Dhamon struggled to his feet, carrying Groller under the armpits. He staggered toward the railing, dragging the half-ogre with him. Going back was easier; the deck was tilting more in that direction.
“Dhamon!” Someone was calling for him, a woman. The voice was faint, and he couldn’t make out who it was. Feril? Usha? It wasn’t the kender—Blister’s voice was more childlike. Perhaps it was Fiona.
He wrestled with Groller’s body, pulling it up and propping it against the rail. He threw one of his legs over the rail, the one with the blackened scale. The scale shone through the numerous cuts in his leggings. It was one of the few spots not spattered with blood. The half-ogre was heavy, and Dhamon was growing increasingly weak. He hauled him up, and the rail snapped under their combined weight. Dhamon clutched Groller to him, and together they struck the water.
He felt himself sinking, the weight of the half-ogre pulling him down. Dhamon held tight to Groller and kicked hard. The saltwater stung his wounds and helped to revive him. It seemed to give him a burst of renewed strength. He heard sounds through the water, things he couldn’t describe but guessed were pieces of the galley falling into the harbor. Then suddenly his burden was lighter. Something or someone was helping him with Groller.
Dhamon’s head broke the surface, and he gulped in air. Feril swam at his side, helping to keep Groller’s head above the surface.
“He’s dying,” Dhamon managed to get out.
She waved an arm and whistled, and Dhamon heard the splash of oars. Finally he saw the small fishing boat cutting through the fog and smoke. Jasper leaned over the side, stretching his fingers out toward Groller.
The dwarf was singed and soaked, as well as exhausted. His face looked oddly pale in the firelight. “Bring... him... closer,” the dwarf gasped. Fury stuck his head over the side of the ship and howled. The wolf tried to jump in, but Fiona’s arms were locked around him.
“Is Groller all right?” Blister asked.
Feril and Dhamon struggled to pull Groller up over the edge of the small boat. Jasper touched the half-ogre’s face, closed his eyes, and worked to find the healing spark again. He’d spent the past several minutes tending to Rig, while struggling to hold onto the floating railing until the fishing boat came to their rescue.
The mariner had been seriously wounded, and it took most of the dwarf’s energy to heal Rig’s worst injuries and keep him alive. Jasper, too, was injured, as was Fiona, but neither were in danger of dying.
Groller was another matter. The dwarf coaxed his spark to grow stronger, searching for the half-ogre’s familiar life essence. It was weak and hard to find, like an ember growing cold. Groller was slipping from Krynn, as Goldmoon had slipped from the world. Jasper knew the half-ogre was injured worse than he had been in the cavern. Behind him Fury howled again, struggling against Fiona, and now Blister, too, as she helped to hold back the wolf.
“You’ll get in Jasper’s way,” Blister scolded Fury. “Stay here.”
Groller’s cheek felt unnaturally cold beneath the dwarf’s fingers. “No,” Jasper whispered. “I’ll not lose you, too. I can’t.” The dwarf barely clung to the side of the boat now, putting all his effort into his healing spell. “Don’t die on me. I saved you once. I can do it again.” He heard his own heart beating, thumping over the distant sounds of fire and men shouting. It beat in time with the choppy waves lapping against the side of the boat. The dwarf focused on the rhythm, using it to build the spark.
He felt a warmth radiating from his chest and slipping down his arm to his fingers and Groller’s face. He felt the fishing boat lurch.
“Jasper!” he heard Fiona shout. “Grab the boat!”
He made no move to do so, not wanting to interrupt his spell. He felt his free hand touch the water, then sink below it. He spilled over the edge of the boat and started to sink, but he made no effort to keep himself afloat. Everything was directed toward the spark and saving Groller.
Then Jasper heard the half-ogre gasp and felt Feril grab his stubby arms. Her legs churned. His eyes snapped open, and he saw Dhamon helping Fiona and Usha bring Groller into the boat. Fiona slipped over the side to make room for the half-ogre. Then her hands joined Feril’s in lifting Jasper out of the water. He was deposited next to Groller and Rig in the center of the boat.
“Jaz-pear good healer,” he heard Groller whisper, as he drifted off to sleep.
Feril, Dhamon, and Fiona trod water next to the fishing boat. The freed slaves were nearby in the water, some holding the edge of the fishing boat, others holding onto bits of broken, floating rails.
“What now?” Usha asked. “The shore’s too far for the slaves to swim.
“The carracks are all burning,” Blister said. “It’s my fault. I raised the anchor and let the ship drift into them. Then I fired flaming jugs at them. Kind of neat, huh?”
“You saved us,” Dhamon said. “Those knights would have joined the fight on the galley and killed us. There were just too many of them. This was not one of Rig’s better ideas.”
“There’s still one ship left.” Fiona pointed toward the east. “That little cog Feril saw.”
The Kagonesti grinned. “Yes! It stayed back when we set the galley on fire.”
“Then let’s make for it,” Dhamon said. “It’s closer than the shore. Let’s hope there aren’t very many knights on board. There can’t be. It’s pretty small.”
“And we’ve got people to man it!” Blister beamed, gesturing at the freed slaves.
“Only if they’re willing,” Feril returned. “Otherwise, we’ll put them ashore.”
“Let’s discuss this after we’ve taken over the cog,” Dhamon said. His voice was weak. He started swimming towards the cog. “If we can take it,” he added.
It seemed like hours before the fishing boat scraped and bumped against the seaward side of the cog. The smoke was still thick on the water; it cloaked them from the knights on board, most of whom were busy watching the fires from the far railing.
Dhamon squinted through the darkness, fighting to stay awake. The light from the fire didn’t reach this side of the ship. He pointed toward the bow. “I see an anchor rope. There’s our ladder up.”
“You’re not going,” Fiona whispered harshly. “You’re bleed-mg.
“I’m not hurt that badly,” the knight lied. “And I’m not staying in the water. It’s only a matter of time before the sharks show up.” He paused. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a weapon. I left the ones I borrowed on the galley.”
Feril guided the fishing boat to the anchor rope. Usha took a rope from under the middle seat and looped it around the cog’s anchor rope. “We won’t drift this time,” she said. Then she reached toward the center of the boat, fumbling with something. A moment later, she handed two daggers over the side to Dhamon. “Rig’s sword is on that burning galley, too. But I saw these sticking out of his boots. I don’t think he’ll mind.”
Dhamon grinned. Though it was dark, he could make out the pearl inlaid lilies on the black pommels. Rig must have expropriated them from a high-ranking knight. He stuck them in his belt and started up the rope, hand over hand. It took a lot of effort. As he neared the railing, he felt someone climbing up after him.
He let out a soft moan as he lifted himself over the side, and pressed a hand to his side. A wave of dizziness washed over him. He ached from his injuries.
Fiona was next. As she hit the deck, she drew her sword and looked toward the line of men against the far rail, all of their eyes trained on the burning ships. Feril silently slipped over the railing, and glanced at Dhamon. Blood trickled through his fingers. More ran down his arm from another deep slash. She gave him a concerned look.
He gripped the railing and pulled himself to his feet, plucking the daggers from his waistband.
Stay here, she mouthed to him.
He shook his head and stepped toward the center of the small ship. It had a single mast, and its sails were lowered. He moved stealthily around the rigging, Fiona and Feril behind him. He balanced a dagger in each hand. Eleven men against three. Not the best of odds, he decided, but they were oblivious to the threat behind them.