by James Dale
"Lamp oil?" Braedan asked, finally able to concentrate long enough to begin forming a plan. "Castes of oil? Or pitch? Anything flammable?"
"Every ship does," the Amarian nodded. "Muriel's Revenge should be no exception. Why?"
"Get Captain Anaekin," he instructed Lukas. "I've got an idea."
"This just might work," the captain nodded when Braedan explained what he wanted to do. "It will give him something to think about at least."
"I'll get the crew right on it," First Mate Eaegellsonn saluted.
Braedan followed Eaegellsonn as he began issuing orders to his crew. When the first mate told them what he wanted done, they gave him curious looks, but ten minutes later, their work was completed. In one of the ship's long boats, two barrels of lamp oil, each soaked by a gallon of Captain Anaekin's volatile drinking whiskey, were tied securely around an oar, held upright in the center of the boat by stout ropes. Soaked in oil, the ropes ran down to a hole bored into the top of each barrel.
"How fast will the fuse burn?" Braedan asked, inspecting the makeshift bombs.
"Three or four seconds," Eaegellsonn estimated.
"And those barrels will explode? They won't just burn?"
"With the captain's whiskey soaking them?" the first mate grinned, "Those barrels should go up like feast day fireworks."
"Lukas, can you hit an oar, in the dark, at say...two hundred yards?" Braedan asked, turning to the Ailfar.
"I could hit it with my eyes closed at two hundred yards," the Bowmaster snorted.
"Do me a favor and try with your eyes open the first time," Jack said, managing a weak smile.
"Do you think he'll sense the long boat?" Tarsus asked skeptically.
"The way he's raging?" Braedan muttered. "Oh, he'll find it all right. Lower away," he ordered the sailors manning the hawsers that held the long boat suspended above the water. "Slow and easy. If it makes too much noise, he might find the Revenge as well."
The long boat touched the water and was released without causing so much as a ripple, quickly floating away from the speeding Annothian dreadnought. At fifty yards, a lookout shouted a warning Leviathan was turning. Braedan ran to the stern, Lukas at his heels. Three or four seconds, Eaegellsonn had said. This was going to have to be timed perfectly to work. The bulge of water marking Leviathan's approach sped towards the bobbing long boat. At one hundred yards away, Braedan could only make out a dark silhouette, but the Bowmaster looked unconcerned as he lit the linen wrapped head of his arrow.
"Now!" Jack nodded, judging the flight time of the arrow against the speed of Leviathan.
Lukas raised his bow, sighted along the burning shaft, and released. The arrow arched out into the night, a rainbow of red against the dark sky. It thunked solidly into its target and trails of fire snaked down the oar. The long boat was just beginning to rise on the crest of Leviathan's wave when a deafening concussion boomed across the water. One of the oil barrels shot straight into the air like a rocket, but the other exploded inside the boat, sending shards of burning wood in all directions.
"Happy Fourth of July, you son of a bitch!" Jack shouted, despite Leviathan's scream of pain echoing inside his head. “Good shot Lukas!”
"Thank you," the Bowmaster nodded humbly. "In truth my Lord, I was not sure I could make it."
"Don't ever tell me something like that," Braedan sighed. "I'd rather not know. Lieutenant Eaegellsonn! How soon can you have two more long boats prepared?"
"Quarter an hour," the first mate replied.
"Do it. The bastard was hurt, but I don't know how quickly he will recover. When he does, I want us to be ready."
"Aye, aye," Eaegellsonn saluted. "We'll be ready, High Prince."
It took only ten minutes for the Annothian sailors to ready another pair of long boats, and two crews stood by, prepared to launch them at an instant's notice. But the explosion of the first one must have hurt Leviathan badly, for an hour later, Braedan still had not detected so much as a tickle of his presence. He was too keyed up with adrenalin from the success of their victory over the monster however, to take advantage of this time of relative quiet. Unable to sleep, he roamed the ship, spreading encouragement to the lookouts and swapping jokes with the heartened crew.
Around midnight, with a full moon shining down on the ocean, lighting the sea for miles around, Braedan decided it was time for a new approach for the use of Ara’fael's Word of Shadow. With his ability to sense Leviathan now honed to razor sharpness with experience, he no longer felt there was a need to maintain the spell throughout the night. The Ailfar Spellweaver and the former Adept of the Staffclave had already proven they could cover the ship quickly if the need arose. Better to have them rested and ready for emergencies than spend all night supporting a Word that might not be needed, than to have them so tired during the day they would be unable to provide aid if and when the beast came again.
