He sat up, but then lay back down, his head spinning fiercely. Or was that the vessel? Violent swaying accompanied the sensation in his head, and he turned to look towards the helm to see Robart wrestling with the tiller. Salrissa, seeing that he was going to survive, gave him a nod of the head and went to help Robart, to little effect.
He managed to sit up with Valena’s help, and surveyed the ship. The drake had done some serious damage when it had landed, ripping a hole in the side of the ship and roof of the cabin with its claws. The side jib sail was nowhere to be seen, the shattered spar the only evidence that there was supposed to have been something there. That was why they were having trouble controlling the skiff.
Hoyle heard Celia’s tinny voice come through the speaking tube, but couldn’t hear what she said as Valena helped him to stand.
“You should rest,” she insisted, trying to guide him to the cabin.
He brushed past her guiding arm as Robart cursed, and Salrissa ran to the forward port rail and looked over. “What did Celia say?” he asked Robart.
“She said ‘We’re almost over the Goralonian Fort, watch out!’” the large man quoted.
Suddenly Salrissa yelled “Get down!” as she retreated from the port rail towards the helm where he and Robart stood, both now wrestling with the helm. Suddenly, a flaming ball flew above the rail at the top if its arc, and dropped away in front of them. He and Robart looked at each other, and heaved the wheel over to port, turning to pass the fort to the north.
Two more flaming projectiles appeared in the air, one missing high and the other one behind. Hoyle let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and went to the edge of the ruined hole on the starboard side of the ship. Inching closer to the edge, he peered over at the fort below. All he could see besides the vague shape of the fort in the dark twenty or so spans below, was three more flaming projectiles headed their way – fast!
Jumping backwards, he grabbed the wheel, pushing Robart out of the way, and spun it to starboard as hard as he could. With the addition of the port jib that was catching the wind, the skiff turned quickly towards the fort, but it was not enough. The first flaming ball of pitch slammed into the side of the hull, splattering across the planks on the side of the skiff. Flames licked up past the edge of the deck near the damaged section like scall lizards looking for food.
Hoyle knew they were in trouble now. Fire at sea was one thing, but fire on a sky ship was devastating. He turned the ship back to port, against the push of the portside jib, trying to put as much space between them and the fort as possible now that they were almost past.
Suddenly Hoyle’s stomach lurched as the deck fell out from under them, and then he slammed to the deck as the falling skiff was brought up short. Obviously Celia was trying to help dodge the flaming pitch. Her effort had failed however; as he saw flames crawling their way down the main sail very quickly. Holes were even now forming as bits of burning sailcloth rained down on them.
He yelled into the speaking tube after climbing to his feet and resuming his post at the helm, “Celia, please take us down – swiftly, but not as fast as last time.”
“I will do what I can,” came her reply. “but we’re in trouble aren’t we?” He could hear the sorrow in her voice.
He looked at the flames licking over the side of the deck on the starboard and the flames consuming the main sail and mast. “Yes, the ship is doomed, so we have to get it to the ground as fast as possible, but not too close to the fort. We should be able to coax another league out of this before we have to get off.”
Salrissa and Robart were stamping out the flames as they landed on the deck from above, but he could see that the starboard fire had really caught hold. They may have to get off sooner than he thought. Looking forward, he saw a ridge coming up fast, the trees a long line of sentinels blocking their passage. Celia managed to ease the crippled ship up and over the ridge, though several pines scraped the bottom of the hull, one tree ripping the flaming keel sail free from below. Thankfully they were now running with the wind directly astern, or the skiff would have tipped sharply leeward, and might possibly have tossed someone overboard.
Hoyle could see a shimmering below that looked to be a lake nestled between the ridges of the mountain, really more like the start of the foothills into Goralon. He called to Celia to get on deck with them.
“But I can’t leave it alone, the ship will crash!” came her reply.
‘The ship is already crashing!” he yelled back. “Get up here now!”
He turned the wheel to align them with the small lake that was now just a dark spot among darker trees, as he felt the ship suddenly start a steeper dive.
