Alodar looked up to the deck as his own boat hit the waves. He could see the beginnings of a melee as the factions fought with drawn swords for possession of the other longboat. In the press of battle no one could focus his attention on the blocks, and the boat remained immobile on the deck. Alodar turned back to his own plight and quickly counted the men aboard. Of his own eight, he saw that all had made it safely. Vendora, Aeriel, Kelric, Feston, Basil and Duncan were accompanied by a tangle of six more men. Whose supporters they were, he could not tell.
'Man the oars,' he commanded. 'Get us clear of the barge before some wave dashes us back into her side. You there, make room for the queen. My fair lady, if you and lady Aeriel can move forward, you will find that the small shelter will protect two from the strength of this gale.'
'I command the forces of the queen,' Feston growled as he wriggled himself erect in the pile of men amidship. But before he could say more, a wave broke over them ending a deluge of water into the midst.
'The rest of you to the bailing,' Alodar continued and several of the men about Feston began to look for buckets in the hatchway aft. Feston glowered at Alodar for a moment, and then a second wave washed over the rails. The men about him filled and dumped buckets furiously. When Basil thrust one into Feston's hands, he bent and started bailing with the rest.
Alodar turned to look back towards the barge and saw that the thrust of the wind had opened a wide gulf between them. The huge ship was crosswind. As she rolled, the leeward rail almost touched the waves.
'Grengor and you, Melab, in the rear,' he shouted. 'Let us assemble the mast and try to erect it now. If we are lucky and the wind slackens, we will be ready to hoist sail.'
Alodar glanced about the boat. Except for Kelric still lying in a jumble, his face barely above water, every man was usefully employed. He shut out all thoughts of the precariousness of their position and bent his mind to the task of raising the mast.
Weary with cold and fatigue, Alodar steadied one leg on top of the small shelter and held the glass from the meager stores to his eye. The wind was dying beneath a placid moon, and the sea was growing calm. All about the boat, men slumped in the disarray of sleep. Alodar leaned against the mast, now holding aloft a sail unfurled to catch the breeze that remained from the storm. How soothing it would feel to collapse among the tangle of limbs at his feet and let consciousness slide away as it had from the rest. But he dared not relinquish the grip. So long as he stayed awake, threatening, cajoling, and pushing himself harder than any, the random collection of men who had jumped from the barge would act enough in consort to save their lives.
Twice again Feston had balked at the continual bailing, but Alodar had stared him down. One of his marines and Duncan's retainers squabbled over what constituted a fair share of the load, and he had pushed between them before their inattention let the boom run free and rake across the rear deck with a vicious sweep.
They somehow had bailed enough to keep afloat, mended the sail at least thrice, and tumbled in rough water throughout. To relax now and let chance determine which of Feston's, Basil's or Duncan's followers awoke first might throw away all they had struggled for in the past four days.
With only half-open eyes, Alodar slowly scanned the sea. The clouds were all but swept away, but the sliver of moon did not provide enough light to see to the horizon. They must find land soon, and drifting about aimlessly the few hours till dawn was a waste they could ill afford.
Alodar grimaced and collapsed the glass. He stepped down into the jumble of sleeping forms and gingerly picked his way to where Kelric was curled up in the stern. The sorcerer shivered in his sleep. His breath gurgled and wheezed as it struggled in and out of his lungs. His flesh was pale and hung limply on his scrawny frame. The exposure had been hard for all of them, but on the old man it had taken the greatest toll.
Alodar bent down and gently shook him awake. In the quietness of the night, Alodar explained what had to be done and then listened attentively as Kelric provided the detailed instructions. In an hour, he had memorized the cantrip and returned to the shelter amidship.
Alodar climbed wearily to the roof, made himself as comfortable as possible, and began the charm. Had he been fully alert, he would have spoken the words with great care, fighting the increasing resistance a measured step at a time. But both his mind and body were dulled. He rattled off the three repetitions like a schoolboy reciting his pledge to the queen. In an instant it was finished. He blinked in surprise at how mild was the internal reaction.