He released Ara’fael and Malik, shooing them to their beds, then assured Arrinor he was fit enough to keep watch for the rest of the night. Thonicil volunteered to stand guard with him. Along with Grimrorr, the Elfstone in Bin'et ardendel's pommel was also coming to life each time Leviathan appeared, and two elven forged blades ready to do battle would be enough... they hoped...to protect Muriel's Revenge until Ara’fael and Malik could be roused.
"You know Thonicil," Jack sighed when the ship had settled down again and only watchful lookouts remained on deck, "with a little luck, we might just make it to Lordsisle."
"We'd better," the prince nodded. "I've made a promise to Thessa that can't be broken."
"Oh? What kind of promise?" Jack inquired. "If it's okay to ask."
"I have to change one of little Jack's diapers for every day I'm away," Thonicil smiled. "It's the only way she'd allow me to come along."
"Definitely a promise I want to see you keep," Jack laughed.
"You're too kind, High Prince," Thonicil bowed. "Get me to Lordsisle and back again, and I vow to fulfill it with a smile."
"If we make it there and back," Jack nodded, "I'll gladly share your diaper duty."
"Take care what oaths you make," Thonicil chuckled. "According Lieutenant Eaegellsonn, we should have Lordsisle in sight not long after sunrise."
With such lighthearted banter the two passed the night. The sun was just turning the eastern sky a deep purple-pink when Jack thanked Thonicil for his company and headed for his bunk. He had no sooner unbuckled Grimrorr and hung the sword over the bedpost when a blinding pain shot through his skull. There was no warning this time, no first faint tickle, no gradual increase, just an eruption of rage that threatened to burn away his mind. Fighting back nausea and tears, he drew the glowing elven blade and stumbled for the door.
Braedan emerged on deck to find a nightmare had come. Leviathan was larger than the dragon he'd seen launch itself from the pinnacle of the Iron Tower. Greenish blue scales the size of wagon wheels covering his serpentine body, thick as the body of a blue whale. It had a long neck, and a large triangular head, with sweeping horns covered in barnacles from its long sleep. Dangling from his powerful jaws were a pair of legs dripping blood. From the make of the unfortunate man's boots, he knew Cilidon had lost another Ranger. Through the painful haze clouding his mind, Braedan prayed the Ailfar had at least lived longer than a hundred years.
Pinned to the deck by Leviathan's tree trunk thick front legs was a pair of Muriel's Revenge crewmen. One was obviously dead. A curved, yellow claw longer than a Kadinar scimitar had almost cut the sailor in half. Beneath the monster's other clawed foot, First Mate Fors Eaegellsonn struggled weakly to free himself. A few feet from him lay an arm severed at the elbow, clutching an Annothian short sword. The officer had tried to protect his ship from a monster of legend with two feet of steel.
Arrows were bouncing off Leviathan's scaly hide by the score, as archers sought to find a weak spot in the beast's armor. Even the famed long bows of the Ail'itharain Ailfar were pitifully ineffectual. The port side borelstrades, barely twenty yards away, fired
a volley of javelins point blank into its body. All five projectiles, their shafts two-inch-thick, seasoned oak, shattered like match sticks when they struck. Leviathan only shifted his weight when he felt their blow, and the deck of Muriel's Revenge tilted dangerously, sending a handful of hapless sailors over the railing and into the sea. All this happened in the span of three heartbeats, then Braedan raised Grimrorr and shouted at the top of his lungs as he rushed towards the beast.
"Yhaires Sinalda! enne'Eyloyas Cythora Daeon!" he cried, the elven forged blade crackled like a lightning bolt in his hands as he stabbed it toward the sky. The Ailfar words of power drew the demon beast's attention and it turned to regard him with a red eye the size of a bushel basket. Leviathan swallowed the legs dangling from his jaws with a disdainful gulp and waited.
