The Worlds of Christopher Walker

BLACKNESS AND MURKY silence surrendered their grip on Aragunk as he drifted up toward consciousness again. The first thing he noticed before opening his eyes was that his bed was soaking wet. His throbbing head swam with confusion. Why would he be sopping wet in his own soft bed? An icy shard of fear pierced his heart. He hadn’t wet the bed, had he? He gave a small sniff, and to his relief, he only smelled seawater. So why was he all wet then? And why was his room rocking and shaking?

Then a voice, far away, clear with pure terror, someone screaming with all their strength, rang through. “That monster’s gone beneath us again, sir! It means to crack our hull this time and drag us below!”

Aragunk grit his teeth with rage and shot up. “Would you keep it down? I’m trying to sleep!” His eyes opened to the sight of Breech the helmsman, desperately fighting the rudder to get the Freedom Hawk on course. Blood trickled down the sailor’s cheek and his eyes were shot wide with terror. Memory stampeded over Aragunk’s brain like a herd of crazed oxen. “The ship! We’re under attack!”

Breech glanced down at him. “Oh, you’re still alive, are you? Well, welcome back to the worst hour of your life, young sir!”

“What happened to me?”

“Judging by the bleedin’ knot on your forehead, I’d say that you smacked your head on the rail when we rammed into that black beast!”

As Aragunk struggled to his feet, a deep dull throb pounded to life on his forehead. He touched it tenderly and his fingertips returned with blood on them. “I’m bleeding!”

“You’re bleedin’ right you’re bleedin’! And you’re not the only one that’s sprung a leak around here by a long sight!”

Men ran in every direction over the deck below him. The main mast had snapped and its rigging lay sagging over the port side.

“Cut that rigging away!” He heard Captain Yorlov bellowing down on the main deck. “Cut it away or that thing’ll grab hold of it and drag us over this time!”

“Captain, enemy ships closing! They mean to board us!”

Yorlov came running and leaping over debris—cracked wood, frayed ropes, and the remains of one of the cook-off’s deck stoves. “All hands, prepare to repel boarders!” he bellowed. “All hands, arm yourselves to repel boarders!”

Aragunk’s eyes leapt about, searching for Lumpolas. But aside from the toppled stoves and the half-cooked food spread across the deck, he could find no sign of Lumpolas or Cookie. “Captain, have you seen Lump?” Aragunk asked the captain as he flew by with cutlass drawn.

Yorlov shot him a fierce glance. “No, lad. He could have been swept overboard with the others for all I’ve been able to tell.”

“Overboard?” Aragunk sprang to the gunwale but his weak eyes couldn’t make out anything but a dark, choppy sea. “We’ve got to save him!”

“Aye that we do, lad. But we can’t do anything while we’re swarming with sea-brigands, can we? You wanted a fight? Well, grab your sword and get ready to fight!” 

Aragunk nodded. His hand shot to his scabbard but found it empty. “My sword!” The knot on his head throbbed as he searched around the deck for it. “I can’t find my sword! A chance to fight and I can’t find my bloody sword!”

“Aragunk, help us!” Beonna’s voice rang out from behind him. He whipped around and found her with her arms around Millen, holding him out of the way of the sailor’s trampling boots. “Please! Help me get Millen below before the raiders get here!”

“Beonna! You must have seen it! My sword, did you see where my sword went? They’re about to board us and I need it!”

“Never mind that,” she said. “Help me with Millen or he’ll get killed whether or not you have your sword!”

“There isn’t time! The battle’s almost here!”

Beonna’s eyes ignited with frustration for a second, but then a smirk curled the corners of her lips. “Actually, I do know where it went.” 

He leaped over to her and knelt. “Tell me!”

She shook her head. “Help me get Millen below decks and I’ll show you.”

“No!” Aragunk smacked his head in anger and instantly regretted it. His skull thundered like someone had rung a big bell inside his brain. When it died down enough, he answered her with gritted teeth. “Just tell me where it is! You can get him down there yourself!”

Beonna’s eyes flashed. “Help me take him or no deal!”

The first of the black ships was closing fast and even Aragunk could see the glittering swords and arrows of their raiding party as they readied to leap aboard the Freedom Hawk. Yorlov turned to him. “If you’re not going to fight, then at least get those two belowdecks!” 

Aragunk groaned while he regarded the crew behind Yorlov getting ready for the fight of their lives. “Alright, alright!” He snatched the unconscious boy from Beonna’s arms. “Hurry! They’re almost on us!”

