“Cap’n!” shouted one of the Men frantically cranking the wheel of the mid deck bilge pump. “She’s goin’ down!”
The drifting Eroean was beginning to list in the frigid, icefog sea.
In that moment Hogar and Hegen came dragging the second line aft, one Man on the starboard, the other Man opposite, unseen in the fog. “Arlo, clip that line to the lower middle eyelet!”
No sooner had they done so than Artus and Dask came amidships dragging the third halyard. As Arlo fastened this line to the lower right-hand corner, Aravan and the other three crewmen—Geff, Jon, and Jamie—fastened three ropes to the middle and corner eyelets of the upper border of the crossjack.
“We’re going to use the jack to cover the hole,” shouted Aravan. “Geff, Jon, Jamie, take two turns of each halyard about a stanchion”—he pointed—“there and there and there.
“Ye Men on the bilge pump, get ye over to the larboard. Lend a hand.”
“But, Cap’n,” called one of the pumpers, “she’ll sink if we don’t crank!”
“She’ll sink faster if ye don’t do as I say!”
“Do as the captain orders!” roared Jatu through the fog, the huge black Man just then coming back onto the icy decks.
Aravan skittered across to the larboard, accompanied by Jatu. “Take two turns about stanchions, there and there and there, then hale in the slack.”
Dokan, Jatu, and Dask each took a line, Hogar and the two bilge pumpers dividing themselves among the three. Quickly, all slack was gone, the great silk crossjack now spread wide and flat against the hull, the sail pulled down over the starboard side, the top edge at the railing, bottom edge just at the surface of the sea, just above the hole. “Now,” called Aravan, “slowly pay out the starboard lines as we take up the larboard. Arlo, sing out when the jack covers the breech.”
“But, Cap’n,” came Arlo’s voice, “I can’t see down through the fog!”
“Jatu,” hissed Aravan, “stay here and follow mine orders. I’m going starboard.”
“Aye, Captain,” grunted Jatu, as Aravan disappeared into the mist.
Aravan leaned over the starboard wale, and dangled a lantern down on a cord, his Elven sight able to discern what mortal eyes could not. “Pay out and take up!” he called. Down into the water slid the crossjack sail, the silk hugging the side of the Eroean. “Pay out and take up again!”
Down went the crossjack.
“Pay out and take up more on the bow lines, less on the stern line!”
When the jack was squared up—“Pay out even and take up again!”
Now it became a struggle as the sail edged farther down over the breech, the rushing sea trying to shove the silken cloth into the hole. Struggling, the Men and Dwarves haled on the lines, and down slid the crossjack, now firmly plastered against the hull by the press of inrushing water. Were it not for Jatu and the two Dwarves—Dask and Dokan—the venture would have failed, the sail would have been sucked into the hold…yet the strength of these three proved critical in resisting the brutal flow, and paying out and taking up, at last the silk covered the gape and the halyards were haled tight and belayed. And in the hold below, as the crossjack sail was pulled down over the breech, the thunder of water slowed to a roar and then to a gush and finally to a heavy runnelling. But the hold was awash, and Men and Dwarves alike were suffering from the cold, the heat drawn from them, and they could but scarcely function, barely able to clamber up and out from the flood, for if they did not get warm they would die.
The midship bilge pump crew returned to their task, and together with the forward and aft pumpers were now able to keep ahead of the inflow.
Aravan turned to the others, exhausted, chilled, their wet clothes rimed with ice. “Get ye below and into dry garments and warmed. Jatu, this fix is but temporary. As soon as thou canst, find able crew to lash more lines about the vessel to trap the sail e’en tighter against the hull. Too, find Bokar and send him to me in the aft quarters. And when thou canst find suitable replacements, relieve the pumping crews.”
As Aravan entered the aft-quarters passageway, he heard Rux whining in Alamar’s cabin. Entering, he found Jinnarin looking on starkly as a grim-faced Aylis wetted a cloth. On the bed lay Alamar, the eld Mage motionless, his hair matted with blood. Rux whined, the fox smelling gore in the air and sensing his mistress’s distress. Tokko pieces were scattered across the floor.
“Oh, Aravan,” cried Jinnarin, “Alamar was hurled against the wall.”
“Is he…?”
Aylis glanced up. “He is breathing, his pulse strong, yet he has suffered a blow to the skull.” Aylis began washing the back of her father’s head, clearing the blood away.
