by Warren Fahy
Rawley thought he was seeing double as Nil and Lanning looked down at him. “Go away, Captain! Save Bultin!”
Bultin swung on the rope, halfway down to Rawley. “You shut up, Rawley!” he shouted.
“Bultin!” Nil cried.
“Yes, Cappy? My boots are smokin’!”
“Can you swing yourself over Rawley?”
“Maybe…!”
Nil, Lince and Lanning began paying out the rope to lower Bultin over Rawley.
“My boots!” Bultin bellowed.
“Swing yourself kind of over Rawley, Bultin!” Lanning said.
“Aye-aye!” Bultin quailed, swinging his feet smartly.
“Get away!” Rawley cried. “All of you!”
“Rawley, grab hold of Bultin when he passes,” Nil shouted.
Bultin’s swing became a kind of figure-eight that brought him out of Rawley’s reach for the moment but as he came around again, Rawley realized, as the heat overcame him, that he might have one more chance and must take it.
Bultin’s swing did not cross over him, exactly, however, so Rawley pulled together all his remaining will and, with a defiant cry, he bounced off his spring-loaded leg from the edge of the pinnacle toward Bultin.
He reached out and grabbed the sailor around the waist, but he slipped down and Bultin locked his legs around Rawley, whose wooden foot caught fire even as Nil, Lanning, and Lince hauled them both up, running from the edge as it crumbled and a wall below broke, releasing red lava into the chamber. Bultin grabbed the ledge and pulled himself over and he swung Rawley over the edge with his legs.
“Let’s get out of here!” Nil shouted.
They all ran, Rawley hunched over but still bouncing on his charred wooden leg next to Bultin. The carbuncle bubbled over in the earth behind them, oozing and spraying yellow fire as the men reached the foothills on the far side of the valley.
Halfway up the ridge, Rawley collapsed, and Lince carried him on his back up the slope to find the rest of the landing party. Then Bultin, too, fell, overcome by the heat that had wasted them both.
They stopped so Rawley and Bultin could drink water, and Nil let them rest as Lince poured water from his flask over their heads and necks and shirts. They watched the earth boil over in the valley below.
The afternoon sun weighed heavy in the sky as they pushed on up the ridge, helping their overcome crewmates to the top of the ridge, where they joyously met up with the others waiting there with the boat.
On the other side of the ridge was another valley.
Inside this valley lay a maze of zigzagging walls on top of which were stacked towering piles of rocks. One straight route across the valley was the only passable western route.
One the far side of the valley sheer slopes rose. To the left they girded a giant cone-shaped peak from which they could see plumes of steam venting.
Rawley, whose red beard and eyebrows were singed and whose green eyes were glazed and bloodshot, began to feel his mind clear as a strange euphoria washed over him.
“How are you, there, Rawley?” Lince asked, taking notice of him as he grinned.
“Good ol’ Lince, ya old crab!” Rawley said. “Fine and dandy, thanks!”
“Can ya carry on, then?”
“Sure, I can! My foot’s only a lightly fried.” He smiled under his frizzled mustache. “I’m a toasted scone!”
“You seem a bit punchy,” Lanning said.
“Let’s go. I’ll be fine.”
“All right, then. Go ahead with Lanning and Bultin,” Nil said. “Now.”
Lanning took the lead as Rawley rode his wooden foot like a sled down the loose slope of ash and gravel to the maze in the valley below.
“That’s the craziest canyon I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” Overly murmured, as they descended.
“Yeah,” Sowernut said.
Rawley zigzagged down the hill before them, bouncing and sliding. “I think this island can feel us, Captain,” he said. “Like ants on its skin.”
“Aye, you’re probably right,” Nil said as he slid down the loose scree. “Try not to tickle it too much.”
Lanning spotted the one corridor that slanted all the way across the canyon below, but he also noted the precarious stacks of rocks lining its walls now. “There’s the straight path across the valley, Captain! I guess those rock towers wouldn’t be standing if this place it weren’t stable,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” Nil said, at the head of the boat. “We should all get under the boat and move as fast as we can down that corridor.”
“In three legs,” Lince said. “At least, Nilly.”
