Death March

ROUGH WATERS

Direfang hadn’t meant to, but he had fallen asleep in the hold. The sky was lightening as he climbed up on deck. Above him the sails snapped, startling him, and the ship rose on a wave. He couldn’t keep his balance and dropped to his knees; a pair of sailors working the lines nearby laughed at his clumsiness.

“The beastie has no sea legs,” a gangly human chortled. “They’re all puking below. I heard a lot of them giving up their dinner last night.”

“Two weeks and we’ll be clear o’ them,” his companion said. “Then we’ll scrub the hold three or four times to make sure we get all the fleas. Bet The Balifor Breeze is faring worse. They got most of the hobs.”

Direfang stood, bracing himself when the ship rode up on another wave. He sneered at the two men, who were oblivious to the fact that he understood their tongue. They continued to deride the goblin passengers as Horace hurried back from the wheel and took Direfang’s arm.

“Foreman, you need to see the captain.” Horace tugged him toward the wheel. “There’s trouble, I say!”

The ship rose again, the bow coming down just as a wave washed over it, the spray washing over Direfang and Horace and making the deck slippery. The hobgoblin tugged his arm free and lengthened his stride, coming up to Captain Gerrold just as a sailor in the crow’s nest barked down “Still following us, she is! Following all o’ us!”

The captain turned at Direfang’s approach. His eyes were hard, and the lines on his tanned face reminded the hobgoblin of tree bark.

“What trouble?” Direfang steadied himself as the bow rose again.

The captain raised an eyebrow and twisted the wheel to port. “You speak Common?”

“If that’s what you call your language, yes.”

“The storm is one trouble,” the captain replied. “It’s coming up quick. A sharp freshening, feel it? The wind shifted on us, and we’re tacking through it, but it’s going to be rough sailing for a while. You’ll need to explain that to your … fellows. I pray my counterparts will be able to handle the others.”

Direfang looked up through gaps in the sails, spying a thick bank of clouds and smelling a sweetness in the air that hinted at heavy rain. He saw the sails of the other five ships, spread out and drawing close to the Clare. In fact, it appeared that the five were gaining and were going to overtake the lead ship.

“The storms here … on this inland sea … they ain’t so bad as what you’ll come into on open water.” Captain Gerrold forced the wheel to starboard and closed his eyes as another wave washed across the bow. “This is nothing for the Clare…”

“Foreman Direfang,” Horace supplied. “His name is Direfang.”

The captain made a humming sound, as if to say that was an interesting name. “What concerns me is that ship that is following us … Foreman Direfang. That’s why I’m slowing, letting the others catch up and get ahead. We’ve got a wizard with us, I know, and so we’ll need to organize a defense if such is needed.”

Direfang turned, but he couldn’t see anything beyond the masts and lines, and the men moving around on the other ships. The water looked as gray as the sky, broken by only chunks of white foam.

“Oh, she’s back there, Direfang.” The captain paused. “How is it you know Common, may I ask? I’d not think your kind-”

“This ship that follows us,” Direfang said, ignoring the question. “Why is it of concern? Aren’t there many ships that sail this route?”

The captain wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the king spoke. “She’s a sloop with one mast, not close to Clare’s size, not as big as any in your armada. But her bowsprit’s as long as her hull, and I’d wager she could make double our speed in fair weather. She’s built for the shallows, her draft but a whisper. If the wind weren’t against her, she’d easily overtake all of us. But she’s been catching up, and with the freshening, she will.”

“And that is what she intends to do?” That came from Horace. He squinted into the grayness of the sea and sky. “What makes you think that?”

Captain Gerrold gave a clipped laugh. “Her name’s the Blithe Dagger. I saw her in port yesterday. She pulled in for supplies, left a few hours ahead of us. Thought she was gone from these waters, but she must have been waiting for us. Must have caught word that Grallik N’sera bought the Clare, bought five other ships and lots of things with the gemstones he was spending around the docks. Drew quite the interest, all those sparkling blue stones.” Gerrold paused and looked up at a flight of gulls struggling against the wind. “The Blithe Dagger’s full of your kind, Horace, if you don’t mind my saying. Sea barbarians from Ergoth.” He let the silence settle a moment. “Pirates, Direfang. The Blithe Dagger will pose a far greater threat than the storm. Even though we’re five ships, she can come in and pick us off, one at a time.”

Horace’s eyes grew wide.

“They know they’ll get a good haul from us, worth the risks,” Captain Gerrold continued. “Whatever gemstones Grallik has left, the hold full of supplies, goblins that can be sold as slaves.”

“You sound already defeated.” Horace’s face showed a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Oh, I’ll not give up without a fight,” the captain averred. “I’ve ordered all my men armed. But we’re a merchantman, all of these ships Grallik bought are merchantmen, not men-o-war, and the Blithe Dagger’s captain … well, she’s an old Black Robe. Her spells alone could well sink us-that is, if they wanted to sink us.”

“A Black Robe.” The words hissed out between Direfang’s teeth. He spun, nearly losing his footing on the slippery deck. “Skull man, where is the wizard?”

“In the captain’s cabin,” Horace answered quickly. “Sleeping.”

“Well, it’s time to wake him up,” said the hobgoblin as he turned and headed toward the second level, struggling to keep his footing.

The ship pitched with a high wave. Lightning flickered overhead, looking like thin, gold threads against the gray sky. Direfang could barely hear the thunder over the flapping sails, and he worried about the other ships. “Walk, walk, walk,” he remembered Skakee saying. “Indeed,” he said, looking around gloomily. “This army should have walked.”

He approached an ornate door on the second level at the end of a narrow corridor faintly lit by a lantern that constantly wobbled and clanked. Direfang’s shoulders rubbed against the walls, and he turned sideways to avoid knocking the lantern down. He stopped midway as the half-ogre K’lars exited a nearby bunk room and tried to squeeze by. In the end, K’lars stepped back, letting Direfang pass.

“Wizard!” The knob was polished brass and in the shape of a ship, too small for Direfang’s big hand. He fumbled with it then shoved the door open just as the ship’s bow rose so high, it pitched him off his feet. He tumbled forward, into a table that had been bolted to the floor. “Wizard!”

Direfang pulled himself up and leaned against the table. He could barely stand upright in the room, less than an inch separating the top of his head from the ceiling. Everything was polished mahogany, smelling and looking rich-the table, desk, the large bed from which the wizard was rising. At the back of the room, windows looked out onto the sea; the roiling waves setting the hobgoblin’s stomach to spinning.

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.

“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.

Grallik staggered toward Direfang, finding a lashed water barrel to hold on to. “You should’ve ordered him to stop … told the captain to keep them all here. This storm is bad enough.”

Direfang closed his eyes and fought to stay conscious. The tumultuously rocking deck was sapping his strength and making him dizzier by the minute. The wizard continued to shout at him, but the hobgoblin shut out the words, listening instead to his own pounding heart.

“A horrible mistake,” Direfang muttered.

“What’s a mistake?” Grallik shouted.

“This. All of this. Captain Gerrold just told me that Shinare’s Prayer went down in the storm. Well more than five hundred goblins lost, wizard. Well more than that.”