saw them all nearby, bound
with ropes to the posts: Reece and Selese, Elden and Indra, Matus, O’Connor,
and a few feet away from them, Angel. Thor was elated to see they were all
alive, though they all looked exhausted, beaten down from the storm and from
the pirates.
Thor heard raucous laughter, arguing, cheering
from somewhere up above, and then what sounded like explosions in his ears as
men tumbled over each other on the hollow deck, and he remembered: the pirates.
Those mercenaries who tried to sink him into the sea.
He would recognize that sound anywhere, the
sound of crude individuals, bored at sea, out for cruelty—he had encountered
too many of them before. He realized, shaking off his dream, that he was their
prisoner now, and he struggled at his cords, trying to break free.
But he could not. His arms had been bound well,
as were his ankles. He was not going anywhere.
Thorgrin closed his eyes, trying to summon his
power from deep within, the power he knew could move mountains if he chose.
But nothing came. He was too spent from the
ordeal of the shipwreck, his strength still too low. He knew from past
experience that he needed time to recover. Time, he knew, that he did not have.
“Thorgrin!” came a relieved voice, cutting
through the darkness. It was a voice he recognized well, and he looked over to
see Reece, bound a few feet away, looking back at him with joy. “You live!”
Reece added.
“We did not know if you would come through!”
Thor turned to see O’Connor bound on his other
side, equally joyful.
“I prayed for you every minute,” came a sweet,
soft voice in the darkness.
Thor looked over to see Angel, tears of joy in
her eyes, and he could feel how much she cared for him.
“You owe her your life, you know,” Indra said. “When
they cut you loose, it was she who dove in and brought you back. Without her courage
you would not be sitting here right now.”
Thor looked at Angel with a new respect, and a
new feeling of gratitude and devotion.
“Little one, I shall find a way to repay you,” he
said to her.
“You already have,” she said, and he could see
how much she meant it.
“Repay her by getting us all out of here,” Indra
said, struggling against her binds, irritated. “Those bloodsucking pirates are
the lowest of the low. They found us floating at sea and bound us all while we
were still unconscious from that storm. If they’d faced us man to man, it would
be a very different story.”
“They are cowards,” Matus said. “Like all
pirates.”
“They also stripped us of our weapons,” O’Connor
added.
Thor’s heart skipped a beat as he suddenly
recalled his weapons, his armor, the Sword of the Dead.
“Don’t worry,” Reece said, seeing his face. “Our
weaponry made it through the storm—including yours. It is not at the bottom of
the sea, at least. But the pirates have it. See there, through the slats?”
Thor peered through the slats and saw, on the
deck, all of their weapons, laid out beneath the sun, the pirates crowding
around them. He saw Elden’s battle-ax and O’Connor’s golden bow and Reece’s
halberd and Matus’s flail and Indra’s spear and Selese’s sack of sand—and his very
own Sword of the Dead. He saw the pirates, hands on their hips, looking down and
examining them with glee.
“I never seen a sword like that,” one of them said
to the other.
Thor reddened with rage as he saw the pirate
prodding his sword with his foot.
“Looks like it was a King’s,” said another,
stepping forward.
“I found it first, it’s mine,” the first one
said.
“If you kill me for it,” said the other.
Thor watched the men tackle each other, then
heard a loud thump as they both crashed down to the deck, wrestling, the other
pirates jeering as they circled around. They rolled back and forth, punching
and elbowing, the others egging them on, then finally Thor saw blood sprayed through
the slats, saw one pirate stomp the other one’s head
with ropes to the posts: Reece and Selese, Elden and Indra, Matus, O’Connor,
and a few feet away from them, Angel. Thor was elated to see they were all
alive, though they all looked exhausted, beaten down from the storm and from
the pirates.
Thor heard raucous laughter, arguing, cheering
from somewhere up above, and then what sounded like explosions in his ears as
men tumbled over each other on the hollow deck, and he remembered: the pirates.
Those mercenaries who tried to sink him into the sea.
He would recognize that sound anywhere, the
sound of crude individuals, bored at sea, out for cruelty—he had encountered
too many of them before. He realized, shaking off his dream, that he was their
prisoner now, and he struggled at his cords, trying to break free.
But he could not. His arms had been bound well,
as were his ankles. He was not going anywhere.
Thorgrin closed his eyes, trying to summon his
power from deep within, the power he knew could move mountains if he chose.
But nothing came. He was too spent from the
ordeal of the shipwreck, his strength still too low. He knew from past
experience that he needed time to recover. Time, he knew, that he did not have.
“Thorgrin!” came a relieved voice, cutting
through the darkness. It was a voice he recognized well, and he looked over to
see Reece, bound a few feet away, looking back at him with joy. “You live!”
Reece added.
“We did not know if you would come through!”
Thor turned to see O’Connor bound on his other
side, equally joyful.
“I prayed for you every minute,” came a sweet,
soft voice in the darkness.
Thor looked over to see Angel, tears of joy in
her eyes, and he could feel how much she cared for him.
“You owe her your life, you know,” Indra said. “When
they cut you loose, it was she who dove in and brought you back. Without her courage
you would not be sitting here right now.”
Thor looked at Angel with a new respect, and a
new feeling of gratitude and devotion.
“Little one, I shall find a way to repay you,” he
said to her.
“You already have,” she said, and he could see
how much she meant it.
“Repay her by getting us all out of here,” Indra
said, struggling against her binds, irritated. “Those bloodsucking pirates are
the lowest of the low. They found us floating at sea and bound us all while we
were still unconscious from that storm. If they’d faced us man to man, it would
be a very different story.”
“They are cowards,” Matus said. “Like all
pirates.”
“They also stripped us of our weapons,” O’Connor
added.
Thor’s heart skipped a beat as he suddenly
recalled his weapons, his armor, the Sword of the Dead.
“Don’t worry,” Reece said, seeing his face. “Our
weaponry made it through the storm—including yours. It is not at the bottom of
the sea, at least. But the pirates have it. See there, through the slats?”
Thor peered through the slats and saw, on the
deck, all of their weapons, laid out beneath the sun, the pirates crowding
around them. He saw Elden’s battle-ax and O’Connor’s golden bow and Reece’s
halberd and Matus’s flail and Indra’s spear and Selese’s sack of sand—and his very
own Sword of the Dead. He saw the pirates, hands on their hips, looking down and
examining them with glee.
“I never seen a sword like that,” one of them said
to the other.
Thor reddened with rage as he saw the pirate
prodding his sword with his foot.
“Looks like it was a King’s,” said another,
stepping forward.
“I found it first, it’s mine,” the first one
said.
“If you kill me for it,” said the other.
Thor watched the men tackle each other, then
heard a loud thump as they both crashed down to the deck, wrestling, the other
pirates jeering as they circled around. They rolled back and forth, punching
and elbowing, the others egging them on, then finally Thor saw blood sprayed through
the slats, saw one pirate stomp the other one’s head
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