War of Power (The Trouble with Magic Book 3) (25 page)

It was the keen eyes of the younger man which saw them first, small dark specks appearing and disappearing on the increasingly choppy water. Quickly recovering from the trauma of instantaneous relocation, and unwilling to trust anyone else, Jack had clambered up to the crow’s nest and remained there, scanning the open water in every direction.

He hollered down. “Steer three points to wind’ard, helmsman.”

A flurry of activity brought the ship’s bow heading out into the ocean’s vastness. Symon hurried to the rail, shielding his eyes with his hand as he peered across the white-capped grey-green water to where Jack was pointing. He could see nothing. Silently cursing his old eyes, he looked up towards the crow’s nest just as Jack began to make his rapid descent.

The spymaster’s face was grim. “I see something Master Symon, and I don’t like the look of it.”

Minutes later the ship rode the swell, surrounded by a widespread flotsam of smashed timbers, boxes and scraps of rigging. Stunned and horrified, Symon gripped the rail as he stared at the wreckage.

A strong hand grasped his shoulder. “Let’s not lose hope Master Symon. This stuff could have floated from miles away. There’s no reason to think it’s ‘Sea Mist’ as yet. We’ll keep searching.”

The little magician turned his pained grey eyes up to Jack’s. “We’re very close to the course she would have sailed though, aren’t we?”

Unable to deny it, Jack nodded, and turning away began barking orders. Under shortened sail the ‘Ambition’ began searching an ever widening circle while heavy dark grey clouds built up on the horizon, rushing forward to obliterate the deceptive comfort of the mid-day sun.

A shout rang down the length of the ship. “Off the port bow sir!”

At a signal from Jack the helm went over. Symon scurried to the rail to stand beside Jack and half a dozen crew, their keen eyes scanning the ocean’s wind-whipped surface. Light and shadow played tricks on the water, giving false life to scattered pieces of wreckage.

Once again, the sharp eyes of the lookout were first to see more than flotsam. His agile body perched precariously along the bowsprit, the boy gestured for’ard. “Man in the water! Man in the water!”

As rope ladders were swiftly lowered the lookout’s cry went up again. “I can see others Cap’n!”

Less than twenty minutes later the full crew of ‘Sea Mist’ stood shivering on ‘Ambition’s’ deck. A coarse woollen blanket thrown around his shoulders, Bunch the cook stared at Jack and Symon.

Through chattering teeth his voice trembled. “I…I don’t understand it, Cap’n, Master. “Y’see. I can’t swim, but…but…something seemed to push me up and…I just floated, hardly even went under.”

Captain Finn stepped forward, his thick greying hair plastered to his skull. “That’s right. Me and most of my crew can swim, but we didn’t have to. Like Bunch says, we all just…well…just floated!”

Symon frowned as he turned and scanned the dark water. “Karryl and Dhoum. What of them?”

Finn shook his head. “I’m sorry Master Symon, I couldn’t rightly say. Just before the ship was hit, they got themselves lashed to the mast somehow. Then we got buried by a wall of water and…well…we haven’t seen them since.” He gave a wry smile. “I reckon they knew what they were doing. They’ll be alright.”

Symon turned a troubled gaze on Captain Finn. “It’s to be hoped you’re right.” He looked up at Jack. “Perhaps we should circle once more, then return to Vellethen. Who knows? They could well be waiting for us.”

Far from convinced by the little magician’s false optimism, Jack sent the Sea Mist’s rescued captain and crew below to dry off. He bid the helmsman steer another wide circle of search. Hopes were raised and just as quickly dashed, as broken spars and timbers bobbed on the surface, flailing in the swell like frantically waving arms. Reluctant to abandon the search, Jack kept a wary eye on the steadily worsening conditions. The circle complete, with nothing seen that could raise their hopes he gave the order to steer for harbour. As if eager to leave the scene, the ship leapt onto the wind and sped away. Only Symon remained on the stern-deck, his eyes and thoughts focussed on the grey-green water churning in the ship’s long wake.

* * *

Strong, four-fingered hands grasped bunches of sodden fabric, just as the inert form slipped from the precarious jutting ledge towards the dark and silent obscurity of the gaping chasm beneath. Dragged down by the sudden weight, and weakened by hours of physical effort and pressure of depth, the creature twisted, kicked and thrust its sleek body upwards in a supreme effort to arrest its burden’s slow spiralling descent. From out of the dark unfathomable depths a shape loomed to hang massive and motionless in the cold green water beneath. Unperturbed, with one powerful kick of its muscular rear limbs the creature and its burden plummeted straight down towards the broad blunt head.