Mad from the darkness filling his head and awash with the power flowing into him from Grimrorr, Braeden charged. From the ships bow, a blue bolt of fire as thick as the dreadnought's main-mast sprang to strike the monster full in the chest as Ara’fael and Malik entered the battle. Leviathan's bellow of rage staggered him, but Jack continued on as the monster slipped over the edge of Muriel's Revenge, tearing away a large section of the ship's railing as it dragged the screaming First Mate Eaegellsonn over the side. Its tremendous head crashed to the deck with such force it splintered boards. There it hung, roaring in pain.
All Braedan could think of was silencing the searing agony filling his brain. He couldn't hear Ara’fael screaming for him stop, nor was he aware of Thonicil, as the Prince of Brythond dove for his legs to wrestle him to the ground. Thonicil missed him by mere inches as Grimrorr's song of power urged him onward. With a howl of animal rage, he leapt into the air, landing on Leviathan's snout. As the beast surged high up out of the water, Braedan drove the Ailfar blade into the bony ridge between its eyes. The Great Serpent Rhondiyna fell back into the sea with a roar, taking Jack with him into the deep.
Chapter Thirteen
Aerfal’Miera
Leviathan sank swiftly into the murky depths of Aeralnen Widewater, twisting and thrashing in a frenzied attempt to rid himself from the agony piercing his flesh. Never in the countless millennia of his existence had he known such pain. From the dawn of time to this very instant, no force on heaven or earth had so wounded the invincible Hae’adan, Prince of the Air. He had battled the Arch-Angel Gaebral before the throne of the Most High and suffered no hurt. He had smiled at the very Son of God as Yh’Adan stripped away his beauty and transformed him into a creature of the sea. He had slain a chosen champion of the Creator, armed with a sword forged by the power of Sunheart. He had survived the magic of the Sea Children and the unending swarms of their pesky allies, slaying thousands upon thousands until he was undisputed Ruler of the Great Deep. But now...in a space of time so short it could not be measured by his infinite mind, he had been burned with scorching fire and pierced by glowing steel.
Braedan sensed all these thoughts as he hung tenaciously to Grimrorr, sinking deeper and deeper beneath the waves. As he was swallowed by the darkness of Aeralnen Widewater, he came to know every memory, every dream, every hope and fear experienced by the fallen angel. As he sank into the crushing depths of the sea, Jack's mind and the mind of Rhondiyana merged into one consciousness.
With the merging of their minds, Braedan's own pain was supplanted by the agony of Leviathan. This agony however, was something he could push aside, for within Hae’adan's thoughts was the knowledge of how to build the protective wall Arrinor could not teach him with words. It was so simple! Block by block, he constructed the mental barrier to shut out the darkness, the rage, the eons of jealousy and hate. When he was done, all that remained was the pure, white glow of Grimrorr. Yet there were things culled from the infinite mind of the Great Serpent he thought worthy of keeping for a time; his arrogance and his pride. The knowledge it was dying.
"Hae’adan!" Braedan beamed, forcing his way into the demon's thoughts. "Can you hear me Son of Darkness?"
Leviathan raged and shook but could not dislodge the Ailfar sword from his skull, or Jack's words from his mind.
"Learn who is killing you Prince of the Air! Not Gaebrel! Not Yh‘Adan!"
"Who art thou?" the sea demon wailed.
Though far beyond the sun's reach, Braedan was surrounded by the shimmering glow of Grimrorr. He looked into the enraged gaze of Leviathan and cried. "I am Jack Bra'Adan! Remember it as you enter Ul'gogrond! Let my name be the last words you hear as the flames of Sheol strip the flesh from your bones! Burn in Hell you bastard!"
Braedan drove Grimrorr to the hilt into Leviathan's skull and pushed himself away as the demon roared its death cry. With calm detachment, he watched as the monster sank into the murky depths. He watched until the glow of Grimrorr disappeared into the perpetual blackness of the deep, then began to swim in total darkness toward the surface.
Braedan had no idea how long he had been under water; thirty seconds, three minutes, maybe even longer. Time had meant nothing to him merged with the mind of a being who had been called into existence alongside the stars. It was beginning to mean something to him now. His lungs burned like fire and his body demanded the muscles of his diaphragm and thorax begin the instinctive contraction needed to draw breath. Only force of will kept his jaws clamped shut, holding out the cold, salty water surrounding him.
