose. Grunting, the other man grabbed at Ian, but my friend smashed him in the teeth, turning his lips to pulp. Ian yelled for me to run, and I tore my wrist away, sprang to my feet, and raced toward the sandstone cliff. I ran as I never had before. Tugging the ropes from my wrists, I made it there and began scrambling up, climbing for my very life.

“Ian shouted again, but I didn’t turn back. I couldn’t! I found the first foothold and pulled myself higher. My fingers were bloody, my nails torn.” Bannon was breathing hard as he told his story. Perspiration sparkled on his forehead. “I pulled myself up, found a foothold, climbed, and then turned back to see the slavers closing in on my friend. Two of them threw a net again. The men he had clubbed now pounded him with their fists. They crowded around him and he couldn’t get away. He screamed.”

Bannon’s voice hitched with a sob. “Ian had come back to save me. He risked his life to stop those men from tying me up. He made it so I could get away! But when they captured him, I froze. I could only watch as they wrapped the net around Ian and beat him again, kicking him over and over. When he cried out in pain, they laughed. I could see blood running from a gash in his face—and I didn’t do a thing. They bound his wrists and ankles with rope—and I just watched.

“It should have been me under that net. He had helped me—and I just watched!”

Bannon released his grip and let Sturdy fall with a clatter to the ground. He pressed his palms against his eyes, as if to hide. “I was halfway up the cliff when the slavers came for me again, and I panicked. When I reached the higher ground, I looked back down at the beach. The Norukai were dragging my friend toward the longboat. He still struggled, but I knew he was lost. Lost! I caught a last glimpse of Ian’s face, full of despair. He knew he would never get away … and he knew I wasn’t coming back to rescue him. Even at that great distance, his eyes met mine. I had abandoned him.

“I wanted to shout that I was sorry. I wanted to promise that I would come for him, but I had no voice. I was out of breath.” He turned away. “It would have been a lie anyway.

“Ian stared at me with a look of shock and confusion, as if he couldn’t believe I would betray him. I saw hatred behind those eyes just before the slavers threw him into the longboat.

“And I just ran.” Bannon shook his head, sniffling. “I left my friend behind. I didn’t help him. He came back to save me, and I … I just saved myself. I ran away.” His voice hitched and he sobbed again. “Sweet Sea Mother, he fought to save me, and I abandoned him.”

The young man looked down at the blood on his shirt, at the cuts on his arms. He touched a deep wound on his neck and winced in surprise, but he clearly didn’t remember how he had gotten it. The tears in his eyes had not washed away the stinging, painful memory.

“That’s why I fought so hard against the slavers here in Renda Bay, why I hate them so much. I was a coward when the Norukai took Ian. I didn’t fight then, but I have a sword now, and I will fight to my last breath.” He snatched up Sturdy from where it had fallen on the ground and inspected it, satisfied that the edge still looked sharp. “I can’t rescue Ian. I’ll never see him again … but I can kill slavers whenever I see them.”

CHAPTER 26

After a full day of picking up the pieces, the grieving survivors of Renda Bay were exhausted. With Holden dead, a man named Thaddeus accepted the position of town leader. Thaddeus was a beefy, square-faced fisherman with a long, frizzy beard. He was well liked among the villagers, but he looked completely out of his element.

Nicci had been watching the people throughout the day. She had always hated slavery, and it was her mission to stop tyranny and oppression in the name of Lord Rahl, as well as for her own soul. In a way, this was how she could help save the world for Richard, but she doubted this was what the witch woman’s prophecy had meant.

Nathan and Bannon had washed the grime from their hands and faces, but their hair was still tangled, and their clothes were still covered with blood that had long since dried.

Together, the villagers made a solemn procession out to the hillside graveyard, with mules and shaggy oxen drawing a line of carts to carry the dead. The people, already weary, sore, and heartsick, spread out to mark burial sites for the thirty-nine villagers who had died in the battle. The townspeople carried spades and shovels but seemed daunted by the task of digging all those graves.

“We must also erect twenty-two wooden posts,” Thaddeus said in a wobbly voice, “to remember the good people taken by the raiders.”

“Carve the names into the stone and make your wooden markers,” Nicci said. “I can use my gift to assist with the other work.” She released a flow of magic to scoop aside the grasses and dirt on the hillside to fashion a perfect grave. It was easy enough once she went through the process. She made an identical grave adjacent to the first, and then a third. She had many more to go.

The villagers watched, too tired to be amazed, too frightened to express their gratitude. When she finished the thirty-ninth grave, Nicci stepped back, feeling weary. “I sincerely hope you will not need more anytime soon.”

With little ceremony and acknowledging that they would all grieve later, in their own time, the people of Renda Bay buried their dead. The men and women spoke the names aloud as they took each body from the cart and interred the victims, a mixed range of farmers, a carpenter, a jovial brewer, two young boys killed in a fire after the house in which they had taken refuge burned to the ground, and town leader Holden, who had given up his life on the sea to lead Renda Bay.

The seamstress Jann spoke her husband’s name and wept, bowing her head over the grave as Phillip’s body was laid to rest and covered with dirt. “He just wanted to build boats,” she said. “After the accident with the fishhook, he prefered to stay on land. He thought it would be safer.” Her shoulders shuddered. “Safer.”

Nathan stood next to the small woman, his gaze somber, his head lowered. Awkwardly, the seamstress held out a folded gray garment for him. “This is another of Phillip’s shirts, Nathan. You

fought with us, you saved me, and—” Her voice broke with a quick choking sound. She sniffled, and her lips trembled. “And your first new shirt was ruined. Phillip would want you to have this.”

“I would be honored.” The wizard pressed the clean linen against his chest.

Although they had fought alongside the people of Renda Bay, Nicci did not feel she had finished her mission here. After they had filled in the graves and woodcarvers had cut names into the fresh-cut posts, Nicci addressed the villagers before they left the graveyard.

“This is why you need Lord Rahl,” she said. “His goal is to stop such violence and bloodshed, to crush slavers so that all people can live their lives in freedom. Yes, he is far away, but the D’Haran army will not tolerate such lawlessness and oppression. It may take time, but the world will change—the world has already changed. You must have noticed the stars.”

The villagers muttered, listening to her with a different attitude after their ordeal.

She continued in a stronger voice. “But you have to be responsible for yourselves as well. When you’ve picked up the pieces here, send an envoy on the long journey north to the People’s Palace. In D’Hara, swear your loyalty to Lord Rahl and tell him what happened here. Tell him about all the lands of the old empire that need him. He will not let you down.”

Nathan said, “Before you send envoys, we will write a message for him, as well as a summary of what we have seen. If someone could deliver that, we would be most grateful.”

Thaddeus swallowed hard. “Even though they were defeated last night, the Norukai will return. How soon can your Lord Rahl send his army?”

Nicci wasn’t finished. “You cannot simply wait for help. All people are responsible for their own lives, their own destinies. You must improve your own defenses, and you will need more than a bonfire and a lookout tower. The slavers believe you are weak, and that is why they prey on you. The best way to insure your peace is through strength. Maybe last night was a lesson for them. We were here to help this time, but you would not need to be rescued if you weren’t victims in the first place.”

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