Raymond Feist - Krondor - Tear of the Gods

Like a rat through a sewer grating, Knute was past Bear and down the companionway. Bear came second, the others behind.

‘We’ve got no time!’ shouted Knute, looking around the aft crew quarters; from the abundant religious items in view, he judged this area had been given over to the monks for their personal use. Knute could hear water rushing into the hole below the forecastle. Knute knew ships; eventually a bulkhead between the forecastle and the main cargo hold would give way and then the ship would go down like a rock.

A small wooden chest sitting in the corner caught his eye and he made straight for it, while Bear moved to a large door that led back to the captain’s cabin. Movement was becoming more difficult as the deck was now tilting, and walking up its slick surface was tricky. More than one pirate fell, landing hard upon the wooden planks.

Knute opened the small chest, revealing enough gems to keep him in luxury for the rest of his life. Like moths to a flame, several raiders turned towards the booty. Knute motioned to two other pirates close by and said, ‘If you want a copper for all this slaughter, get up on deck, help open the hatch, and lower the cargo net!’

Both men hesitated, then looked to where Bear struggled to open the door. They glanced at one another, then did as Knute instructed. Knute knew they would find two of his men already at the hatch and would fall in to help. If Knute’s plan were to work, everyone would have to do his part without realizing that the order of things on the ship had changed.

Knute unlatched a trapdoor in the middle of the deck, and let it swing open, revealing the companionway leading down into the cargo hold. As he stepped through the opening towards the treasure below, the ship started to take on water, and he knew she was fated to go down quickly by the bow. He and his men would have to move fast.

Bear was smashing himself uphill against a door that obviously had some sort of mystic lock upon it, for it hardly moved under his tremendous bulk. Knute cast a quick glance backwards and saw the wood near the hinges splintering. As he lowered himself into the hold, Knute looked down. He knew that there was enough treasure below to make every man aboard a king, for the odd man named Sidi who had told Bear about this ship had said that ten years’ worth of Temple wealth from the Far Coast and Free Cities would accompany the magic item Bear was to bring him.

Knute regretted having met Sidi; when he had first met him, he had no idea the so-called trader trafficked in the magic arts. Once he had discovered the truth, it was too late. And Knute was certain there was far more to Sidi than was obvious; Sidi had given Bear his magic amulet, the one that he refused to remove, day or night. Knute had always stayed away from magic, temple, wizard, or witch. He had a nose for it and it made him fearful, and no man in his experience reeked of it like Sidi, and there was nothing tender about that reek.

The cargo hatch above moved, and a voice shouted downward, ‘Knute?’

‘Lower away!’ commanded the little thief.

The cargo net descended and Knute quickly released it. ‘Get down here!’ he shouted as he spread the large net across the centre of the deck. ‘We’re taking on water fast!’

Four sailors slid down ropes and started moving the heavy cargo chests to the centre of the net. ‘Get the small one first!’ instructed Knute. ‘They’ll be gems. Worth more than gold, pound for pound.’

The sailors were driven by two goals: greed and fear of Bear. The massive captain was smashing through the door above with inhuman strength, and everyone in the crew knew as well as Knute that Bear was becoming more violent by the day. Even his own crew now feared to be noticed by Bear.

One of the men paused to listen to the fiendish shout as Bear finally smashed through the door. A half-dozen pirates, finished with butchering the ship’s crew, descended the ropes from the deck above and looked questioningly at the pilot. Knute said, ‘The captain said everything else was ours for the taking if he got that damn stone the priests were guarding. You going to let all this sink?’

They shook their heads and set to, working in pairs to move the larger chests and sacks into the nets, although Knute could see the doubt on their faces. But they hurried and got most of the booty in the net and tied it off.

‘Haul away!’ Knute shouted to the men above.

Pirates grabbed small chests and sacks and attempted to get back to the forward ladder. The ship was now heading down by the bow, picking up speed and rocking slightly from side to side. ‘Tell them to back water!’ shouted Knute, as he negotiated the ladder to the upper deck, clutching the small wooden chest as a mother would a baby. He saw a brilliant light coming through the captain’s cabin door and his eyes widened. Bear stood outlined against the glare, obviously struggling through the water as if engaged with a foe of some kind. ‘Get out!’ shouted Knute. ‘You’re going to drown!’ Not that Knute would shed a tear if that happened, but if Bear somehow came to his senses and made good his escape, Knute wanted to appear convincing in his role as loyal and concerned pilot.

Knute hurried to the gunwale and nimbly leaped atop it. Glancing at those behind him who were sliding across the deck, trying for the boat below, he called, ‘Hurry!’ The galley was backing away, and water rushed quickly into the hull of the Ishapian ship. Knute knew that, had he not given the order to back the galley, the weight of the dying ship might have pulled its bow under the waves.

A longboat bobbed on the water a few yards below and he muttered, ‘By the gods, I’ve gotta get out of this business.’

He glanced upward and saw the cargo boom with the net loaded with treasure being lowered to the deck of the galley. With a quick prayer to every god he could remember, Knute leaped from the sinking ship, hitting the water while he clutched the small chest with all his might. Weight pulled him downward and he struggled, and finally his head broke the surface as voices echoed across the water. With his free arm he struck out for the longboat, reaching it quickly. Strong hands reached over the side and pulled him aboard.

‘The ship sinks!’ men yelled as they leaped from the deck into the foam.

‘Leave the rest!’ shouted a man holding what appeared to be a large sack of gold coins. He hit the water, and after a minute his head broke the surface. He struggled mightily to get the sack aboard Knute’s boat.

‘No! Noooo!’ came Bear’s anguished cry from the bowels of the sinking ship as Knute helped the pirate aboard the boat.

‘Sounds like the boss is having a problem,’ said the drenched pirate.

‘Row,’ instructed Knute. The sailor complied and Knute looked over his shoulder. ‘Whatever the boss’s problems, they’re no longer ours.’

‘You going to leave him?’ said one of Knute’s men.

‘Let’s see if that cursed amulet keeps him alive on the bottom of the sea.’

One of the pirates grinned. Like the rest of his brethren he had been obedient out of fear as much as any loyalty to Bear. ‘If it does, he’s going to kill you, Knute.’

‘He’s got to find me first,’ said the wily pilot. ‘I’ve sailed with that murdering lunatic three times, which is two too many. You’ve been his slaves long enough. Now it’s our turn to live the high life!’

The pirates rowed. One of Bear’s crew said, ‘If he does make it out alive, he’ll find others to follow him, you know that? Why shouldn’t I cut your throat now and gain his favour?’

‘Because you’re greedy, like me. If you cut my throat, you’ll never get that galley safely out of these rocks. Besides, even if Bear lives, it’ll be too late,’ said Knute. ‘We’ll all be safely gone.’