Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

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Текущая страница: 93 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 29

Throughout the next day, the Calaian Sun struggled against strong winds whipping up the sea into a swell that reached almost thirty feet at its peak. Carrying more sail than he should, Jevin didn’t leave the wheel deck all day, his eyes searching the lightning-lit, roiling dark cloud for clues, scrutinising the sails for trouble, or worrying at the wind which had precious little direction.

Ren’erei had been with him much of the time, cajoling and encouraging. Darrick was lost in his own thoughts, a lone figure on deck or lying on his bunk in the forward area originally set aside for the Dordovan command. Of the Protectors, there was little sign. The Xeteskians stayed in the hold, only one ever appearing to ask for food or hot water. For them it was a time of rest.

It was the middle of the afternoon. Hirad gripped the forward rail with one hand, his other arm supporting Ilkar who was leaning out again over the side of the ship, retching, his body shaking with exertion, his face wet from spray and sweat. It had been a miserable day for the Julatsan but the worry wasn’t his immediate condition. The elf had already voiced his concerns about the effect this would be having on his mana stamina and on his ability to concentrate and cast effectively. And they couldn’t do without him if they were to stand any chance of rescuing Erienne.

For Hirad, it was just one more problem on a mounting list. His idea that Ilkar and Denser would be able to assign ShadowWings to Protectors had already been dismissed. Even without Ilkar’s seasickness, the drain from keeping Thraun and The Unknown alive and asleep was high. At best estimates, the two mages could cast their own wings for the journeys to and from the Ocean Elm and cast limited shield or offensive spells during the rescue attempt. But that was it. They were left relying on Erienne and what condition she was in was anyone’s guess. Hirad wasn’t getting his hopes up.

The Sun pitched into another wave, the impact shuddering through her hull and sending a wash of spray over the foredeck and soaking them once again. Despite the constant drenching, it was where Ilkar said he felt most comfortable, though that was clearly a relative term.

Hirad stared at the sky. On the far horizon, lightning sheeted across the heavens, illuminating the black of the clouds and the angry, white-flecked, dark grey of the ocean. Above them, the thick, unbroken ceiling of cloud stormed by at frightening pace, driven by a wind which, had it come down to sea level, would have driven them straight to the bottom of the sea. There was no longer any land in sight behind them and he felt a shiver of anxiety down his back because there was no certainty they would see any ever again.

The barbarian could understand the superstitions of the sailors all too easily. He had been sceptical of them at first but now the desire to have something to hang on to that settled the mind was one with which he could sympathise.

All over the ship, the signs were there. Every cabin had a shrine to one of the Gods of the Sea or the Skies. Figurines, dried flowers, candles and tiny models of boats floating in water-filled, carved wooden bowls were common. And by the head of every crew bunk, prayers were carved into the wood, or pinned up, painted in garish reds and yellows. Not one of the crew was without a talisman, either fish or bird and always metal, around his neck.

But the most curious superstition surrounded the cat. Hirad knew ships commonly kept a cat on board to kill rats and mice but on this ship at least, it went much further. The animal had a luxurious basket, plenty of meat and biscuit and a bowl of water was always full. One of the crew, he had been told, was duty-bound each day to see it safe, examine it for splinters, sing it songs of the sea and place it in its basket at the start of the first night watch. Naturally, being a cat, it would sleep elsewhere but the tradition could not be ignored. Whatever kept them happy was fine with Hirad.

Ilkar straightened a little and turned his dripping, ashen-white face to Hirad.

‘Let’s go back, I’ve got to lie down.’

‘Jevin said it was worse if you stayed below deck,’ said Hirad.

‘He also said I’d get my sea legs by tomorrow and I don’t think that’s possible either. Help me below.’ He gagged suddenly again and spat bile over the side which whipped away.

‘Come on then, walk on my inside.’