“I knew you’d come around,” said Beonna with a little mocking smile. They had to wait for the sailors streaming up the gangway with cutlasses in hand on their way to defend against the raiders. “Don’t start without me!” he pleaded as they passed.

“I’m sure they won’t,” she said with a sneer. “They’ll stop the entire battle just to wait for you!”

“I hope you’re right,” he whimpered and started after her down the gangway with Millen lolling in his arms. When they got to the main deck, Aragunk cast around for any sign of Lumpolas. “Did you see what happened to Lump?” he asked her over the noise of the men struggling to clear the deck.

“No,” she answered as they picked their way through the wreckage. “A lot of men got washed overboard when that sea-dragon hit us. We almost capsized!”

“What about Gandalf? What happened to him?” he asked. But before Beonna could answer, a roar unlike anything he had ever heard arose from deep below them. The huge black head of the sea-beast exploded out of the waves to the starboard side and lifted high above the Freedom Hawk. Its massive jaws spread wide with yellow teeth and its scaly back rippled in thick spines. It hung in the air, poised to strike down at the ship like an enraged serpent on its helpless prey. 

“We’re doomed!” a sailor shrieked. They all cowered beneath the towering monster. But instead of striking, the sea-dragon screamed, writhing as though in mortal agony.

“There!” cried Beonna in Aragunk’s ear. “Up there! It’s Gandalf!” She pointed to the dragon’s head, which to Aragunk was only a big black blur in the sky. But he could make out a smaller bright white blur on top of it that must have been the wizard.

“What’s he doing?” he asked, unwilling to admit the weakness of his eyes.

“He’s fighting it, keeping it from attacking the ship, trying to ride it like a wild horse. That’s all I can say for sure. But he’s giving the captain a chance to fight off the Dagorim raiders!” With Gandalf still atop its twisting head, the sea-monster reeled back with an ear-splitting shriek of rage and plunged back below the surface. A tremendous cataract of seawater rained over the deck.

“Well, come on then!” Aragunk shouted. “Gandalf’s giving me a chance for glory and I’m down here playing wet-nurse to Millen!”

Beonna rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s right. He’s doing it all for you.”

They made it to the aft hatch leading to their cabin, but found the wreckage of the mast blocking their way. “Blast it!” said Aragunk. “We’ll never get below this way!” 

“We’ll have to go to the front hatch!” said Beonna.

Aragunk was near to tears at this delay. “Well, go on then, your highness! Lead the way!” He followed her forwards. The steady drumbeat of the approaching raider’s ships made his sword hand itch. Mercifully, they found the galley hatch clear and slipped below. It slammed shut behind them and the darkness below blinded them.

Aragunk hesitated and listened. “What is that?” A metallic clattering came rattling from behind the counter.

“Who-who-who goes there?” a tiny little voice called. Beonna peeked over the countertop and started laughing.

“Well?” Aragunk barked. “What did you find?”

But she couldn’t stop laughing. “Come look!”

Aragunk peered over and found the two chefs, Lumpolas and Cookie, huddled in the corner. The pots on their heads clanked together as they shivered in fear. And they wielded knives and spoons for weapons in their trembling hands.

“Lump!” Aragunk sprang over the counter in his joy. “We thought you had gotten yourself washed overboard into the belly of that sea-dragon. And here you are, cowering in a corner with a saucepan on your head! Bee here was worried sick about you!”

“Bee?” She turned and glared at him. “Did you just call me Bee?”

“What of it?” he said with a grin.

“I’ll have to think about that,” she said with narrowed eyes. “What are you two doing here?”

Cookie spoke up first. “Oh! Well, beggin’ your pardon, Miss, but we figured that someone had to… someone should come down here to, to…uh—”

His voice trailed off until Lumpolas butted in. “To guard the supplies! In case the brigands tried to steal our food, right?” he asked Cookie.

“That’s right! Thinking about the welfare of the crew, we were. Can’t have them starving to death after fighting a big battle, could we?” They both grinned up at Aragunk and Beonna.

Aragunk laid Millen on the counter. “Well, now you have two more things to guard. Take care of Beonna and Millen while I go fight off those Dagorim pirates.” He started out the hatch before snapping his fingers and turning back to Beonna. “My sword! I got you both below decks. Now tell me where it is.”

Beonna’s eyes flashed wide. “I… I’ll have to show you.”

