He turned and stumbled away. He felt his life leaving him, and was suddenly terrified. An incredible loss came over him, for he had seen the elves and met Captain Patrochian and was on his way to Throal and no longer lived among the villagers who despised him, and had made friends with Releana…
For so much of his life he'd wanted to die, but now he wanted to live. He didn't know how things would turn out, if he would ever get his voice back, if he would ever truly be happy.. But he wanted to find out.
For the first time in his life he wanted to grow older and see what life held.
He stumbled across the room and pulled his hands away from the wound in his chest.
Alien and red, his hands caught the sun's light through the nearby window and turned bright and shiny.
He glanced back. Nikronallia approached, stalking carefully, forcing J'role into the corner. "Make it easier for both of us. I can finish you quick."
"He's right, boy," the creature in his thoughts said. "End it now. Surrender. Oh, did I ever tell you what happened when you were seven years old? I can't tell you unless you ask.
Part of a bargain."
J'role turned away from Nikronallia and shut his thoughts to the creature. Though it babbled and taunted him, he heard none of the words. The pain helped in this regard.
To his left was a window, its dozens of glass panes separated by wooden frames. Outside, hanging from some unknown point, the end of a rope.
He drew in a dry, raspy breath, then charged forward. As he smashed through the glass, J'role heard Nikronallia gasp from behind him. The sound of the shattering glass echoed terribly in his ears, and the shards cut across him like the elf queen's thorns.
Even as he jumped J'role drew the magic around him, extending his hands, becoming alone once more. He caught the rope as he flew forward, the momentum carrying him away from the ship. Below the water roiled wildly, brown and bubbling. He swung around the rear of the boat saw, the paddle wheel churning. He wanted to swing just above the wheel, but felt his grip already slipping. The pain tired his arms.
"Just let yourself die," the creature said.
Ahead J'role saw another rope. He could reach it. Maybe. He didn't know.
He tried to regulate his bathing, to calm himself. To focus only on the rope … The thief magic spoke to him: Need no one. Depend on no one. Love no one, and let none love you.
He drew in a breath, reached out a hand …
His rope jerked back, taking him just out of reach.
He stretched as far as he could.
Got it!
He looked up and saw Nikronallia slicing through the rope with his dagger.
J'role's hopes drained out of him like his blood. The rope snapped.
He floated for a moment, a thrilling sensation. Then drops lets of water splashed over him, and the air turned suddenly cool.
He slammed into one of the paddles, and for a moment the world turned black as his knife wound tore open wider. Moving hurt so much; J'role was desperate for a grip on something.
The paddle was wet and slick; eight feet across, too big to grip easily. His hands scrambled uselessly for a moment, then he put his trust in the magic. If he lived alone he could survive.
He had its He felt the wood grains under his skin. Even as the wheel spun, he found a grip on the edge.
Then the river washed over him. His throat filled with water, around him a world of water and swirling bubbles. The pressure of the water pushed him, and he clung to the paddle with all his strength, fearing that if he let go he would be slammed again and again by the other paddies turning.
"You're going to die now. Do you want to know what happened?"
He could not even think to answer.
Crack! The surface of the water. Light! Water splashed all around him as he gasped. The water around him ran red with his blood.
He felt dizzy. Knew he would pass out soon. A shadow far above, Nikronallia watching his demise. J'role pressed his cheek tight against the paddle. Wishing so much that his whole life had been different.
The paddle reached the top, then started back down to the water.
"Tell me," he thought.
The creature sighed. The memories flooded in …
The thing in the corner-the creature-said, "Give me the boy, I'll leave you and your husband alone."
"I can't."
"Think about it….
He crashed into the water, barely aware of his surroundings, the memories so sharp, so real….
Water.
"Will he know? I don't want him to know."
"Tell him you don't want him to talk about it. He'll only remember what he feels comfortable speaking about…."
Air again. He wanted to die now. He could not…. How could he live any longer?
A shadow from the sky. Death coming to finish him off, swinging down from the blue sky.
He welcomed death.
"Truly?" the creature asked, pathetic with hope.
Then an arm around his waist lifted him into the sky.
He had no idea what was happening, but surrendered to it.
He turned his head. Captain Patrochian's was looking straight ahead as she hung onto a rope with one hand.
Now they were on the upper deck. She lowered him gently, letting him lie on the ground.
She called for help, barking desperate orders.
J'role had to warn her somehow.
He reached up, grabbed her bright yellow sash with his right hand, staining it light pink with his blood. She looked down at him, and he strained his mind. How could he tell her?
A bitterness raced in, a fury at his mother …
His mother!
He could warn the captain now if not for his mother. He could have spoken all his life.
He could have lived his life!
Sailors rushed up around them now. "Relax, rest. Our healer will be here soon," Captain Patrochian said. Then she noticed the stab wound. "What happened?" she asked softly.
Nikronallia arrived on the end of a rope, landing gracefully. Whether the sailor heard the captain's question or not, J'role would never be sure, but without pause Nikronallia said,
"He tried to steal your ledgers and escape out the window, Captain. He drew a knife. We fought …" He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders as if to suggest the rest was obvious.
The captain looked into J'role's face. He could see her wavering. Releana arrived. She knelt down beside him, touching him gently. Panic overcame J'role, and his breathing quickened. He knew he had to do something-he might die at any moment. If he couldn't warn the captain, perhaps he could force Nikronallia to start the mutiny prematurely-
now-before all was in place. This might give them a chance, at least.
With the last of his energy J'role stood and rushed toward Nikronallia. No one expected the sudden movement, and he crashed into the first officer, knocking him to the ground.
The exertion almost made J'role black out, but he scrambled over Nikronallia’s body and pressed his mouth close against the slit that was the t'skrang's left ear.
The muscles in J'role's mouth and tongue let loose once more, and he babbled the sounds and cries and tortured noises of the creature. He pressed his lips against Nikronallia’s scaly skin, straining to keep the sounds as quiet as he could. The creature in his thoughts squirmed with pleasure.
Then hands were upon him and he cried out. Immediately he slapped his own hands against his mouth. His jaw and lips moved wildly against his palms, and he tasted his blood as he tried to force the sounds back down his throat.
Someone threw him to the deck, and he rolled over and saw Nikronallia get up, clutching at his head. The next instant the sailor had drawn his sword, pointing it at J'role.
His eyes revealed fury and hatred and a longing for a taste of vengeance.
"Nikronallia!" The captain cried.
Nikronallia hesitated, wobbling as if drunk, then sliced the air with his rapier and pointed the tip of his blade at the captain.