Hirad kept a hand on the rail and the other arm around Ilkar as the two friends walked slowly to the fore cabins. As he opened the doors, he heard a shout and turned to see Ren’erei hailing them from the wheel deck. She made a shrug and pointed, presumably at Ilkar. Hirad shook his head, indicated himself and pointed back at the wheel deck. Ren waved her understanding.

Ilkar and Hirad were sharing a tiny cabin which looked out over the port side of the ship. Ilkar had the bottom bunk and Hirad helped him take off his cloak, lie down and then wiped his face with a towel. The ship rolled and pitched. Hirad stumbled.

‘Oh Gods, I wish I was dead,’ groaned Ilkar.

‘Just try and sleep. I’ll see if there’s anything that can help you.’

‘A knife in the heart should do the trick,’ said Ilkar, closing his eyes briefly and putting his hands over his face.

Hirad patted his shoulder. ‘I’ll bring one for you. See you later.’

‘Get the Captain to find us a millpond, would you?’

Hirad chuckled. ‘Keep it up, Ilks.’

He closed the door and walked back up on to the deck. Funny. He’d hardly ever been aboard ship either but felt absolutely fine. Balance wasn’t difficult except when the ship drove down into a wave and he’d slept long, eaten a good breakfast and, in complete contrast to Ilkar, felt more refreshed than he had in days. Climbing the ladder to the wheel deck, he wondered if he hadn’t missed his calling.

Captain Jevin and Ren’erei stood behind the helmsman, all three elves looking alternately at the flag riding atop the main mast and at the compass to the right of the wheel. Jevin’s face was set severe and he barely nodded acknowledgement as Hirad came to stand by them.

‘How’re we doing?’ he asked, his voice raised above the roaring of the wind. Rain started to fall again, heavy and punishing. He drew his furs closer.

‘Well, we’ll be faster than the Elm,’ said Jevin.

‘How come?’

‘Because they are a smaller vessel, less broad and long. Their skipper’ll be running minimal sail in these conditions. She wasn’t built for this.’ He turned to look at Hirad. ‘Mind you, neither were we.’

‘Will we catch her?’ asked Hirad.

Jevin licked a finger and held it up as if testing the wind. He scowled. ‘Gods, man, how the hell should I know? I don’t know how far they are ahead, in which direction they are going and how fast they are travelling. It’s all guesswork. This weather should not be possible. The wind comes from three directions, the swell ignores them all and I’m trusting my compass but don’t know whether I should. I know we’re heading south but that’s about it.’

Hirad nodded. It had been a daft question.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Please do everything you can. So many lives depend on you.’

Ren looked at him in some surprise but there was a smile on her lips. She touched his arm and mouthed her thanks.

‘My crew are brave and I am too young to die this voyage,’ said Jevin, his voice a little softer. ‘Best you tend to your sick and leave the wheel deck for sailors.’

Hirad turned to go but the Captain hadn’t finished.

‘Go to the galley. Ask the duty cook for some Lemiir powder. Tell him I sent you or he won’t give it you. Dissolve it in water. That should soothe Ilkar’s head and stomach. Help him sleep.’

‘Thank you.’

Jevin nodded curtly and turned back to the sails.

Night was coming again, though the day of lowering cloud, buffeting wind and sometimes torrential rain had been so dark it would hardly seem to make a great difference.

On the Ocean Elm, the skipper patted his helmsman on the shoulder. It was a small gesture but the elf knew what it meant. He nudged the wheel very slightly, bringing the ship four degrees into the wind. With the pitching and yawing of the vessel in the storm, there was no way Selik would discern the change in direction nor the reduction in speed. He was no sailor.

Indeed, the skipper could see him now, clutching at the starboard rail, his face feeding on the wind, his stomach hopefully churning. He had already seen the man vomit half a dozen times as the storm worsened. He would be weakened and inattentive. It was a pity that some of the mages with him were not. Particularly the old one.

Berian, his name was, and he spent altogether too much time peering over the skipper’s shoulder. It was he who had determined the course and he whom the skipper watched for before indicating that course could change. There was something dangerous about this Dordovan. He knew a good deal about the sea and watched the compass closely when on the wheel deck, waiting for it to settle between pitches before nodding acknowledgement that all was well.