“It will have to be,” Nil agreed.
“The sun won’t be with us much longer,” said Sowernut.
“Look!” Overly shouted from the rear of the boat.
The hills on the slope behind them were swelling as though with fever blisters. A fissure opened in one of them, releasing molten boulders that rolled and skipped down the hillside picking up speed towards them.
“Lince,” Nil shouted. “Take the high ground!”
They all climbed on a knoll on the slope as the boulders passed, one of them bouncing directly overhead.
“This is the plan,” said Nil. “We turn the boat over and strap our packs and stores on top to protect us as we use it as a shield. We have to carry it anyway. Rawley, can you run under the boat?”
“Why don’t I ride on top? I can be your eyes,” he said.
“We’ll be totin’ yer lard-ass!” Lince grumbled.
“I can’t run, Mister Neery-Atten. Not like a normal man. I bounce. But I can still be of value. And I don’t weigh much, missing a leg. Legs are heavy.”
“Let him do it, Cappy!” said Bultin.
“It’s a good idea. It’s worth his weight to have his eyes above us,” Nil said.
The fireballs bounced down the hillside beside them as the men tied their stowage to the bottom of the boat and then climbed underneath it and carried it down crumbling escarpment into the canyon that crossed the valley.
Once they reached this ravine, Rawley climbed on top of supplies lashed to the bottom of the boat and all the others lifted it onto their backs and made their charge down the canyon.
Their feet crunched in the thick gravel as Rawley hung onto his padded carriage, and what seemed like a free ride soon turned to rough duty.
The ground undulated and the crooked cliffs grated and pulverized the rock beneath them. The piles of rocks above teetered and tumbled as Rawley steered them away from each impending rock fall.
At last, he saw a gouge at the base of the right wall and told them to make for it, turning onto his back to help them dodge the rocks.
They made it to the overhang, and the men collapsed under Rawley as the boat ran aground on a bank of shattered rock. They untangled themselves from under it, catching their breath. The earth rumbled as they rallied themselves for another push.
“The canyon is narrower ahead,” Lanning panted.
“This rock’s cutting my shoes to pieces,” Lince said.
“Boots, Lince,” Nil winked.
“We’ll only have the sun for a few more minutes,” Sowernut said.
“We have to get to the other end of this valley. Then we’ll climb up the other side and camp where we can,” said Nil.
Sharp slivers of rock fell from the ceiling.
“Let’s go!” Lince shouted.
Rawley sprang on top of the boat as they lifted it and the men ran forward just as the overhang collapsed behind them.
Like some kind of beetle with many legs, they scrambled down the canyon. Only twice Rawley miscalculated by a hair as a sizable rock glanced off the boat’s bow, smashing some water flasks. But for the most part Rawley’s eyes had proved a worthy investment.
Staggering on without a break for five long minutes, even as the men saw the sun disappearing over the ridge behind them, they turned a corner and saw that the corridor ended a few hundred yards ahead. But the canyon
got much narrower ahead, and the tall towers of boulders wobbled on the walls to either side of them.
Rawley bade them wait and gather their strength for their final run, but they all insisted on going forward. “Go then but let’s be swift, lads!” Rawley cried.
Their boots crunched below as the stacks of stones leaned. A grating growl filled the air as the canyon narrowed and the ground rose beneath their feet. As Rawley looked behind them he realized that the walls were closing in and pushing up the ground rock between them. He scanned the falling rocks in the canyon ahead, but the walls closed in until the canyon was so narrow he could do little else but tell them to stop or hurry forward to avoid the latest rockslide.
“Stop!” Rawley cried, and he almost flew off as a pile of stone landed before them. “Go!” he cried, and they were off again, climbing over the fresh boulders through a tight squeeze as another deposit of stone thudded behind them.
Blasts of steam hissed through cracks in the cliffs then and scalding the men as they shouldered the boat and maneuvered it forward through the crevasse. Though scalded several times now, Rawley cheered them on. “We’re almost there, lads! You’ve almost done it! Thirty feet more!”
There was not a man under that boat who believed by the time he got to the end of that corridor that a grain of goodness existed in the heart of King Trevin, whose salvation they were fighting for.
