Teldin dodged a hack from his bullheaded opponent, then lunged forward to drive the beast away from Luciar. With an easy swing of its axe, the minotaur swatted Teldin’s thrust aside and struck back with lightning quickness. The beast-man’s blade sliced through shirt and cut a bloody gash across Teldin’s chest. He hardly noticed the pain and lunged again, just as Gomja had taught him, aiming for the minotaur’s exposed shoulder. The thrust was rewarded with another howl of pain.
“How much longer?” Teldin shouted to Cwelanas as he pulled the blood-stained spear back. He was strong and fit, but already his lungs were sore from the exertion.
As if to answer, Luciar’s voice rose in pitch and volume. Complex syllables floated over the din, then, all at once, they were replaced by a sizzling roar. The noises of battle- the grunts, bellows, clangs, even the wails of the wounded and dying-were muted. A blast of heat seared the farmer’s beard-stubbled face and burned his hair. At the same time, the farmer was dazzled by the flames. Fortunately, the minotaur facing him was in a similar muddle.
Teldin shielded his eyes and was amazed to see a curtain of fire ripple down the gunwale of the minotaur ship. The flames leaped and dodged in strange colors of blue, green, and gold, yet held their rippling shape as a wall separating the two vessels. Already the grappling ropes and gangways smoldered with fire. At the near end, the curtain abruptly bulged then parted as a minotaur, cloaked in flame, crashed through the blazing wall and howled in piteous agony as it plummeted into the sea below. The salty waves quenched its pain with a steaming hiss. Overhead, covetous fingers of fire reached upward for the pirate’s red sails.
The spell’s effect was profound. The shouts and screams began anew, though with a much different tenor than before. A ragged cheer went up from the elves as they quickly recovered from their astonishment. The tide had turned against the minotaurs. With reinforcements cut off, those bull-men that remained on deck were quickly being surrounded and overwhelmed. The elves showed no quarter, and the minotaurs, realizing this, made desperate attempts to escape by plunging over the side or furiously wading into the midst of their attackers. Gomja, bellowing an alien war song, cheerfully walked into the battle, his attempts at organizing a boarding party pointless now.
His own opponent still distracted by the spell, Teldin seized the opportunity and drove his spear past the beast’s lowered guard, slipping the point in deeply just under the jaw. The minotaur gave one last strangled cry and crashed off the afterdeck. It hit the deck below with a bone- breaking crack and hung limply, half over the side. Not wasting time gloating over one victory, Teldin turned to help Cwelanas, only to see her strike a deathblow to her opponent. The giant creature toppled sideways and broke through the flimsy railing along the edge. At the last instant, the near nerveless fingers reached out and seized the elf maiden by the hair, and as Cwelanas screamed in shock and terror, the dying minotaur pulled her over the side. Their splash barely echoed over the noise.
Teldin instinctively ran to the edge. Ripples were already spreading on the ocean’s surface where the pair had plunged. There was no sign of Cwelanas or her captor. Teldin dropped his spear, gulped a huge breath, and dove. The arc carried the farmer just clear of the hull and he sliced into the warm water. The salt stung his eyes, but Teldin kept them open, searching for the submerged elf until he saw shapes sinking into the gloom below. Driving with his legs and arms, the human swam after them.
As Teldin went deeper and deeper, the pressure built, squeezing his head and ears. His lungs began to hurt. Vision dimmed, whether from the depth or lack of oxygen, he had no idea. Then his hand brushed a supple skin of metal. Teldin groped frantically and caught a hem of Cwelanas’s chain mail, then pulled, trying to reverse his descent. He was horrified to realize that he, too, was being dragged down. He kicked harder, his oxygen-deprived lungs tearing in his chest. The chain mail wriggled and jerked in his grasp. They sank farther. Beneath him Cwelanas kicked one more time, then went limp. Darkness closed around his eyes and his ears throbbed with pressure, but Teldin gave one last try, knowing that if he couldn’t free Cwelanas this time, he would have to let go. With his last effort, he found them rising-ever so slowly.
Teldin fought to gain the surface. His eyes burned, and the cut across his chest felt on fire as the saltwater mingledwith blood. The searing pain kept him conscious, until finally the water broke over Teldin’s face. With a frantic gasp, the human gulped air and half-choked as saltwater splashed into his mouth. He paddled furiously, forcing Cwelanas’s head above the waves, and swam for the Silver Spray, barely visible through a pain-induced haze. The ship was the only thing he could focus on.
When he finally did reach the Silver Spray, the elves were already at the side, fishing out their fallen comrades. Teldin thumped against the hull and eager hands seized him and his load. The farmer’s body went limp as his spent mind could comprehend nothing further.
Teldin realized he was lying chest down and soaking wet on the deck as Gomja knelt over him, gently massaging the saltwater out of the farmer’s lungs. The giff gave a gentle push and Teldin coughed and choked. Somewhere he heard one of the elves say, “That is a good sign.” It certainly did not feel like one.
Gradually Teldin saw Cwelanas lying on the deck beside him, one of the elves firmly massaging her back. At first, nothing happened. The elf looked at his fellows with concern, then applied himself more furiously to the task. Finally there was a strangled cough, then another. A small, murmured prayer of thankfulness rose from the onlookers.
It was some time later that Teldin was finally able to sit up. He leaned against a mast, watching the elves work on Cwelanas. The risk of death had passed and she was slowly regaining a little strength and color. Finally able to comprehend what was going on around her, she choked out a question to her attendant. The elf listened, then pointed toward Teldin, causing a baffled look to pass over the elf maiden’s face. At last she croaked, barely loud enough for Teldin to hear, “I have you to thank for my life. I may have misjudged you.” She weakly stretched a hand to him.
Teldin gave a feeble shrug, triggering a coughing fit. “Maybe,” was all he could think to say. He leaned forward and took her hand in his. Neither had the strength to squeeze. “Humans sometimes do that, too,” he allowed with a sardonic smile. She gave a half-smile back, then they both collapsed into sleep.
Later, Teldin, wrapped in his mysterious cloak against the ocean’s salt spray, watched from the deck as the elves checked the last of the brails on the new mainsail. At a shouted command, the folds of canvas dropped, billowing out to catch the wind. The Silver Spray, battered and limping but once again under full sail, neared the headlands of Sancrist Isle two days after the nearly disastrous encounter with the minotaur pirates.
Thanks mainly to Luciar’s spell, the elves had won the battle. The sheet of flame raised by the old captain’s conjuring had ended the bloody assault. Those minotaurs who had been trapped on board were not offered any quarter, and instead were cut down by archers in the rigging. By the time Teldin and Cwelanas were rescued, the fight had been all but over. The surviving pirates had stayed to their own vessel, too busy battling the blaze aboard their raider to keep the Silver Spray from limping away. Since there had been no pursuit, it became apparent that the beasts had no desire to taste elven magic again.