Aravan stepped to Alamar’s side. “Jinnarin, fetch Fager. I know not where he is; he may be attending others. As soon as he is able, have him come here.”
Jinnarin leapt to Rux’s back, and the fox sprang out the door.
Aylis washed away the last of the blood, though a gash yet seeped in the center of a large knot standing forth on the anterior of the elder’s head.
“I will get bandages, chieran,” said Aravan, stepping from the cabin. Moments later he returned, cloth and a healing salve in hand. Aylis took both from him and gently applied the salve. Then she folded a pressure bandage and bound it to the back of Alamar’s head with a strip of cloth, tying it in place.
Bokar stepped into the cabin. He glanced at Alamar, then said, “Captain?”
Aravan turned to the Dwarf. “Bokar, thy Drimma will recover more swiftly than the Men. I would have thee gather a crew to cut away the burst timber and rig a fix until we can sail to a shipyard for repairs.”
“Shipyard?”
“Aye. The port of Arbor in Gelen, I deem: it is nearest.”
“But, Captain,” growled Bokar, slamming a fist into his palm, “we will lose Durlok if we do so. And I wager all I own that he is behind this calamity.”
Aravan shook his head. “Bokar, we have already lost Durlok, whether or no he is responsible. As it now stands, the Eroean cannot fare after him; we cannot pursue him with our hull holed. And, if he runs to dangerous waters, a jury-rigged repair is like to fail.”
“Kruk!” spat Bokar. After a moment he said, “My Châkka will be ready in mayhap a half a candlemark. I will assemble a crew; we will repair the ship well enough to reach Gelen.”
Aravan nodded. “Find Finch. He will tell thee what needs doing, though keep him from wading in the frigid water; I would not have him dead, the heat sucked away from his body. Divide thy Drimma into several crews and have them work in short shifts, for even thy hardy Folk cannot withstand the chill of this ocean overlong. I will join thee when I can.”
As Bokar left, Jinnarin and Rux returned. “Fager will be here soon, Aravan. He is treating those who were in the water below.” The Pysk looked to Alamar. “Any change?”
Aylis shook her head.
“Chieran, there is nought I can do here, yet much I can do below. I will return when I can.”
Aylis looked at Aravan and nodded.
Working in short shifts, and guided by Finch, the carpenter, Dwarves waded through the icy brine in the flooded hold to saw and chop away the shattered hull planking. And as the bilge pump crews steadily lowered the water inside, boards were sawn and fitted across the breech and nailed in place, and caulking was forced into the seams. By mid morn the Eroean had been repaired to the point where she was marginally seaworthy again, though there was some question whether the jury rigging would hold in a battering storm.
Exhausted, Finch and the Dwarves took to their beds, while Aravan and the ship’s officers surveyed the damage below, Quartermaster Roku accompanying them, the little Jingarian muttering over the loss of goods and marking it down in a ledger. And as the bilge pumps glugged away, down through the hold they all clambered.
Much of the stores of food had been ruined by the seawater, especially that which was stowed in bags or packed in crates, though anything stored in kegs had remaine
d undamaged for the most part. All cloth goods were sodden through and through, and would be rimed in salt were they ever to dry. Other supplies fared well or poorly, depending on their makeup and their method of storing. Some goods had been stowed on racks above the reach of the brine, and these were completely undamaged. Other goods were wholly submerged, and yet they fared well, such as the ballista fireball Bokar fished up from below the water; after a cursory examination, he declared it fit for battle, tossing it back into the brine. The lances, though, would need be recovered and dried soon, else the shafts would warp.
The inspection tour ended back at the boarded-over hole, water seeping in, and Aravan said, “‘Tis well enough done for us to sail to Gelen when the wind returns, though I deem we need leave the crossjack lashed to the outside in the event that something goes amiss.”
“Like to have dashed my brains out,” declared Alamar, feeling the back of his head. The elder pointed at his sternum. “My chest hurts, too.”
Jinnarin sighed. “I’m afraid I did that, Alamar.”
“Hurt my chest?”
“Yes,” she replied. “You see, when we were thrown across the room, you hit the wall, and I hit you.”
“You hit me?”
“Well, I couldn’t help it, Alamar. You were in the way.”
Alamar glanced at the tiny Pysk. “You hit me!”
“I’m sorry, Alamar. There was nothing I could do. Besides, would you rather it had been you who slammed into me? If so, then I would be just a flat spot on the wall.”