Within ten feet of the end of the canyon, one last tumbling boulder pierced the port side of the hull, and crushed Parnel dead in one terrible blow.
They dragged the damaged boat up the steep slope, leaving Parnel’s body behind.
As the men climbed out of the valley, the canyon walls behind them across the valley converged, squeezing rocks and rubble between them. As the men scaled the ridge, they saw the walls of the maze opening again, leaving piles of rock atop their walls.
They hauled the damaged boat behind Rawley, who now zigzagged up the slopes above. When they finally reached the crest of the ridge in the purple twilight, their hearts were darkened even as they saw the Dimrok’s silhouette on the twilit sea.
They felt little joy to see that island now.
“What kind of soul would make such things, Captain?” Lanning asked.
A bitter wind flowed from the west over them.
“Never ask that,” said Lince.
“Sometimes, ask it, Lanning,” Nil said.
“Aye,” Rawley said.
“The King saved my life twice, and for that I don’t question his mercy,” Lince said.
“No one knows his mercy as well as Lince,” Nil agreed, noticing his first mate’s bloody feet. “Always wear boots when crossing sharp rocks, my friend,” he winked.
Lince nodded.
Then Nil noticed an orange flower, a Dimfire, beside his own thrashed boot. Blown across the sea from the Dimrok, its seed had somehow sprouted on this infernal soil. Looking further he could see other flowers spiraling in the wind along the ridge! A clear trail marked by Dimfires led to the base of the hill to their left. “Let’s follow this path. They’re the first living things we’ve seen!”
“Aye,” Rawley said.
Nil and Lanning took their duty under the boat as they followed the trail of weeds.
Increasingly fringed with foliage and flowers, the path they followed seemed almost a product of design as it brought its weary travelers over natural arches and jagged steps over the terrain. Skirting the base of the hill on the flower-trimmed path, they finally saw a butte of red rock that rose over a valley and flared into a bowl. They followed the path across a flower-rimmed bridge to a spiraling stairway inside the butte, which was lit by windows that looked like burst bubbles frozen in the walls.
At the top they emerged on a high bowl of sweet grass shining under the silver moon. The Dimfires ruffled under a breeze and sugared the air with a scent like gardenias in the shallow turret, in the center of which spouted a natural fountain into a steaming round pool.
“’Tis for us,” Bultin cried. “From the King. Like my sword!”
The others looked at him as he ran forward and jumped in the water.
“Bultin!” Lince cried.
But the large sailor rolled onto his back and split the water like a whale. “Aaah!” he smiled at them, spouting a mouthful.
“A stroke of mercy?” Rawley wondered, falling faint then.
The others set down the boat in the green bowl and carried Rawley over the lawn to lower him into the pool. Then they jumped into the water, as well, and their weary sinews were soothed as their scorched flesh was cooled by the nourishing waters of that spring.
Lince built a fire to cook their supper, and the men gathered around saying their farewells to Parnel and all the others who were gone now.
Bulgar Bedrosium flipped a gold gieron in the air, over and over.
“Stop it, Bulgy!” Nardleen Fenstridol said.
Bulgar dropped the coin on the silk carpet.
There was complete silence then as the gathering looked sadly through the window of Castle Martharr’s conservatory.
A three-quarter Second Moon plated the Gulf of Gwylor silver.
“When will we know?” said Bulgar’s wife, Ninny. “They should have been there and back by now.”
Captain Skylar’s green eye caught Ninny’s. “It’s not time to give up on Nil Ramesis, milady. Not yet, I think.”
“It’s been seven days!” Bulgar said.
“They’re three days overdue,” said Senjessi Tillow, as his young wife Merania stroked his arm to calm him down.
“There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” said Poladoris Martharr. “There are a few obstacles, after all. Some delay is to be expected.”
“Blox is tightening his grip,” said Bulgar. “His guards have taken residence in all the shops along Gieron Way, preparing the way for their messiah-king. I fear the end of all law.”
“The Sea Mare’s a most worthy vessel,” Captain Skylar said. “She has many weapons and defenses. We should not count her lost too quickly.”
