Jean Rabe - Death March

He stumbled around the table and went to the windows, shouting for Grallik to hurry and get up.

“Foreman, I’ve packages in here for you … and maps. I mentioned them to you last night and-”

Direfang snarled.

“I realized I should have asked permission to sleep here rather than in the hold. I just thought-”

“Wizard, see that ship?” Direfang stabbed a finger at a window pane. The sloop was hard to make out, everything so gray and the Clare pitching and rolling. And the hobgoblin talked so fast, about a pirate wizard and the swift, single-masted ship and Ergothians. He occasionally slipped into the goblin tongue.

But Grallik caught the gist of it and immediately stood and dressed. He followed the hobgoblin back through the narrow hallway. At the stairs, goblins were streaming up, complaining of the rocking ship and cursing Direfang for leading them onto stormy seas.

“Down!” he ordered. “Safer below in the hold. It’s a storm coming. Better to stay below than fall off the ship.”

That last scared them, and those who hadn’t yet climbed up to the top hastily beat a retreat.

“Except Mudwort!” Direfang shouted down the stairs. “Get Mudwort. Be fast!” He repeated the order before shoving Grallik up the stairs. Then he followed, holding onto the top rung as the ship climbed a wave and crashed down. His feet lost their purchase, and his legs banged hard into the stairs. But his fingers gripped the rung tighter and he slowly pulled himself up.

Chaos ruled on the Clare ’s deck, and Direfang blinked furiously in an effort to see all that was going on. In the short time he’d been belowdecks, the rain had started to pour. The rain came down hard at an angle, looking like a wall of water and splashing back up from the deck. At the same time, waves were washing over the port rail. Lines were whipping around, and sailors worked to secure them. Sails were being lowered; one of the larger ones had a rent in it. Everywhere men were moving, slipping, sliding, but the grizzled sailors knew their jobs, and none of them fell or were knocked over.

Direfang could vaguely make out his other ships, The Elizabeth and Shinare’s Prayer just passing the Clare . No goblins were on those decks, he noted with a mix of fear and relief. Then he saw those ships lower their sails, and his heart thudded in terror.

Direfang lumbered forward, intending to order the captain to relay the message to raise those sails and fast. How could any of his ships hope to outdistance the Blithe Dagger dead in the water? But then he knew they were guarding against ripped or torn sails; the ships risked being shredded by the strong storm. He swung around, looking for the wizard, and saw him stumble past the center mast on his way to the stern. Direfang followed, grabbing onto lines and sailors and coils of rope to keep from falling.

The several goblins that had made it up on deck were huddled together near the capstan. They hissed and gestured wildly to Direfang, but the hobgoblin went past them. “Go below!” he shouted, not certain they could hear him over all the ruckus. He lost sight of the wizard for a moment when another wave crashed over.

He thought he heard someone shout that a man had gone overboard.

“Don’t let it be the wizard,” he muttered.

Then he heard goblins scream as the ship rolled to starboard, the wind keening and the rain coming even harder. He leaped to grab the port rail, wrapping his arms around it and feeling his feet fly free. It felt as if his stomach were rising into his throat. He closed his eyes as a wave pummeled him. His eyes burned from the salty water, and when he opened them, all he saw was a wall of gray. A moment more, and the ship righted itself. Dizzy, he stood, still holding the rail, gripping it tighter still when another wave came.

A mistake, he thought, choking on swallowed water. This ship was a horrid mistake.

“Foreman!” the wizard called to him.

Direfang squinted, seeing shapes in the rain but not able to differentiate one from another. He tasted blood and realized he’d bitten his tongue. The saltwater worsened the pain. Spitting, he shuffled toward the stern, ducking once to avoid a flailing line, digging his claws into the rail so tightly that he felt the wood splinter against his palm.

Finally he saw the wizard, holding on to a post on the spar deck. The Clare rose and fell, threatening to pitch Direfang over the side, but he fought his way to the center, grabbing tightly to the aft mast and yelling for Grallik. Direfang could barely hear his own voice and succeeded only in growing hoarse and swallowing rain and seawater. He held his chin tight to his chest and took several deep breaths, then pushed off of the mast and staggered toward the short flight of stairs that would take him up to the spar deck.

Grallik stood there with two sailors, who were steadying the wizard as he worked his fingers as though weaving a web. He mouthed the words to a spell and squinted through the rain to spy the prow of the pirate vessel steadily approaching through the heavy storm. Direfang lunged for the stern rail, holding tight to it just as the Clare climbed another wave and crashed down.

The Blithe Dagger was under full sail. Its main canvas held steady, as though unaffected by the storm. Its pennant flapped only slightly.

“Magic,” one of the sailors cursed. “The ship that dogs us is enchanted.”

“Can’t be, not an entire ship,” the other replied as he grabbed Grallik’s belt to help steady the wizard. “But her captain … it’s said the captain is a sorceress and can keep the ship dry and steady in any gale. Might as well strike the colors and surrender. She’ll take all six of these ships in time.”

“Aye, surrender and pray to Zeboim the pirates let us live,” said the first.

Direfang gaped when he finally caught a good look at the Blithe Dagger . It was as the one sailor said. The ship appeared dry. The rain seemed to be held at bay by some force; he could see it veer off just shy of the ship. The enemy vessel wasn’t nearly as large as the Clare , with only one mast and a square topsail. He saw men and women crowded at the bow, grappling hooks and lines ready. The ship closed fast.

“Wizard, bring down some fire!” Direfang howled.

Grallik was busy doing just that. Just then a column of flame shot down, aimed at the bow of the Blithe Dagger , where all the sailors stood. Steam hissed around the column, clouds roiling away from the flames, the crackling of which could be heard through the storm.

“More!” Direfang encouraged. The sailors holding Grallik up added their encouragement. “Bring down …” But the words died in the hobgoblin’s throat.

The column of flame clearly had struck its mark, but it caused the ship and its crew no apparent harm.

“Their sorceress,” Grallik gasped. “she’s protected them from flames too … fire and the storm. She bends the elements, Foreman.” Still, he tried to send more fire strikes at the Blithe Dagger , concentrating on the sails, with the same result.

“Hold him,” one of the sailors said to Direfang. He tromped away from the wizard. “I’ve got to report to Captain Gerrold, tell him we’re all but done.” He disappeared down the steps toward the main deck.

“I’ll not give up,” Grallik said to the hobgoblin leader. His face was drawn together as he pointed at the enemy ship, which loomed frighteningly close. Fire shot from his fingers, striking the bowsprit and sending steam hissing in all directions.

Direfang grabbed Grallik’s tunic with one hand and with the other squeezed the stern rail as hard as he could.

Once more the wizard drew his best fire down on the ship.