But he had not been there through the early hours of the morning and his deputy had no idea what he was looking at. They had strayed far off course in that time and bought any pursuit precious hours. The skipper had not started looking back yet. Perhaps on the third day he would but even that might arouse suspicion.

He knew there would be pursuit. He had great faith in Ren’erei and her capacity to get aboard another elven ship. He prayed The Raven would be with her but the battle he had left behind on the docks of Arlen left those hopes severely dented. He needed to know that, as he approached Herendeneth, he wouldn’t be leaving the Al-Drechar helpless. If another ship followed, and could match them through the tortuous waters of Ornouth, they still had a chance.

Below him, on the main deck, Erienne had been allowed a brief walk in the fresh air. He had managed to catch her eye as she was ushered back below by a mage guard and had smiled in what he hoped was encouragement. But she had the air of the condemned and he found it hard to disagree with her mood.

‘Captain?’ His helmsman indicated the starboard rail. Three mages were talking with Selik and, among them, Berian gestured behind him more than once at the wheel deck. It was an angry conversation and the skipper bit his lip.

‘Come back to heading, lad,’ he said, his lips barely moving. ‘And keep yourself calm.’

The helmsman nodded, waited for the next pitch and edged the wheel away from the wind. The skipper felt the take on the sails, which were as light as he could argue, drive through the timbers at his feet. The four men left the rail and headed for the helm.

‘Keep looking forward,’ whispered the skipper, his face down looking at the compass.

‘Aye, skipper.’

Footsteps rattled on the ladder and thumped across the wheel deck. The Captain was shoved aside and managed to assume an air of indignant surprise as he found Selik’s sword resting on his chest.

‘What have we done now, oversweetened your tea?’ he asked, looking past the Black Wing at the mages who gathered around the compass.

Selik backhanded him across the cheek and he stepped back, rolling with the blow.

‘You are testing my patience, elf,’ drawled Selik. ‘Berian?’

‘Our direction is correct,’ replied the old mage.

‘But it wasn’t always the way, was it Captain?’ Selik pushed the point of his blade a little closer, the skipper aware that a sudden roll could end his life.

‘Maintaining exact direction is impossible in these conditions,’ he said. ‘We are doing the best we can.’

Another slap. ‘Liar.’ Selik’s good eye burned into the skipper’s face. ‘You think you’re being clever, elf, but I have better men with me. They can see our destination through the mana trails, they can divine our position by light, wind and magic and they can sense an elf toying with the lives of his crew while he delays our purpose.’

The Captain said nothing. Selik drew back.

‘Now we don’t know exactly what you have cost us. We suspect it to be a good deal of time. And for every cost, there must be payment.’ Selik moved his sword point higher where it wavered in front of the skipper’s neck.

‘I could take the payment from you but I fear your crew might not accept your death. Fortunately, there are ample substitutes.’

He spun and drove his blade through the helmsman’s neck; the young elf stiffened, gurgled and collapsed as Selik dragged the sword clear. The elf twitched as he lay dying on the deck, his blood flooding from the awful wound.

The Captain felt a surge of sickness and a greater one of fury. He made to spring forwards but found Selik’s sword-point at his stomach once again.

‘That’s one step closer to your own death,’ he said.

Selik didn’t smile. ‘You know, somehow I doubt it. The righteous are rewarded, the evil are cast down. It has always been the way. Now I suggest you take care of the wheel before we lose our course again. I’ll have my men dispose of this body. After all, we can’t afford the time for your ridiculous rituals, now can we?’

Selik strode to the ladder, the Captain’s eyes following his every step. He wished for a wave to take him, for a slip to send him tumbling to the deck. Looking down now on the body of his fresh-faced young helmsman and seeing the renewed rain washing the blood from around his feet, the skipper mouthed a prayer to commend the elf’s soul to the gods of the sea and gripped the bloodied wheel, his body on fire with hate.

