Longing Ring

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.

J 'role looked forward and saw the Chakara turning about, realizing he'd been wrong about the intent of the Breeton. The ship wasn't trying to run him and the others down. It was tong to intercept the Chakara. The long, sharp prongs that extended from the bow of the Breeton loomed near now.

As the Chakara turned, the ship's sailors dropped rope ladders down to the longboat.

Shouts of encouragement and cheers of enthusiasm filled the air as the sailors waved the crew of the long boat and J'role's companions up the ladders. They had only begun working their way up the ladders when a fireball crashed into the stern of the longboat, shattering it and igniting the remains. Spurred on by the heat, they all rushed up the ropes and again Releana and J'role were aided by the t'skrang.

J'role had just put his feet on the deck of the Chakara when the ship shook violently. He looked to his right and saw the Breeton towering above; its prongs had pierced the hull of the Chakara.

Immediately dozens of t'skrang sailors swung overhead, slashing with their swords as they passed one another. With the t'skrang in their bright, gaudy clothes, the scene looked like a produce cart had overturned sending fruits and vegetables flying wildly through the air. Cries and shouts and curses rang out. The sailors landed with elaborate flips and dives and rolls on each other's ships. It was terrifying and glorious; deadly serious and absurd. A gurgle of giddy excitement rushed up J'role's throat, and he thought for a moment he might both cry and laugh.

A mutineer dropped down beside them, and the captain cut him through the abdomen without a thought. "I'll never have enough of this river," she said under her breath.

Suddenly the ship lurched again, this time to starboard. "The Breeton!" she cried. "It will drag us down as it sinks!" J’role looked over the side and saw that the Breeton's two prongs deeply embedded in the Chakara. When the prongs and the Chakara's breach reached water level water would pour into the Chakara's lower decks, plunging the ship down to the bottom of the river along with the Breeton.

'What can we do?" asked Releana.

The captain looked back at the Breeton — wistfully, J'role thought-and then said, "We've got to back her up. Get to the wheelhouse and turn the paddle the other way." With that she ran for the edge of the riverboat and threw herself over, grabbing a rope at the last moment and flinging herself over to the Breeton. J'role could think of nothing he would rather do than try to keep up with the captain's headlong, reckless energy. He rushed forward and imitated her, swinging back over to the Breeton. Releana followed immediately behind, shouting, “I just hope I live so I can tell someone about all this!"

When they reached the deck of the Breeton, J'role grabbed a sword from off the deck, prying it out of the hands of a dead sailor. He waved it once through the air, the swishing sound making him suddenly giddy. The captain looked down at him, winked, and then the three were on their way, running along the deck to the rear of the riverboat. The wheelhouse was located on the top deck at the stern, and they had a long way to go.

They fought their way through the mutineers, engaging them in groups of up to six at a time. The captain fought with her skillful swordplay. Releana with her magic. And J'role, slipping his thief magic around him, sneaked up around their opponents, striking from behind. Skirmish after skirmish they fought, each of them taking nicks and cuts. By the time they were halfway there, each was trailing drops of blood in his or her wake.

The captain, who had taken the worst of the damage, finally fell to her knees. "Go on, go on," she said. "Pull the lever all the way back. ."

"But …," Releana said.

"GO!"

They went. They fought on. They made their way along decks and up ropes. They were wary now, avoiding fights when they could, fighting quickly when they couldn't. Around them a choppy sea of conflict-swords, shouts, the clinks of rapier against rapier …

They reached the wheelhouses a square room sitting atop a platform and surrounded by windows on all sides. They came up low, under the windows, intending to catch the mutineers inside off guard. With a signal to Releana to wait a moment, J'role walked up the stairs to the wheelhouse door, and tried it. Locked. Inside he saw two mutineers. They seemed content to wait safely inside as the battle raged around them. Nikronallia was not among them.

It occurred to J'role that, being a thief, he should be able to unlock a door. He didn't k now how to do it exactly, but like so many other things about being a thief, he trusted it would come to him if he lost himself in the magic. He quieted his thoughts. Let the loneliness soak into his muscles and bones … Yes. It came to him now. He placed his fingertips against the lock … Yes …

No. He felt his magic falter. He was positive he should be able to manipulate the lock by using magic; he sensed the magic within, wanting him to do it. But he knew the task was simply too difficult to accomplish without some practice and thought. That was for a later time.

He signaled Releana to come up the stairs, then stood and smashed the glass of the door with the pommel of his sword. Quickly he reached in and undid the lock. As he pulled his hand out, one of the mutineers jabbed his rapier into J'role's arm. He fell back just as Releana cast a spell. She dropped to the ground and breathed onto the floor. A thick layer of ice rushed across the room, suddenly sliding under the feet of the startled mutineers, who slipped and tumbled to the floor.

J'role jumped into the room, driving his rapier into the chest of one of the t'skrang.

Releana killed the other one with an ice spear she produced from her hands.

J 'role spotted the lever. Though it was labeled in t'skrang, it was pushed all the way forward, and it seemed obvious that pulling it all the way back would reverse the Breeton's direction. J'role scrambled for the device, slipping on the blood and ice that covered the floor. He reached it, and pulled it all the way, then he and Releana breathed a sigh of relief as they heard the paddle grind to a halt and start up again. He looked out the rear window and saw the wheel in full reverse. Slowly the ship began to back up.

J'role turned toward Releana His smile quickly vanished, for right behind her stood Nikronallia, blood stained and grim.

Even as Releana turned in response to J'role's visible fear, Nikronallia was pulling back on his sword, getting ready to run Releana through. Releana just had time to cry out in surprise and terror when a knife flashed in the door frame and caught Nikronallia full in the neck. The mutiny leader gurgled blood for a moment, then fell backward over the stairway railing.

"Lad!" Garlthik One-Eye exclaimed, his bulky ork body filling the doorway. "Are you all right?" He paused for a moment, taking in J'role's reaction. When J'role only stood there impassively, he said, "Thank the gods and goddesses you found help. I've been a prisoner to these-"

J'role rushed forward and slammed into Garlthik, sending the ork over the railing. The ork bounced on the deck below, then plunged into the Serpent.

"We've got to get off!" shouted Releana. As if confirming the urgency of the danger, the ship listed sharply and threw them to the deck.