by kubasik
A pounding began al the door. Everyone else stood up, alert and tense, but drowsiness had begun to overtake J'role. His consciousness wavered for a few minutes but finally the pain and loss of blood took its toll. Drifting, sleeping, dreaming; he left the crisis at hand and hid in the safety of his thoughts.
"J'role? J'role?"
He opened his eyes and saw Releana looking down at him. Something bothered him, something was wrong. How did she know his name?
"J'role!" came a cry from outside the door.
Garlthik.
"Is your name, your true name, J'role?" Releana asked.
He nodded, and slowly raised himself. He felt better. The questor sat next to him, touched J’role’s forehead, and nodded. J'role looked down at his chest and saw a thick purple scab, six inches long.
"Someone is calling for you," said the captain, "though I don't know who it is."
"J'role," Releana, said, taking his hand and shaking it. "It's a pleasure, to meet you."
Despite the desperateness of the situation, she smiled.=
J'role looked to the door. Three large crates had been set against it. From beyond the door Garlthik. said, "J'role, listen to me. I know you can't speak, lad. But I've got your father.
You've got to acknowledge that. I don't, want to harm him, understand. But I can't speak for these cutthroats. You've got to open the door, boy. That's what they told me to tell you. Now, you've got to answer me. There's no telling what they might do. J'role!"
J'role looked to the captain, who nodded.
J'role walked over to the door, climbed up on one of the crates and knocked twice. "Ah.
There's a lad." Garlthik lowered his voice, and J'role strained to hear. "I don't know if it's really you yet, so I'm going to have to test you. Knock once for the first answer, twice for the second. Did I initiate you in a building or a field?”
J'role remembered the night of the initiation at the inn. e knocked once.
"Ahhh. And did I initiate you with fire or water?"
J 'role remembered Garlthik grabbing his hand and moving his wrist over the open candle. The memory overwhelmed him. He grabbed his wrist with his other hand. It felt warm to the touch. But he also remembered the terrible pain with fondness, Garlthik's strong arms holding his wrist in place. He found himself suddenly missing Garlthik. He thought back to their time together on the road. J'role lowered his forehead against the door. He then knocked once.
Garlthik’s voice became something close to a whisper. "Now, once for no, and twice for yes. Do you know the ways now, lad? Do you enjoy being a thief?"
J'role hesitated. Yes. And no. The pause lingered. Finally he knocked once. And then twice.
“Well, then there it is," whispered Garlthik. "For only a thief knows how confusing his talents are. Boy, listen. They're going to bash this door down. They would have blown it open already, but for fear of the fire-coals within. But they will enter. Make things easier.
I've spoken for you and your friends. As a thief, I've got a certain influence with folks like these. They asked me to help them and in return, I'm getting to Throat. I want to take you along with me. I've stopped them from killing your, father. But I can't hold them off for much longer."
J’role’ was stunned by Garlthik's bold lies. For a moment he wondered if Garlthik had changed his mind. Maybe he would come through.
No. He wouldn't come through. He realized now he had pinned his hopes on Garlthik's when they'd left the village, just as he'd once had hopes for his mother. Don't hope, he told himself. People don't come through.
"Now," continued Garlthik, "I know you won't be able to persuade the others to surrender. And not just because you can't speak. They'll hold out until the end because they'll be hoping things will turn their way. This is no time for hope, J'role, except for hope in me. I can save you. I can save your friends. At some moment, soon, you'll have to open the door. There'll bet a flash of activity, but I'll get it settled quick. Will you do this?
Twice for yes."
J'role hesitated, not sure how to answer, not sure if Iying would do much good. But it seemed it would buy them time. He knocked twice.
"Good lad. Good. I'll be waiting."
J'role pulled away from the door, and found the others waiting expectantly. He pointed to himself, then mimed pulling the bar up from the door. They all nodded. "Who is that person?" asked the captain. J'role shrugged, uncertain how to answer, too upset to try.
"What about your father?" Releana asked.
What about his father? His chin began to tremble. He hated this! Why did he always have to look out for his father His mother had put the thing in him. Where had his father been?
Why couldn't his father just be dead and gone?
After a moment the captain gathered everyone to the far side of the room. When they had all formed a tight group, she whispered, "I estimate we'll reach the Chakara within a few hours. I imagine that they'll try to attack her and kill the dwarven envoys. Since the Chakara won't be expecting the attack, Nikronallia will be able to get close enough to board her, and take her. He can stop the dwarfs, cause enough trouble to slow trade with them, and he gains another ship in the bargain."
Her strong, determined tone pulled J'role up from his misery. She paused, and everyone waited expectantly.
"I can't let this happen. I can't let the Breeton be used for this purpose. I'd rather see her sink. And sink she will. We have the means to do it, right here," the captain said, gesturing at the golden boxes containing the fire-coals. "We can burn the ship down."