“Get ready to jump!” he ordered.
“What?! Are you crazy?” Robart responded harshly. He was still moving stiffly from his being tossed around the cabin during the drake attack. “We’ll be impaled!”
“I have to agree with Robart,” Valena said. “It does seem to be a dangerous idea.”
He watched as Celia climbed out of the steeply tilted cabin and grabbed the helm to support herself. He could see tears running down her eyes.
“You would rather crash to earth on a flaming wreck?!” he demanded. “Just jump when I tell you!” He waited, as they were almost down to tree-top height. He could hear the top of the trees begin to scrape the hull, the sound growing louder and louder. Suddenly they stopped. Hoyle counted to three and then yelled “Jump!” and hurled himself over the stern, not waiting for the others.
His stomach lurched again as he plummeted to earth, suddenly breaking the surface of the lake, his joints aching badly from the impact, but very quickly the aching subsided due to the bone numbing cold of the water. He clawed his way to the surface, his head breaking free. Taking a huge gasp of air, he turned to watch the flaming wreck of a ship plummet into the woods on the far side of the small lake leaving a flaming trail in its wake.
Turning, he noticed four other floating or flailing figures in the frigid water. All he could see were shadowed forms of heads, but based on the noises, Robart and Salrissa were the ones swimming towards the shore, towing the other two. He imagined it would be hard to swim in robes, like those of Celia and Valena. Turning in a circle in the water to survey the area, he followed the others toward the flaming beacon of wreckage on the closest shore.
Besides, for them to survive the night, they would have to get warm and dry. What better place than a more than ample fire.
Chapter 20
Celia’s feet finally found the gravel of the lake bottom a couple of spans from shore, and she tried to stand, but Robart was still dragging her by the back of her robe. Her limbs were numb, the cold seeping into her limbs and even into her core. She wasn’t even sure she could stand. But at least they were alive – alive, and lost in the wilds of the Goralonian foothills.
Finally, after two more strides, Robart heaved her towards shore and let go. She fell where she was, lying in the frigid water, willing herself to get up. When that didn’t work, she rolled over in the handspan of water and levered herself to her hands and knees. She crawled onto dry land until her feet were out of the water and then collapsed on her stomach.
Salrissa was helping Valena out of the water, while Robart was leaning against a tree holding his ribs. About three strides away was the path the wreckage made as it crashed. Hoyle was climbing out of the water, unsteady on his feet. The other women made it to a fallen tree and sat down, Valena trying to wring out her robes with shivering hands.
Hoyle managed to get himself upright by hanging onto a small birch tree growing near the gravel beach. “We have to keep moving,” he stated, “or we’re going to freeze.”
“Who put you in charge?” Robart challenged, still breathing hard from the swim and broken ribs.
“No one ‘put’ me in charge. But since no one else seems to be ‘taking’ it, I thought maybe someone should do it,” he said through chattering teeth.
Celia struggled to stand, her cold muscl
es protesting every motion. She had lost her staff on the skiff, so could not use it to help herself stand. Eventually she managed to get herself upright. “I don’t care who’s in charge, as long as we’re walking towards the wreckage of the ship.” She started stumbling towards the gap in the trees the wreckage had created. If the damage had not been obvious in pointing her towards the downed ship, the pull of the quafa'shilaar would have led her directly there. Apparently, she now had some sort of bond with it.
At first, it was slow going, the underbrush thick at the water’s edge. The wreck had only managed to knock branches off, and snap tops of trees as it first hit the foliage on this side of the lake. Further in, the underbrush thinned under the pine and spruce trees, only snagging her wet clothing half as often, which was still annoying and slowing their progress. There were also large, stubborn patches of snow, still lingering in the shade of the forest, not knowing that spring was right around the corner.