Hirad was on deck early on the third day, scouring the way ahead for any sign of the Ocean Elm. He knew he wouldn’t see anything before the elven lookouts but he had to do something. Denser and a marginally recovered Ilkar were tending The Unknown and Thraun, Ren was with Jevin as always and Darrick, well, Darrick was in a place of misery of his own invention. It was unlike the General but Hirad let him wallow. The time for bringing them together was not yet, and maybe not ever. Only when Erienne was on board would Hirad feel that there was a Raven to lead.

The weather had steadily worsened throughout the second day and Jevin had been forced to furl in some sail to retain control of his ship. It was frustrating but Hirad comforted himself in the knowledge that the Elm would be suffering the same and he trusted Jevin’s assertion that they would still be travelling faster. But would it be fast enough?

Even if they sighted them now, would they be able to make up enough ground for a ShadowWing flight that night? Hirad thumped the rail and looked up into the rain and dark cloud, shivering. He had been cold for a day, the energy from his sleep gradually worn away by a growing sense of helplessness. The Unknown was relying on them to save him from being a crippled warrior the rest of his life. And there was nothing Hirad could do. Not until—

‘Ship forward!’ The shout came clear down from the crow’s nest in the main mast. ‘Ship forward!’

Hirad looked but could see nothing. He heard Jevin shouting up from the wheel deck but his elvish was lost on the barbarian as was the answering call. Hirad half ran back along the length of the ship and hurried up the ladder.

‘Careful, Hirad, more haste less speed on a pitching deck,’ said Ren’erei.

‘Yeah, yeah. Captain?’

‘It’s a definite sighting. We can’t yet tell if it’s the Elm but it’s travelling across our starboard bow.’

‘Meaning?’

‘If it is them, they’ve been off course. Probably deliberately,’ said Ren.

‘Can we catch them?’ asked Hirad.

‘There’s no doubt of it,’ said Jevin. ‘It’s more a question of when.’

‘By nightfall. We have to be close enough by nightfall.’

Jevin stared hard at him. ‘I am aware of our timetable. And I will do everything I can that keeps this ship afloat. Do you understand?’

Hirad cast his gaze skywards. ‘Yes, but—’

‘But nothing, Hirad Coldheart,’ said Jevin. ‘Now, as I’ve mentioned before, kindly leave the wheel deck to the sailors. Why don’t you prepare your plan, or eat something or whatever. Get Ilkar some more Lemiir.’

‘Just get off your deck, eh?’ said Hirad.

Jevin at last smiled. ‘Now you’re getting it,’ he said.

Hirad turned and headed down the ladder, hearing Jevin’s voice ring out across the ship.

‘Bo’sun! I need more sail forward. Let’s run this bitch of a storm! Let’s show these ignorant humans what sailing really means!’

The barbarian shook his head, laughing as he strode across the main deck to the forward cabins and heading for the galley. The cook handed him his Lemiir wordlessly and he let himself quietly into the cabin where both mages sat watching the sleeping forms of The Unknown and Thraun. The cabin was stuffy despite the part-open window and the stale air merged with the smells of urine and strong soap to make an unpalatable mix.

He poured water into a tankard and added the Lemiir powder, swirling it once and handing it to Ilkar.

‘Surprised you can stand the smell in here,’ he said.

‘No choice really,’ said Ilkar, accepting the tankard and continuing to mix its contents. ‘Thanks. It’s good stuff this. I wonder why I didn’t get it earlier.’

‘I have a feeling it’s both expensive and in short supply,’ said Hirad. ‘Lucky you’re an elf or I reckon Jevin’d let you suffer.’

‘Believe me, I’m still suffering,’ said Ilkar. He drained the tankard in one swallow, screwing up his face in disgust. ‘It’s good but it tastes rank and sweet at the same time. It’s like swallowing sugared tree bark.’

