by R. T. Kaelin
The wave rushed by quickly, leaving Nikalys squeezing the railing and coughing up seawater. The ship righted itself, slowly swinging back to starboard. For two thudding heartbeats, there was nothing but the roar of wind and sea paired with the wooden, groaning protests of the Sapphire.
“Man overboard!”
Nikalys’ eyes shot open, burning from the salt of the sea. He stared to the deck below and spotted a number of sailors now pointing north. More men picked up the chilling call, their words clearly cutting through the wind.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Nikalys released the railing and rushed portside, stumbling as the ship shifted beneath his feet. Grabbing hold of the port rail, he stared into the murky blackness below. He caught a brief flash of light as a wave rolled, revealing one of the magical lanterns still bound to a piece of the ship. A moment later, another swell obscured it.
“Blast!”
It had only been an instant, but Nikalys had caught Wil’s panicked face illuminated by the glow, some thirty feet from the ship. Nikalys wondered what had possessed his friend to come topside.
Captain Scrag unexpectedly yelled into his ear, “Do you see him?”
Turning to find the captain beside him, Nikalys pointed in the direction of the young soldier.
“There somewhere!”
The two men stared into the blackness, searching, scanning. After a few torturous heartbeats, the faint light of the magical lantern emerged again from the swells. Nikalys gasped. Wil was already another twenty to thirty paces away.
“Blast the Hells!” cursed Captain Scrag.
“Turn the ship around!” screamed Nikalys.
Captain Scrag shook his head, his wet, matted, white mane of hair whipping back and forth.
“How?!! I’ve no sails and the rudder is tied down! I’m not steering this ship! Saewyn is!”
“Then how do we get Wil out of there?!”
The captain did not answer immediately. Fixing Nikalys with a steady gaze, he said, “We don’t.” A sympathetic frown touched his lips.
Nikalys stared at the captain a moment, initially not comprehending what the sailor meant. Once he did, he exclaimed, “You’re going to leave him? He’ll drown!”
Captain Scrag nodded.
“I’m sorry, son.”
Nikalys whipped his head around to look at the weather deck, searching for Broedi. The hillman was nowhere to be found. A long line of sailors stood at a broken port railing, staring in the direction of Wil. They had stopped shouting, solemn expressions having replaced panicked ones.
Staring back into the black sea, Nikalys caught another flash of light. Wil was farther, still.
“No…”
Refusing to accept his friend’s fate, Nikalys glared at the captain and shouted, “Get Nundle up here and tell him to make the biggest light he can!”
“Why?!” screamed Captain Scrag, shielding his eyes against wind and rain.
Ignoring the question, Nikalys stared at the sea, waiting to catch another glimpse of his friend. He reached to his waist, unbuckled his belt, and held the Blade of Horum out to the captain.
“Hold this for me.”
Spotting the yellowish-orange ball of light, Nikalys pushed himself up onto the railing, leapt into the open air, and reached inside him, pulling at whatever it was Aryn Atticus had passed to him.
Shift.
Air exploded from his lungs as he splashed into the icy water. The bitterest of nights in his room at Storm Island was a balmy Summer day compared to the bone-chilling cold of the sea. So shocked by the chill, he briefly forgot the need to swim and he dipped beneath the waves. Fighting back to the surface, he burst into the nighttime air and spat out the mouthful of water he had sucked in.
Whipping his head around, he searched for the light he had seen from the ship but saw nothing. The world was black. Waves were nothing but indistinct, dark shapes carrying him up and down.
As he thrashed about in the sea, the heat seeping from his body, he caught a glimpse of light.
“W—”
The word died on his lips as he realized he was staring at the Sapphire, not Wil. Nikalys’ could not believe how far away the ship already was.
A shift in the wind brought with it a weak shout, the voice full of despair.
“Don’t leave me!”
It was Wil.
Nikalys sought the source, but waves and wind made it impossible to figure out from where it came. As loud as he could, he shouted, “Wil! Wil Eadding!”
