by Jean Rabe
The elf felt about in the pocket of his coat as he continued to run. His fingers found the carved mosaic stone from the burial ground. I must tell Goldmoon, he thought as he raced toward her tent.
Tell her what? the spirit interrupted his thoughts.
Gair couldn’t see the Que-Nal, but somehow he knew the spirit was at his shoulder.
Finish the task!
"No!" I must tell Goldmoon.
Tell her that you dabbled in something she had oft refused to teach you? Tell her that you abused the skills she shared with you? Tell her you’ve breathed life into a ghost? What would your teacher think of you?
The Silver Stair
( Dragonlance - Bridges of Time, Book 3 )
Jean Rabe
1
The hope of Kothas
The thick iron chains were uncomfortably heavy. Beneath the manacles, sores festered that the creature could not scratch. He did his best to ignore the pain and concentrated instead on the cries of the gulls circling overhead. With each breath, he pulled as much fresh air as possible into his lungs. The air was crisp, almost brittle, on this late fall morning, and it was laced with the scent of sea bass that had been caught a number of hours ago and was now threatening to spoil. It carried with it a worse and all-too-familiar odor—the stench of his captors. The creature growled softly and gritted his teeth as a whip struck his back.
"Move!" A grim-faced sea barbarian cracked the whip again. "Faster, you stinking beast!" There were other words that were more vicious-sounding, an unending stream of expletives that the barbarian thought the creature could not understand and that he rattled off for his own pleasure. "You're the slowest of the lot! Move!"
The creature called himself R'vagho, and had stated his name repeatedly to his captors. They thought the word was only a growl.
Another lash.
Reluctantly he sped up his pace, chains clanking sonorously above the snap of the billowing sails. Bow to stern and back again, across a deck that had become deeply scarred by the chains dragging over it, the walk was achingly brief and monotonous, but it was far better than staying forever in the stuffy, urine-reeking hold. It gave the creature some semblance of exercise so his muscles would not atrophy—and so he could fetch a better price.
Thirty-odd creatures rested in the belly of the cog currently called The Hope of Kothas. The ship had changed its name twice since it had taken the creatures on as cargo, and it had flown a dozen different flags. All of that subterfuge was lost on the beasts.
The creatures were to be sold as slave labor for an inland mining company within the week in a port called Goodbay. R'vagho had never heard of Goodbay, or of Abanasinia, the country in which it rested. He only knew that they were heading south. The rising and setting sun told him that much.
At one point there had been more than a hundred and fifty of the beasts crammed into the hold. Most had been sold in small ports to the north, along with chests containing relics from the Blood Sea, always at night, when the palms of sentries were filled with enough steel coins so they would look the other way. The barbarians' merchant captain, whose face was always hidden by a voluminous hood, had an accomplished sorcerer under his command. The sorcerer, also obscured by his expensive, billowy clothes, kept the creatures in line and waggled his fingers to magically put to sleep any on the docks who might object to the slaving operation.
"Move!"
The walk ended all too quickly, and the creature was returned to the hold. Another captive was taken up top, then another. R'vagho and his fellows passed the day in the close darkness of the ship's belly as they always did—eating the barbarians' scant leftovers, listening to the timbers creak softly, and trying to remember just how long they had been gone from their home.
Sleep came with difficulty, as usual, and the creatures were rudely roused from it. R'vagho felt the ship lurch wildly. He stood, only to be driven to the hold's floor as the cog rose and fell with what must have been an especially large wave. His breath was knocked from him as one of his fellows stumbled into him, then the pair scrabbled to their feet. Another bucking motion, and the creature was tossed against the hold's side, his head striking the rough timbers. He grabbed at his stomach in a pointless attempt to keep it from giving up his meager dinner.
A storm. They'd been through several during the trip. Some had been worse than others, but this felt like an especially bad one. The creature clung to a beam and tried to shut out the growling complaints of his fellows. He picked through the noises, trying to sort out what was going on above.
The timbers were groaning, as they always did during strong winds. The sound was different this time, not the gentle, almost soothing sound he had come to consider pleasant. If the timbers were living things, the creature would have believed these were groans of pain. Straining his ears, he heard the faint snap of the sails, but this, too, was different. He heard the crash of waves across the deck, the fearful bellows of the barbarians, the creak of the masts—louder than in the previous storms, if R'vagho's memory served him.
The wind whistled shrilly, and the sound grew to a keening wail as the minutes passed and the others in the hold finally grew quiet and listened to the sounds of the storm. A rumbling started, at first soft, like the growling of an empty stomach, then within the space of a few breaths becoming so thunderous it fairly overpowered their senses. It brought lightning with it, the cracks sharp and frightening. The ship rocked with an ever more frantic pace, wildly rising and falling and lurching unpredictably from side to side.
R'vagho barely made out the voice of the captain. He was shouting orders, panic clearly evident in his voice. Feet pounded across the deck, though amid the crescendo of the storm, the footfalls sounded faint.
The largest of those in the hold, a tall, hulking brute, was making his way to the ladder that led up to the hatch. The brute's thick chains thudded dully against the rungs as he climbed.
