Jean Rabe - Death March

“Nothing!” the hobgoblin spit. “Your pathetic fire magic does nothing.”

The sounds grew louder-the thrumming of the thunder and the groans of the wood, a snap, followed by sailors yelling that a mast had broken. There was a crash, and Direfang knew it was the mast falling; he didn’t have to look to confirm it. There were shouts from the Clare’s crew, feet pounding over the deck; the wind howled amid the constant rain and roaring of the waves. The sailor helping to hold Grallik began praying aloud to Zeboim, nearly shouting the words.

“Your god won’t listen,” Direfang muttered. “The gods never listen. Worthless and empty, the gods.”

He heard shouts coming from the deck of the Blithe Dagger and saw a tall Ergothian dressed in red swing the grapple above his head. The man meant to catch the stern rail of the Clare .

“They’re getting ready to board us,” Grallik said, abandoning the fire spell he’d started. “The sorceress … do you see her?” He gestured with his head.

Direfang saw a woman dressed in a black robe, blood-red cloak gently billowing around her. She was the only one who didn’t have a weapon strapped to her waist or in her hand. Her head was shaved, a gold circlet sitting on it like a crown. Her eyes caught his; he saw her smile, and a shiver raced down his spine.

“She’ll kill us,” Grallik continued. “Her ship’s not big enough to haul your goblins. She’ll kill you and strip everything valuable. She’s not a slaver.”

“Aye,” the sailor who had been praying to Zeboim agreed. “And then she’ll sink the fair Clare.”

A mistake, Direfang thought, swallowing hard. He’d doomed all of them by agreeing to the shortcut to the Qualinesti Forest. His entire life was a mistake, he thought. Thousands of goblins would perish because of him.

The grapple hook sailed out, narrowly missing the Clare .

“Closer!” the enemy sailor bellowed. He tugged the hook back and sent it circling his head again.

Whooping erupted from the Blithe Dagger ’s deck as the hook sailed out again, that time catching hold somewhere below the rail, where Direfang and Grallik could not see it. Cheers followed, and the hobgoblin watched the sorceress disappear in the crowd.

Then the cheers turned to yelps of surprise as a glittering fork of lightning struck their lone mast. It was followed by a second bolt, that one splitting the mast in two. A third struck the port side above the waterline. The sails flapped like sheets hung out on a clothesline, one tugging free and floating into the storm, the other coming down with part of the mast, covering some of the crew.

Hands reached up to clutch Direfang’s ragged tunic, and he looked down to see Mudwort’s face twisted into an ugly expression, as if she’d eaten something terribly bitter. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth just as another bolt arced down, that time lancing off the bowsprit. The Blithe Dagger rocked to its port side, spilling some of the enemy sailors, who were instantly lost in the churning water.

Mudwort murmured something, but Direfang couldn’t hear. He shrugged and cocked his head.

She raised her voice. “Can’t find Boliver! Need Boliver to help with this magic!”

The wizard was staring at her in surprise. So did Direfang. “The lightning? Mudwort made the lightning?” Disbelief was heavy in his voice.

Mudwort grinned wide. “Not all of it!Just what touches that ship. Just some of the lightning. A little is maybe enough.” She closed her eyes, and her face took on an even more pained countenance. A heartbeat later, thin threads of lightning flickered overhead and raced down to again strike the Blithe Dagger ’s port side. The ship listed farther and more sailors tumbled into the sea, but some lucky ones managed to grab on to sail to keep from going over the side.

Lightning continued to flash overhead, but it stayed high. The thunder that followed shook the deck under Direfang’s feet. There were more whoops and cheers, but that time they came from the sailors on the Clare and the nearby Shinare’s Prayer .

“She’s sinking! The damn pirate’s going under!” someone behind Direfang yelled. It was K’lars, the half-ogre bosun’s mate. He clomped to the rail, shifting his balance as the deck pitched. He slapped Grallik on the back. “Wizard, you did it! You bested the Dagger!”

Grallik shook his head and opened his mouth to reject the praise, but Mudwort squeezed between the wizard and Direfang and tugged on the wizard’s trousers. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes, drew a finger to her lip, then looked back out to the Blithe Dagger .

K’lars slapped Grallik on the back again. “Captain Gerrold said it was your magic, said if anyone could save us from the Dagger ’s sorceress, it would be one of her own kind.”

The wizard stared helplessly at Mudwort, who shook her head and made a shushing sound. “Tired,” she said. “Done with the magic for a time.” She sagged against Grallik’s leg.

The Clare continued to rise and fall with the waves, and despite the storm, sailors scurried from one end of the ship to the other, still working with errant lines, lashing the sails tighter, throwing extra lines around the water barrels. Orders were screamed by sailors Direfang couldn’t see. More orders were shouted on Shinare’s Prayer and The Elizabeth , the voices carrying over the waves.

Direfang turned, his back to the stern rail, fingers still holding tight. He could make no sense of all the activity, and he was still trying to comprehend what Mudwort had managed to do with her magic lightning. He would ask her about that later.

It was time to get to a safer spot. He waited until the ship rose with another high wave and braced himself. Then he pushed off the rail and wobbled toward the stairs, locking his hands to the railing as he slowly climbed down to the main deck. Setting his sights on the aft mast, he bolted for it, grabbing the lines that wrapped around it and looking for the priest or the captain.

The captain spotted him and came over, leaning down and speaking in hushed tones to the hobgoblin leader, whose face twisted. He stared out at the seas, beyond the Blithe Dagger , suddenly looking anguished, defeated. The captain whirled away to see to business.

Direfang stayed there for long minutes, feeling sicker than he’d thought possible and wanting desperately to feel ground beneath his feet. “Walk, walk, walk,” that’s what Skakee had told him the day before on the shore. How he wished he would have listened to her. The threat from the Blithe Dagger might be past, but the storm still raged, and the hobgoblin believed it was strong enough to tear the Clare apart.

K’lars stomped past him, gesturing and hollering, and Direfang had to concentrate to hear the orders. His eyes popped wide when he realized the half-ogre was telling sailors to launch the longboats.

“You can’t mean to rescue those men!” Grallik complained. The wizard had followed the half-ogre. “They’re pirates! Let them drown.”

The half-ogre grabbed the side of one of the longboats, holding it steady as several sailors waited to climb in.

“I’ve no intention of saving them,” K’lars snapped. “In fact, we’ll finish off any who’re still breathing. But the Blithe Dagger ’s certain to have treasure aboard her, and that I aim to rescue before she goes under!”

Grallik persisted, tugging at the half-ogre’s sleeve. “This is madness. Remember, this is my ship! I’m paying you, and-”

K’lars looked to Direfang, who still clutched the lines. “I heard you tell Captain Gerrold the ship belonged to the hobgoblin there. And he ain’t told us to stay put. Besides, that last bit of the storm you called down on their ship blasted a wide hole. We’ve got to hurry.” The half-ogre climbed in and winched the longboat down. A second boat was lowered moments behind. Two more boats were lowered from The Elizabeth , with that ship’s sailors intent on the same goal.