Wil responded almost immediately, shouting, “Here! Here! Help! I’m here!”
Nikalys swiveled his head in all directions, spitting out mouthful after mouthful of icy, salty water. Despite the effort he was putting into treading water, much like when he was fighting, he was not tiring or struggling for breath. Horum’s gift granted him incredible endurance. Unfortunately, it did nothing to stave back the water’s chill.
His teeth chattering, he loosed a scream loud enough that his throat felt like it being ripped raw.
“Louder, Wil! I can’t see you!”
He caught a faint reply mixing with the howling wind, but it sounded further away than before. Spotting a soft glow of light a little more than forty feet away, he reached for Horum’s gift.
Shift.
Wil was slumped over an impromptu raft of ship’s railing. A pole jutting from the wood still had the magic orb of light attached to it, shining light on the deep, dark gash that ran from Wil’s nose to his right temple. Nikalys guessed there would be plenty of blood if not for the seawater.
Clapping his friend on the back, Nikalys shouted, “Wil!”
Wil lifted his head to regard Nikalys with glassy eyes and gave an unsteady grin.
“Nice of you to come after me.”
“I couldn’t let my best teacher drown.”
Nikalys hoped the magical light was the reason Wil looked so pale.
Wil’s gaze shifted to stare past Nikalys.
“The Sapphire is almost gone.”
Holding onto the railing itself, Nikalys looked over his shoulder, and saw Wil was right. The Sapphire was twice as far as before. Swallowing a curse, he turned back to Wil, patted the soldier on the back, and called out valiantly, “No worries, Wil. I was the best swimmer in Yellow Mud.”
He looked back to the Sapphire again, a frown on his face. He had no idea how he could get back to the ship. All he knew was that every moment wasted meant the ship was slipping further away.
“Come on, Wil. Time to go.”
He helped Wil from the broken railing, looping the young man’s arms around his neck. The sea swept away the wooden railing immediately, taking the ball bound to it with it. The pair floated in darkness now with Nikalys treading water for them both. It only took a few moments of doing so before Nikalys realized he could never swim to the Sapphire while dragging Wil along. That left only one thing to try.
Reaching up, he gripped Wil’s arms and yelled over the roar of the storm, “Hold on!” Staring in the direction of the ship, he waited until they were atop of another tall wave.
Shift.
Nikalys felt himself falling through the air, having moved from crest to trough. As he plummeted to the sea, he felt sick. He was alone. Apparently, Horum’s gift did not extend to others.
He splashed back into the sea, plunging beneath the water. Struggling upward, he broke into the night and screamed, “Wil! Wil!”
He yelled his friend’s name repeatedly, hoping to catch a response.
“Wil!”
A series of lightning flashes lit up the ever-shifting seas as Nikalys scanned waves, looking for anything that might be a person.
“Wil!”
He wanted nothing more than to hear Wil’s voice call back. It never did.
A deep, dark despair gripped him. His insides turned as numb as his outside.
Suddenly, a dozen feet away, the strangest animal Nikalys had ever seen broke the surface of the turbulent seas. A lightning flash lit up th
e creature, revealing an elongated nose jutting from a smooth, sloped face and two dark, glassy eyes perched on opposite sides of its head. The beast turned its head to stare at Nikalys with its right eye. As it swiveled, another flash of lightning illuminated a figure on the animal’s back, holding onto a curved fin. Nikalys’ heart leapt for joy.
“Wil!”
The creature to which Wil clung began to change shape. The nose shrunk, retreating into the face while the eyes shifted forward, rotating around to the front of the head. A chin formed from underneath the mouth and thick, brown hair sprung from the top of its head. The area between head and body thinned out to become a man’s neck with wide, muscular shoulders to either side. Within moments, the strange sea animal was gone, replaced with the familiar and very welcome shape of a hillman.
“Broedi!”
The White Lion whipped around to grab Wil before he slipped beneath the surface. Treading water while holding onto the young soldier, Broedi turned to glare at Nikalys.
“What do you think you are doing!? That was utterly, stupidly reckless!”