Alamar grinned in spite of himself. Jinnarin giggled.
Of a sudden, Alamar sobered. “This has got to be Durlok’s doings. I’ve got to get to the hold and see for myself.”
“It’s still awash, Alamar.”
“As soon as the water is out, then.”
“Rux and I will go down shortly. When it is safe, I’ll let you know.”
Alamar stood and made his way to a porthole. Peering out, he said, “Go ask Aylis when this fog will lift, when the wind will return. The sooner we get to Gelen, the sooner we get the ship repaired. And the sooner repaired, the sooner we can be back on Durlok’s track.”
“But, Alamar, he’s lost to us, don’t you think? I mean, who knows where he’ll be by the time the Eroean is repaired?”
Alamar turned away from the porthole, bitterness in his eyes. “Regardless of where he’s gotten to, Pysk, he must be stopped.” The elder trudged to his bed and sat down wearily. Finally he said, “Go ask Aylis when we will be underway.”
Jinnarin found Aylis standing on the deck, Aravan at her side. The seeress gazed at the unseen sky and summoned her energy. “Caelum in futura,” she murmured, and watched as all disappeared but the icefog, and hours passed in mere moments—grey day raced past, dusk but a flicker as dark night fell sharply, but then the grey mist swirled away and stars splashed across the skies, and then dawn burst into clear day, and here and there a cloud raced across the blue—and then her vision expired.
“It will clear sometime tonight,” she said upon returning from the depths of the vision. “This day, though, the fog remains.”
Aravan looked down at Jinnarin. “Today is Third Yule, and tonight is Year’s Long Night, the winter solstice. And tonight we shall turn for Gelen, riding a crippled ship, breaking away from our pursuit of Durlok, the Black Mage. Not a good portent for the coming year, eh, Jinnarin?”
Unexpectedly, Jinnarin shivered, though not from the cold. “Oh, Aravan, I do hope that it bodes no ill for Farrix…or anyone else, for that matter.”
Aravan glanced over at Aylis, then back to Jinnarin. “Aye, tiny one, so do I hope as well. Regardless, tonight is Year’s Long Night, and I will step the ritual. Wouldst thou care to join me?” He looked at Aylis. “Thou, too, chieran?”
“Oh no, Aravan,” answered Jinnarin. “Rux and I will celebrate as my Folk have done throughout the years.”
“I don’t know the steps,” said Aylis, smiling, “but I would gladly learn.”
The Elf’s gaze grew gentle. “Thou need not know them, chieran, for I will pace thee through.”
Thus it was that in the night of the twenty-third of December the wind returned and blew the icy mist away and the stars shone down. And as the Men clambered up the ice-laden lines and unfurled the sails, and as the Eroean hove about and headed southward for Gelen, on the deck of the Elvenship were conducted three rituals celebrating the winter solstice:
Aravan and Aylis paced through the Elven rite: Step…pause…shift…pause…turn…pause…step. Slowly, slowly, move and pause. His voice rising, her voice falling, notes like silver as they sang. Aylis in harmony, euphony…step…pause…step. Aravan turning. Aylis turning. Step…pause…step. Aylis passing. Aravan pausing. Step…pause…step. Counterpoint. Descant. Step…pause…step…
On the aft deck, Fox Rider and fox, bowed to the six cardinal points—north, east, south, west, above, and below. Rux arched his neck down and Jinnarin mounted and faced the stars and spread her arms wide, as if to grasp the whole of the heavens above, and Rux slowly turned so that his rider could see the entire glory of the sky. And as Rux continued to slowly turn and turn, Jinnarin sang to Adon, though her song had no words. Even so, that it was a paean unto Him, there was no doubt, for what else could have such liquid beauty? It was as if a soul had been set free to soar among the stars.
While on the foredeck, Bokar and the Châkka warriors chanted to Elwydd, renewing their ancient pledges of honor and industry and bonding and faith—the armsmaster lifting his face and hands to the star-studded heavens and raising his voice to the sky, calling out the great Châkka litany, the unified response of the gathered Châkka warriors alternating with his, cantor and chorale speaking in Châkur, the hidden tongue:
[Elwydd—
—Lol an Adon…]
Elwydd—
—Daughter of Adon
We thank Thee—
—For Thy gentle hand
That gave to us—
—The breath of life
May this be—
—The golden year
That Châkka—
—Touch the stars.