Eye contact established, Dhoum released his grip, nudging and guiding Karryl’s limp form as it drifted along and down to settle gently in the middle of the leviathan’s long grey back. With only minutes remaining before his lungs would be straining for air, Dhoum took one more glance behind him and struck for the surface. Sensing the pressure easing as he reached the pinnacle of the submarine mountain, he flipped over to look below him. The leviathan’s huge grey shape was darkly visible, rising slowly through the blue-green water. Summoning the last of his energy, Dhoum pointed his muzzle upwards, streamlined his body, and kicked for the glinting ripples far above him.

Taking one great restorative gulp of the clean rain-washed air, Dhoum rolled onto his back. Breathing deeply and steadily he bobbed in the choppy water, his tired but still keen eyes scanning the overcast sky. Using his unique sense of direction he glanced to landward in time to see white sails gradually disappearing over the horizon. Cursing the unfortunate timing, he rolled over and trod water as he watched and waited.

Under a clearing sky pierced by long harpoon shafts of early evening sunlight, the leviathan quietly surfaced half a mile away. Riding high on the long swell, it waited with its precious cargo. With renewed energy Dhoum streaked through the water. A few feet from the long grey body he summoned power, a flying leap taking him high onto the broad, thick-skinned back. Crouched beside Karryl’s inert form, he rolled the young Mage-Prime onto his side, his actions prompted more by instinct than experience. Supporting him against his knee and using the flat of his hand, Dhoum began a slow rhythmic thumping on Karryl’s back. Less than half a minute later, with a deep gurgle Karryl spewed a great gout of water over Dhoum’s knee, spluttered, coughed, gasped and opened his eyes. The Grrybhñnös expelled a great sigh of relief.

Blowing warm breath over the cold pallid face, Dhoum chafed the water-wrinkled hands as rivulets of salt water continued to trickle out of the dark sodden robe. “Can you hear me Master Karryl? It’s Dhoum. You’re safe now.”

A long groan escaped Karryl’s pale lips. Flinging out his arm he flopped wetly onto his back. For a long moment he stared up at Dhoum before slowly lifting his head and looking round. He tried to speak but the effort only produced a spell of ragged coughing. Signalling feebly to Dhoum that he wanted to sit up, he shook his head and groaned again as his companion’s strong arms pulled him upright.

Dhoum patted Karryl’s shoulder. “Don’t try and talk, and don’t move. I’m going to see about getting us back to shore.”

Taking a few moments to collect his thoughts and to ensure Karryl was out of danger, Dhoum slipped back into the choppy water. All six limbs paddling furiously he swam along the leviathan’s length until he was treading water beside the broad, wide-mouthed head. Ensuring beyond doubt that the disproportionately tiny eye had seen him, he allowed himself to sink below the surface. In a long, almost mournful series of low drawn-out notes, the Grrybhñnös conveyed his intentions. In reply he received a warning. The sharks were still nearby and were hungry. An offer was made and Dhoum accepted. With insufficient power remaining to translocate, he had little choice. The steady swim shoreward which he had originally planned could have proved fatal. Instead, the leviathan would have to be their transport and protection. He returned to Karryl to find him sat hugging his knees and shivering as he dolefully surveyed the miles of grey-green ocean which surrounded them.

He gave the Grrybhñnös a wan smile. “I knew going by ship wasn’t a good idea. Now look at the mess we’re in. We could be out here for days.”

Dhoum gave himself a vigorous shake, showering Karryl with warm salt water. The Mage-Prime swiped a hand across his dripping face and grimaced.

Amber eyes catching the glowing colours of the setting sun, Dhoum waved a dismissive hand. “Not at all. We’re already on our way to shore, thanks to our friend here.”

He patted the thick grey hide. Karryl’s eyes widened and he peered closely at the surface beneath him. “I thought we were sitting on the bottom of the upturned ship! What are we riding on?”

Dhoum stood up to shake more water from his fur, then settled on all fours beside Karryl. As the massive body beneath them ploughed through the darkening water he told him as much as he knew.

