smile. She shuddered and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to clear the memories.
Ren'erei went in front of her, shoving others aside as she pulled her on towards the deck. The shouts were louder but there was no ring of steel. Not yet. They burst into the chaotic spread of running feet, flailing limbs and the thrum of bow strings. A pool of blood was spreading across the deck.
Erienne let Ren'erei pull her right and they skirted the wheel deck, heading away from the fight to come and ran up a narrow gangway to the stern of the ship.
'Right,' she said, stopping and turning to her. 'Don't think about it, just get up on the rail and jump over the side. I'll be right behind you. The water's choppy but warm enough. We'll move along the Elm and into the next berth to another vessel. All right?'
Erienne looked at her, eyes completely uncomprehending. Below them, the water which rocked the ship was dark and menacing. She stared down into the blackness, seeing it move, writhing, waiting for her to leap into its clutches and suck her down.
She swallowed hard, fighting back a sweep of nausea. Her head swam.
'Isn't there a boat?' she asked, unable to grasp what she was being asked to do.
'No,' she said sharply. 'There isn't time. Come on, Erienne, please. We'll be fine. I won't let you go.'
The stern of the ship was high and, despite being below the wheel deck, the drop was still almost twenty feet. She could hear the water slapping against the hull and it sounded so distant. She could imagine only too well the cold as she hit its surface and the enveloping as she submerged. And then those hands, waiting to drag her down, to keep her kicking under the surface until her lungs exploded and she had to draw breath but take in only water. Then she would choke, try to gulp more, cough and scream but none would hear her and she would submit to the will of the sea, forever a prisoner of the depths.
'Erienne, what's wrong?' Ren'erei had grabbed her, spinning her shaking body around, the elf s strength surprising.
'I can't,' she managed, her breath ragged. T can't.'
From behind them, shouts rose and the unmistakable ring of swords clashing echoed into the night.
'You've got to,' urged Ren. 'If they take the ship, they'll take you. We cannot risk you.'
'But you'll throw me into the lake instead? No.' She turned away again and grabbed the rail, knuckles whitening.
'What are you scared of?' Ren'erei turned her around, gently this time. 'Please, Erienne. We must do this.'
'I won't be able to see what's beneath me,' she said, sure that Ren wouldn't understand her fear, would think it stupid. 'Please don't make me do this.'
The elf fell silent and Erienne could see her thinking hard. A frown creased her forehead and her eyes narrowed. She shook her head.
'I shouldn't do this but…'
Ren moved fast. Too fast for Erienne to react. The elf bent, picked her up just below the waist and levered her over the side.
The elven bows flexed again but the Black Wings were massing, ignoring their other planks to concentrate on the one that the crew could not shift. They had forced a wedge on the deck and the hand-to-hand fighting grew in intensity. The remaining crossbows fired, a bowman took a bolt clear through the chest, he fell, clutching at the metal, agonised cry unanswered by his friends who were fighting for their ship and their lives.
Tryuun took a blow comfortably on his shield and struck back, meeting solid defence. His opponent came again, punching forward with his shield and sweeping left to right with his blade. Tryuun swayed back, taking one reverse pace, easily evading the push. The enemy moved in but didn't strike again right away.
Tryuun looked left and right: the crew of the Elm was in a loose semi circle around the Black Wings, ten of whom had made the deck with more on the gangplank. A moment's confusion cleared. He knew what they wanted, and he didn't have enough elves to stop them.
Another volley of crossbow bolts and the last bowman fell. A shout rang up from the shore and the Black Wing swordsmen pressed forward but hardest of all to the right-hand side. Engaged
in defence, Tryuun could do nothing as Black Wings smashed into the weakest part of their line. Pushing back his enemy, he winced as he watched a sword crash through the shoulder of an elf, blood fountaining into the sky, splattering the deck.
With the gap made, the Black Wings surged into the space, taking much of the deck while the rest of their number thundered up the gangplank and on to the ship. They would soon be surrounded. Tryuun called to the Captain and forged forward once again.
Ren'erei hurdled the rail immediately after, making barely a ripple as she landed in the water below. But Erienne hadn't fallen. Flailing her arms in panic, she'd caught the rail and hung over the stern of the ship, too scared to drop but unable to pull herself back on board the ship.
There was a roar from the other side of the wheel deck. Below her, Ren'erei called up, her voice, though soft, carrying easily.
'Come on, Erienne, we're losing the ship. You've got to do it now. There's nothing down here but water and safety.'
'I'm coming,' she said, aware her voice must sound feeble. Shutting out the images of the hell beneath the waves, the grasping hands and the world closing in as she drowned, she got ready to loosen her grip.
She felt the touch of steel on her neck and a strong hand gripping her arm.
'Let me save you,' drawled a voice that chilled her blood. 'In fact, I insist.'
She looked up, saw the face above her, and screamed.
Chapter 21
Darrick thundered into the Lysternan camp, shouting for Izack. The commander came running from the darkness. The General leapt from his horse.
Tzack, sound general alarm. I want this camp on horseback and ready to ride faster than you've ever done it before. Get a message to the Dordovans. Warn them away from the Ocean Elm. And if you can find our Dordovan mage guides, tell them they are no longer welcome to ride with us.'
'Sir?' Izack frowned.
'Later. We have to get to the Elm. There's going to be real trouble, I think.'
'Sir!' Izack turned and ran, Darrick watching him order a young soldier to the bell and snap out orders that had men running for the paddocks, had tent flaps flying and set the camp alive with the sounds of neighing and snorting horses, chinking metal and a rising tide of urgent shouts.
Darrick turned and ran for the paddocks for a fresh horse, one of hundreds of men for whom speed was everything.
The paddocks looked like chaos incarnate but Darrick knew different. All the horses were picketed according to precise instruction and every man could find his mount with the very minimum of fuss and delay. Closer to, Izack, who had somehow got there ahead of him, was bellowing orders.
'Mounted cavalry leave the paddock area and form up by squads
at muster point one. One!' He held an arm aloft, fingers straight up,
to indicate to those who couldn't hear him. 'Move Lystern, move!'
Darrick grinned. That would hurt the Dordovan mages, if they had heard it. The mages who shadowed them everywhere with a haughty air and who, he noted, were now conspicuous by their
absence. If they had any remaining sense, they'd have left the camp already.
Dodging wheeling horses, the last saddles being hurriedly fixed and the flare of cloaks as riders swept up and over, Darrick ran on, his reserve mount held by his personal handler. The mare looked perfect in the torchlight, her coat shining, her head steady, bit and bridle polished. Like always. Nodding thanks, the General surged into the saddle, slipped his feet into the stirrups and kicked the horse on, vaulting the paddock fence and galloping to the muster point where he found Izack fretting.