"Captain," said Releana. "I'm not sure this would help, but I have some elemental air with me." She tapped the small pouch with her magical supplies. "I could combine it with the elemental fire—the fire-coals—to produce an explosion ..."
The captain smiled. "We can rip a hole in this room, right at the water level, and the ship will flood. There is a chance we can survive the explosion if we're crafty, but no guarantees." She looked at each of them. "I cannot make this decision for any of you. If you would rather surrender ..." Her voice trailed off.
J'role knew that of anyone in the room, he was the only one who might survive if they surrendered. But he had no desire to surrender. These were the people who had stood by him. He would rather die with them than sacrifice them for his own survival. In his mother's own painful way, she had taught him that much at least.
Each one nodded in turn. They would sink the Breeton.
25
The rocks, in his nightmare, fly through the air and strike his mother's forehead. The other inhabitants of the kaer throw stones at her, too. Children, adults. Everyone.
Charneale has gathered everyone for this purpose.
She stands in the fountain at the center of the Atrium, covered with her own blood. It runs down her face, soaks her gray robe. She is weeping, screaming for mercy. The blood splashes the cloth covering the statue of Garlen.
She screams for mercy, but none is given. She is possessed by a Horror, so the magician Charneale believes, and the ancient ritual of cleansing the kaer must be performed.
J'role sees his father in the far corner of the Atrium, just behind the ring of people throwing stones. Bevarden leans against the wall, weeping.
In the nightmare J'role is suddenly beside his father, who does not see him. J'role stares up at his father's face. At first he thinks his father is grieving for his mother, on her knees now, barely alive, swaying back and forth in the fountain.
But as J'role looks into his father's eyes, he realizes something else is at stake. There is another pain his father carries.
Captain Patrochian explained where the fire-coals should be placed for best effect. Some on the floor, forming a wide circle that would let the Serpent's waters rush in. Some on the wall that faced out toward the river, to help get water into the hold. Some against the door, so the water would flood the rest of the ship. And some placed on the walls that led to the storerooms on either side.
"Our job,"
she said, "is to get as much water into the ship as possible. As the water rushes in, the ship will sink a little more, and then more water will come in, and so on, flooding more and more of the ship." She hesitated, her large blue eyes looking down, then "Until the Breeton on is dragged to the Serpent's bottom."
Everyone got to work, setting up the boxes where the captain had indicated. They pulled the nails from packing crates and pounded them into the walls and floor to make braces to hold the boxes in place. While hammering all the nails, they could shear the mutineers shouting to know what was going on inside the hold. "Ignore them," the captain said tersely.
Then Garlthik arrived, pleading with J'role through the door, telling mm to think of his father. J'role steeled his heart, and set his focus on the task at hand.
Finally the mutineers began to batter the door down. Nikronallia promised they'd bring out a cannon if they had too, despite the threat of the fire-coals. "If you care at all about the Breeton, Patrochian, you'll open up now!"
"It's not mine anymore you idiot," the captain answered under her breath. "I don't care at all" But J’role knew she was lying.
Everyone but Releana began to drag the crates they'd set against the door back to one corner of the hold. The crates would serve as their shelter from the blast.
They hoped.
With the crates gone from the door, only the wooden bar remained in place. As the mutineers continued to beat and pound on the door, the bolts slowly began to give way.
Outside the door J'role heard someone shout, "Captain Nikronallia, we've spotted the Chakara! We'll be on her in minutes!"
"Be up in a minute," Nikronallia called. Then, "It's all over, Patrochian. Surrender."
"We're still thinking it over."
"Bah!"
The mutineers continued to pound on the door. It shuddered and creaked and began to crack.
As Releana set to work opening each of the golden boxes, the room's temperature immediately began to rise. From her pouch she withdrew her own golden box, which J'role assumed was also made of orichalcum, though it was smaller than the ship's boxes.
She opened it and then seemed to be pulling out a string though nothing was actually visible.
She walked to each of the boxes and appeared to be tying knots out of something invisible at the edges of the heat that flowed out of each box's opening. Every so often she reacted with pain, as if she'd burnt her fingers. Watching her actions J'role imagined Releana tying strands of air and fire elemental together, as if they were made of long, invisible tendrils.
All magic passed through the astral plane, the place where it was most real. Thus, it might be possible that the bits of elemental air and fire existed in one form in the physical world and in another form on the astral plane. Watching Releana work, it occurred to J'role that she, a magician, could probably see into the astral plane and manipulate those parts that were the true magic, the parts that existed on the astral plane, using actions on this plane, the plane of earth.
Hearing a sharp creak coming from the door, J’role turned to see a huge gash running down its center. Releana also turned to look, then began working faster. After three more loud thumps came from the door, the bolt began to bend. Releana had just finished her work and huffed over to the crates, ducking behind them with the others. It looked to J'role as if she were still holding a piece of invisible string.