‘So, are you fit to cast?’ asked Hirad. Denser looked around and Hirad grinned broadly at him, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Because we’ve just sighted a ship ahead.’

‘Is it the Elm?’ Denser brightened, a light growing in his dull eyes.

‘How many other single ships do you reckon are round here?’ said Hirad.

‘Precious few,’ said Denser, nodding his head vigorously. ‘So, Ilkar, what’s the verdict?’

‘Well we’ve got all day. I’ll rest up, if you don’t mind, but so long as it’s simple stuff, I should be all right. Just don’t ask me to frame a MindMelt.’

‘ShadowWings?’ asked Denser.

‘Borderline but probably,’ replied Ilkar.

‘You’d better be able to,’ said Hirad. ‘Because I’m coming with you.’

‘Has it occurred to you, Hirad, that these are not the conditions for carrying someone of your bulk any distance at all?’ said Ilkar. ‘Sorry, but this is going to be just me and Denser alone.’

Hirad shook his head. ‘No, it isn’t, because I’ve had an idea.’

Chapter 30

By the time darkness had fallen, Hirad could see the Ocean Elm through the murk of the rain and low cloud. The wind had abated just a little, the swell had settled and Jevin had ordered the bo’sun to deploy as much sail as he dared, knowing the skipper of the Elm would dally as long as he could.

But as the night began to obscure their quarry, it was clear they still had a long way to go and, at current speeds, would not catch them for another day at least. As the sea softened, the sleeker Elm could pull away from the wider merchantman on which The Raven travelled, and Hirad found himself hoping for another storm. In the middle of the night his prayers were answered but far more violently than he’d wanted.

Taking a rest along with Denser and Ilkar to prepare for their attack, he was flung awake in pitch dark as the ship rolled sickeningly, almost throwing him from his bunk. Ilkar, lying on the edge of his, wasn’t so lucky and tumbled to the floor, cursing. The thundering of feet and the echoes of shouted orders floated down.

‘Doesn’t sound good,’ said Hirad, just about seeing Ilkar’s outline and dropping to the floor to help him up.

‘What time of night is it?’

‘Gone midnight, I think,’ said Hirad. ‘How’s your stomach?’

‘Bearable,’ said Ilkar. ‘We should have been woken before now—’ They were thrown together as another wave struck the ship broadside, shaking figures out of the shrine and throwing their blankets off their bunks.

‘Let’s get topside, then,’ said Hirad. ‘You get Denser and meet me on the wheel deck. I hope we’ve closed enough on the Elm for you.’

‘So do I.’

They half ran, half stumbled from the cabin, Hirad feeling his way back to the doors to the main deck, Ilkar going next door to fetch Denser. The Unknown and Thraun would just have to be all right for the time being. Besides, Darrick was sitting with them and the spells would keep them asleep.

On deck, there was bedlam. Jevin and the bo’sun were screaming orders at the crew. Above on the main mast, one sail was torn in half, its shreds flapping in the gale. All around, the seas were huge and Hirad could see the helmsman fighting to turn the ship head-on to the worst of the swell. Rain hammered down on to the deck and, up in the rigging, elves grappled with sail, trying to furl enough to give them back control.

Hirad raced for the wheel deck, making it out in the gloom. There were no lights anywhere on board. They wanted to remain hidden and the elves didn’t need them anyway. Halfway up the ladder, another wave struck the forward port side, water pouring across the deck. Hirad lost grip with one hand but clung on with the other, smacking backwards into the wood above the aft hatch.

As the ship righted, he swung himself back on to the ladder and scrambled up the last few rungs.

‘What the hell happened?’ he shouted, not releasing his grip on the deck rail. The ship lurching, thundering down into a trough.

‘It came from nowhere,’ answered Jevin. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Why, how close are we?’ The rain became hail, drumming on to the decks and thudding painfully on their heads. Hirad dragged his furs up over his skull.

‘On the sea, more than a day, still. For you on your wings, I don’t know. But we’ll get barely closer tonight. If the Elm has any sense, she’ll have hove to by now, trying to ride it out. I’m dropping all but topsail. Either that or we’ll founder.’

