The King's Man (The Chronicles of King Rolen's Kin Novella) by Rowena Cory Daniells

Author:Rowena Cory Daniells
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy, War, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781849974721
Publisher: Solaris
Published: 2012-12-06T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

GARZIK WOKE TO a pounding behind his temples, a fierce need to urinate and a throbbing on one side of his head. The world sounded strange and it took him a moment to remember his missing ear, now covered by a bandage. His legs were warm, but his shoulders cold. Why was he naked? Why were hairy thighs pressed against his legs?

He sat up, wincing as he took weight on his buttocks. It all came back to him.

His gorge rose. No time to look for his breeches.

He made for the side at a run and emptied his stomach. Just up from him, Trafyn was doing the same, only he sounded like he was never going to stop.

Garzik felt a pang of sympathy for the squire as Trafyn hung over the side, wearing only his thigh-length undershirt.

Which reminded him, he must find his own breeches.

Garzik relieved himself down-wind, then turned around. The deck was covered in Utlanders sprawled in various states of undress, some wrapped in sleeping furs, some stark naked despite the cold. They ranged from lads his age to men like Captain Blackwing, forty perhaps. No white-haired old men. He suspected you didn’t grow old on the Utland Isles. Man and boy alike, they’d drunk themselves into a stupor. That triggered a memory of the Utland lads being used last night, same as him and Trafyn. What had he landed himself in?

If only a sea-hound ship could find them now.

For a heartbeat he indulged himself, imagining how the sea-hounds would cut a swathe through the naked, vulnerable Utlanders and retake the ship.

He searched the horizon. This was a merchant ship, not a sleek Utland vessel. It would never be able to escape a sea-hound ship. The new captain was taking a risk commandeering this vessel.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of the fleet and its sea-hound protectors. The only sail in sight was the original Utland vessel, which had drawn closer during the night until there was only a gap of about four body lengths between them.

A shouted command made him turn to see Strong-arm going about the deck, kicking a man here, grabbing a man there. All the while, he repeated a string of words over and over – the Utland equivalent of Get up you lazy, bastards, Garzik guessed.

With only a vague idea where he’d started out, Garzik began to sift through discarded clothes for his breeches. As he did, flashes of last night came back to him and his gorge rose again. How could he go home after this? The shame...

He should just end it all. Throw himself overboard. Isfyl had said death would be quick in the cold, cold sea.

But he couldn’t. Only he knew about Mitrovan and the scribe’s information might be crucial to Byren. Conviction filled Garzik. No matter what, he had to endure.

Tears burned his eyes but he knew he’d made the right... the only decision. Turning away from the deck, he blinked fiercely to clear his vision.

On the deck of the lower Utland vessel he saw Isfyl stagger to his feet.

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