Deslock grunted at Royka. "Yes, I'm sure you meant Raven," he said, "but you should have known that Ticky was a mage as well. I mean, he's a
gnome. Of course he's a wizard."
The explorer heaved an enormous sigh. "But enough of that. Back to business. You see it as being a choice between being spotted by slavers and being spotted by pirates. Good to see such optimism." He stared at a thin trail of smoke rising from a dying fire on the opposite side of the deck. A breeze swirled the smoke into tatters as he watched. "The wind's picking up," said Deslock, unnecessarily. "We've still got one mast, and we have spare sailcloth in the hold. Look, there's even clouds in the distance now--we've got some wind, thank the gods. We can still limp about if we need to, and I think we do. Get someone in the crow's nest, looking for ships--or, preferably, an island where we can cut a new mast. Yes, Dave?"
This last was to a sailor hovering nearby. The man doffed his hat and spoke to Deslock in a low voice. When he was finished, the explorer's face looked very old for the briefest of moments.
"We've lost three of our Expedition, apparently," said Deslock. "Reeko Jalbrook, Alexis Moonspear, and old Ko'el. They're just missing. Dragon must have got them, gods help the poor bastards."
_______________________
Down below, a sailor's broken arm had made the Doctor realize he'd left his splinting kit in his cabin. He was needed in the mess hall to heal the wounded, but to do that he needed to find his materials--problematic.
Fortunately enough, Ticky entered the room, thankfully without injuries. Nex approached the gnome with great relief. "Thank the gods you're here!" he said in his fast, professional voice. "We need the help of a skilled hand. I can leave this chaos to you for a moment while I get the splints." He rushed past Ticky and down the corridor, heading for his room and his supplies.
Anyone listening in the hall after Nexaddo had entered his room would have heard a sharp exclamation soon after. Anyone fluent in gnomish would recognize the word as
A few moments later the gnome reappeared, holding a small saw. He made his quick way to the top deck, where he approached the Explorer. "...looks like a storm," Deslock was saying, "but I think it's going to miss us--yes, Doctor?"
Nexaddo delivered his breathless report. "Deslock, we are not looking good," he said. "I have counted six dead crew thus far, and I'm not sure how many more need care. They just keep coming in."
He paused, and shifted awkwardly for a moment. "I think you should know that the orc--Gris Axthorn, wasn't it? He didn't make it, and his body is lying on my bed."
Deslock glared furiously and rubbed his temples. "Four," he muttered.
"I'm, ah, not sure what to do with the body," Nexaddo confessed, after a moment's silence. "Bodies, I should say. There are more dead, I shouldn't just worry about the one that's lying in my cabin. Right. What would you have us do start doing with the bodies?"
Deslock sighed. "Arrange them as best you can," he said. "We'll give them proper sea-burials as soon as we are able. For now, Doctor, see to the wounded."
_______________________
_______________________
INTERLUDE
The wind howled and the rain lashed down, slashing sideways across the deck. The ship rose up a wall of water, burst through the top in a cloud of spray, and crashed down the other side, flinging the crew about to be caught by their safety lines. The ship's name could barely be seen through the driving rain, picked out in red paint on the bow.
Osprey, said the red letters, when they were visible. The captain had ceased shouting orders at his men, for no one could hear him over the sounds of wind and rain; instead, he had taken to singing. His voice rang out through the gale, sounding a defiant hymn.
The lookout yelled a warning, but no one heard him. Indeed, no one needed to, for what he saw was right before their eyes, rising out of the darkness of the storm. It was a mass blacker than the waters and the sky, solid and hulking. Men screamed, for surely this was the end of days, and surely here was a demon rising from the maelstrom, coming to crush the world.
The captain did not move an inch from his course. "Courage, men!" he roared, confidant in the invincibility of his ship and himself. "O come all ye gods, ye Guardian, Judge and Fist! Rise up, all ye angels!"
The ship rose on a wave, towering above the black mass, and the captain bellowed the song. "
Rise up! Rise again, to heaven's gates, the host to bear me through!"
The
Osprey flew on the water, not even seeming to touch the sea. The wheel spun freely in the captain's hands, and it seemed to him as though he were indeed rising up, his ship taking wing and flying, spiting the very maw of the storm.
"
Rise up! he sang triumphantly, and the trees hit the
Osprey and cracked like gunshots as they tore out the bottom of the ship. The captain stood at the wheel, singing his hymn as the island tore his ship apart around him: and then the next wave came down, and there was nothing but silence.
The storm continued.
