Voyage of the Fox Rider (57 page)

“What?”

Alamar raised his voice. “I said, Pysk, I didn’t ask.”

Jinnarin was stunned. “You…didn’t…ask?”

“Have you lost your hearing, Pysk?”—Alamar’s voice was a near shout—“I say once more: I didn’t ask!”

Her eyes narrowed, and she gritted out through clenched teeth, “Alamar, how could you not ask?”

“Ha!” exclaimed Bokar. “Just as he did not ask about the location of the isle! Ten thousand things could happen between now and dawn tomorrow, yet this Mage—”

Aravan’s voice cracked out, “Armsmaster, ‘tis enough!”

Alamar puffed up to reply, but Aylis stepped before him. “Aravan is right, Father: ‘tis enough. Bickering among ourselves serves no end.”

Jatu squatted down beside the Pysk. “Regardless as to whether or no the crystal castle stands thereon, Lady Jinnarin, we are bound for the isle on the morrow. We will know soon enough.”

Throughout the evening the
Eroean
maintained station—first, drifting in the current, and then setting the jibs, stays, and spanker to return to the starting point, where they began drifting again. And as the Elvenship sailed and drifted and sailed and drifted, all those who would go to the island made ready for the journey. Not knowing where the goal lay, Bokar insisted that they take along three weeks of rations—mainly crue and kegs of water. Too, not knowing the threat they faced, he ordered the warband to take axes and warhammers and shields, as well as crossbows with enough quarrels to conduct a small war. To this they added climbing gear and several healer’s kits along with other miscellaneous field equipment.

That evening as well, Alamar called Jinnarin out from her under-bunk quarters and nearly apologized.

Jinnarin plopped down in the center of the floor and sighed. “I suppose Jatu is right. I mean, crystal castle or no, we are going there regardless.”

Alamar said nothing.

Jinnarin continued, “At least, you verified much of the sending.”

“Hmph,” grunted Alamar. “Don’t forget, I also arranged for us to be taken there.”

Rux came out from under the bunk and lay down beside his mistress. Jinnarin scratched him behind the ears. After a while she asked, “Did you see what Bokar is doing? If I knew no better, I would say we are setting out to conquer the world.”

“As much as he grates on my nerves, Pysk, what that Dwarf is doing is right,” said Alamar. “The island is an evil place, or so say the Children of the Sea, and I believe them. We don’t know just what Bokar and his warband may be called upon to do, or for that matter, any of us. We know not what foe may be on the isle. But whatever or whoever it is, we need to be ready.”

Jinnarin stepped to her quarters and then back out, the Pysk carrying her tiny bow and quiver of arrows. “This is the best I can do. Alamar. Though if the foe on the island is the same one that slew Ontah, well then, I’m not certain that even
my
arrows will be enough.”

The Great Swirl

Spring, 1E9575

[The Present]

I
n the hour before dawn, in the captain’s salon, Aravan held an officers’ meeting, Jinnarin, Aylis, and Alamar included. They reviewed the preparations and the order of the dinghies, seven in all to go on the expedition: In the first six boats, each would have six Dwarven warriors, one Human sailor, and a passenger—Bokar, Aravan, Alamar, Aylis, Jinnarin and Rux, and Jatu. The seventh and final dinghy would bear three Dwarves and three sailors. All dinghies would carry a proportionate share of the supplies. The Elvenship would be left with a crew of thirty-one, Human sailors all, Frizian in command. Aravan turned to Frizian. “Keep a sharp eye on the weed, Frizian. Let not the
Eroean
become entangled. Maintain this station and set sail only at need. Should a storm blow, hie thee a safe distance hence, and come back to the weed when all is done, taking this position once more.”

“Aye, Captain,” replied Frizian. “And should the black galley appear, what then?”

“Should it appear, let it be,” answered Aravan. “I deem it is likely well armed, and it will take all of us—sailors and warband alike—to put it down.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Alamar. “Mages too, Elf. If Durlok is aboard, magery will be needed, like as not.”