And as Elf and Mage, and Pysk and fox, and a Dwarven warband each in their own ways reverently hallowed the longest night, southward turned the wounded Eroean, sailing away from the waters where she had nearly gone down, away from the waters where mayhap a Black Mage lurked.
Finch came into the captain’s salon, the carpenter bearing a fragment of wood. He stepped in among the ship’s officers and handed Alamar the scrap of mahogany, a splinter from the breech. “As you requested, sir, this came from the very point of impact, or as near as I can determine.”
His head bandaged, Alamar fingered the wood, murmuring, “Quis?” After a moment he said, “As we thought, it’s Durlok’s doing, all right.” He handed the scrap over to Aylis. “What do you get from it?”
The seeress held the wood and canted, “Patefac!” She gasped and dropped the chip. Catching her breath, she said, “A great dark beak rushing at me.”
“Ha!” barked Bokar. “Just as we expected—a ram!”
Fager shook his head. “Lady Aylis called it a beak. It could be a monster instead.”
All eyes swung back to Aylis, and Jinnarin asked, “Was it a monster, Aylis?”
“I”—Aylis turned up her hands—“I don’t know. A dark beak is all I saw, pointed, rushing forward…underwater, I think.”
Fager turned to Aravan. “Captain, what did your stone detect, if anything?”
Aravan fingered the blue amulet. “Danger is all, Fager. It could be a creature. It could be other evil.”
“Most likely from Neddra,” said Alamar. “Someone or something sent by Durlok…or travelling with him, I think.”
Jatu glanced over at Bokar. “I side with Bokar. It was a ram. Forget not that both Lobbie and I heard drums, and a great splashing. What could it be but a ship?”
“Aye,” averred Bokar, clenching a fist in affirmation. �
��The ship of the Black Mage. And something on that ship caused Captain Aravan’s stone to chill.”
Jinnarin turned to Aravan. “What kind of a ship could crash into us and not be damaged just as we were?”
Frizian answered, “One that’s built to do so, Lady Jinnarin.”
“Don’t forget,” said Jatu, “it backed away. That would make it some kind of galley.”
“Galley?” asked Jinnarin. “But I thought that a galley is where the cook works. Is there another kind?”
Aravan leaned forward on his hands. “Aye, Jinnarin. There is a type of ship having the same name. It is sail powered and bears oars as well. Some have great underwater rams jutting out from the bow. In battle, her crew rows her at speed at another ship, the ram to crash into the enemy vessel below the waterline, holing her hull, as was ours. The galley crew then backs water, withdrawing the ram from the foe, and the sea does the rest, sinking the enemy ship.”
“Aye,” added Jatu. “And a drum is used to keep the beat of the oars together, and we heard a drum. And the splashing we heard—what would it be but the oars stroking her away as she backed water and left us to sink, eh?”
Fager shook his head. “I yet have my doubts. Heed, what kind of crew could row a hundred and fifty miles a day, day after day, eh? I mean, that’s how far apart the plumes were, right?”
“Perhaps they had…magical help,” said Frizian, looking at Alamar. “Is such a thing possible?”
Alamar shrugged. “It would take a lot of
A silence fell, then Aravan said, “Mayhap it was a galley, yet those kinds of ships are of ancient vintage and are not now used. The last I saw was in the waters off the coast of Chabba, and she was sinking, burned by a ship from Sarain during one of their frequent Wars. Since then, I know of no galley left in all of the world.”
“Well, Captain,” growled Bokar, “that may be as you say. But I believe that at least one galley yet roams the seas with one or more Grg aboard.”
Two days later on the morning tide of the sixth day of Yule, the Eroean sailed into the port of Arbor in Gelen. Word spread like wildfire, and citizenry from miles about came to see the wonder of her. That the Elvenship was damaged was plain to see, yet her master did not put her in dry-dock there in the shipyards, for none was of a size to take her length; yet even had one been suitable, still it is unlikely that her captain would have used it, for it seemed he was on an urgent mission, and had other plans. Instead she was haled up to dockside and unladed of her spoiled cargo as well as much of her ballast. Thus lightened, and with bales of rope and cloth acting as fenders between the ship and the dock, lines were affixed well up on her masts and used to winch her over onto her larboard side, her starboard rolling up until her injured hull was well exposed. And then Aravan and Finch and the crew began her repair, Dwarves and Men alike swarming over her starboard side, helping her Elven captain and the ship’s carpenter.
Voyage of the Fox Rider Page 27