Hirad nodded. ‘Thank you for all your efforts,’ he said.

‘Perhaps there’ll be bonus pay in this.’

‘Count on it,’ said Hirad.

Ilkar and Denser were heading up the ladder. Ilkar looked pale but better than he had on the first day, the Lemiir buying him the time to rest and eat what he could keep down. Denser had a savage light in his eyes, a determination edged with desperation. Hirad had seen it before. It would make him powerful, but changeable.

‘This is it,’ said Hirad, voice barely less than a shout. ‘Jevin says we’ll get no closer tonight and The Unknown can’t wait any longer.’

‘Can you see the Elm?’ Denser asked Ilkar. The Julatsan peered forward, the hail like a sheet in front of them. Hirad could barely see the prow of their ship. Beyond, it was just raging darkness. The wind howled across the open sea.

‘No. We’ll just have to fly high and hope.’

‘Terrific.’

‘Stay close to me,’ said Ilkar. ‘I’m your eyes.’

Denser beckoned them both close and put an arm around each shoulder.

‘We’ll need wings trimmed for speed, not mass, so I’ll be unstable with Hirad hanging off me. Don’t you take your eyes off me for long because, if he falls, you’ll be getting him. And remember, Ren said Erienne’s cabin was aft. We’ll have to assume she’s not been moved.’

‘If she has, this could be a very long night,’ said Hirad.

They broke. Hirad fetched a length of rope he’d had tied round his waist all night. Ilkar tied one end around his left wrist and then he lay flat on the deck while the elf attached the other end to Denser’s left ankle. One thing Hirad couldn’t risk was fouling Denser’s wings.

‘Just you get there safe, all right?’ said Ilkar.

‘Tell him that, he’s driving,’ said Hirad. ‘Have you two got enough weapons? This could be a good night for knives, I think.’

‘We’re sorted out. Ready?’

‘Of course not.’

Ilkar clapped him on the back. ‘Then let’s go.’

Hirad readied himself. Denser stood with his legs apart enough for Hirad to put his head through them and hang on to both his calves. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ he muttered.

The hail came down harder. He heard a shout from Denser and a heartbeat later he was airborne and yelling his fear into the teeth of a gale.

‘So kill me then!’ roared the skipper. ‘Kill any one you like. Because if we raise any more sail we’ll all die anyway.’ He shoved Selik away from him, the Black Wing steadying himself quickly and coming back, dagger still drawn.

‘And what the hell good is that handkerchief you’ve got fluttering up there going to do for us, eh?’ He renewed his grip on the skipper’s throat, three of his men in attendance should the elf try to fight him.

The fury of the storm had taken them all by surprise, boiling up from the south under cloud so low they felt they could almost touch it. The skipper had called all hands to the deck and they’d swarmed up the rigging to furl sail as waves crashed across his deck, hurling two Black Wings and a member of his crew into the water to drown in the merciless ocean. Another of his crew had fallen from the rigging and he too would die, his body broken.

But Selik had stormed up to the wheel deck, demanding he go faster. Faster? They were lucky to be still afloat at all.

‘I’ll tell you what it’ll do, you ignorant fool,’ spat the skipper. ‘It’ll give us just enough manoeuvrability to keep our head to the wind so we can survive this thing. I take it you do want to survive?’

‘Your tone will get you very badly hurt.’

The Captain grabbed Selik’s hand and dragged the dagger towards his own throat.

‘Then do it now, Black Wing, because I am past caring.’

Selik stared at him, jerked his hand away and backed off a pace, letting go the skipper’s throat. He nodded.

‘And what about them behind us?’ he demanded, pointing over the skipper’s shoulder into the filthy night.