Aylis turned to the elder. “Father, should it come to a duel—”

“Should it come to a duel, Daughter, have we any choice at all?”

“Yes, Father, we do have a choice—we can run.”

Alamar’s cheeks puffed up, but before he could say aught, Bokar exploded: “Run? Run! Pah! There is no honor in running away like a cowardly cur with its tail between its legs.”

“Finally, Dwarf,” exclaimed Alamar, “finally something we agree on!”

Jinnarin leapt to her feet. “Well I agree with Aylis!” The Pysk’s cobalt gaze flicked back and forth between the Mage and the armsmaster. “I mean, you two would have us stand toe-to-toe with any foe and whale away until one or the other falls dead. Did you hear me? Until one or the other falls dead! And that could just as well be us as them.

“But my Kind has a saying: ‘When choosing how to fight, look not to the Bear but to the Fox instead, for cunning and guile will out.’ Many a time have we outwitted stronger enemies, defeating them by using our brains instead of our brawn.”

“Pah!” snorted Bokar, slapping the table. “That is because you are but a mite and have no brawn. All you
have
is cunning and guile—and a tiny bow with pin-prick arrows—whereas we Châkka have the strength of arms.”

A frown came over Alamar’s features, and he looked at Bokar and said, “Take care, Dwarf, for should you go against this ‘mite’ or one of her Kind, you will see just what those pin-prick arrows can do.”

The Mage turned to Jinnarin. “Nevertheless, Pysk, Bokar is right. Only the weak run.”

Aylis peered at the low-burning astral fire in her father and said, “Exactly, Father, and that is why we must follow Jinnarin’s advice and outwit the foe. Seldom if ever does strength alone defeat true cunning and guile.”

Jatu laughed. “Aye, always should one use cunning and guile. Even so, at times strength need be added to the mix, while at other times pure trickery.”

Aravan leaned forward on his hands. “Enough. The manner in which a hazard is fared depends upon the hazard. Let us not sail those waters until we come to them.”

As the meeting had progressed, the
Eroean
’s gangway
was brought up from the hold and affixed to the larboard of the ship. Seven dinghies were lowered to the sea and tethered to the foot of the ramped catwalk. Sailors and Dwarves stood by, waiting. Finally, onto the deck came Jinnarin and Rux and Alamar, Aylis and Aravan, Jatu, and Bokar. All were armed but Alamar and Aylis…and Rux, if fang and claw counted not. Frizian came out with them, the second officer unarmed as he was remaining aboard the Elvenship.

As the Sun lipped the horizon, the mizzenmast lookout called, “Dolphin, Cap’n! Dolphin off the port stern!”

Leaping through the water coursed a pod of five dolphin, racing in a file toward the
Eroean
. Swiftly they came onward and then abeam—their line carrying them a distance out from the Elvenship—and then they sped beyond. They took up station some two hundred yards past the bow of the ship, once again in a ring, though spread wider than before, their dolphin voices chattering and clicking and calling to one another over the slow-rolling swells.

Aravan turned to Alamar. “Mayhap thou shouldst have a crew row thee out to where the dolphin—”

“Cap’n!—oh, Adon!—Cap’n!” called the foremast lookout. “Off the bow! Som’thin’ monstrous large comin’ up from the bottom!”

“Kruk!” snarled Bokar. “Warriors to the ballistas!”

As Dwarves sprang toward the missile casters, Aravan dashed toward the foredeck, Jatu on his heels, Bokar coming after. Aylis, too, ran forward. But swiftest of all was Rux, the fox racing ahead, Jinnarin on his back.

