Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves by W. A. Hoffman

swimaway fromthe chaos and into the night. I knew he could swima great distance, even towing me as he was by a hand hooked into the baldric beneath my back; but he seemed to be swimming into eternity and I doubted we could reach it. To my right, Pete swam with Sarah, and Striker was beyond them. I was afraid of sharks for but a moment, until I realized the animals must surely be too entranced by the insanity we were escapingto bother withus.
After what seemed a long time, Pete gave a whoop of triumph and we changed direction slightly. I craned my head back and let the water splash over my face in order to see what we neared. There was a low, dark shadow on the water, and it resolved into a boat withtwo mendraped inblack aboard her.
Their hands reached for me, and I flipped over and away fromthem. I did not wishto cross the Styx.
Gastonwas at myside. “Will, get in!”
“I amnot dead,”I protested.
“Will, trust me!”
I nodded reluctantly, and moved to the boat. The hands reached down and pulled me aboard by the baldric and whatever limb they could grasp. I was afraid Gaston would not follow, but he dove out of the water and tumbled aboard. Sarah was hoisted in next, and then Pete and Striker followed her. The little craft was crowded. I clutched at Gaston, and he pulled me to sit betweenhis legs.
“Afraid ya wouldn’t see us,” one of the boatmen said. “We were gonna light the lamp, but then the damn sloop slowed.”
“The bastards should be busy enough not to come lookingfor us,”Striker said.
“Let’s hope,” the boatman said, and began to row. “How ya be, Will?”
I shuddered against Gaston: knowing the man speaking was flesh and blood and someone I knew, but not being able to free myselfofthe fantasyhe was Charon, either.
“He has beenpoorlyused,”Striker said.
“Truly, why?”the other boatmanasked.
“I was inHell,”I said.
It was true: I had been in Hell, and now the boatmen were takingme back to the land ofthe living.
“Thank you,”I said to all.
No one spoke for a time, and I looked about and saw a much larger dark shape ahead ofus. It was not land, but another
    ship. “The Queen ?” I asked Gaston, hoping I truly had a grasp ofthe situation.
“Oui,”he breathed.
“He lied,”I said. “The Devillied.”
“What?”Striker asked.
“Thorp said yousailed by,”I said.
“We did,” Striker said. “We had to get ahead of themin order to drop us over the side in this boat. We drifted close in the night and thenswamto the frigate.”
“Ah,” I said. I did understand, but I pictured them crossing the Styx with knives in their teeth, and the souls of the damned swarmingallaround theminthe black water.
We were challenged byCudro’s magnificent voice as we approached, and our friends hooted with joy. All were elated to see us as we were pulled aboard. I wished to be elated, too; but when confronted with the wall of hands and grinning faces, I chose to hide behind Gaston. And then they stopped smiling and a hush came over them; and pity and guilt pinched their features; and I felt very naked and exposed: my shame a thing for all to see.
“God, Will,” Cudro said quietly. “Here we were thinking we had to rescue you from sitting on the quarter deck drinking tea. I’msorry.”
“Why would you think that?” I asked. Did they not understand myfather and his ways?
Gaston was a statue ofcold fury. “Seven days!” he spat. “Sevendays youwaited!”
The Bard swore. “I will not take the blame for three of them! Go hate Savant! We caught themas fast as we could.”
“Stop!” Pete roared. He turned on Gaston. “You! YaSaidYa WouldBeCalm IffnWeWeGot’Im. NowWeDo. AnYouWereRight. IShouldNa’O’Let’EmGo. IShoulda’Slashed ThatBugger’sThroat. But WeCanna’Change What’AppenedNow.” He shook his head with anger. “SeeTaYurMan.”
Gaston nodded glumly, and put an arm around my shoulders and led me to the hatch. I did not wish to go into another hold, but that was where we went. I did