Jehral fixed Rashine with a level stare. “We climb.”
He left half his men to guard the horses and had the remainder strip down to trousers only, removing the loose white over-garments made to ward off the worst of the sun’s rays. Fetching coils of rope from the baggage animals, Jehral then led his designated climbers to a broken low point in the cliff.
“Tie the ropes together,” Jehral instructed as he looked for somewhere to fix the end. By the time the tying was complete, he’d spied a promising promontory of rock.
“We will descend one at a time,” Jehral said as he fastened the rope around the rock. “Rashine and you two, help me pull on the end of the rope to test it.”
Finally satisfied, Jehral tossed the coiled rope over the side of the cliff. It would be long enough.
“I will go first,” Jehral said. “Wait for the count of one hundred, and then the next man will follow.”
“I will be next,” Rashine said. He may have been a grumbling fool, but he was a brave fool.
Jehral took a deep breath and then, without thinking too much about what he was doing, began to descend. At first it was easy, but then his arms began to tire and his sword got in the way. The muscles in his shoulders strained, and his bare chest scraped across the rock. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he tried not to look down and was almost surprised when he reached the bottom and his feet once more touched solid ground.
Eight more men followed while Jehral watched from below. Soon a chorus of advice rolled up from the watchers at the base of the cliff.
And then one of Jehral’s men fell.
With a cry he plummeted from high on the cliff, his body twisting and limbs flailing at the air. He hit the rocky ground with a sickening crunch only half a dozen paces from the onlookers.
Jehral cried out in shock, calling a warning far too late. “Keep an eye on the next man! Warn me if he looks like he’s falling.” Jehral hurried forward and crouched at the body. He combed the long dark hair from the swarthy face. “Alhaf,” he murmured, “I am sorry you had to die like this.”
Jehral took Alhaf’s body under the armpits and dragged him away from the base of the cliff, arranging the limbs on the hard sand of the beach. The rest of Jehral’s men made it down unscathed, but each blanched when they saw the body.
“We will take Alhaf’s body home with us,” Jehral called, “and he will be buried with honor. Let us now see what his sacrifice was for.”
Jehral drew his sword, and his men followed suit. He once again marveled at the symbols painstakingly drawn along its curved length by Ella’s own hand.
“Come,” he called.
They traveled along the narrow beach while the breakers roared beside them. The cool wind smelled of salt and took the edge off the fierce heat. Jehral rounded a corner of the cliff, and there it was.
He stopped in his tracks as he beheld the remnants of a once mighty ship. Jehral’s heart thudded in his chest. “Please, let it not be,” he whispered.
Jehral reluctantly placed one foot in front of the other and sensed the same trepidation in his men. “A leader leads from the front,” he reminded himself and picked up his pace.
The vessel must have been huge when intact. The curved beams of dark wood could only have come from mighty trees. Splashes of color here and there showed where the exterior had been painted in garish hues.
The part of the ship in the water was crumbled and in disrepair, though the sides were still high. Knowing nothing about ships, Jehral could only guess how long it had been here.
The front was still mostly whole.
“Be on your guard,” Jehral called.
He reached the ship and walked to a gaping hole in its side. Rashine elbowed him aside and peered in.
“Ahh!” Rashine cried, drawing back.
Immediately the desert warriors tensed, bared swords at the ready.
“What is it?” Jehral said. He stepped forward, summoning his courage as he poked his head into the hole.
The ship was crammed full of bodies.
Hundreds of them lay bloated and waterlogged, with a putrid stench clogging the air so strongly that only the stiff ocean breeze had prevented Jehrel’s men from smelling the bodies before.
Jehral took a deep breath and pushed his head in again. The corpses were all shapes and sizes, some pale skinned and others dark as night. Women were among their number, and some were dressed in the fitted clothing of city folk, whereas others wore furs and barbaric horned helmets. There were as many weapons as there were bodies, with axes and daggers, two-handed swords, and strange barreled sticks tossed to and fro with the surging water.
The bodies were all covered in arcane symbols, macabre blue tattoos covering their skin.
Jehral removed his head from the hole. He inhaled slowly to steady himself.
Revenants.