Alodar slowly scanned a full circle from where he sat and then closed his eyes against the scene. An image of what he had just seen sprang into sharp focus as if lighted by the noonday sun. He willed his thoughts forward and, like a great-winged bird, he seemed to spring from the boat. Soaring low over the water, his mind raced ahead of the bow, straining for the horizon and sight of ship or land. The miles sped by, but the scene remained an unbroken circle of water as far as he could see.
Gradually the rush of his thoughts began to slow; though he strained all the harder, the waves dissolved into an indistinct haze, and the sky dimmed. His pace slowed to a crawl and then, at the moment he seemed to stop, the scene blacked out from view. Instinctively Alodar realized he had reached the limits of his vision and brought his thoughts back to his inert body sitting on the shelter roof.
With his eyes still closed, he turned his head and sought to port, again sailing over the waves far faster than any ship could take him. He breathed deeply as he finally slowed, hoping to see a landfall of Arcadia before the scene faded away. But when the blackness came, the ocean looked as unchanging as it had from the bow, and Alodar returned a second time to begin the search anew. He turned to starboard and saw over the horizon in a heartbeat. Before he even noticed any slowing, he saw a line of low hills pushing down to a sandy beach. Land, he dimly thought in his trance, land to the west and not far away.
He willed his thoughts to return so that he could break the spell and head for shore; but to his surprise, the rush in his mind continued onward. Up into the hills his sight took him, past smouldering campfires and huddles of sleeping figures. On and on his thoughts raced, to higher and rougher ground. The mountains were cleft and folded, fissured and cracked with jumbles of boulders strewn about. Alodar's attention wandered over the scene but then focused upon a slender spur of rock that soared before him. A monolith of cold granite, it stood like a giant spike thrust into the contours of the hills and seemed to challenge even the peaks beyond for height.
Alodar recognized the spire as the one he had seen when he tried to use the sorcerer's eye. As before, he felt himself drawn inside into a tomblike room. In the very center stood a stone coffin with a thick glass lid, and Alodar's thoughts rushed forward to peer inside. He saw a man of middle age, eyes peacefully closed, and mouth curled up in a haughty smile. The hands were folded across the chest over a robe sprinkled with many small, stylized logos of flame.
Alodar tried to look about the room, but the scene suddenly went black. He felt himself slowly pitching forward from the roof of the boat's shelter. He quickly blinked his eyes open and grabbed at the mast to steady himself. A moment of vertigo washed over him and then a hot fever that turned his limbs to rubber. Alodar clutched at the mast to gain support and gradually the feelings subsided, leaving him weak and lethargic.
Slowly Alodar climbed down into the hull and picked his way aft. For a moment, he puzzled at his vision but then pushed it aside, too weary to expend the effort when there were more important things to be done. The coast was not that far away; perhaps by late morning, they could be safely ashore.
Alodar nodded his head with decision, loosened the boom and cut hard on the tiller to aim the small craft landward. The wind hit the sail at a flatter angle. With gathering momentum, the boat began moving towards the shore. Alodar leaned against the after railing, holding the craft on course and staring into the darkness.
The hours passed, and gradually the sky brightened, until the boundary between sea and air could be discerned in all directions. Alodar watched the west. Finally a second hazy line appeared above the first. As the boat approached, it resolved into individual low hills that began to loom higher and higher on the horizon. Eventually the sound of breaking surf mingled with the whistling of the wind. Alodar saw a row of whitecaps racing up towards a sandy beach.
With more seamanship and alertness, he might be able to bring the boat smartly about and drop sail and anchor. But such detail was beyond what little energy remained. Holding his course, the craft sped directly onwards and, with a sudden lurch, ran aground.
The sleeping men scrambled awake with surprise. 'You there,' Alodar shouted, 'to the shelter and rouse the queen. And you on the left, give aid to the sorcerer. He is too weak even to walk on his own.'
The men sluggishly complied and, one by one, dropped overboard to head for shore. Water began to bubble in through the hull. The longboat sagged gently to one side as she slowly filled. Duncan arose from a position in the bow. With shaking legs, he staggered to the queen.