Aragunk grabbed her by the hand. “Well, come on then!”

As he pulled her out the hatch, she yelled back to the chefs. “Take care of him. I’ll be back!”

“Wait! Don’t leave us!” said Lumpolas as the door slammed shut. Millen gave a low groan as soon as Beonna departed with the locket.

“Well, doesn’t that beat all?” lamented Cookie. “You don’t think this little whip is still boogered by that bog-bat bite, do you?”

“I hope not, but he doesn’t look quite plum to me.”

“I hope not, too,” said Cookie, “but maybe we should tie him up, you know, just in case.”

“In case what?” Lumpolas asked with eyes going wide.

“In case he goes raving and drooling all over the ship again. Look at him!” Millen gave a sudden spasm and the pots on their heads banged together as Lumpolas and Cookie grabbed each other in fear.

Lumpolas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up. “I think… I think I’ll go above decks and see how they’re getting on up there.”

Cookie gave a whimper as his former foe stepped towards the galley hatch. “You can’t leave me alone down here!” A cracking roar shook the ship. Then the clattering crashes and screams of battle came thundering from the deck above. Lumpolas darted back and cowered next to Cookie. Millen arched and shrieked like a wounded animal, shaking and twisting in front of them.

“Well, ain’t this just a pickle sandwich?” whimpered Cookie.

Meanwhile, up on deck, the first of the Dagorim raiders had leapt aboard and sword met sword in a desperate fight. Aragunk, beside himself with impatience now, dragged Beonna aft. “They started without me, Bee! Show me where me where my sword is! Hurry!” 

Beonna jerked her hand out of his. “Stop pulling me! I’ll show you!” She loosed her bow from her shoulder, fitted an arrow to the string, and went ahead of him to the wreckage in front of the cabin hatch. “There!” she pointed underneath the bulk of the broken mast. “It must have fallen there. The mast fell on top of it.”

Aragunk dropped and frantically searched beneath the debris for his sword. “There it is! I see it! But…” He laid flat on his belly and reached beneath the pile as far as his long arm could go. “I can’t reach it! It’s too far!”

A black-armored Dagorim raider came leaping over the railing and landed with bloody sword raised high above his helmeted head. “Look out!” yelled Beonna. She leaped and rolled and sprang back up with bow ready. She fired under the breastplate of the raider, who howled and dropped with a groan to the deck. Scarcely a breath later, another came charging down the gangway with a battle cry. But Beonna had already nocked another arrow and felled the invader with a shaft lodged deep in his throat. “Don’t worry! I’ll try to leave a few for you while you get your precious sword!”

Aragunk gritted his teeth and kept reaching for it. “I can touch it with my fingertips!”

The Freedom Hawk’s crew spilled onto the main deck now with cutlasses flashing while their oncoming enemies hacked relentlessly with axes and jagged blades. Beonna stayed near Aragunk’s prone form and fired arrow after arrow into the ranks of the raiders. The locket about her neck flashed brighter and brighter, dazzling the eyes of the attackers and slowing their onslaught. The fight spread forwards as the invaders continued to swarm over from their ship. Soon, the entire deck lay covered with the rage of battle.

Captain Yorlov came leaping down from the quarterdeck, a cutlass in each hand. He hacked down a charging marauder before he could get to Beonna. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked, glancing at Aragunk lying on his belly.

Beonna rolled her eyes. “He’s trying to get his sword from underneath all that so he can fight for the glory of Gondor and save us all!”

“He’s what? Here! Take this!” The captain threw down one of his cutlasses. “Now fight!”

Aragunk glanced over at it. “I don’t want that sword! I have to have the sword my brother gave me! I almost have it!” But the swirl of battle had swept Yorlov away forwards. Beonna loosed the last of her arrows into the backs of two pursuing Dagors about to cut the captain down from behind. She grabbed the cutlass that Aragunk had spurned and slashed it into the back of a passing raider’s knee, felling him to the deck. She finished him with a downstroke to his exposed throat.

“I can’t wait to hear the song the maidens of Gondor are going to sing about your glorious exploits this day!” she said. “Your name will be immortal!”

Aragunk stretched as far as he could. “I’ve got a knuckle on it. I can get it!” A dark warrior leapt from the quarterdeck and, with a heavy kick to her stomach, sent Beonna sprawling against the gunwale. He swung his axe to split her head in two, but she recovered herself enough to roll to the side. His axe-head chopped fast into the rail and before the marauder could yank it loose, Beonna drove her cutlass deep into his side. The man died with a gurgling scream on his lips.