‘If their captain has any sense, he’ll be doing exactly what I’m doing,’ said the skipper. ‘They won’t catch us, Selik, more’s the pity. And even should they, what can they achieve? They can’t get through Ornouth in a ship that large.’ The skipper was telling the absolute truth. The draft of the ship they’d glimpsed was far too deep to ride the reefs into Herendeneth. Fortunately, a ship that large also had single-masted landing skiffs to offload cargo from deep water. Something Selik was probably unaware of. If Ren was aboard, she’d know when to advise dropping anchor. And he’d sign her any way he could.

‘Unfortunately for the civilised world,’ said the skipper, ‘I know what I’m doing.’

Selik huffed. A contemptuous sound. ‘Civilised. Yet you embrace the evil of magic. Elves. Little better than animals in your home continent, I’ve heard.’

‘Go away, Selik, and let me do my job or you’ll be drinking sea water.’

‘I will have you, elf,’ said Selik as he turned and gestured his men away. ‘Yours is a life borrowing heavily from the death.’

The skipper said nothing as Selik left the deck but his mind was ablaze with revenge. He allowed himself a small inward smile. The Black Wing fools had demanded light on deck as soon as night fell so they might walk in greater safety on the pitching deck. The ship would be visible for miles once the rain abated.

‘Come on, Ren. Come on.’

The journey to the Ocean Elm was pure torture for Hirad. Clinging on to Denser’s legs while the hail lashed into his face and drained his strength, the barbarian could see practically nothing ahead of him. Every now and again, Ilkar would flash into view but apart from that, all he knew was that when he could see the waves and feel the spray on his legs, Denser was too low.

They were heading in the right direction, that much he did know. Ilkar had sighted the ship soon after leaving the deck of the Calaian Sun and hovered in close to tell Denser. But how far away they were, he couldn’t begin to guess and, as the wind and rain began to chill him, sending aches through his arms and inexorably numbing his fingers even through his gloves, it was close to being too far.

A sudden gust drove them downwards hard and fast, Hirad yelling as his boots skimmed the top of a wave. Denser jerked back up quickly, too quickly for Hirad’s cold hands and his grip was torn away and he swung like a human pendulum from the mage’s left ankle, a couple of feet of rope all that separated him from drowning.

The sudden shift of weight unbalanced Denser completely and he plunged seawards, Hirad looking up to see him fighting for height and direction even as he was plunged into the sea. The cold flashed through his body and he gasped in shock. Water washed over his head and Denser, under the heavy drag, was all but catapulted into the wave in front of him, veering up and away at the last heartbeat, hauling the drenched Hirad with him.

The barbarian looked up again. Denser was shouting something but he couldn’t hear it. The cold ate at him. They lurched sickeningly as Hirad swung back and forth, he trying to climb the rope that must be causing Denser agony, and the mage wrestling with his balance as he fought to keep them both from the ocean.

Hirad tried to swing his right arm round but couldn’t get any momentum. The rope was cutting into his wrist and he grabbed on to it with his fingers, trying to relieve the pressure, praying now that they’d reach the Elm before Denser’s boot came off. He tried again to get his other hand round but again fell short as the wind buffeted and blew him in dizzying circles. He felt sick now, the cold muddying his mind, the hail and seawater blinding him, the blood running down his arm from the rope-torn skin of his wrist.

With a thumping of air, Ilkar flew to catch him, driving upwards in one movement and hovering until Hirad found his grip again.

‘Thanks,’ gasped Hirad. ‘Thank you.’

‘We’re almost there.’ And then he was gone.

They changed direction, flying low over the waves and coming up to the rear of the vessel. There were no lights here as there were along its flanks and, confident that no elf who saw them would betray them, they flew in very close, below the level of the deck.

Here, despite the pitching of the ship, there was blessed relief from the storm and Hirad’s pounding heart started to calm. Denser took them slowly upwards, Hirad bringing his knees up to his chest to clear the rail. Once down, he lay flat to allow Denser to land and heard the light step of Ilkar come by his head. His hands were too numb to untie the rope. Happily, Ilkar’s weren’t and, with it off his wrist, he could refasten it around his waist for later and survey the damage to his arm.