He felt strong hands grip him as the salt water flooded his mouth and nose. His head cracked against something solid, either the deck or the gunwale, he did not know which. When the water subsided he came up coughing and dazed. Tenari released her grip on his arm. He leaned over the gunwale and emptied himself of the salt water he had swallowed.
When he looked up again Tenari stood impassively and another wave was building. He could feel the concern of the sailors. There was too much water in the hold. They could not pump fast enough. The ship sat low in the water, bloated and unwieldy. Althak had gone below to help.
They crossed another crest of a minor wave and Azkun caught a glimpse of the next mountain. It was half again the size of the last. Awan must have seen it too for Azkun felt his heart sink.
The storm was trying to kill him. It was mindless, impassive in its fury, and it was trying to kill him. They had killed the pig, they had killed the pirates, now the storm was going to kill them. His head throbbed and his vision blurred. In the pit of his stomach salt water sloshed and nauseated. He felt a warm trickle behind his ear where his head had struck wood.
Over another wave. The next mountain was closer now, he could see the foam on its crest, like the mouth of a mad beast. Lightning arced behind it, casting a strange bluish light across the grey sky and green waves. It was like dragon fire.
And Azkun knew what he had to do.
Ignoring the panic and the dizziness and the way the deck pitched and rolled beneath his feet, he stumbled towards the mast. Twice he slipped and fell on his face, jarring his head. He wept with pain and fear but he drove himself on.
He reached the mast and clambered up the rope ladder that hung there. Menish was suddenly grasping at his shoulder, shouting something that he could not hear over the storm. The boat lurched and Menish fell back. He hauled himself up the ladder. It was easier now. The motion of the boat swung his knuckles against the heavy mast but he was used to climbing the walls of the Chasm. This was not so different.
Moving as swiftly as he could he climbed to the top of the ladder where the spar joined the mast. He clutched the mast with both hands and placed his feet on the spar. Glancing down he saw Tenari making her way up the ladder. Menish stood at the bottom of the mast, he looked to be calling to him but Azkun could not even hear his voice.
The mountainous wave was almost upon them, rearing like some incarnation of evil, high above the height of the mast. He had a moment of sheer terror as it loomed but he fought it down. The dragons had not called him from the Chasm to die buried under the sea.
“Stop!” he cried against the storm, the terror and the red haze that began to cloud his vision. “Stop! I command you to stop in the name of the dragons!”
A clap of thunder overhead punctuated his words, and lightning lashed down. Blue fire like dragon fire engulfed him in a cloud of flame.
The great wave appeared to hesitate in its downward plunge, as if uncertain whether to engulf the ship or not. Then, incredibly, it seemed to subside before them, lifting the ship easily across its back.
Behind it the wind lessened and, though the waves were still large, there were no more giants in sight.
Azkun clung to the mast as if it were the only thing he was sure of. He was sick and dizzy and everything was coloured with a red haze. The lightning had not harmed him but the blows to his head were taking their toll. He did not think he could climb down, so he clung on where he was.
Again Tenari rescued him. He felt her strong hands unclasp his grip on the mast and half carry him through the red fog onto the ladder. Moments later he heard Althak’s voice above the storm.
“I have him, yes.”
The red fog turned black.
*
When he awoke the sun shone in his face and his head ached behind his left ear. Opening his eyes he saw Tenari leaning over him, her face expressionless and her mind as blank as ever. Althak sat on the other side, his large body partially shading him from the now bright sunlight. Concern showed in his eyes. He moved so that his shadow fell across Azkun’s face and smiled grimly.
“Awake at last?” he asked. “Your head leads a precarious life, my friend. Here, drink this.” He held a leather bottle to Azkun’s lips and squeezed it. Before he could help it Azkun had swallowed a mouthful of water. His mouth was dry and it felt refreshing to have the cool liquid flowing down his throat. He opened his lips again and received another mouthful. As he swallowed he thought about what he had done. Until the storm he had only endured the evil in the world. But, for the first time, he had fought it. He had called on the dragons and they had answered. The evil could be conquered.
Another mouthful. Water was not a living thing, it did not die so he had not compromised his vow to neither eat nor drink. Yet something nagged in his mind. To drink even water made him dependent on the world, dependent on corruption, where he wanted to be dependent only on the dragons. He closed his mouth and shook his head.
“You took a heavy blow. How do you feel now?”
He croaked back that his head ached but he was otherwise well.
“No ill effects from the lightning? No? I checked for burns and was not surprised to find none. It's strange that you suffer knocks and scrapes like anyone else yet you're proof against more spectacular harms.”
“Dragons, dragon fire,” said Azkun, his voice still weak.
“It was lightning, not dragon fire.” He shrugged. “Not that the difference matters. Both are equally deadly to all but you. But why did you climb the mast? One does not remain on the masthead during a storm. Unless you wanted to be struck by lightning?”
“No, the dragons calmed the storm.”
Althak looked at him strangely for a moment, then nodded slowly.
“I wondered. The wave would have engulfed us. I was certain it would. You stopped it?”
“The dragons stopped it.”
“Nonsense,” Menish’s voice sounded from behind Althak. “I know little enough of the sea, but I've heard that waves grow and diminish as they will. Storms come and go quickly on this coast. Isn't that so, Shelim?”
Shelim was not far away either.
“It is so, M’Lord.” But there was doubt in his voice. Azkun could see that Althak, although he would not argue with Menish, did not agree with him.
The King squatted beside Azkun. The boat rocked only slightly now, but he placed a hand on the deck to maintain his balance.
“Azkun,” he said seriously. “You are a marvel, I don't doubt that for I've seen two marvels, three if we consider how long you have been without food. But I won't admit a fourth marvel while I have another explanation, for I don't necessarily like marvels.”
Azkun nodded, the action gave him pain but he saw that Menish had no animosity in his doubt.
“As for your head, you've recovered sooner than I expected for it was a vicious blow.” He smiled wryly. “More so than the one I gave you. Perhaps your ministering angel here has something to do with your recovery, though she's done nothing but sit and stare at you.”
“Don't tease her, Sire!” It was Keashil’s voice. He realised then that they had all gathered around him.
“You're right,” said Menish. “Your pardon,” he nodded in Tenari’s direction but she ignored him as if pardon was either irrelevant or impossible. He shrugged and returned her attitude. “At least Gilish was never struck by lightning.”
“But he did calm the sea twice, and three times he called storms,” said Hrangil.
Keashil spoke in a strange voice.
“‘ Power over sky, power over sea, power over the air. These are the marks of the magician.’”
Menish frowned.
“You know it?”
“They were said over and over to me as a child so that I'd always have their comfort.”
“In Anthor the Scriptures are not for women,” Hrangil remarked sourly.