The Scrolls of the Ancients

CHAPTER

Forty-nine

A s the first rays of dawn crept down through the strange, unmoving fog surrounding the Isle of Sanctuary, Tristan stood wearily against the gunwale of the People's Revenge. He had been up all night helping with the repairs, and he was exhausted. Letting out a deep breath, he hoped that their labors would be enough to let them survive another day.

He desperately needed to get the parchment hidden in his boot back to the wizards, but he was beginning to doubt whether he would live long enough to make that happen. So far there had been no sign of the pirates, but he knew that couldn't last much longer. Every moment that passed decreased their chances of escape.

Late the previous afternoon they had arrived back at their ships without incident, Scars still holding the unconscious Rolf over the front of his saddle. After boarding the vessels and tying Rolf securely to one of the masts, Tristan had convinced Tyranny to order her three ships to another location, well within the depths of the fog bank. But when he had tried to convince her of his other suggestion, her face had darkened and she had proven far more stubborn. In a way he understood her concerns, for there were parts of his plan he didn't care for, either. In fact, had Scars not finally agreed with him, he probably wouldn't have made any headway with her at all.

"I won't do it!" she had shouted loudly into the darkness of the nighttime fog, stamping one boot against the deck of The People's Revenge. They hadn't dared light the ships' lanterns, but in the rose-colored moonlight, Tristan could easily see the anger on her face. Her sharp jaw stuck out angrily.

"I didn't come all this way just to leave them behind!" Defiantly she folded her arms across her breasts. "Only the Afterlife knows what will become of them if I do! Frankly, you surprise me! What you managed to do back there in the Wing and Claw was wonderful, and I will be forever grateful for it, but what you ask of me now I will not grant!"

"I know how you feel, Tyranny," Tristan countered gently, trying to calm her down. "But my story won't hold up long, and I fear they may come for us anytime now, rather than keep their side of our so-called 'bargain.' If we are ever to get out of here in one piece, we must start work right away. If we are forced to try to outrun them in our current condition we are done for-you said so yourself. I know you don't want to leave anyone behind, but you must trust me when I tell you that this is the only way."

Tristan's plan was admittedly desperate. It involved cannibalizing the other two vessels and repairing The People's Revenge with what they had stripped from them. Then the remaining slaves and skeleton crews would be brought aboard, the other two ships would be scuttled, and Tyranny's flagship would set sail for Eutracia.

He knew full well that if they did this they would be packed to the rigging with extra crewmen, freed slaves, and provisions, and that that would drastically slow them down. Still, it was all he could think of that might gain them some semblance of a fighting chance. Back in the Wing and Claw he had never really expected the pirates to keep their end of the deal. His entire scheme had only been about getting away safely and buying some time.

But Tyranny would have none of what he was proposing. Knowing they were wasting precious time, he looked over to Scars and silently beseeched the faithful giant to agree with him. Finally, Scars relented and cleared his throat.

"I fear he may be right, Captain. We have just enough material from the two other ships to get the job done. If we start now and everyone lends a hand, we may be able to finish before dawn and leave before the pirates are any the wiser. Sometimes one simply has to know when to cut one's losses and move on. This seems to be one of those times."

Her face still a mask of grim determination, Tyranny continued to glare at them.

"I believe it's what your late father would do, were he here with us today," Scars added.

Tristan looked over again at the first mate, and each of them knew what the other was thinking. In order to get this done, they could simply tie Tyranny up and lock her belowdecks, he supposed, as long as her crew went along with it. But something in his heart wouldn't let him. They were all stronger with her than without her, and he wanted the ship's captain to be a willing part of whatever they did.

When they had first arrived back at the ships, Tyranny had ordered a head count. It revealed that more than fifty of her total crew were still on shore. And she had immediately made it clear that she wouldn't hear of leaving them behind.