The fight raged and howled across the ship with much bloodshed on both sides. But the captain and crew of the Freedom Hawk began to prevail over the Dagor pirates. One by one, the raiders were killed or thrown overboard to sink beneath the waves in their heavy armor, never to be seen again.

Meanwhile, with sweat pouring over his brow, straining and stretching, Aragunk finally got his fingertips around the pommel of his sword. With a cry of triumph, he drew it out of the wreckage and sprang up, brandishing it in the sun. “Prepare to die at the hands of the son of Númenor, vile brigands!” He leaped forwards into a fighting crouch, ready for battle at last. But he found only the panting crew tossing the bodies of the slain pirates overboard or binding up the wounds of their companions.

“Hey look everybody,” said Boatswain Boritt as he nursed a nasty gash in the back of his sword hand. “The prince of Gondor has arrived to save us all.”

Aragunk cast his eyes about, bewildered. “But what happened? Where did the fight go?”

“It’s over, fool,” Boritt spat as he turned to bind the shoulder of one of the crew. “It’s over and you didn’t get a scratch on you. Three cheers for you!”

“Over? It can’t be over! I wasn’t ready! There must be more!”

“Aye, there’s more,” said Yorlov, limping back from the prow. “That was just the first ship. And I’d be worried if not for our lady of battle. Beonna here killed as many or more of those black Dagors as any man aboard!” he announced at the top of his lungs. 

Boritt raised his sword high in the air. “Hip hip!” he cried three times, and at each, the crew responded with a boisterous, “Hooray!”

Aragunk’s jaw fell wide open. “But that’s not fair. I didn’t have a chance!” 

The captain turned to a knot of sailors. “You lot! Throw down ropes to rescue the men swept overboard by that sea-dragon’s onslaught. The rest of you get those bodies thrown over and then get back to cutting this rigging away. Is Parsons still with us?”

“Aye, sir!” the half-dwarf called from the quarterdeck rail. “The first ship backed away, sir. But those other two slavers are trying to come alongside our starboard and larboard flanks.”

“Get back there and try to scare them off with your ugly face!”

“Aye, sir!” said Parsons, and vanished.

Beonna spoke up, “Captain, what about Gandalf?”

Yorlov cast his eyes to the water. “You know as much as I do, lass. He went under with that black beast and they haven’t been back up since. If he’s still alive, then he’s fighting that thing at the bottom of the sea. There’s nothing we can do to help him except stay alive and keep the ship afloat so he’ll have somewhere to come back to if he comes up. As for you, I’m afraid we’re going to need your bow again.” He turned to Aragunk. “Why are you just standing there? Make yourself useful. Go fetch some arrows for our lady warrior! All hands, get ready for more boarders! Our prince of Gondor is itching to fight his way to eternal glory. Let’s give him his chance!” Then he limped away aft.

Anyone within ten feet of Aragunk would have been able to hear his grinding teeth. Beonna gave him a smile and a wink as she tossed him her quiver. “Well, you heard him, Squire Gunk. Go fetch my arrows while I check on Millen.”

“I will do no such thing!” he said, slamming the quiver to the deck. “I am not your pageboy. I am a warrior of Gondor and the brother of the King!” 

“Well, that may be true on the land,” said Boatswain Boritt, “but here you’re only a freeloading cabin-boy who hasn’t earned his keep yet.” Beonna laughed at that and walked back to the galley, leaving Aragunk fuming. “Well, get to it then!” mocked the boatswain as he left to join the captain on the quarterdeck. “And hurry it up or you’ll miss another chance at eternal glory!” 

Aragunk almost hurled himself at Boritt as he departed, but checked himself. Instead, he snatched the quiver off the deck and moped about, looking for arrows while the crew cleared the ship of bodies and debris. He plucked a dozen shafts from the hides of the fallen Dagor pirates, grumbling under his breath the entire time. “I’ll show that ice princess how a warrior of Gondor fights! Now that I have my sword at my side and a real enemy to fight.” The rising drumbeat of the approaching galleys lent haste to Aragunk’s efforts, until at last, quiver full to bursting, he stormed through the galley hatch. He found Beonna with her eyes closed and her hands on Millen’s forehead, trying to calm him.

“Your arrows, your highness,” he said, flinging them on the counter and giving a low, courtly bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a battle to fight.”

