ELVENSHIP
MID AUTUMN, 6E9
With the Rupt fled away, Long Tom sent sailors in two dinghies to the stone quay, the boats pulling mooring lines from the ship to the shore. They landed and once again tied the Eroean to the pier. Then, using long iron pry bars, they rolled the dead Troll into the water, and down it sank like the heavy-boned thing it was, to become fish food along with the two drowned Trolls some forty-seven feet below. After the ship was tethered to the dock, Long Tom had the crew loosen the port-bow anchor winch and pay out the hawser, and with the mooring lines along the starboard side they drew the Eroean back to the pier. Yet, when safely tied up, they once again cranked the anchor hawser tight-“Should we need t’ pull th’ same trick agin’, lettin’ th’ river ’n’ anchor rope swing us away from th’ quay.”
As soon as the crew ashore lifted the gangplank back into place, Aravan and a litter crew hurried to where James had fallen. The bosun was yet breathing, though unconscious. A grume-slathered Ruchen arrow jutted out from his back. The crew carefully placed him onto the litter and bore him back to the ship. As they went up the footway, Lissa and Vex followed.
“Where were you?” asked Pipper.
“Killing Spaunen, mostly Rucha,” she replied.
“I got seven with my sling,” said Pipper. He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, for killing of anyone, even maggot-folk, did not set well on his mind. “And Bink, here, got eight.”
“I had twenty arrows,” said Lissa, “but I wasted one against a Troll. It did not penetrate that thick hide of his.”
“What of your other arrows?” asked Bink.
“Eighteen Rupt and one Mage.”
Even as Binkton gaped at the Pysk and breathed, “Eighteen?” Pipper blurted, “The Trolls!”
“Pip, she just said her arrows didn’t penetrate their hide.”
“No, Bink. What I meant is that by Liss killing the Mage, that’s what brought down the dead Trolls.”
“Oh,” said Binkton, the light dawning. “You’re right, Pip.” Binkton turned to Lissa. “You saved us all.”
“The Knight!” Pipper exclaimed. And even as Binkton groaned, Pipper said, “Lady Aylis’s reading. Liss drew the Knight of Swords upright, and Aylis said, ‘Victory over a dire foe, in this orientation, though perhaps at great peril.’ Don’t you see, Bink, Lady Aylis had it right all along, for a Necromancer is a dire foe.” Pipper turned to Lissa, adding, “And out there among the Rucks and such, well, you were indeed at great peril.”
“Vex kept me safe,” said Lissa. Then she looked about the ship. “What of the others? How did the warband and sailors fare?”
“Some took wounds,” said Binkton. “Arrows and slingstones. Most of the Dwarves avoided the missiles, or their armor kept them safe. The sailors took the largest part of the hurt. Desault has commandeered space belowdecks to be an infirmary, where he’s taken the wounded for treatment.”
Lissa said, “Well, I hope he knows about Ruchen arrows. They can be quite nasty, you see, as vile as they are.”
Even as Lissa spoke, as he carefully worked the shaft back out from the chief bosun belowdecks Desault said, “It is essential for us to get all wounds as clean as we can, for these Rucken arrows, they bear a festering disease. A person can die days, even weeks after taking such a wound. They turn the flesh black, and a dreadful rot sets in. Were it an arm or a leg, and that were to happen, we would amputate. But where James is injured, all we can do is wait and see. So, let the wounds bleed freely for a short while, and probe gently with these cleansing swabs to clear out as much of the dark filth as you can, even though it will pain the patient.” Desault then held up vials of yellowish liquid. “Then hold them down and pour this fluid in the gash.”
And so, amid groans of the injured, Aylis and others helped Desault treat the wounded-cleansing, pouring, bandaging, and giving the worst of them sops of poppy juice to ease the agony. As well, they set and splinted the bones of five sailors, bones broken by the large slingstones of the Spawn.
And up on deck lookouts watched as along the shore Dwarves dragged slain Grg into a pile, heeding the Pysk’s warning to touch not any of her shafts that might be protruding from Ukhs or the back of the neck of the Mage. And as to the dead Troll yet ashore, it took nearly all of the Dwarven force to drag that still-burning corpse to the pile. When that was done, they splashed oil thereon and the licking flames on the corpse of the Troll set the whole afire.
As black and grey smoke spiralled into the sky, Nikolai turned to Aravan and asked, “When we go City of Jade?”
“On the morrow, Nick. Tonight we rest and recover.”
And so that night, weary from the stress of battle, and glad to have survived, the crew entire took turns at watch and at sleeping, all but the wounded, that is, some of whom fell into drugged stupors, others to lie awake in pain. The captain and Aylis and Lissa and Binkton and Pipper and other comrades moved among them and spoke quiet words of support.
And even as they did so, the sky began to darken, and a wind began to stir, as of an oncoming storm.
48
DARK DESIGNS
MID AUTUMN, 6E9
At the onset of night and smiling to himself in his aethyrial form, Nunde flew out from his tower in the Grimwalls and headed for the City of Jade. Surely by now, Malik had triumphed and had Aravan’s corpse in his possession. I will have to reward my loyal and clever apprentice for succeeding in his task. Yet, wait: should I reward him for something I planned? After all, he is merely an extension of my own hand. Oh, why not? Surely a reward will confuse him, and I would add to his distress, and that will please me much. And so, in astral contentment, Nunde sped toward that far-distant land.
Yet when he neared and with his reversed aethyrial vision he saw along the shore a thin spiral of white smoke rising up as from a dying fire. Nearby and peacefully docked lay the Elvenship. Human and Dwarven lookouts aboard kept watch, yet these Nunde did not fear, for they could not see him. Only that trollop who consorted with Aravan had the ‹sight› to do so. Yet careful observation showed him the whore was not adeck, and so Nunde swooped low over the dwindling blaze, where he saw the massive bones of an Ogh amid the ashes.
Shaken, he sped toward the col between the hills where the ambush had been set. No one was there. Where had they gone? Surely they couldn’t have been-
Nunde sped back to the smoldering remains of the fire. Not only were there Ogh bones among the ashes, but a medallion that Malik had worn. Malik had failed! Malik had failed! Aravan, no doubt, yet lived.
How did they discover his trap? The hawk! That must be how. That slut of a Seeress must have flown the bird under the canopy and had peered through its eyes and had found the ambush waiting. And that fool of an apprentice had somehow lost all in an attack on the ship. Four Oghi and a hundred Drik and another hundred Ghoki: more than two hundred Chun in all. How could he have done so, with the ship bound to the pier and as vulnerable as a puling child? Idiot! Imbecile! May he rot forever! May he have died in unbearable agony!
Now I must do that which will put me in peril.
Nunde sped back to his distant tower, where he ordered the roundup of hundreds of Drik. And in an orgiastic frenzy of killing, not only to vent his rage, but also to bloat his being with ‹fire›, he began an all-day slaughter. For what he now needed to do, in fact had been forced to do by that foul Dolh, was to cast a spell while in his aethyrial form, and to do that took energy beyond compare. And so he slew and slew, and tortured and flayed and sucked up the life force needed to perform the deed. But even then, even though swollen with power, he knew he might not survive the loosing of the thing he was about to set free to do his bidding, for if he could not