“It’s been seven days,” Teldon said, sadly.
“And these seven days Lelinair has been missing, too,” said Poladoris.
“Oh, no!” Ninny cried.
“What are we to make of it?” Bulgar said.
“And Artimeer not here to help us make sense of anything!” said Ninny.
“I don’t know what my daughter’s absence means,” said Poladoris. “There has been no ransom, no blackmail. I know her, and can’t lose hope.”
“I know something,” said Hallot, who had moved his family into Castle Martharr now, after Blox had targeted him. “Seven days could not undo a warrior like Nil Ramesis. I wager my life and fortune on it.”
“You already have,” Bulgar said, drily.
“As have we all,” Teldon said.
There was a silence then.
“What of the King?” the Queen Mother said. “How do we know he is still alive?”
Those who were worried before despaired now as even those who still had hope felt dread.
They built a fire near the fountain in the natural turret of stone as the sky sparkled like a diamond mine over the scorched island that Trevin had forged.
As the men gathered around the fire, Bultin and Rawley kept their distance, having had enough fire to last them a decade. The aroma of melting pork and beans cooked up by Sowernut and Lince wafted around the clovered bowl, cheering the men’s hearts.
At last, they ate smoked ham hocks melting off the bone and honeyed beans, and it was a royal feast to them after their hellish day. They swabbed their chins with golden flatbreads and drank sparkling water from flasks filled fat by the natural spring.
Rawley and a few others finished patching the hole in the landing boat with three layers of canvas and tar and after they were finished Lince passed around a flask of red whiskey.
Rawley lit his punk on the fire and stoked his pipe, gingerly sipping the mellow smoke into his scorched lungs.
&n
bsp; As he did so, Lanning noticed Rawley’s strange, scarred right thumb.
“Well, ya made it, by the Gairanor, Rawley, and I’m sure glad ya did,” Lince said, breaking the ice.
“Thank you, Mister Neery-Atten, for helping to save my life today.” Rawley nodded. “I’m indebted to you, even if others don’t appreciate your kindness.”
“Well,” Lince said. “Now that we’re ashore and off the ship and yer life is saved—I’d like to ask you a question, sir.”
Nil chuckled.
Rawley squinted at Lince as he blew smoke out of his nostrils. “And what might that be?”
“I guess yer wondering why I don’t approve of monkeyshines aboard ship, Mister Skarmillion.”
“A bit. Aye!”
“He’s going to tell it,” whispered Overly, elbowing Sowernut.
“Indeed, I’m going to tell it, young Overly,” Lince said.
Rawley smiled. “The reason for the grudge?”
Lince frowned. “More like the grudge’s reason.”
Rawley settled back. “Tell it, Mister Neery-Atten. I’ll pay the attention I owe.”
“Listen good all of you who think discipline aboard ship doesn’t matter, for this is a bloody horrible tale to right yer heads quick, fast, and forever!” Lince fixed his eyes on each of his shipmates then. “To learn it now, the easy way, listen closely now, instead.”
The others cringed as Lince gathered himself and bent his head to show the giant sinister eye stippled on his bald head in the firelight. “This be the story of why I’ve got this eye aloft that spies on you men and never blinks.” He clasped his broad hands as he looked inward at a distant thing. “Half a lifetime ago, when I was 25 maybe and still too cocky to trust my dad, I signed on as second mate aboard the Coral Bay. Captain Starr and first mate Pokkstridol were below in the chart room and we were underway to Loggers Port after a gruesome storm that tore out our bowsprit and took two men.”
The others grunted, sadly.
“We had loosened the backstay and were taking a light wind on the mainsail to push the mainmast forward so the men could rig the new bowsprit. The lads aloft were ready to clew the sail should the wind kick up and push the mast too far before the backstay could be tightened. Jummy the Jokester was on the line, and Jummy was a fine lad everyone loved. He was smart and full of high spirits that kept the men amused and morale high. Jummy liked to play harmless pranks. And the men, well, they loved him all the more for it. So, after the storm and all, I thought to let him go again and do some of his mischief. The hard part was over and a lark would do us good after what we’d been through.