He had no idea how deep the monster had taken him, or how far above his head the surface waited, but he knew he would never reach it encumbered with mail, however light the Ithlemere scale may have been, or the weight of his soaked boots and clothes. Braedan stopped swimming and removed his boots, trying to ignore the sensation of sinking back into the depths. With his boots gone, he tried to struggle out of his scale, fighting a momentary flash of panic as his oxygen starved limbs at first refused to obey.
"Please God," he prayed fervently. "Not like this! Not surrounded by darkness! If I have to die for you, let it be with the sun on my face!"
Elation filled him as the mail slipped away.
With desperate resolve, Braedan began struggling up through the darkness. Stroke, kick. Stroke, kick. Those simple motions became his entire world, his single reason for being. Stroke, kick. Stroke, kick. Every so slowly, the total darkness became murky gloom. Stroke, kick. Stroke, kick. It was said drowning is one of the more painless way do die, but Jack was in agony. His oxygen starved lungs burned with uncontrollable fire and phantom lights danced like Tinker Bell on amphetamines through his head. Stroke, kick. Stroke, kick.
His strength was giving out. Even though the murky gloom was slowly transforming to a filtered, opaque green, Braedan knew his end was at hand. After all he had been through; Kiathan's scheming, grim'Hiru hordes, sorcerers, imprisonment in the Iron Tower, demons, Krayga, even Leviathan, it had finally come to this. He would die for lack of the most plentiful element on earth, air.
He could now dimly make out the wavering glow of sunlight less than fifty feet above, but Braedan could go no farther. His arms and legs refused to obey him. His strength had finally deserted him. God had answered his prayer. He would not die in darkness, but death would come nonetheless. He raised his eyes toward the promise of light so close above him and calmly waited for the Creator to take him in his loving arms.
On the edge of his failing vision, Braedan saw an angel coming to carry him home. Pale blonde hair floated around her head like a halo of light. Her eyes were two silver pools and her skin as pale as shadow. With the last of his strength Jack held out his arms to the angel.
"I am ready," he sighed. "Tell Anna...please tell her I love her, and I'm sorry."
The beautiful messenger of the Most High smiled and took his hands, then to Jack's surprise, she placed her soft lips over his mouth and filled his lungs with her breath. He felt himself begin to float toward heaven and closed his eyes, anxious to be reunited with his family.
"You would save this creature?" He heard the voice of another angel ask in his weakening mind.
"He slew the Gre
at Serpent," his female guardian and escort replied sharply. "Would you leave the Cu'ath'dathu to die?"
"He cannot be the Cu'ath'dathu!" the other angel argued. "He is human!"
'Why would angels be arguing over him?' Braedan wondered distantly. Though he was only a weak, fallible human, killing Hae’adan must surely count for something.
"He is the Cu'ath'dathu!" his guardian insisted. "He has slain the Great Serpent and delivered the Aerfal'Miera from our ancient foe. I will not surrender him to the deep! Call the Dau'tua. I will need their protection against the Shae'irka. They will be drawn by the Great Serpent's death. Already I feel their approach."
"What are Shae’irka?" asked Jack serenely, floating in the protective arms of his angel.
"They are no concern of yours Cu'ath'dathu," his angel replied, then placed her lips over his and gave him her breath again. "The Dau'tua will keep them away."
With the strength of the beautiful angel sustaining him, Braedan began to feel pain and weariness returning to his body. Why would he feel such things when he was already dead? He opened his eyes curiously just as he broke the surface of the sea and glorious sunlight almost blinded him. Realization flooded into his exhausted mind. He wasn't dead! But if he wasn't in the protective care of a guardian angel, then who...what...Braedan began to struggle weakly against the slender arms around his waist.
"Peace," a calming female voice whispered in his mind. "You are safe."
The cumulative effect of days without sleep and battling the excruciating pain of Leviathan's mind came crashing over Braeden like a tidal wave. His eyes became heavy.
"Rest," the voice sang soothingly.
He surrendered to sleep's peaceful embrace.
Braedan awoke to the rhythm of the surf crashing against the shore and opened his eyes to find himself lying on the warm, sun whitened sand of a tranquil beach. Only a few yards away the lush, green foliage of a fertile forest was alive with the sights, smells and sounds of a virgin paradise. Was he dead after all? He wouldn't mind Heaven turning out to be a place like a Caribbean island, but Jack somehow doubted he would arrive bone weary, in soaking wet clothes. Odds were, he had just washed up on some nameless beach. .