R'vagho steadied himself and made his way to the ladder. He grabbed another beam and doubled over as the bucking motion of the ship caused him to lose his balance and retch.
More of the creatures were surging around the brute on the ladder who was now slamming his fists against the door of the hold. The wood was slowly giving way, just as the previous hatch had done during an earlier unsuccessful escape attempt.
R'vagho numbly watched them. When they broke through the hatch, they would be severely beaten, as they had been following the earlier attempt. Perhaps this time the brute would be scorched by the sorcerer's horrible, tiny lightning bolts or maimed by the frightening fire-magic. Maybe the creatures would be keelhauled.
More pounding fists echoed against the hatch. Growls of encouragement came from those clinging to the ladder beneath the brute. The faint cries of the sea barbarians drifted down from the deck. Then finally the sound of wood splintering cut through the chaos. Success! The brute scrambled through the broken hatch and onto the deck. The others followed quickly up the ladder behind him.
R'vagho let out a deep breath, closed his eyes, and waited for the sound of the sorcerer's terrifying spells and the thuds of his fellows falling to the deck in fiery death throes.
Instead, all the creature heard was the howl of the storm. The wind and the thunder rose eerily louder now, the broken hatch carrying a chill gust into the hold where it echoed like a maddened ghost. The rain was coming with it, a driving sheet that spattered in a staccato rhythm against the hold's floor.
His brethren would be lashed by whips and put to sleep by the magic they all loathed or else they would be killed. Still, R'vagho was curious, and joining his fellows on deck would be better than staying down here in the foul hold.
The creature pushed away from the beam, staggering as the ship continued to pitch wildly.
He fell twice before he made it to the ladder, and he clung to the rungs to steady himself before he began a slow ascent.
Despite the black sky overhead, it was somewhat lighter on deck. Dark gray clouds were intermittently illuminated by lightning. The wind was fierce. It had broken the rear mast, which lay amid torn sail and rigging and the unmoving bodies of a several barbarians. The captain ordered the mainsail to be taken down.
Men scurried here and there, tightening down everything, lashing water barrels together. The first mate tied himself to the wheel, and the sorcerer was near him, waggling his fingers and casting a spell at the ship's bow. The wind had blown back his cowl, revealing a startlingly white face and a shaven head. Lips the color of cinders were in constant motion, spilling out the phrases of the enchantment.
There was chaos everywhere. The sea was roiling like a pot of boiling soup, sending waves taller than the ship's mainmast crashing across the deck. The water was icy cold and immensely powerful, driving everyone in its path to his knees and threatening to pull the cog under the water's surface.
Through the cacophony, the creature heard a sea barbarian shout that a dragon had birthed the storm, and that the great beast would swallow any survivors.
"We'll all die!" It was the same barbarian who had whipped R'vagho that morning on deck.
"Aye, and you'll die even sooner if you don't help Gristen at the wheel!" The captain bellowed to be heard above the howling wind. The storm had revealed his dark face, which was surprisingly youthful.
R'vagho spotted the brute, who was motioning the creatures forward. A handful of sailors rushed toward them, fumbling at their waists for belaying pins and whips. The men hollered and gestured toward the hold, but the brute growled and defiantly shook his head.
No one was going back down there. Freedom was within the creatures' reach, even if it might be shortlived in this raging storm. R'vagho saw the brute raise his shaggy arms, flailing his thick chains in the face of the nearest sailor. The brute's followers were quick to copy the gesture, overcoming the barbarians before they could use their weapons.
Faintly through the rain and wind, the creature heard the snap of bones and the splash of human bodies being tossed overboard. He heard the captain shouting more orders as his crew tried to deal with the rebelling beasts and keep the ship intact.
Lightning flashed from the sky at the same time miniature bolts shot from the sorcerer's fingertips. The small bolts struck one of the creatures squarely in the chest, and he crumpled atop a barbarian he'd been trying to rend. More bolts flew into the pack, slaying another two of the rebels, and the sorcerer returned his attention to the bow.
The sails were down from the mainmast now, and the brute and another three creatures were there grabbing up lines and wrapping them around cornered barbarians. A pair of creatures picked up a water barrel and were using it as a shield against the bosun's mate. The man slashed at the barrel with his sword even as the creatures drove him back against the railing. Suddenly the ship rode a large crest and plunged downward. A wave washed across the bow, and all three were swept over the side.
R'vagho was doing his best to stay on his feet, but the erratic movement of the ship was making him nauseous and dizzy. He lurched toward the capstan, sliding clumsily across the water-slick deck and falling. He managed to wrap his long arms around the base of the capstan and took a deep breath. The ship climbed again, and this time it seemed to hang suspended in the air for several heartbeats before it fell with a deafening, bone-jarring crash. A wave thundered across the deck, sending several more creatures and barbarians into the sea.
R'vagho continued to hold tight and blinked furiously, trying to get the salt water out of his eyes so he could see what was going on. When the ship crested another wave and dropped again, a barbarian who was charging toward the creature slipped and fell. His sword flew from his grasp and clattered to the deck close to R'vagho as the man was washed overboard.
