He and the troll tumbled to the deck, Androosis rolling fully atop the diminutive creature, freeing up his left hand for punch after punch, trying to get his hand past the troll’s flailing arms.
Toniquay tried hard to shut out the tumult around him and concentrate on his spellcasting. He called upon the ancient gods of his people, upon Drawmir of the North Wind, gathering the offered power in his hands as he put them up over his head and began moving them harmoniously in a circle. He opened his eyes when Canrak cried out in pain, and saw a spear stabbing through the navigator’s shoulder-and saw, too, yet another troll leaping high out of the water to the side of the boat. Its trajectory would have brought it crashing against Toniquay, but he reacted by thrusting his hands out in the troll’s direction, throwing forth the gathered wind.
The flying troll looked like it had been flung by a sling, suddenly reversing direction and spinning back out over the water. It landed awkwardly, with a great splash. Toniquay paid it no more heed, turning his attention to the more immediate fighting, and to the sail.
The sail.
The shaman worked his hands again, more quickly and less powerfully this time, and filled the sail with a conjured gust of wind, swiftly driving the boat out toward the deeper water.
He did it again, and a third time, but then he went flying forward as a troll sprang onto his back, clawing at his face and bearing him down to the deck.
Androosis finally got a punch cleanly through, smashing the troll’s face, and the back of its head cracked hard against the wooden deck. Clearly dazed, the creature slowed momentarily, enough for Androosis to set his broken hand below him and lift himself up. He reached back behind him with his free left hand, then let himself fall as he thrust out below him, throwing all of his weight behind the punch.
The troll’s long and crooked nose shattered under the weight of the blow, and the creature again cracked its skull against the boat’s decking.
Androosis rolled off, seeing that the creature was finished, and, now nursing two injured hands, stubbornly regained his footing.
Canrak was down, the troll above him stabbing repeatedly with its crude spear. The poor tiller flailed and blocked, both his arms torn and shredded, blood covering him. More blood than Androosis had ever seen. More blood than Androosis would have ever believed possible from one skinny man.
He shook off the shock and charged back, kicking the troll off of Toniquay as he passed. He stumbled as he went under the sail, but didn’t let that slow him as he threw himself at the spear-wielder.
Forgetting his more serious wound, he slapped a backhand with his right, trying to grab the weapon’s shaft, but a wave of agony assailed him and he couldn’t hang on. That cost him dearly as he came against the creature in his successful tackle, for it managed to extract the spear and angle it so that it caught Androosis on the right hip and drove down.
Fires of pain exploded all along that hip and down his leg, but again he ignored them, forcing himself to understand the consequences of failure here. He bore the troll to the deck and went into a frenzy, battering it with his hands and arms, driving his knee against it hard. He took as many hits as he gave, and the troll even lurched upward, trying to bite him.
Androosis merely tucked his chin in low and drove his forehead right at that biting mouth. He cut himself open on the troll’s sharp teeth, but he smashed the creature into oblivion in the process.
Toniquay’s cry startled him and turned him shakily about, just in time to see the troll he had kicked leap up against the sail, thrashing at it with clawed hands. Toniquay came in fast behind.
Too fast, for as he collided against the troll, it thrust forward and the shaman could not halt his momentum. Both he and the troll went through the sail, tearing the fabric as they went. They hit the deck hard and rolled apart, and the troll sprang up and rushed to the side, right over the side, taking with it the bulk of the sail!
Androosis and Toniquay exchanged horrified looks, and both started for the side rail, until the cry of the remaining paddler turned them back toward the prow, where the poor man was being hauled by a pair of trolls.
Toniquay turned fast and began waving his arms to summon his magic. But then he lurched and doubled over and grasped at the spear that had hit him in the gut.
Androosis staggered past him, but knew he would not get to his companion in time, and he could only gasp and look on helplessly as the two trolls and the Alpinadoran rolled over the prow and disappeared under the water.
Behind Androosis came another splash, and he turned to see that the troll he had smashed had also gone over. He slumped down next to Toniquay, saw the spear embedded in the shaman’s gut, and had no idea of how he might help the man.
A sudden jerk on the boat had him back to his knees, looking aft with concern at the long line he hadn’t completely brought in. He crawled to it and peered out, to see the paddler bobbing along behind them, apparently caught in the hooks. Androosis grabbed the line and began hauling the man toward him, but he knew before he got the poor man against the taffrail of the boat that he was too late. He grabbed the man by the shirt and half hauled him over, but as the man’s head lolled back, Androosis stared into wide-open, lifeless eyes.
Horrified and gagging on bile, Androosis dragged the man up higher on the rail. But he lost his grip and fell backward onto the deck and lay staring up at the sky. Beside him, Canrak whimpered pitifully, and amidships, near the mast and torn scraps of sail, Toniquay growled and grunted.
Androosis felt consciousness slipping away. He fought against it and lifted his head to regard the man half hanging over the back of the battered boat. He tried to reach out and grab the man, but he found that he could not, found that he was inexorably sinking backward to the deck.
He stared up at the sky, but he saw only blackness.
PART TWO
Perhaps it is because in order to simply survive I had to remain so much more in tune with the workings of my body, or perhaps it was my Jhesta Tu training, but whatever the reason, I find that I am more apt than the average person to understand the subtle clues offered to me by my unconscious soul. So many things we reveal to ourselves without ever realizing them!
The lightness of my step when I departed Palmaristown, for example, whether in the guise of the Stork or in that of the Highwayman, buoyed me; I felt as if I could leap a hundred feet off the ground. With the road straight before me to Chapel Abelle, the hopes of seeing this man, my father, Bran Dynard, filtered throughout my being and lifted my spirit.
Consciously, I wasn’t even thinking about such things. Consciously, I told myself, berated myself, that this entire journey was no more than procrastination. The real road was south and east, but I was-deliberately-a long way from there.
But despite my pangs of guilt, I felt that buoyancy clearly and acutely, a sense of excitement, and not just because I had successfully deflected and delayed facing my deepest fears. Nay, on this road to the mother church of the Abellican Order, I felt as if I was moving forward on my journey, as if I was taking a very important and exciting stride.
I wondered if I was betraying Garibond, my beloved father-in-practice, who had raised me and tolerated my infirmities without complaint, who had loved me without condition and without embarrassment. My road seemed to be leading me to the man who had sired me, and my road was walked with eagerness, so what did that reflect upon Garibond and his sacrifices?
And what did I really expect from this man, Bran Dynard?