In a way Tristan agreed with her, but he also knew that if any of them were going to survive, they had to get going. Any crewmembers not back on board by the time they were ready to sail would simply have to turn pirate-if they hadn't decided to do so already-or otherwise take their chances on the island. Finally deciding enough was enough, he took Tyranny by the shoulders and forced her around to face him.

"And what about your brother, eh?" he asked sternly. "You still remember him, I assume! How much good do you think you can do him if you're dead? Isn't he the real reason you started all this in the first place?"

Letting go of her, he pointed to some slaves sitting on the deck. Sick, ragged, and coughing, many of them looked as though they wouldn't even survive the two days it would take to get home.

"And what about them?" he asked. "Your men still on shore may be left behind, but they knew the risks. If they don't get back in time, so be it. But these slaves you have shed blood to save rightfully deserve their own chance, don't you think? Or have you somehow forgotten about them, too?" His dark gaze didn't give her an inch.

"You trusted me once, and now I'm asking you to do so again," he said, somewhat more gently. Reaching into his boot, he withdrew the ancient slip of parchment and held it before her eyes. "I know this can't look like much to you, but I must get it home at all costs. There are things at stake here that you can't possibly imagine. Things of the craft of magic." Then his mood lightened a bit. "Besides," he added coyly, "wouldn't you like to live long enough to spend that one hundred thousand kisa I promised you?"

Her stance softened, and she looked to Scars for guidance. The colossus slowly nodded his head.

With that, Tyranny reluctantly agreed to Tristan's plan. They had labored hard all through the night, and the decks of The People's Revenge were now literally covered with souls from the other two ships. But her spars and sails looked to be in good repair again, and the morning wind was stiffening. Tyranny quietly came to stand next to Tristan at the gunwale. She looked as exhausted as he did.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For convincing me of what needed to be done," she answered, tousling her hair with one hand. "Sometimes I can be a handful, I know. They don't call me Tyranny for nothing."

Tristan pursed his lips knowingly. "So I've seen," he said wryly. Smiling, he brushed an errant lock of her outrageous hair away from one of her wide, blue eyes.

"You still haven't told me why your blood is azure, or why it glows," she then said, surprising him. "How can that be? Who are you, really?"

Scowling, Tristan looked back out over the ocean. "Even my wizards cannot answer such things," he said softly, sadly. "All I know is that lately I have come to curse my azure blood, and a large part of me wishes that I no longer had it. I long to have normally endowed blood, like Wigg and Faegan. But right now that day seems far away, indeed."

Then he heard footsteps, and turned to see Scars approaching.

"All is finally ready for departure, Captain," the giant said shortly. "May I have your orders?"

Tyranny looked sadly out to where the two stripped, deserted ships lay. They had once sailed proudly beside her, swift and sure in their service. But now they looked for all the world like lost, tattered orphans, fearfully awaiting some unknown fate. Tyranny closed her eyes.

"Scuttle them," she said softly.

With a sad, resigned look, Scars raised one arm and gave the signal to the two crewmen still waiting aboard the other vessels. After signaling back they quickly disappeared belowdecks, only to come up a few moments later. Then they scrambled down into the small longboats that lay tied alongside, and hurried back to the flagship. Once they were aboard and the boats secured, Tyranny turned to Scars.

"Take us out," she ordered simply. The tone of her voice told Tristan that her normally commanding demeanor had returned. "Be quick about it. And be sure to give us a wide berth around the others," she added sternly. "I have no desire to be taken by the undertow as those two frigates go down." Glad to be finally leaving Sanctuary, Scars began barking out orders to make way.

Looking across the fog-covered ocean, she and Tristan watched as the other two vessels began to swallow seawater, their bows slowly nosing down into the waves. Soon the briny, encroaching ocean was crossing them amidships, and the frigates were standing at a sharp angle on their bows. Finally the waves closed in over their aft decks and they plunged toward oblivion. The swirling, dark blue water closed over them, leaving no trace.

Tristan turned to Tyranny. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I know," she replied quietly. They said nothing for a time as they watched the spinning whirlpools slow and finally vanish altogether.

