Second Wind - Chapter Seven

The Lurker Within

  It was the sound of Gisel's voice that brought him back. Either that or it
was her hand that kept slapping his face. Whichever it was, Kevved awoke
with a splitting headache.

  "You can stop hitting me now Gisel," he groaned.

  Her hand stopped in midair.

  "Sorry. I looked away for a moment,"

  Kevved sat up and put his hands to his temples. Carefully he felt along
his forehead until his fingers brushed against a large knot that throbbed
steadily.  He pressed it tentatively. Heat and pain spread out beneath his
fingertips, prickling under his scalp and down behind his eyes. Kevved
quickly pulled his hands away and looked at Gisel. She was watching him with
an intent expression.

  "How long was I unconscious?"

  Gisel glanced up at the stairway above them.

  "My guess would be about ten minutes. Are you feeling all right?"

  "I'm not sure. I've got a killer of a headache and I'm a little dizzy,"

  "Can you stand at least?"

  Kevved pressed the heels of his palms to his eyelids. The pressure seemed
to help. Without waiting for his reply, Gisel stood and held out her hand.

  "There's only one way to find out, Kevved," she said.

  Kevved reached out and took hold. After a moment's hesitation he hauled
himself up.

  "That's it," Gisel said encouragingly. "Take it slow. You don't have to
prove anything to me,"

  Kevved leaned against the wall to catch his breath. The dizziness had
increased and he was beginning to feel the rough wood at his back slide
away. Only Gisel's iron grip kept him from tumbling back to the floor.

  Once again Kevved forced his legs to straighten, this time with more
success. Soon he felt confident enough to stand on his own.

  "Are we out of danger Gisel? Is that thing gone?"

  Gisel nodded.

  "I'm not sure how, but Torosa managed to drive it off. Just in time too.
We really took a beating,"

  "How badly?"

  She started up the stairs.

  "It's pretty extensive. Twelve men are dead and two are still missing. Our
rigging's gone and the hull's holed in a few places. If you can move about
well enough we could really use an extra hand. There's wounded up top,"

  Kevved followed her as Gisel continued up the stairway.

  "I'm not sure how much help I can be. I'm not a medic,"

  "Just make them feel comfortable okay? We're going to be busy with repairs
so someone's going to have to keep tabs on them. If anything happens, come
get me,"

  "All right," Kevved agreed as he climbed up to the ruined deck.

         *      *       *

  Traveling the main streets of Bral made for slow progress Vashon mused as
he threaded through the crowded bazaar. Here and there vendor booths
sprouted from the cobblestones like weeds, drawing their share of buyers
and curious onlookers alike. It had been said that on Bral there was nothing
that couldn't be found for the right price and it was here in the Great
Bazaar that saying was most evident. All around was the din of merchants
hawking
their wares and the outraged shouts of shoppers dismayed at how expensive
those goods were.

  Finally he had enough of the constant pushing and jostling. Spotting a
darkened alleyway nearby, Vashon fought against the tide of bodies and
disappeared from the crowd. The change in atmosphere was remarkable.
The wooden buildings on each side shielded him from most of the noise of the
street behind him and the overhanging eaves blotted out most of the stars
above.

  Vashon picked his way through the litter of discarded crates and refuse,
intent on returning to Jalat's headquarters. Twice he stumbled but caught
himself before he fell in that cool dim passage. Then the hem of his cloak
snagged on something.

  "Hey buddy, got a copper for an old sailor?"

  Vashon turned. His cloak had apparently fallen prey to an old, gnarled
claw of a hand. Its owner peered up at him with a toothless grin.

  "Sure friend," he answered.

  Vashon's hand moved to his belt, then stopped. Surprised, he glanced down
to his waist. His money purse was gone. Someone must have lifted it off him
earlier in the bazaar.

  "Damn!" he hissed through his teeth.

  The old man chuckled.

  "I been there too, buddy. Bral's not the friendliest of places, that I'll
grant you," He leaned forward out of the mound of garbage he was reclining
in and shook his head in sympathy.

  "You're right about that," Vashon answered. "I'm sorry, but I have nothing
to give you friend,"

  The man lurched to his feet and smiled at Vashon.

  "'S'all right. It's not really pocket change I'm interested in anyway,"

  There was a glint of steel in the darkness and Vashon felt the cold barrel
of a pistol shoved against his ribs. There was a gleam of maliciousness in
reflected in the old sailor's eyes. Behind him two more men threw off the
refuse they had been hiding under and joined their companion.