Rested, and their power partly restored, Dhoum and Karryl slipped from the broad grey back less than a quarter mile from shore. Raising his arms in grateful farewell, Dhoum trod water beside Karryl. With barely a ripple their grey rescuer slipped beneath the waves. With a flick of its broad tapering flukes it bid its own farewell and was gone.

Like a giant sea-otter Dhoum’s sleek form sheared through the water, seeming to feel no effort in towing Karryl along beside him. Gradually the limpet encrusted rocks below them gave way to a long sandy slope, wrack and ribbon-weed swaying back and forth in the tide’s incessant motion. Their feet touched bottom and they splounged ashore in a tiny inlet. Showers of droplets flew through the air as Dhoum once again shook water from his long thick pelt. Shivering and shaking with exhaustion and cold, Karryl wrung at his sodden robe as he stumbled after his rescuer. The Grrybhñnös loped across the sand towards the base of the sheer cliff which towered above the beach, and disappeared behind a small rocky outcrop.

Seconds later he emerged and beckoned to Karryl. “There’s a small cave back there. It isn’t ideal but it’s dry, above the high water mark, and it’s also shelter. We can rest there for a few hours.”

Fully aware that their priority should be to return to Vellethen, Dhoum was also aware it was at least fifty miles away and they needed time to dry off, find some food, and get some restorative sleep. He voiced his concerns. Trying hard to summon enthusiasm, Karryl nodded. He too was desperate to return to Vellethen. Under protest, he started to help Dhoum collect a pile of dry sticks and driftwood for a fire.

He gazed towards the setting sun for a long moment then poked at the untidy heap they had gathered. “We could be back in Vellethen in a few seconds. Quite frankly I think we’re wasting time doing this.”

Dhoum threw down a bundle of sticks and gave Karryl a long flat look. “If you want to risk it, go ahead. I’d rather play it safe, get my power back properly. Never know where you might end up.”

His shoulders moved in what Karryl took to be a shrug. “It’s up to you. But whatever you decide, it might be a good idea to get some food inside you first.”

Looking up and down the featureless sand of the small beach, Karryl shook his head. “I can’t see how we’re going to find any food here unless we can catch some fish.”

Dhoum pushed at the pile of sticks with his foot. “Leave that to me. You get the fire going. I’ll be back shortly.”

He ambled off towards the water’s edge and stood for a few moments snuffing the wind and studying the white-topped grey waves rolling and breaking against the rocks. Wading into the water, he lowered his body and disappeared beneath the tumbling surf.

Using a dozen medium sized sea-rounded boulders gathered up from the base of the cliff, Karryl laid a small hearth near the mouth of the cave and arranged firewood and kindling. Satisfied with his handiwork, he drew in power. A miserable little orange flame struggled into life less than half way to the sticks, hung in mid-air for a second, gave one pathetic little ‘phuuh’ and vanished. Karryl was crushed. Slumped down on the sand he leaned his back against the cliff face and stared at the spot where Dhoum had slipped into the water. He felt suddenly very sick. Squeezing his eyes tight shut he considered the implications of what could have happened if he had ignored Dhoum’s advice and tried to translocate. A mob of disjointed thoughts hammered at his tired brain.

He was rudely awoken by the steady drip of cold water on his bare head and something digging into the side of his leg. A large sea-bass dangled in front of his eyes while Dhoum’s not insubstantial foot was nudging his thigh. Reaching up, Karryl pushed Dhoum’s hand to one side and struggled to his feet. Water seeped through his hair and trickled down his forehead onto his nose.

He glared at Dhoum. “So, you were right. I don’t have enough power to even get a fire going.”

Dhoum’s shoulder muscles rippled. He reached into the air and produced a small slender-bladed knife.

Passing it to Karryl he thrust the fish into his other hand. “Know how to do this do you?”

Karryl nodded as he peered with interest at the knife. Dhoum crossed to the unlit fire and crouched beside it. “Good. You see to that and I’ll get the fire going.”

By the time Karryl had returned from the water’s edge with the cleaned and gutted fish, a good fire was crackling merrily in its circle of stones, pushing back the darkness of the late spring night. Karryl made no comment. He watched as Dhoum pushed a long straight stick through the fish from head to tail and held it above the fire. The young magician’s stomach growled as the skin of the fish began to singe. Juices dripped down to sputter and sizzle in the flames, and the aroma of baked fish drifted through the air.