Hearing a sharp creak coming from the door, J’role turned to see a huge gash running down its center. Releana also turned to look, then began working faster. After three more loud thumps came from the door, the bolt began to bend. Releana had just finished her work and huffed over to the crates, ducking behind them with the others. It looked to J'role as if she were still holding a piece of invisible string.
"Never mix magical elements," she said with a mischievous smile. "Very unstable.”
She waved her hands as if about to cast a spell, but Captain Patrochian interrupted, holding up a long green finger. ”I wouldn't want anyone to miss the show," she said with grim humor.
At that moment the door crashed open. The captain dropped her hand and Releana let loose her spell. Flames jumped from her fingertips, each one like a flying mouse made of fire, all rushing about in the air on their own little errands as they followed the path of the elemental air Releana had tied all around the room.
J'role stared at the mutineers, all of whom looked totally surprised. Then the captain grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him down behind the crates.
One explosion after another ripped through the room, bathing the walls in harsh red light.
Screams and the shriek of wood ripping apart filled the air, following by the sound of rushing water. J'role unfolded himself and felt water spray over him.
"Out! Out!" cried the captain. Everyone scrambled up from behind the crates. Water rushed up like a fountain from the hole in the center of the hold and more water poured in from the hole on the side of the ship. Water already covered the floor completely, spilling into the two adjoining rooms through the holes created from the blast. The corpses of the three mutineers who had charged into the room lay on the floor, the blood from their ruined bodies seeping into the flood.
As three more mutineers tried to rush into the room, Captain Patrochian jumped forward, her sword flashing, and drove them back. "GET OUT!" she screamed at J'role and the others.
"A captain abandons last," said the questor quickly. "If we want her to leave, we'll have to get off first."
The water was already ankle-deep, and still rushing in fiercely. J'role had no idea how they would fight their way through the pressure of the water. He felt hands suddenly grab him, and heard the questor shout, "Hold your breath!" J’role had just enough time to grab some air and close his mouth before the t’skrang were stuffing him out through the hole in the side of the ship. The water rushed against face, forcing his eyes closed.
Suddenly the pressure against him changed to become a pull back into the ship. Opening his eyes he saw that he was in the water, the surface only a few feet above him. Shining through it, the bright sun shimmered and wavered in and out of focus. He moved his arms and legs, trying to swim as the captain had instructed when they'd been setting up the fire-coals.
But the water rushing into the Breeton pulled him back. He slammed into the hull of the vessel, and then started to crawl along the ship, trying to get away from the breach. His lungs began burning for air. He almost gasped instinctively, but years of resisting the impulse to open his mouth kept him from doing so now.
Hands grabbed him, and then he did gasp, water rushing into his throat and down into his lungs. He tried to scream, afraid death had finally caught up with him. A moment later he broke the surface of the river. He coughed up the water he'd swallowed, and air poured back into his lungs, sweet and wonderful. The sailor from the storeroom floated alongside him. "All right?” he asked awkwardly, as if not familiar with the dwarven tongue.
J'role nodded, looked around. The Breeton towered above, already listing in their direction. Releana, Captain Parochial, the questor, and the sailor who had helped him all bobbed nearby in the water.
– '”Yistorl!" cried the captain to the t'skrang sailor. “Take J'role. I'll help Releana." The sailor took J'role under his arms from behind. Then, with J'role resting against his stomach, he started swimming on his back away from the Breeton. J'role turned his head and saw another ship, probably the Chakara, approaching. With the t'skrang doing most of the work, the group began moving quickly toward the Chakara.
Nothing happened for a few minutes, and J'role thought that their greatest worry would be getting to the Chakara before the t'skrang tired. But then he saw red flames blossom from the Breeton and fireballs cut through the late afternoon sky. Most of them arced overhead, flying toward the Chakara, but some fell short, splashing into the water around them. Thick pillars of steam rose up, towering over them, and the water became uncomfortably hot.
Under the captain's encouragement, the t'skrang swam on, slowed by their young companions, but pressing on nonetheless. The Breeton, now listing sharply, turned, changing its course to run them down. If anything would save them, it was that the ship would be considerably slowed by the water it was now taking on.
Though the Breeton did not rush toward them as fast as Nikronallia surely would have liked, it did gain on them. J'role thought it only a matter of time before the ship overran them, catching them in its wake and then throwing them against the paddle wheels to be battered and crushed to death.
His mind had ample time to turn the image over and over, until, unexpectedly, shadows loomed above and behind him. Startled, J'role jerked his body around and fell off the sailor into the water. When he spun around, he saw a group of t'skrang in a long, low boat. The Chakara had sent out a boat to help them!
Some of those aboard shouted words in the t'skrang tongue and began helping the group into the boat. A sailor extended his hand toward J'role, and soon they were all aboard.
The Chakara’s sailors grabbed oars and began rowing as quickly as they could. Still the Breeton followed, bearing down on the small craft as it raced toward the Chakara. Both Ships began shooting balls of flame at one another, and as the long boat neared the Chakara more and more of the Breeton's fireballs splashed nearby.
J 'role looked forward and saw the Chakara turning about, realizing he'd been wrong about the intent of the Breeton. The ship wasn't trying to run him and the others down. It was tong to intercept the Chakara. The long, sharp prongs that extended from the bow of the Breeton loomed near now.
As the Chakara turned, the ship's sailors dropped rope ladders down to the longboat.
Shouts of encouragement and cheers of enthusiasm filled the air as the sailors waved the crew of the long boat and J'role's companions up the ladders. They had only begun working their way up the ladders when a fireball crashed into the stern of the longboat, shattering it and igniting the remains. Spurred on by the heat, they all rushed up the ropes and again Releana and J'role were aided by the t'skrang.
J'role had just put his feet on the deck of the Chakara when the ship shook violently. He looked to his right and saw the Breeton towering above; its prongs had pierced the hull of the Chakara.
Immediately dozens of t'skrang sailors swung overhead, slashing with their swords as they passed one another. With the t'skrang in their bright, gaudy clothes, the scene looked like a produce cart had overturned sending fruits and vegetables flying wildly through the air. Cries and shouts and curses rang out. The sailors landed with elaborate flips and dives and rolls on each other's ships. It was terrifying and glorious; deadly serious and absurd. A gurgle of giddy excitement rushed up J'role's throat, and he thought for a moment he might both cry and laugh.
A mutineer dropped down beside them, and the captain cut him through the abdomen without a thought. "I'll never have enough of this river," she said under her breath.
Suddenly the ship lurched again, this time to starboard. "The Breeton!" she cried. "It will drag us down as it sinks!" J’role looked over the side and saw that the Breeton's two prongs deeply embedded in the Chakara. When the prongs and the Chakara's breach reached water level water would pour into the Chakara's lower decks, plunging the ship down to the bottom of the river along with the Breeton.