Nikalys was so happy, he did not care that Broedi had chastised him.
“How did you—”
“Not now!” shouted the hillman. “Take Will and hold onto my fin after I change. We need to catch the ship before it is gone!”
Nikalys reached out and took Wil, ensuring he kept the man’s head above water.
Broedi bellowed, “Do you see the ship?”
Nikalys scanned the sea.
“No!”
At this point, he had no idea in which direction the Sapphire lay.
“Then I will have to listen for it!” shouted Broedi.
Nikalys was about to ask how he could hear anything in the storm’s rage when a brilliant yellow glow lit up the night. At first, Nikalys thought it was another bolt of lightning, yet when the light did not fade, both Broedi and he turned to find a giant orb of light rising and falling on distant waves.
Nikalys let out a shout of joy.
“Thank you, Nundle!”
Broedi glanced at Nikalys, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
Smiling wide, Nikalys said, “I told the captain to get Nundle to light up a way back!”
The anger in Broedi’s eyes faded slightly, replaced with a hint of admiration.
“You were still rash!”
“Yell at me later!” cried Nikalys. He nodded to an unconscious Wil. “We need to get him back to the ship.”
Broedi nodded and, almost immediately, his head and shoulders shifted, merging into one. His face elongated, the long snout with a rounded point returning. Within a couple of heartbeats, Broedi was the sea creature again.
The animal dipped below the water and surfaced a second later beside Nikalys. With his left arm holding onto Wil, cradling his body in such a way to ensure his head was free of the sea, Nikalys gripped Broedi’s fin.
“Go!”
Broedi began to swim, the muscles along the creature’s back rippling with each beat of what felt like a tail smacking Nikalys’ legs. It was a struggle to keep Wil’s head above the waves as they cut through the water toward the ship. As they neared, Nikalys saw an enormous yellow light bound to the bow’s figurehead. Excited shouts of men cut through the storm. They had been spotted.
Sailors tossed a half-dozen ropes into the water. Once Broedi swam to the nearest pair, Nikalys felt the creature’s fin slipping from his hand. The White Lion was shifting back to his hillman self. Letting go of Broedi, Nikalys grabbed a rope in one hand while gripping Wil in the other. Glancing at the young soldier’s face, he could not tell if he was still breathing.
Once Broedi completed the shift, he shouted, “Tie the rope around him!”
Nikalys did so and then stared up the side of the ship, yelling, “Pull him up!”
The seamen began to heft the injured soldier up to the deck. Holding onto a second rope, Nikalys watched, tense, as the shifting seas caused Wil’s body to sway back and forth.
Once Wil disappeared over the side of the ship, Nikalys and Broedi climbed the second rope. Upon reaching the railing, sailors and soldiers alike helped pull the pair over. Nikalys collapsed on the deck, grateful to be on something solid. Nundle’s bright light suddenly winked out, briefly plunging the ship into darkness before the smaller amber globes began to pop back into existence.
Lifting his head, Nikalys saw a group gathered around what he assumed was Wil, Nundle and Broedi at the center. Nikalys began to scramble up, intending to go check on his friend, when a firm hand pressed down on his chest. Looking up, Nikalys found Sergeant Trell kneeling beside him.
“Relax, Nikalys.” His tone was firm. “You’ve done what you can. Lie down and let them do what they do.” The words, “that’s an order” were all but spoken.
Sergeant Trell was right. Nundle and Broedi were both Life Mages. Wil was safe as long as he still drew breath.
Looking to the sergeant, Nikalys asked, “Is he alive?”
Sergeant Trell nodded.
“Judging from the bucketful of water he’s coughed up already, I’d say yes.”
Nikalys loosed a long sigh and slumped to the deck.
“Thank the Gods…”
The ship rose and fell beneath him, sliding him this way and that. The wind continued to blow, stripping the little heat he still had in his body. He shivered uncontrollably, colder now than he had ever been.
Sergeant Trell called, “Cero! Go get some blankets!”
“Yes, Sergeant!”
