Starfare’s Gem heaved to a halt. Covenant rolled out into the broken litter dancing across the floor. Bruising his knees and hands on the shards, he lurched to his feet. Then a tremendous weight hammered down on the prow of the ship; and the floor tilted as if the Giantship were on its way to the depths. The afterdoor of the galley jumped from its mounts. Until Starfare’s Gem stumbled back into a semblance of trim. Covenant had to cling to Cail and let the
Haruchai
uphold him.
The
dromond
seemed to be settling. Cries of breakage retorted along the wind. Outside the galley, the air was frantic with shouts; but over them all rose Honninscrave’s stentorian howl:
“
Pitchwife
!”
Then Hearthcoal stirred in one corner; Seasauce shrugged the remains of a broken shelf off his back; and Covenant started to move. His first thought was for Linden; but a swift glance showed him that she was safe: still clasped in the sopor of
diamondraught
, she lay on her pallet with Mistweave braced protectively over her. Seeing Covenant’s look, Mistweave gave a quick nod of reassurance. Without hesitation, Covenant surged to the ruptured door and charged out into the teeth of the wind.
He could see nothing: the night was as black as Vain. All the lanterns seemed to have been blown out. When he located a point of light hanging near Shipsheartthew, it showed him only that the wheeldeck had been abandoned. But shouts of command and desperation came from the direction of the prow. Gripping Cail’s shoulder because he could not keep his footing on the ice. Covenant labored forward.
At first, he followed the sound of Honninscrave’s bellow, the First’s iron orders. Then lanterns began to appear as Giants called for light so that they could see their way amid the snarled wreckage which crowded the vessel’s foredeck.
In a prodigious tangle of sundered canvas and gear, pulleys and lines, sprawled several thick stone beams—the two upper spars and a section of the foremast. The great trunk of the mast had been broken in half. One of the fallen spars was intact; the other lay in three jagged pieces. At every step, the Giants kicked through slivers of granite.
Four crewmembers were crumpled in the wreckage.
The lantern-light was so wan, cast so many shadows, that Covenant could not see if any of them were still alive.
The First had her sword in her fist. Wielding it as deftly as a dagger, she cut through shrouds and sails toward the nearest of the fallen Giants. Galewrath and several others attacked the same task with their knives.
Sevinhand started into the wreckage. Honninscrave called him back, sent him instead to muster hands at the pumps. Covenant felt the
dromond
sinking dangerously; but he had no time for that fear. Through the din, he shouted at Cail, “Get Linden!”
“She has consumed much
diamondraught
,” the
Haruchai
replied. “She will not be lightly roused.” His tone was impersonal.
“I don’t care!” snapped Covenant. “We’re going to need her!”
Whirling away, he flung himself in the wake of the First.
She was crouched beside a limp form. As Covenant reached her, she surged erect again. Her eyes echoed the lanterns hotly. Darkness lay along her blade like blood. “Come!” she rasped. “We can do nothing here.” Her sword sliced into the piled canvas with a sound like a cry.
Covenant glanced at the Giant she had left. The crewmember was a young woman he remembered—a grinning sailor with a cheerful determination to be always in the forefront of any work or hazard. He recognized half her face: the rest had been crushed by the broken butt of the mast.
For a moment, the dark came over him. Bereft of light, he blundered into the wreckage and could not fight free. But then he felt venom rise like bile in his throat, felt worms of fire begin to crawl down his forearm; and the shock steadied him. He had nearly let the wild destruction slip. Cursing, he stumbled after the First again.
A stolid shout
Haruchai
uphold him.
The
dromond
seemed to be settling. Cries of breakage retorted along the wind. Outside the galley, the air was frantic with shouts; but over them all rose Honninscrave’s stentorian howl:
“
Pitchwife
!”
Then Hearthcoal stirred in one corner; Seasauce shrugged the remains of a broken shelf off his back; and Covenant started to move. His first thought was for Linden; but a swift glance showed him that she was safe: still clasped in the sopor of
diamondraught
, she lay on her pallet with Mistweave braced protectively over her. Seeing Covenant’s look, Mistweave gave a quick nod of reassurance. Without hesitation, Covenant surged to the ruptured door and charged out into the teeth of the wind.
He could see nothing: the night was as black as Vain. All the lanterns seemed to have been blown out. When he located a point of light hanging near Shipsheartthew, it showed him only that the wheeldeck had been abandoned. But shouts of command and desperation came from the direction of the prow. Gripping Cail’s shoulder because he could not keep his footing on the ice. Covenant labored forward.
At first, he followed the sound of Honninscrave’s bellow, the First’s iron orders. Then lanterns began to appear as Giants called for light so that they could see their way amid the snarled wreckage which crowded the vessel’s foredeck.
In a prodigious tangle of sundered canvas and gear, pulleys and lines, sprawled several thick stone beams—the two upper spars and a section of the foremast. The great trunk of the mast had been broken in half. One of the fallen spars was intact; the other lay in three jagged pieces. At every step, the Giants kicked through slivers of granite.
Four crewmembers were crumpled in the wreckage.
The lantern-light was so wan, cast so many shadows, that Covenant could not see if any of them were still alive.
The First had her sword in her fist. Wielding it as deftly as a dagger, she cut through shrouds and sails toward the nearest of the fallen Giants. Galewrath and several others attacked the same task with their knives.
Sevinhand started into the wreckage. Honninscrave called him back, sent him instead to muster hands at the pumps. Covenant felt the
dromond
sinking dangerously; but he had no time for that fear. Through the din, he shouted at Cail, “Get Linden!”
“She has consumed much
diamondraught
,” the
Haruchai
replied. “She will not be lightly roused.” His tone was impersonal.
“I don’t care!” snapped Covenant. “We’re going to need her!”
Whirling away, he flung himself in the wake of the First.
She was crouched beside a limp form. As Covenant reached her, she surged erect again. Her eyes echoed the lanterns hotly. Darkness lay along her blade like blood. “Come!” she rasped. “We can do nothing here.” Her sword sliced into the piled canvas with a sound like a cry.
Covenant glanced at the Giant she had left. The crewmember was a young woman he remembered—a grinning sailor with a cheerful determination to be always in the forefront of any work or hazard. He recognized half her face: the rest had been crushed by the broken butt of the mast.
For a moment, the dark came over him. Bereft of light, he blundered into the wreckage and could not fight free. But then he felt venom rise like bile in his throat, felt worms of fire begin to crawl down his forearm; and the shock steadied him. He had nearly let the wild destruction slip. Cursing, he stumbled after the First again.
A stolid shout
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