The creature awkwardly wrapped his clawed fingers around the small pommel and tried to shut out the confusion around him, tried desperately to ignore the bucking of the ship. The best he could manage was to fight off the nausea. When the unsettling wave in his stomach subsided, he jammed the blade's tip into a chain link just above his ankle. The link was rusty, and although he had tried unsuccessfully in the hold to pry it apart with his hands, maybe with this blade…
The storm continued to hammer mercilessly at the deck, and the waves threatened to sweep the creature overboard, but still he concentrated on the link of chain. The tip of the blade snapped, but he continued to pry at the link with the blunted sword. R'vagho gritted his teeth as he heard a loud snap and glanced up to see what had made the noise. The railing to his right snapped free, taking more of his fellows and some of the barbarians into the swirling sea with it.
He continued to work on the link and was finally rewarded when it snapped free from the manacle. The creature took another deep breath. The air was bitter. He smelled blood mixed with the overpowering scent of the saltwater.
He turned his attention to his other ankle and began to worry at a link there. The blade snapped again, leaving several inches of steel protruding from the hilt. He tried to be more careful now. There was still enough metal left to slip into the seam of the link. His big hands worked feverishly, and he grunted with satisfaction when the chain fell away, freeing his feet. The manacles remained, but he would deal with those later—if there was a later.
R'vagho peered over his shoulder. Beyond the creatures' forms, he spotted two sea barbarians. Unarmed, it appeared they were trying to surrender. R'vagho started to work on the chains affixed to his wrists. His frenzied fellow captives killed the men.
After what seemed like an eternity, a link separated from one manacle, then from the other. He dropped the broken weapon, scooped up a length of chain, and edged away from the capstan. Feet spread wide, knees bent, he braced himself as the ship crested a wave. As the bow rocked forward, he slid across the deck, heading toward the wheel. The first mate was still there, battered by the waves and looking oddly like a broken doll. The barbarian who'd whipped him this morning stood unsteadily nearby.
R'vagho raised his lips in a snarl as he lashed the chain about like a flail. It cracked hard into the face of this morning's tormentor, breaking his cheekbone with a sickening snap and sending the man to the deck. The creature lashed out at him again and again. Blood pooled about the man's unmoving form. Another wave crashed across the deck, washing the blood and the man away.
The first mate could not flee from the creature. His waist was firmly lashed to the center of the wheel, and his right hand was tied about the king's spoke. The remainder of his crewmen could not help him. The few remaining on deck were busy trying to fend off the brute and the other creatures. The captain was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any trace of his booming voice. The sorcerer was perched on the sterncastle above and behind the wheel, somehow surefooted in this gale, hands faintly glowing, face fixed on the bowsprit, trying to use his magical powers to keep the ship afloat.
R'vagho kept a nervous eye on the sorcerer and braced himself as the ship bucked beneath a huge wave. He felt himself flying forward. His arms thrashed about wildly, and he found something to grab on to—the wheel. He held tight until the water receded, then found himself staring right into the face of the first mate. The lightning was coming even faster now. The sharp cracks of thunder that followed reminded the creature of the crack of the barbarians' whips.
The first mate's steely eyes seemed to challenge R'vagho. He winced as a bolt of lightning struck near the ship, then again as another and another shot down from the turbulent sky. His gaze drifted up from the creature's fierce visage, and his eyes widened. R'vagho turned to see what the first mate was looking at.
One of the bolts of lightning had struck the mainmast. It stood teetering, the wood wailing a final protest. It seemed to dangle like a marionette on invisible strings, then toppled toward R'vagho, the first mate, and t
he wheel.
The creature leapt to the port side, where the rail was still intact. His arms circled the posts just as the mast struck the deck, splintering the timbers. The creature held on as a wave surged above The Hope of Kothas and engulfed the deck, threatening to capsize the now mastless ship. As the water receded, R'vagho shook the saltwater from his eyes.
The first mate dangled lifelessly from what remained of the wheel. The wheel itself was broken, a tangled mess of spokes. Part of the mast was sticking out of a hole in the deck, and two of R'vagho's fellows were desperately hanging on to it.
The brute skirted the hole. He had somehow managed to get out of his chains, and he was stuffing swords into a belt he'd appropriated. His jowls were red with blood, and he threw back his head and howled in victory. Caught up in the blood frenzy of the slaughter, he leapt onto the sterncastle and grabbed a fistful of the sorcerer's robes. The human uttered a string of unintelligible words that somehow cut through the bedlam of the storm. Miniature red lightning bolts shot from the sorcerer's fingers and struck the brute, dropping him to his knees. The brute somehow survived the magical attack and pulled the sorcerer down with him. Clawed fingers found their way to the human's throat and squeezed with savage force.
The sorcerer was dying, and the ship seemed to shudder in response. The groan of the timbers was louder now, drowning out the sound of the wind and the driving rain. The waves continued to batter the ship, and the hole caused by the broken mainmast widened as the ship listed to port.
The brute cast the sorcerer's body from the sterncastle and howled in triumph, though his cry was a whisper amid the rush of the waves and the wind. R'vagho caught his attention and gestured toward the longboats. There were two on the starboard side that had miraculously escaped heavy damage. The brute roared and slammed his fists against his seared chest and nodded.