“Something’s wrong, Gunk,” said Lumpolas, standing by them with the never-ending cup of water at the ready. “Millen’s going back under. The light from the locket is helping, but it feels like he’s slipping away.”

Aragunk shrugged. “Well, do what you can for him, I guess. I’ve got to go!” He bounded out the hatch, impatient to join the fight.

Back outside, towering black storm clouds from the East devoured the weak noon sun. The sea and the wind had fallen into an eerie dead calm. Above, the dark cloud of bog-bats swarmed and twisted. Everyone could feel the rush of the first victory fading as the daylight departed and the next onslaught approached the Freedom Hawk’s flanks. They bandaged the wounded as well as they could in the short time they had, then propped them back up against the gunwale with swords in their hands to do what they could to fight for their lives.

Aragunk at last took up his position astern with the rest. He stood, wiping the sweat from his palms as he tried to grip his slippery sword hilt. He glanced around at the faces of the sailors nearest him. Fear and fatigue mingled with stern resolve and iron will on those sea-blasted brows.

Why now, here, as his first proper battle approached, why couldn’t he hear the ever-present maiden’s songs hymning his glorious exploits in his head? Nor, in his imagination, could he see the familiar woven tapestries depicting him with sword raised in conquest, destined to hang in the hallowed halls of Minas Tirith alongside those of his ancestors. He exhaled and tried smacking himself in the face.

“First battle, eh lad?” said Culum next to him. The old deckhand had a blood-soaked rag wrapped around his head and his non-sword arm clutched at his ribs. His labored breathing filled Aragunk with dread.

“No, of course not,” Aragunk lied. “I just feel strange. Must have been some of Lumpolas’s swamp-food I ate earlier.”

Culum smiled at him. “It’s called fear, young man. Everyone here is feeling it. Everyone who’s ever gone into a fight feels it. And you see those black brigands on yonder cursed ships?”

Aragunk squinted his eyes. “Sort of.”

“Well, they’re feeling the same fear as you are. Even worse, because they already saw their mates get cut down and now they have to follow ‘em aboard.”

“I’m not afraid,” grumbled Aragunk, trying hard to believe it. “In all the songs about my ancestors, not one of them ever sings about a warrior feeling fear. They were always brave, and they never ran away from any peril. They always threw themselves headlong into every danger!”

Culum chuckled. “Them’s are just songs, young man. And no one wants to hear a song or a tale about someone who was scared. So they cut that part out and make ‘em sound like their palms never sweat or their teeth never once chattered while they stared down a flame-sneezin’ dragon. But I guarantee you that every one of those big brave heroes you heard sung about were as scared as you are right now. Maybe even more.”

“You would question the courage of my ancestors? If we weren’t about to be attacked, I’d box your head for it!”

“You’re angry? Good!” Culum said with a smile. “That’s one of your best weapons against fear. Now use it! They’re almost here.”

“Steady!” said Yorlov, who stood at the front of them all. Hands gripped and re-gripped their swords all around the deck. The black ships approached with drums pounding and oars slapping the black still sea. Even Aragunk could see the carved figureheads on their bows now: one a fierce long-tusked boar in the fury of a death-charge while the other galley sported a bat-faced creature with mouth hanging open, revealing its sharp fangs. The dark, armored shapes of raiders crowded behind them, waiting to leap aboard. “Steady, lads!” said Yorlov. “Those brigands don’t have any idea what kind of fight they’re about to swing into!” The quarterdeck creaked with sailors bent in readiness. Aragunk, for his part, could feel his feet tingling to run. And the hair on the back of his neck felt like it was trying to sneak away down his spine.

A guttural command rose from the enemy ships and the boar-headed galley approaching the Freedom Hawk’s starboard stern doubled its drumbeat. The ship pulled ahead of the other by a boat-length, bearing down on them. “They mean to ram us, sir!” cried Parsons.

“Aye, that’s what I’d be doing too. All hands brace for impact!” Another garbled shout arose from the bat-headed ship beyond. A volley of flaming arrows sprang into the air out of its belly, arcing towards the Freedom Hawk. “Take cover!” shouted Captain Yorlov.

All the men ducked and huddled forwards except for Aragunk, who stood gaping at the descending arrows. “Get down, you fool!” yelled Boatswain Boritt, who leaped up and grabbed him by the collar and forced him down. The arrows came thunking into the deck and into the masts behind them.

