Echoes of the Fourth Magic by R. A. Salvatore

gathered at the edge of the huge raft.
    All was quiet save the rustle of wet clothes and the occasional groan of a soft-soled shoe on the rubber raft. Behind them, far off now and racing away, the wild storm raged, but the men took no notice. They stood solemn, peering into the blackness, waiting for a part of their lives to come to an end. And then, with a mere gurgle, the vast, unconquerable ocean took the
Unicorn
.
    “Well, she’s gone,” Corbin said, staring vacantly into the black void.
    What more could they say?
    They settled in for the night along the perimeter of the raft and lay quietly, remembering and wondering in blackness as the empty hours passed. The crisis and great loss of the past few days forced Del into a contemplation of his own mortality. Despite all his efforts, death remained unanswerable and irreversible, a frustrating and terrifying concept because he simply could not know.
    For perhaps the first time in his life, Jeff DelGiudice experienced the emptiness of his rational inability to accept faith.
    A few hours later, without warning, dawn exploded over the eastern horizon, shattering the black calm of night and whatever tranquility the men might have had. Startled from their dreams and thoughts, they faced the surprising, stunning light.
    Even though its lip had just broken the horizon, the raging sun burned at their eyes, and as it climbed into full view, the sky turned a bright red and the temperaturesoared. Waves of heat ripped through the air above them. The ocean flashed bloodred as choppy swells caught the sky’s fire in brilliant reflections, appearing as sheets of flame flicking against the sides of the raft.
    “What the hell is going on?” Mitchell cried as he reflexively dodged the splash of red water. The very sky above them seemed battered and torn.
    “They must have done it,” Corbin realized, scrambling unsteadily to his feet. “They finally did it!”
    “War?” Mitchell gasped. He turned to Reinheiser, who was staring blankly at the merciless sun. “Nuclear war?”
    Reinheiser shrugged his shoulders listlessly. “There could be other explanations,” he said unconvincingly, overwhelmed by the apparent betrayal of his cherished science. What had the idiots done—or failed to do—with the marvelous tools and inventions?
    “Whatever happened, we’ve got to get some protection from this sun before it burns our skin away,” Doc Brady said.
    “Get the cover out,” Mitchell said absently, his voice subdued. This horror transcended anger, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.
    “We are gathered together on a most solemn occasion,” Ray Corbin proclaimed, still standing. The men watched him with unchanging expressions as he deliberately reached down and picked up one of Mitchell’s rifles. “We stand alone as witnesses to the ultimate stupidity of mankind. We have come to bury the dead.” He raised the rifle above his head in uplifted palms, then tossed his offering into the red water.
    The shoulders of the sitting men visibly slumped. Mitchell wanted to rush over and choke Corbin, more for destroying what little morale was left than for throwing away the rifle. But the furious captain found that he couldn’t even shout at the man. Corbin’s sarcasm had touched him, had made him realize his own frustration at the very real possibility of an escape that had brought them back to a barren earth.
    * * *
    Billy Shank took many more shifts than the others outside the tent of the raft’s cover, and he stayed out hours at a stretch, until his eyes burned from the dazzling light and he lay near dehydration in a puddle of sweat. It wasn’t a form of self-persecution; Billy was simply determined to live the last few days of his life in defiance of the horror.
    Black thoughts and empty silence dominated the atmosphere under the tent. The men faced the grim reality in private, more alone than any of them had ever been. For Del, though, a sliver of hope fought back against