As Nikalys listened to the thudding of Cero’s boots on deck, the sergeant stared back down at him and shook his head.
“That was an incredibly brave thing you just did.”
His teeth chattering, Nikalys said, “I could not leave him—”
“Brave?” shouted a gruff voice.
Nikalys tilted his head back to find Captain Scrag hovering over him, Nikalys’ sword gripped in his hand.
“Brave?! Blast the Hells! That was foolish! Brainless! The maddest of the mad would have better sense than do what you did! You are denser than a hunk of white iron! What in the Nine Hells were you thinking?”
“Well, I—”
Eyes widening further, Captain Scrag screamed, “Blast it! I don’t want an actual answer!”
Pushing himself up on his elbows, Nikalys began to protest, “But you—”
Captain Scrag bent over, yelling, “The next time you want to do something foolhardy like that, tell me first and I’ll throw you in myself!” He shoved the Blade of Horum into Sergeant Trell’s hands and turned around, stomping off, back to the aft deck.
Stunned, Nikalys watched the man walk away. Broedi’s deep voice cut into his shock.
“Believe it or not, he actually likes you.”
Nikalys peered over, finding the hillman standing on his right.
“He has an odd way of showing it.”
Broedi bent down, opposite of Sergeant Trell, and fixed Nikalys with a hard stare.
“He is right, though. Your actions were careless.”
“But Wil was going to drown,” protested Nikalys. “I couldn’t let him die.”
“You could have and you should have,” rumbled Broedi. “Wil is not one of the Progeny. You must put the fate of the world before that of a friend.”
Nikalys turned to Sergeant Trell, hoping to find support from the soldier. The sergeant’s face was sympathetic, but his words were not.
“Broedi’s right. A leader must make decisions that are callous by any mark.” His expression turned grim as he added, “It is not an easy mantle to carry.”
Nikalys wanted to shout at them both, to assail them for their heartlessness. However, he did not. Deep down, he knew they were right.
After a moment, Broedi said, “I must go attend to Wil for a time.”
Looking up, Nikalys asked, “Will he be alright?”
“With some sleep, yes,” rumbled the hillman. He stood, began to turn away, but stopped and looked back down.
“Aryn would be proud of what you did here.”
Nikalys blinked in surprise. Broedi’s comment had caught him off guard.
Broedi held his gaze a moment longer before turning and walking away, heading to where two men were carrying Wil to the stairs that headed below deck. Nikalys stared after him, shivering against the rain and wind.
Sergeant Trell roused him with a pat on the shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s get you some dry clothes. I’m cold just looking at you.”
Nikalys nodded and let the sergeant help him up from the wet deck. Cero arrived with two thick, dry blankets and draped them over his shoulders. As the two men helped him to the stairs, Broedi’s words echoed in his head, fueling a longing for a father Nikalys had never known.
Chapter 35: Hurt
8st of the Turn of Maeana, 4999
Jak strode inside from the blustery cold, leaving the courtyard door to crash against the inside wall. Stomping his feet on the stone floor, trying to rid his boots of the slush clinging to them, he left the door open and moved down the hall. One of the other soldiers would close it. Reaching up with his gloved hand, he rubbed the little bits of frozen water stuck to his fledgling beard. Icy drops of water ran down his neck.
“Blasted snow.”
Growing up in Yellow Mud, Thaddeus had told stories about snow to Jak and his siblings, but the trio was never sure if they could believe the tales. Father enjoyed telling stories that were not necessarily true.
Yesterday afternoon, Jak had been in his room, lying on his bed sulking, when he spotted the white flakes floating past his window. He leapt from his bed and stood before his window, gaping at the strange sight. Forgetting his bad mood for a time, he rushed down the stairs, through the halls, and burst into the courtyard. A number of former Red Sentinels were already there, gazing around in wonder, watching the fluffy whiteness envelop the enclave. His instinct was to run off, find Nikalys and Kenders, and share the moment with them. Then dismal reality reasserted itself and his foul temper snapped back into place.