She had the satisfaction of hearing the others following behind her. As she continued, the damage from the plummeting wreckage became more noticeable. At first it was flaming or smoldering branches lying in the still lingering patches of snow. But that quickly grew into snapped trees smoldering on their sides, still hanging on to their remaining trunk. Celia looked up from a particularly annoying bush to see that she had arrived at the still burning wreckage. Though her struggle through the trees had warmed her somewhat, the heat was welcome. She moved as close to the fire as she dared, and held her robes to either side, trying to dry them out quicker.
The rest of the group followed her into the newly created clearing a mere hundred or so paces from the lake, and spread out around the fire to dry off. It seemed that there had been enough snowfall this winter to ensure the trees had sufficient moisture, as only the trees immediately around the downed sky skiff were actually burning. The rest appeared to have smoldered a little, but the flames had not taken. That was good, as she had read an account from a survivor of a forest fire, and she was pretty sure that she did not want to live through one. Suddenly she remembered the books in her pack!
She pulled out the oil cloth wrapped bundle, noting that everything else in her pack was soaked. Peeling the cloth off, she saw that some water had made it inside, but the books were not completely ruined. She laid them out against a fallen log on a patch of now dry ground, as close to the fire as possible. She brought out her other assorted items; her comb and brush, her extra clothes, her spare blanket, and started hanging them from branches to dry.
“We should leave as soon as we’re warm and dry,” Robart said looking to the dark shadows in the trees. The flickering fire was causing the shadows to move and jump. “We’re not safe here.”
Valena, who was also sorting her pack, and laying some things out to dry asked, “Where would be safer than here, next to a warm fire?”
“In this Robart’s correct,” Salrissa added, “This fire is a beacon to all things nearby.”
“But animals will be scared of the fire, won’t they?” Valena responded.
“It’s not the animals they’re worried about,” Celia chimed in, “it’s the other creatures that may be living nearby. It doesn’t matter though, we’re not leaving until the fire’s done and I can get into the wreckage.”
The rest of the group looked at her like she was totally crazy. “What?” Hoyle asked quietly. “In this one case I agree with Robart, we need to be off.” His gaze glanced the big man’s way, but quickly back to Celia, who ignored the look.
“There is something I need to get once the fire dies down and we can search the wreckage. Besides, wouldn’t it be better to camp beside a large fire that blocks part of the access to us from one side, and also provides us light to see our enemies? If any are even close enough to come calling in the next…” she looked at the eastern sky, “… four bells until dawn?”
“She does have a point.” Salrissa added, wringing out her socks as she sat on the log by Celia’s books, her boots beside her. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep a watch. I will stay up first. You all get some sleep.”
“I’ll stay up too, if it’s all the same to you,” Robart grumbled. He pulled his greatsword off his back with difficulty and found a spot in the shadows at the edge of the clearing, where he stood his sword beside him against a tree.
Salrissa pulled her boots on and walked over to Hoyle and gave him a small peck on the cheek and whispered something to him. She then went to into the forest opposite Robart and disappeared into the darkness.
Celia watched as Valena walked over to where Robart leaned against a tree. She said something quietly to him, and then she watched as the healer’s hands glowed briefly while touching Robart’s abdomen, then fade. Valena walked back to near Celia and grabbed her now dry blanket, and curled up a little closer to the fire.
Hoyle had by this point found a small hollow between some tree roots and had curled up, apparently asleep. She noted that his sword was unsheathed and in his grip.
Celia grabbed her brush and proceeded to quickly remove the tangles in her hair, and then braided it to keep it out of the way. After a while, she began to get sleepy, the adrenalin now wearing off. She grabbed her now mostly dry blanket, wrapped herself up in it and found a fairly level, fairly dry patch of ground and lay down. She drifted off before a ten count.
---o---
Celia woke with a start, sitting upright abruptly, her adrenalin pumping. The howl that had awoken her was still fresh in her ears. She reached for her staff, forgetting she left it on board the skiff and it had burned in the fire. Looking around, she noticed the rest of the group was also awake; Robart climbing to his feet from where he was sleeping; Hoyle moving into the clearing from where he must have been keeping watch. Valena was sitting up, also confused, but Celia noted that the bruise on her forehead was now gone. She must have healed it before she went to sleep. Of Salrissa there was no sign.