  "The scrip you're carrying will be satisfactory enough. Hand it over,"

         *      *       *

  "Hell of a mess here boys," Skune sighed as he surveyed the cargo hold.
Nearly half of the cargo containers lay in ruins, more that enough work to
keep them busy for hours, if not days.

  "Reeve, did you find the manifest yet?"

  "Right here sir,"

  The crewman handed Skune a thick wad of papers. He flipped through the
pages.

  "Let's start with this one, crate Ten-A. Damnation! Spellslinger
materials."

  Skune looked at the greenish mass in front of him and shook his head.
"Probably was preserved for shipping too,"

  "What do you suggest we do, sir?" Reeve asked.

  Skune motioned with his hands.

  "Gather it up, put it back in its crate. That all we can do for now. Once
everything's accounted for we'll have Torosa come down and take care of the
perishables,"

  "Right captain,"

  Reeve bent down and started to clean up the spilled merchandise as Skune
continued his inventory.

  An hour had passed by the time Skune reached the far side of the hold.
There was little damage here and the stacked crates towered high above his
head. Fortunately he was not a claustrophobic man or he would have found the
closeness of the boxes disconcerting. He stopped to examine a crate at about
eye-level. A large hole had been ripped in the side and within he could see
the glimmer of gold and silver.

  "Crate Twenty-three F. Coin collection from the third Ji Huong dynasty en
route to Shou Embassy on Bral,"

  Skune shouted up the aisle.

  "Merkail! Bring the glowstone over here and help me do a count,"

  He pushed some of the wood splinters out of the way and set the manifest
down on the floor. As Merkail approached, he took the glowstone from him
and peered inside the crate. Skune swore. Most of the coins had come loose
from their cases and lay heaped at the bottom of the container. He handed
the glowstone back to Merkail.

  "Hold it steady wile I start separating these,"

  Skune reached in with both hands and began piling the coins together while
Merkail watched silently at his shoulder.

  After a minute the light dropped away and Skune was left blinking in the
darkness.

  "Damnit Merkail, I can't see anything now!"

  There was no answer.

  Skune pulled his head back away from the hole and saw the glowstone lying
at his feet.

  "Merkail?"

  He looked around. He was alone.

  "Merkail? Reeve?"

  The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. There was something behind
him. Slowly Skune turned around.

         *      *       *

  "Beer, Barrel?"

  "If you please," Barrelar Redstone nodded to the barkeep as he strode to
his accustomed seat at the back table. Spread out on the tabletop was an
exquisitely lacquered chessboard and two hand carved sets of playing pieces
already laid out for him. Barrelar began to set up the board as the
bartender brought him his drink.

  "What's the matter Joabi? You look like you're expecting another slow
night,"

  The bartender raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

  "I am. Last week's fight lost me some of my best customers,"

  "Aww, don't worry so much. They'll come back eventually,"

  "Well you were one of the main instigators," Joabi said pointedly.

  Barrelar raised his eyebrows in a display of innocence.

  "Me? How was I to know giff were such sore losers? Next time one of them
wants to play I'll just turn them down,"

  Joabi eyed a nick in the pillar beside him and absentmindedly scratched
his belly.

  "I hope so. Don't misunderstand, I enjoy having you as a tenant and you're
money's good, but most of my livelihood depends on running an orderly
establishment. One where my customers don't have to worry about a rampaging
troop of boomheads cutting their evening short,"

  "I understand Joabi. No more chess with giff. However, " he cocked an
eyebrow and looked at the bartender, "I do need an opponent and since
there's no one else here..." He left his question unspoken.

  Joabi laughed and shook his head.

  "I'm afraid I'll have to decline. Besides, chess isn't my game,"

  Barrelar watched Joabi return to his bar and studied the pieces in front
of him. Somewhere in the distance he heard the front door open and the
approach of footsteps.

  'Too quick for a human,' he thought, 'and to heavy for a halfling. Most
likely a dwarf.'

  He looked up and snorted. He was right. It was one of Jalat's lackeys, and
a poor excuse for a dwarf to boot. Couldn't even keep a proper beard.

  "Barrelar Redstone?"

  "Correct,"

  The dwarf handed Barrelar a folded parchment. He took it and set it aside
without bothering to read it.