"Never mix magical elements," she said with a mischievous smile. "Very unstable.”
She waved her hands as if about to cast a spell, but Captain Patrochian interrupted, holding up a long green finger. ”I wouldn't want anyone to miss the show," she said with grim humor.
At that moment the door crashed open. The captain dropped her hand and Releana let loose her spell. Flames jumped from her fingertips, each one like a flying mouse made of fire, all rushing about in the air on their own little errands as they followed the path of the elemental air Releana had tied all around the room.
J'role stared at the mutineers, all of whom looked totally surprised. Then the captain grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him down behind the crates.
One explosion after another ripped through the room, bathing the walls in harsh red light.
Screams and the shriek of wood ripping apart filled the air, following by the sound of rushing water. J'role unfolded himself and felt water spray over him.
"Out! Out!" cried the captain. Everyone scrambled up from behind the crates. Water rushed up like a fountain from the hole in the center of the hold and more water poured in from the hole on the side of the ship. Water already covered the floor completely, spilling into the two adjoining rooms through the holes created from the blast. The corpses of the three mutineers who had charged into the room lay on the floor, the blood from their ruined bodies seeping into the flood.
As three more mutineers tried to rush into the room, Captain Patrochian jumped forward, her sword flashing, and drove them back. "GET OUT!" she screamed at J'role and the others.
"A captain abandons last," said the questor quickly. "If we want her to leave, we'll have to get off first."
The water was already ankle-deep, and still rushing in fiercely. J'role had no idea how they would fight their way through the pressure of the water. He felt hands suddenly grab him, and heard the questor shout, "Hold your breath!" J’role had just enough time to grab some air and close his mouth before the t’skrang were stuffing him out through the hole in the side of the ship. The water rushed against face, forcing his eyes closed.
Suddenly the pressure against him changed to become a pull back into the ship. Opening his eyes he saw that he was in the water, the surface only a few feet above him. Shining through it, the bright sun shimmered and wavered in and out of focus. He moved his arms and legs, trying to swim as the captain had instructed when they'd been setting up the fire-coals.
But the water rushing into the Breeton pulled him back. He slammed into the hull of the vessel, and then started to crawl along the ship, trying to get away from the breach. His lungs began burning for air. He almost gasped instinctively, but years of resisting the impulse to open his mouth kept him from doing so now.
Hands grabbed him, and then he did gasp, water rushing into his throat and down into his lungs. He tried to scream, afraid death had finally caught up with him. A moment later he broke the surface of the river. He coughed up the water he'd swallowed, and air poured back into his lungs, sweet and wonderful. The sailor from the storeroom floated alongside him. "All right?” he asked awkwardly, as if not familiar with the dwarven tongue.
J'role nodded, looked around. The Breeton towered above, already listing in their direction. Releana, Captain Parochial, the questor, and the sailor who had helped him all bobbed nearby in the water.
-'”Yistorl!" cried the captain to the t'skrang sailor. “Take J'role. I'll help Releana." The sailor took J'role under his arms from behind. Then, with J'role resting against his stomach, he started swimming on his back away from the Breeton. J'role turned his head and saw another ship, probably the Chakara, approaching. With the t'skrang doing most of the work, the group began moving quickly toward the Chakara.
Nothing happened for a few minutes, and J'role thought that their greatest worry would be getting to the Chakara before the t'skrang tired. But then he saw red flames blossom from the Breeton and fireballs cut through the late afternoon sky. Most of them arced overhead, flying toward the Chakara, but some fell short, splashing into the water around them. Thick pillars of steam rose up, towering over them, and the water became uncomfortably hot.
Under the captain's encouragement, the t'skrang swam on, slowed by their young companions, but pressing on nonetheless. The Breeton, now listing sharply, turned, changing its course to run them down. If anything would save them, it was that the ship would be considerably slowed by the water it was now taking on.
Though the Breeton did not rush toward them as fast as Nikronallia surely would have liked, it did gain on them. J'role thought it only a matter
of time before the ship overran them, catching them in its wake and then throwing them against the paddle wheels to be battered and crushed to death.
His mind had ample time to turn the image over and over, until, unexpectedly, shadows loomed above and behind him. Startled, J'role jerked his body around and fell off the sailor into the water. When he spun around, he saw a group of t'skrang in a long, low boat. The Chakara had sent out a boat to help them!
Some of those aboard shouted words in the t'skrang tongue and began helping the group into the boat. A sailor extended his hand toward J'role, and soon they were all aboard.
The Chakara’s sailors grabbed oars and began rowing as quickly as they could. Still the Breeton followed, bearing down on the small craft as it raced toward the Chakara. Both Ships began shooting balls of flame at one another, and as the long boat neared the Chakara more and more of the Breeton's fireballs splashed nearby.
