Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

“I know that better than anyone,” Agis replied, clutching the satchel. “But I can’t abandon those slaves just because I’m nervous about letting Tithian out. It’s the same as murdering them.”

“No. Joorsh kill them, not Agis,” the giant insisted.

Agis shook his head. “Those slaves wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t hired Kester to carry me to Lybdos. That makes me responsible for their safety.”

Fylo considered this, then said, “Maybe. But Tithian not care about slaves. Maybe him not want to help.”

“He won’t want to, but he’ll have no other choice,” said Agis. “Once he’s on that ship, he’ll keep it afloat-or sink and suffocate with the rest of us.”

A boulder sailed over Fylo’s shoulder, bringing the conversation to an end. The stone hit a short distance ahead, sending a silvery plume of dust high into the sky. The giant twisted around to look back toward shore. Agis saw the thick-waisted sentry grabbing another boulder off the bank of the isthmus, apparently thinking it wiser not to wade into the silt with only one good foot. The guard hurled the rock at them, nearly falling over as he tried to brace himself on his injured foot, and the stone fell wide.

“Let’s go,” Agis said. “I don’t think he has much of a chance to hit us.”

As Fylo complied, an angry roar erupted from the entrance to Castle Feral, and Nuta led his warriors out the citadel gate. They began picking their way across the rubble-strewn apron, the chief shouting, “Stop, sachem-killers! Oracle stealers!”

Fylo ignored the orders and started toward the Shadow Viper with renewed vigor. As they approached, Agis saw that the battle had taken a heavier toll on the ship than had at first been apparent. A massive crack ran the length of the ship’s keel, which had been raised so the ship could rest on the bottom of the bay without tipping. Half of the catapults sat in splintered ruins, as did both of the stern ballistae. The ripped sails lay draped over the capstans and hold covers, with tangled mounds of useless rigging heaped on top of them. Even the hull, more or less protected by its immersion in the silt, had not escaped the fighting completely undamaged. Through the craters in the deck, Agis could see at least two places where the slaves had fastened makeshift patches to the interior wall.

Despite the ship’s condition, no bodies lay in sight. At first, Agis took this to mean that the slaves had escaped relatively unharmed, but when he saw barely twenty crewmen standing at the gunnels, he realized that was not the case. They had probably thrown the dead overboard, for in the heat of the crimson sun corpses would quickly begin to stink.

They reached the ship, and Fylo set Agis on the rear deck. As the noble climbed over a crumpled sail to slip into the floater’s pit, he found Wyan waiting at the helm, along with a yellow-haired half-elf crewman. The slave’s ankle was swollen and purple, and he managed to stand only by supporting himself on the ship’s wheel.

“You’re a brave man for coming to our aid, sir,” said the half-elf. “Most others wouldn’t have done the same, and the crew is thankful-whether we make it or not.”

“We’ll make it,” Agis assured him, slipping into the floater’s seat. “But we’d better move fast.”

“Aye, captain,” replied the half-elf. He looked forward, then commanded, “Ready your plunging poles!”

Agis used his good hand to lay his broken arm across the dome, gasping at the pain it caused. He focused his thoughts on the obsidian beneath his hands. A moment later, he smelled the briny aroma of saltwater and felt himself rocking back and forth to the gentle sway of lapping waves. He visualized the battered Shadow Viper floating on the surface of the sparkling sea, then groaned as a heavy weight settled upon his spirit. The caravel rose out of the dust. The crew raised a haggard cheer and plunged their poles into the silt.

As the slaves pushed off, a series of sonorous grunts sounded from the isthmus shore. An instant later, the bay erupted into a gray haze, boulders dropping all around the Shadow Viper . A loud crash sounded behind Agis, then the helmsman’s broken body flew past the noble amidst a torrent of shattered planks and beams.

A shard of broken wheel struck Agis squarely between the shoulder blades. The fragment did not pierce his flesh, but the impact drove him face first into the floater’s dome. His broken arm exploded in pain, and his concentration lapsed, allowing the Shadow Viper to settle back into the bay.

“Agis!” screamed Fylo’s deep voice. The giant’s fingers closed around the noble’s shoulders, pulling him upright. “You hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” Agis gasped.

Keeping his broken arm on the floater’s dome, he looked over his shoulder. In place of the helm, a broken-edged hole opened below deck, a gray boulder resting in a pile of rubble that had once been Kester’s stateroom. Farther away, Nuta and his party of warriors were wading out from the isthmus, each giant holding another boulder to hurl at the Shadow Viper .

Fylo pointed toward the mouth of the bay, where the cove opened up into a broad expanse of featureless dust. “Take ship to deep silt. Joorsh can’t follow,” he said, taking a huge harpoon off the rear deck’s rack. “Fylo slow them down.”

“No!” Agis yelled. “We have catapults. You run.”

“Where to?” the giant asked, puzzled. “Agis only friend. Not let Joorsh hurt him.” With that, the half-breed turned and waded back to meet the pursuing warriors.

Wyan floated up from Kester’s stateroom. “What are you waiting for? It was your idea to save this worthless bunch of slaves.”

Grimacing with the pain of his broken arm, Agis pulled the satchel off his shoulder. “Can you get Tithian out of there?” he asked.

“Of course.”

The noble laid the satchel on the edge of the floater’s pit. “Then do it,” he said. “I don’t know how long I’ll last. Besides, when the next boulder hits, it would be better to have an extra shipfloater.”

As the disembodied head drifted over to the satchel’s mouth, Agis returned his attention to the floater’s dome and raised the Shadow Viper . The effort added to his agony, and he began to feel sick. The slaves leaned against their plunging poles. The caravel’s response was sluggish, for it rode dangerously low in the silt.

Agis focused on the smell and the sound of the sea inside his mind, trying to raise the ship higher. The pain of his broken arm intruded on his thoughts, making the waves choppy and unpredictable. In addition to moving slowly, the ship began to lurch and roll. The noble stopped trying to concentrate so hard, and the sea calmed again. If Tithian did not take over soon, Agis knew they would sink.

A pair of thunderous battle cries sounded behind the ship. Now that the Shadow Viper was under way, Agis allowed himself to look back. He saw Fylo charging straight at Nuta, who was raising his boulder to throw. Behind the chief, the other Joorsh warriors were rushing forward to support their leader.

Nuta hurled his boulder, and Fylo ducked. The stone glanced off the half-breed’s injured shoulder. He screamed in pain and dropped to one knee, burying himself up to his chest in silt. For a moment, Agis thought the giant would pitch forward and vanish beneath the surface of the bay. Then, as the chief started to pass him by, the half-breed seemed to gather his strength. With an angry bellow, he rose and thrust his harpoon deep into Nuta’s ribs.

The chief screamed and fell. As the grizzled giant disappeared into the silt, Fylo jerked the bloody harpoon free and, screaming a war cry, turned to charge the rest of the company. His astonished enemies stopped and launched their boulders at him. The half-breed countered by flinging his harpoon at the next warrior in line, then disappeared beneath a hail of gray stones.