The Gorgon's Blood Solution by Jeffrey Quyle

looked, there were a series of lightning flashes, and the ghastly pale face of the sorcerer appeared.  He looked down at the two prisoners who were now flotsam, and he shouted something in his barbaric language.  He lowered his hand and pointed it at them as he spoke, and suddenly Marco was caught off-guard as Kreewhite pulled him down under the water.
    There was a loud noise, a shock wave in the water that tumbled them both forward, and then a wave of momentary heat.  The blast threw the two companions apart as they were tumbled downward towards the bottom of the hull.  Marco felt his head hit something hard, and he inhaled a mouthful of salty water.
    Hold on, Marco!” he heard Kreewhite’s voice carry clearly under the water, and a moment later he felt the merboy grab his torso and move him swiftly through the water.
    Their heads breached the surface of the water that sat inside the hull of the sinking ship, giving Marco the chance to exhale, then inhale noisily as he coughed and sputtered and tried to clear his lungs of the water he had taken in.
    “Marco, can you reach up to that sill and pull yourself up there?” Kreewhite asked urgently, his mouth next to Marco’s ear.
    Marco looked up at the very close opening through which flashes of lightning glowered.   It was only four feet overhead.
    “I can try.  I’ve only got one good hand,” Marco responded.
    “When you get to the deck, go to the back of the ship, and get ready to jump when you see me in the water,” Kreewhite explained.
    “How will you get there?” Marco asked, treading water as he held onto the merboy.
    “I’ll make it, no problem,” Kreewhite said.  “Are you ready?  Go!”
    Marco bunched his muscles and tried to boost himself out of the water.  He rose a few inches, then suddenly felt Kreewhite’s hands grab his legs and thrust him upward energetically.  The fingers on his good hand grabbed the edge of the open hatch, and pulled desperately, adding to his momentum.  He flung his crippled hand over the edge and lurched his torso, so that his stomach scrapped along the wooden edge of the opening, and then he landed, his legs flailing in empty air.  He raised his feet and rolled to his left, and suddenly he was on the deck of the ship.
    A wave crashed upon the deck and the rain fell in drenching sheets, and the impact of the wave pushed him back towards the opening momentarily before he grabbed a rope and held on tightly.
    As the wave passed beyond him he rose to his knees and looked around.  There were no men in sight, while a pair of small boats appeared to bob among the fearsome waves not far from the ship.  As Marco began to press himself forward through the wind and the rain, he looked over his shoulder at the small boats, and saw a yellow dome suddenly appear over one of the boats, a sign that the sorcerer was in the vessel and taking steps to protect himself from the storm.
    Marco stumbled upon the deck, and as he started to flail, he caught a glimpse of something shooting skyward, leaving the ship behind as the gale-force winds caught it and sent it flying off to the left.  Marco moved his hand, which landed on the handle of a sword that had been abandoned on the ship’s deck, and he instinctively grabbed ahold of the hilt, then clung to it as he made his way towards the rear of the ship, while more and more waves began sweeping across the deck of the sinking ship.  The sword felt solid, like something that could keep him safe, and in some mysterious way it felt lucky too.  He didn’t know what to expect, or what to do, but he knew Kreewhite had given him direction, and he clung to that instruction as the only thing he knew or understood in the horrific situation he was trapped in.
    “Marco!  You made it!” he heard Kreewhite’s voice faintly as scrambled to the railing that marked the rear of the Corsair’s ship.
    “Jump!” the merboy called.  “Jump in the water.  I’ll get you and we’ll find