“You two!” Yorlov barked at a pair of wounded sailors near the gangway. “Get back there and put those fires out! If my ship burns, I’ll chase you to the bottom of the sea to pay for it!” They saluted wearily and disappeared.

“They’re almost on us!” said Parsons, though everybody could see it for themselves. The boar-headed ship had closed to within a hundred yards and was gaining speed. Again, a shout rose from the bat-headed ship and another volley shot into the air. “Down again!” shouted Yorlov, and again the flaming arrows thunked all around the ship. The black boar-headed galley had closed to fifty yards.

“This is it, lads!” the captain said. The scar on his cheek pulled so taut that it turned white. “Get ready to fight for your lives!”

Aragunk’s heart pounded faster than the drumbeat of the speeding galley. This was it: the moment he had been waiting for, and all he wanted to do was throw up over the gunwale. Every man around him looked far more resolute to fight than he did. Shame flooded through his bowels and he gripped his sword anew. “I will not fail you, my noble forebears,” he swore. “I will fight and fight bravely!”

“Twenty-five!” said Parsons. 

“Brace for impact!”

“Ulmo help us!” Culum whispered.

As the sailors tensed for the collision, the sea astern of the Freedom Hawk began to bubble and swell, rising and boiling higher and higher in a great foamy mass. Captain Yorlov rose and gazed at it. “What in Eru’s name is that?” Then, a huge scaly shape exploded from beneath the waves and stretched high into the air above the boar-headed raider. 

“It’s the dragon!” cried Parsons, as the entire crew reeled back in shock.

“Aye, and the white wizard’s atop him!” said Captain Yorlov. Before any of them could take another breath, the massive head of the towering beast, with Gandalf riding it like a war-charger, dove downwards and crashed over the top of the boar-headed galley. The wood of that cursed boat shattered in a thundering CRACK! as its back broke under the unimaginable bulk of the monster. THOOM! They could hear the screams of the Dagorim pirates flying over the deafening roar of the monstrous splash. Their black ship sank instantly, blasted into two foundering parts and dragged by the enraged leviathan below the surface. Within seconds, the enormous wave from the dragon’s mighty breach lifted the Freedom Hawk’s stern high into the air, sending the bewildered crew tumbling backwards until it passed and the ship righted itself.

A deafening calm filled their ears. Every man picked themselves up and ran to the stern to make sure that they had seen it all aright. But every wide eye could see that the attacking ship was gone, completely gone, with all hands. Only splintered debris strewn across the bubbling sea remained to mark its passage.

Face turned to face in slack-jawed disbelief for a moment until, all at once, a wild cheer erupted from the deck. Every sailor raised his cutlass in triumph. “HOORAH!” Hands clapped their closest companions on the back as the crew leaped and spun and celebrated.

“Thank Ulmo’s beard! We’re alive!” 

“It was Gandalf! Gandalf saved us!” Exuberant smiles abounded with joyous laughter. And every voice could be heard thanking the heavens above and the deeps below for their unlooked-for deliverance.

Every voice except for one.

Aragunk alone stood gripping the aft railing while the raucous celebration clamored on all around him. He stared with dismay at the spot where the enemy galley had gone down. Culum came up to him through the joyful fracas and clapped him on the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you, lad?”

“They can’t be gone,” Aragunk said, shaking his head. “That was my fight. Mine!”

Culum couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh fie on you, you young fool! We’re alive, ain’t we?” But the young man of Gondor would not be consoled, seeing yet another opportunity for glory sink below the waves.

“Avast ye dogs!” Captain Yorlov’s shout soared above the din. “Avast ye and listen!” At once, the men stopped their dancing and cheering and turned to him. “The stars above smiled on us and gave us respite from our doom. But we’d be fools to think that we’re out of danger yet! There’re still two slave-oared ships abaft that mean us ill. Our main mast lies broken and our sails are still in tatters. I want every hand busy getting this ship back into trim while those Dagor dogs are back there shivering in their shoes!”

Breech the helmsman spoke up. “Begging the captain’s pardon, sir, but won’t the wizard just ride those last two ships down like he did the first?”

“He may and he may not, Breech. If he were here, we could ask him. But he’s down there with that monster still, and who knows if he’ll be able to steer that thing back up again? Now I want all the fires put out and the deck cleared. Boritt, get below and get the spare mast ready to bring above. I want it up and square-rigged and ready to sail before they get up the courage to try another run at us!”