  "Sir," the dwarf began, "your services are needed immediately,"

  "My commission doesn't start for six more months. Until then I'm on
retainer,"

  The dwarf shifted uncomfortably.

  "There have been some unexpected developments recently. Jalat is pulling
all his paid blades into service and liftoff has been rescheduled one week
from today. If you'll come with me sir, there's to be a briefing in one
hour,"

  "What's your name?"

  "Excuse me?"

  Barrelar sighed and leaned back.

  "Your name. How you identify yourself to others,"

  "Oh. Sorry. Theol Hammerdelve. Now, if you will follow me,"

  "Hold a moment, Theol," Barrelar interrupted. "I find this change in plans
more than slightly disturbing. Jalat knows any rescheduling of my contract
requires me to be present at the time that rescheduling is done,"

  Theol pursed his lips.

  "Actually sir, that is what is contained in the addendum I gave to you.
All of the necessary amendments to your contract are listed and only require
you signature for them to go into effect,"

  Barrelar looked skeptically at the parchment and then back to Theol.

  "Where is the briefing to be held?"

  "At Jalat's headquarters. One hour,"

  Barrelar glanced at the paper again.

  "You can leave now Theol. I already know the way and if I'm not there by
the time the briefing starts you can consider my contract terminated,"

  "Sir, I hope you know what that means as far as your retainer is
concerned,"

  The mercenary smoothed his beard and nodded.

  "I do. But I'd rather work for a stable employer who'd see me sweat for my
coin than an overly-generous one who feels compelled to alter an agreement
every other week. I can handle change but only so far. Now leave. I have
some reading to do,"

  He unfolded the parchment and furrowed his brow, not even bothering to
glance up at Theol's departure.

  'An hour?' he thought. 'I need at least three to make any sense of this,'

  He pushed all thoughts of chess out of his head as he started the first
line.

         *      *       *

  Shekkelleh tilted his head to one side and froze. He had been lashing
together the frame for a makeshift sail when he heard what he could have
sworn was a scream from directly below. From the cargo hold.

  He looked around, checking for any pause in the rest of the work crew.
Nothing. Kevved was off talking to some of the wounded sailors, Gisel was
checking and rechecking the weapons, Torosa was probably still on the
bridge, and the shallas only knew where Nuarte went. He hefted the rope in
his claws. Probably his imagination. Still... He listened again.

  There was always something about this particular voyage that had intrigued
the dracon. Ever since the cargo hold was announced off limits after the
Reorx pick up there had been a running bet among the crew as to just what
the Revenge was carrying that required so much secrecy.

  His tail twitched slightly and Shekkelleh felt the urge to stamp his feet
in impatience Certainly the captain's orders had a perfectly good
explanation to them, but if there was an injured packmate there would be no
choice but to help. And, he told himself, if he had just imagined it then at
least he would be sure of it.

  Shekkelleh bobbed his head, satisfied with his reasoning. He tied off the
end of his rope and shuffled as inconspicuously as he could to the stairway.
After one last look around he ducked inside.

  As he reached the lower deck entrance to the hold, Shekkelleh felt a stab
of guilt at breaking the captain's orders. He wrung his hands. No, he was
sure he heard a packmate in distress. He took a deep breath and straightened
his shoulders. Calmly he pushed against the door. It was unlocked. There was
someone inside after all.

  Shekkelleh pushed the door the rest of the way open and slipped noisily
inside.

  "I apologize for the intrusion, but I would inquire if I may render
assistance in some way?" he asked hopefully. No one answered.

  Shekkelleh closed the door behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust to
the darkness. Slowly he began to see the soft glow of body heat off to the
right above the cool blue of what must be the cargo crates. He approached
the glow, which from where he stood was only about twenty feet away.
Someone was hanging upside down from the great lift doors that were set into
the ceiling.

  "I heard your cry of distress," Shekkelleh called up to him. "May I offer
the strength of my arms to return you to the floor?"

  There was a snapping sound, and as the dracon's vision continued to
improve he could see that it was the captain he was addressing. His nostrils
caught the warm velvety scent of blood and then he realized with a growing
panic why there was no answer.


	Chapter Eight is forthcoming.

	You can find all the chapters I've written so far for Second Wind on
Static's website at:
 http://www.gwr.com/~eshum/rpg/sj/tales/SecondWind/SecondWind.html