Jasmine’s wet hand clutched his sleeve. “Sshh! Listen!”
Lief frowned, trying to concentrate. At first, all he could hear was the pounding of the rain and the rushing of the swollen river. Then voices came to him. Rough, angry voices. Shouting.
The companions moved slowly forward. Then, not far ahead, they saw a winking light. They had not seen it before because it was masked by trees.
Trees! Lief realized that they had at last reached the shelter they had been seeking. But others had reached it before them. The light was a lantern hung from a branch. It flickered as dark figures moved around it, blocking it now and again from view.
The voices grew louder.
“I tell you, we must go back!” a man roared. “The more I think of it, the more I am sure. We should not have agreed to leave Nak and Finn alone with the booty. How do we know they will still be there when we return?”
Lief shook his head. Was he imagining things? Had he heard the man say “Nak” and “Finn”? Could the figures in the grove of trees be the pirates who had set sail to take Dain up the river to the Grey Guards? But what were they doing here? He had thought they would be far upstream by now.
“Nak and Finn will be waiting for us, all right, Gren,” growled another of the pirates. “Whatever they say, they will want their share of the gold we get for that puny Resistance wretch on the ship.”
They were talking about Dain! Lief strained to see beyond the trees to the river, and thought he caught a glimpse of the pale, furled sails of the pirate boat. The boat must be at anchor quite near to the shore. And Dain was on it!
“You are a trusting fool, Rabin!” shouted the man called Gren. “If I am right, Nak and Finn have more than a handful of gold to think about! Why else would they have let us come upriver alone? Do you really believe they are afraid of this man Doom? What is he but a Resistance wretch like the other?”
“They must have stopped when the rain set in,” whispered Barda. “Perhaps the river began running too swiftly for them to move against the current. They came ashore, for shelter.”
“Then a rowing boat must be here, on the riverbank,” Jasmine breathed.
“Nak and Finn would not betray us!” a woman shrieked angrily. “You are a traitor yourself to say it, Gren. Beware! Remember what happened to Milne.”
Other voices murmured angrily.
“Do not threaten me, you hag!” snarled the man. “Where is your own memory? Do you not remember one of the prisoners in the cavern telling us that Finn had secretly found a great gem? What if it is true?”
“A gem found in the Maze of the Beast?” jeered Rabin. “Oh, yes, that is very likely, I am sure! Are you weak in the head, Gren, that you could believe such fairy tales?”
“Shut your ugly mouth, Rabin!” Gren’s voice was thick with rage.
“Shut your own, you fat fool!”
There was a roar, a sudden, violent movement, and a groan of agony.
“Oh, you devil!” screamed the woman.
Something crashed against the lantern. The light swung wildly and went out.
“Keep off!” Gren roared. “Why, you —”
“Take your hands off her!” several other voices shouted furiously.
Then, suddenly, the grove seemed to explode with sound as the rest of the crew joined the fight. Over the beating of the rain rose shouts and grunts, the clashing of steel, the breaking of branches, thumps and shrieks.
“To the river!” Barda muttered. “Quickly!”
The boat, filled ankle-deep with rainwater, was bobbing at the river’s edge. No doubt it had been pulled onto dry land when the last of the pirates came ashore. But the river had risen since, and set it afloat. If it had not been tied to a tree, it would have drifted away.
It took a matter of moments for Barda to untie the rope while his companions crawled into the boat, Kree fluttering after them. By the time the big man clambered to the oars, they were already beginning to move into deeper water.
Shouts and screams from the trees still pierced the drumming of the rain. Not far away, the pirate ship strained at anchor. Two portholes in its side glowed like eyes. Lief had not noticed that before. Frantically scooping water from the bottom of the boat, he peered at the ship’s deck, looking for a sign of movement.
Meanwhile, Barda was struggling with the oars. But he was not expert at the task, and the swollen waters of the river surged around the boat, fighting his every movement, pushing them downstream.
“The current is too strong for me! I do not know if I can get to the ship,” he roared, shaking his wet hair from his brow.
“You must!” Jasmine cried. And only then did Lief realize how desperately she wanted Dain to be saved. She had said nothing before, appearing to accept the boy’s loss with the calm she always showed in the face of disaster. But now that Dain was so near, she could not face the thought of leaving him behind.
Gritting his teeth, Lief threw down the pail and crawled to the rower’s bench. “Make way!” he shouted, and squeezed himself down beside Barda, seizing an oar. He had never rowed before, but he had seen the pirates do it only days ago. He thought he could copy what they had done. Together he and Barda bent forward, pulled back, bent and pulled again.
The extra weight upon the oars began to take effect. Slowly, painfully, the boat drew nearer to the pirate ship. Then there was a shout. A shout, not from the shore, but from the ship itself.
Lief glanced around. A figure was standing on the deck, waving frantically. It was Dain. A smaller figure capered by his side, a lantern swinging wildly in its hand. Lief realized that it was the odd little thieving creature Dain had called a polypan. The pirates must have left it onboard with Dain. And somehow he had persuaded it to set him free.
Dain had lifted a coil of rope attached by one end to the boat’s deck. He began swinging it, as if he was about to throw.
“Here!” exclaimed Jasmine. She staggered to her feet, holding out her hands. The boat rocked dangerously.
“Sit down!” roared Barda. “You will have us over! Lief, row!”
Then Jasmine gave a cry, Kree screeched, and the boat jerked and rolled. Lief glanced again over his shoulder. The dark shape of the pirate ship, its glowing porthole eyes staring, loomed very near.
Dain had thrown the rope, and Jasmine had caught it. The slender line stretched tightly between the two rocking craft. It seemed that surely it must snap, but though it creaked and thinned, it did not break.
“I cannot hold it!” Jasmine shouted. Already she was leaning perilously over the bow, water foaming just below her head. Filli was chattering with fear on her shoulder, unable to help, terrified of falling. Kree fluttered beside them, screeching in panic.
Barda dropped his oar and scrambled towards them. He took the weight of the rope in his own powerful hands and heaved. The boat lurched and wallowed in the swell. Lief grasped both oars and did his best to fight the current alone.
“Go back, Dain!” he heard Barda shout. “We will come aboard!” Again Lief risked turning to look. Dain, with the polypan close behind him, was climbing frantically down a rope ladder that hung from the ship’s side directly between the shining porthole eyes. The polypan still held the lantern. It looked like a third eye, an eye that flickered and swung.
But — Lief squinted through the rain — the other two eyes were flickering as well. And surely they were brighter, far brighter, than they had been before.
“Dain!” Barda roared furiously. “Dain! This boat is too small. We cannot —”
Dain must have heard, but took no notice. He turned and made ready to jump, clinging to the ladder with one hand. His hair was streaming with water, plastered to his head. His face, gleaming in the lamplight, was desperate. Above him the polypan gibbered and swung, shaking the ladder in panic.