As the Pysk leapt to the stemblock, Aravan sprang up the steps behind, the Elf having outdistanced all but the fox. Jinnarin peered to the fore, and out midst the dolphin ring she could see a great stirring and churning, water roiling in agitation, a vast upwelling, as if something immense rose from below, pushing weed and water upward as it came, waves rolling out over the sea. Aravan joined the Pysk, and then Jatu and Bokar and Aylis arrived. In that moment a gigantic rounded form emerged—smooth and heart-shaped and dark green, water runnelling down—and standing atop was a jade-hued figure with fins along his sides and flowing silver hair.

Once again had come a Child of the Sea, but this time he brought with him a creature of the deep. A head emerged—wedgelike and huge and ending in a beak, and bearing two ebon-dark eyes. A flipper as well swashed through the water.

“Captain,” breathed Jatu, “we look upon the father of all—”

“Or the mother—” interjected Aylis.

“Cap’n,” called down the foremast lookout, “I see it plain. ‘Tis a sea turtle, big as an island no less!”

Bokar stared at the figure riding the immense tortoise. “Is that—?”

“Call off your dogs, Bokar,” barked Alamar, the Mage just now reaching the foredeck. “I think we look upon a
¡th!rix
, for that is Nalin on its back. And see”—two more figures clambered into view—“Imro and Rania join him.”

Alamar turned to Aravan and Jinnarin. “Come with me, you two, and meet our escort. It will set their minds at ease to see who fares on this mission. They know you, Elf, as a Friend—they can sense your token. And Pysk, with you along—a Hidden One—it should assuage them, for they, too, remain hidden for the most part from those they term ‘destroyers.’”

“Destroyers?” asked Jinnarin.

“Mostly Humans, I think,” replied Alamar.

“Oh, I see,” said Jinnarin, “and agree.” She looked out to where the Merfolk waited. “I think you are right, Alamar; I should go meet them now. Rux, too.”

Alamar sighed. “All right, Rux, too.”

“Who will row?” asked Jatu. Before any could respond, he answered his own question: “I say it shall be me and Bokar—”

“Then I will come as well,” interjected Aylis.

Alamar threw up his hands and said, “Why not? Why not the whole bloody crew?”

Dwarves and Men surged forward, but Aravan put out a hand and said, “Nay. We would not have them disappear under the waves. I deem that we seven shall go first and accustom them to our presence.”

Bokar turned to Kelek. “At my signal, bring all other boats and crew.”

The seven entered the first dinghy and headed toward the gigantic turtle: Jinnarin and Rux in the bow, Alamar at their side; Bokar and Jatu next and rowing; Aylis and Aravan in the stern, Aravan plying the steering oar.

Steadily they drew across the weedy water, and as they neared, curious dolphin swam alongside and regarded those in the boat, especially Rux, and chattered and called. For his part, Rux excitedly eyed the dolphin, his head bobbing up and down and side to side, his nose taking in their scent, the fox turning to Jinnarin and whining, as if to ask for guidance. Jinnarin laughed and stroked his head, the fox turning his attention back to these denizens of the sea.

Now they passed through the ring of dolphin and drew near the turtle, the hard-shelled reptile floating at the surface and drifting with the slow current. It was an immense creature, spanning some forty feet from side to side and fifty or sixty in length. Dark green was its carapace and splotched here and there with mosslike growth. Great paddle flippers could be seen, occasionally stirring the water. And it turned its head as the dinghy drew near, a great ebony eye fixed upon those within.

Atop the tortoise, the three Merfolk stood, clothed in nought but their silver hair and their pale jade skin. Their stance was guarded, though somewhat haughty: Nalin in the fore, facing them, his fists on his slender hips; to the right stood Imro sideways, his back to Nalin, his arms crossed defiantly, peering over his left shoulder at those in the boat; Rania stood on Nalin’s left, her hands on her hips as well. Three pair of large, catlike green eyes peered at the seven with chary curiosity—lighting with a hint of surprise upon seeing Jinnarin and Rux—though when their gazes fell upon Jatu and Bokar, they became wary, distrustful.