“What was that?” Valena asked with an almost unnoticeable tremor in her voice. Celia wondered how old the small woman really was, as her face put her anywhere from eighteen years of age to thirty.
“I believe that was a hunting cry of the varghul,” Celia stated more calmly than she felt. She stood in the pre-dawn light and walked towards the smouldering wreck that was their transport just hours ago. She was glad for the few hours of rest, though her muscles still complained, her thoughts were clearer. “It is very unlikely that it is hunting us. Still we should not tarry overlong.” She began to climb the wreckage careful to not touch anything that looked hot, or get soot on her hands. She could still feel the presence of the quafa'shilaar in her mind.
“Then what are you doing?” Robart asked in exasperation.
“If we need to move, Celia, what you’re doing doesn’t make sense. Come down from there and let’s get moving.” Hoyle had moved over to remains of the bottom of the sloping deck.
“I need something from inside.” She simply stated. She climbed up the tilted deck, smearing her hands with soot and burning her hands twice on still hot embers regardless of how careful she was being. She managed to reach the cabin door amid much grumbling from below. “I won’t be long,” she called down.
Being careful not to injure herself, she climbed into the canted cabin, surprised at what little damage the fire had caused to the interior. Climbing equally along the wall and floor at the same time, she managed to reach the small red door and heaved it open. The quafa'shilaar still sat in its cradle, deep violet light with flecks of azure radiating from it. The rest of the room was a charred wreck, black and burned, the fire gaining access from the damage the drake had caused she assumed. The mast was charred too, but thick enough to withstand the heat without cracking. The metal plate holding the magestone was still intact also.
Carefully she reached out and scooped the magestone from under the flat bar holding it in the metal depression. As her fingers made contact with it she sensed a feeling of relief from the stone. The pulling in her mind eased. “I got you
little one,” she said to the stone as she turned to climb out.
As she made her way back through the cabin, she grabbed a couple of still usable water skins hanging from a hook. Then she heard shouting from outside. Something was happening. As she came into viewing, she could see Hoyle and Robart shouting and pointing. She clambered down the sloped deck, sliding the final span on her rear end and moved over to the two shouting men.
“What’s going on?” she shouted into the argument. She couldn’t understand what they were saying anyway. She was not sure they could understand each other either. Just at that moment, another long howl cut through the air. It was much closer. “Oh.” She moved over and began to collect her now mostly dry books and tomes, re-wrapping them in the oil cloth to protect them.
Just as she was pulling her pack over her shoulder, they heard a bone-chilling shriek. Suddenly the bushes parted as Salrissa ran into the new clearing holding the bow from the sky skiff, an arrow nocked on the string. “Get your weapons ready!” she cried briskly.
Hoyle and Robart grabbed their weapons without question, Hoyle drawing his rapier and stiletto, Robart retrieving his greatsword from against the tree. They moved toward Salrissa who was watching back the way from which she came.
Valena had stood her pack already on her back. “Why, what’s going on?”
Suddenly a large creature leapt from the trees, easily clearing the new hole in the forest canopy, and landed on the far side of the clearing. Turning, it regarded the five of them even as Salrissa, Hoyle and Robart turned to face it, fanning out slightly in the process.
The creature was a varghul. It resembled a giant house cat, with feline eyes, pointed ears, striped black and grey fur, and very sharp teeth. That’s where the similarities ended. This creature was a span and a half tall at the shoulder, with six muscular legs, the front four evolved to rend and tear, the rear pair for leaping large distances. Bony protrusions like knives extended from the joints of all its limbs, along its back, at the shoulders and ran along the skull down between its eyes. These creatures had evolved to hunt drakes, they were stealthy, could leap huge distances and high into the air, and grapple their prey with their powerful set of four forelegs. A long, bony, armored feline tail extended behind it, two spiny plates extending from each side near the tip. It had an arrow protruding from one of its upper forelegs, and looked extremely angry.
Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) Page 21