Then he heard the flagship's sails snap open, and The People's Revenge started to move. Soon they would be out of the fog and on their way home. So anxious was he to see Eutracia again that he almost thought he could smell the rich, dark soil and the green, waving grasses of the Cavalon Delta. Looking up, he saw his blue-and-gold battle standard snapping back and forth in the wind, and it gladdened his heart.

It was then that he and Tyranny heard the arrogant, hateful voice come snarling across the deck.

"So tell me, lass," the pirate shouted out. "Is it that he's better'n me where it counts, or is it just the money you're after? Know'n ya as I do, it's probably both, isn't it, my little she-cat?"

Turning, Tristan and Tyranny looked over to where Rolf stood lashed to the mainmast, weaponless, hands bound securely behind him. His blond hair was matted, and an angry red welt swelled his chin where Tristan had hit him with the brain hook. His narrowed eyes gazed at Tyranny with an odd combination of hate and lust that Tristan found unsettling.

"You'll never make it home, you know," Rolf added nastily. "Sure'n it was a fine notion to make your ship whole again by robbing from the other two. And even I have to admit that she used to be uncommonly fast. But if I know my boys, they have already surrounded the island. Your new man here may have fooled them back at the tavern, but you'll never beat them out on the open sea, y'have my word on it. Ya should've stayed in the fog, lass, but y'couldn't keep that up forever, now could ya? Worse yet, you're now too heavy to slip by their two hundred ships, and y'know it." Then he cast his eyes lasciviously up and down her body.

"It seems you and I will get to enjoy our little reunion after all," he added wickedly.

He turned to look at Tristan. "And as for you, you clever bastard, I look forward to giving you a taste of my sword," he snarled. "We have unsettled business, you and I. I'm eager to know whether y'really are any good with that ridiculous-looking blade you carry. But time will soon tell, laddie, yes, it will. And time is the one thing ya don't have." Then he smiled. "That and another two hundred ships, of course."

Tristan wanted to untie him and take him on right then and there, but he reluctantly pulled himself back. Taking a deep breath, he looked Rolf in the eyes. "I welcome it," he said quietly.

Just then The People's Revenge broke out of the fog. As the stiff, easterly wind filled her sails, Tyranny ordered that the heavily loaded frigate turn west, toward the delta. But before her orders could be carried out, the crewman in the crow's nest started ringing the alarm bell for all he was worth. Looking up, she saw him pointing frantically out over the bow.

Tristan looked quickly to Tyranny, to find that she already had her spyglass to one eye. As she trained it across the western horizon, the blood drained from her face. Saying nothing, she looked over at him and handed him the glass. Tristan put it to his eye and took a quick breath.

What looked to be a line of at least one hundred pirate vessels were tacking back and forth in the wind, quickly converging on their position.

Fearing the worst, Tristan quickly turned astern and raised the glass again. A seemingly equal number of vessels were running before the wind, plowing their way toward them in a battle line from the east.

The pirates' strategy was immediately apparent. The two battle lines planned to meet, trapping The People's Revenge in a manmade vise of wood and sailcloth from which there would be no escape.

Tristan knew that all they had now was the superior speed of Tyranny's ship, for the two groups of raiders clearly had the angle on them. But how much speed could she muster, loaded down like this? The best The People's Revenge could do was to try to slip through the gap at the northern ends of their lines before it closed. If they could, the open sea lay beyond.

But as Tristan gauged the distances involved and checked the direction of the wind, his heart fell. He was sure Tyranny would give it her best, but he knew they would never make it.

Tyranny gave the expected order, and the frigate immediately heeled over to the north, to begin tacking into the wind. Tristan finally lowered the glass to see that Tyranny's face wore the same sense of defeat that his must.

There would be no way to avoid being captured. And once they were, there would be no clever trick to save them this time, and no wizards to help them avoid their doom.

They were all alone, and they were about to die.