“Aye, sir!” said the boatswain, darting away. The rest of the crew bustled off to carry out the captain’s orders. All except for Aragunk, who still stared out to sea. The captain came over. “What’s the matter with you, lad?”

“They won’t want to fight us anymore,” he muttered. “Those marauders won’t come anywhere near us now after seeing that sea-monster steal all the glory.”

“If you’re sulking about being alive, boy, I’m sure I can find a couple of hands that’d be happy to throw you overboard to drown your sorrows. I’ve lost men today, good men who would have been glad to live out the day and the rest of their lives without so much as sniffing your precious glory. Now they’re gone!” Putting a hand on Aragunk’s shoulder he said, “Battles never go the way you think they’re going to, lad. Never. Now, when you’re done pouting, I could use your help down on the deck.” And with that, the captain stalked away, leaving Aragunk with his stormy thoughts.

“Just give me a chance,” he prayed to whatever might be listening out beyond his dim sight. “One chance to make my forebears proud, that’s all I ask.”

As he gazed at the blurry black ships with his weak eyes, an immense plume of darkest smoke erupted from the bow of the bat-headed galley. “Captain?” Aragunk said, backing away from the rail. Then, a towering column of crimson fire shot up out of the smoke into the twisting cloud of bog-bats above. “Captain Yorlov!”

The captain, busy barking more orders at the crew, jerked back around. “Sweet Luthien’s mane, what is that?” The sailors stopped and rushed back astern as the fiery column flew higher and higher. Then, when it had stretched beyond their sight, it exploded into arcs of purple-hued lightning, ripping through the cloud of dark creatures. Fear throbbed through the ranks of men as they stood helpless before the spectacle unfolding high above. The air around them sizzled and tingled. Every hair bristled and shot straight up. 

“What is it, sir? What do we do?”

“How in blazes should I know what that is?” said Yorlov. Not fifty yards off the Freedom Hawk’s stern, an explosion tore the air as a bolt of purple lightning struck where the galley had gone under. The crew reeled back in terror.

“We need the wizard, sir!” said Parsons, “We need Gand—” Another thunder-strike astern drowned his voice out.

“Well, we haven’t got the wizard, have we?” the captain barked as another bolt flashed between them and the enemy ships, and then another. The lightning struck and struck again, sometimes near and sometimes far behind the Freedom Hawk and her cowering crew. After a long minute of this, Yorlov stepped back and set to grinding his palm into his chin whiskers as he always did when deep in thought. “What are those Dagorim dogs about?” he asked no one in particular.

“Do they mean to sink us with those bolts, sir?” asked Culum over the din.

Yorlov scowled. “No, not one of those bleedin’ bolts has hit us yet. They’re going to a lot of trouble to put on a show for us! No, it’s as though they mean to confuse us with all these fireworks, not to sink us.” He shook his head. “No, they want something from us. They want…” A shock of realization swept over his face. “Beonna! Where is she?”

Aragunk turned to him with a start. “I left her below, down in the galley! She was taking care of the boy!”

A blood-bitter howl rose from the bow behind them, snapping the crew’s attention from the lightning strikes astern. Every heart missed a beat at the horrible unearthly sound piercing the crackling air. Yorlov grabbed Aragunk by the arm. “Come with me, lad! Hurry!” The captain pulled him away from the ranks down the gangway after him. They found Boatswain Boritt running with all his might across the main deck back towards them.

“Captain! There’s something back there in the galley. A big black creature with—” But he stopped short as something like a long shard of black glass burst through his stomach from behind. He fell to the deck at their feet with a gurgling cry and breathed his last.

“Boritt!” screamed Yorlov, skidding down to help him. He froze when a dark shape emerged from the hatch.

“What in Isildur’s name is that?” asked Aragunk.

The dark thing before them wasn’t really a thing at all. Or rather, it was many things. A thick swarm of the vile bog-bats all flapping and flying together so tightly that they made a single shape: a tall winged creature roughly the shape of a man but with long horns above and feet like hooves below. It stretched a hand, palm out, facing toward them.

“Down!” yelled Yorlov. He turned and tackled Aragunk to the deck as another shaft of black glass shot from the creature’s palm. They tumbled together behind the broken mast, but not before the shard pierced clean through the captain’s thigh. He screamed in pain and rolled away.

Aragunk dropped next to him. “Captain Yorlov!” His eyes flashed up to the dark creature, only to see another obsidian dart hurtling their way. He barely ducked in time as it whizzed past and plunged deep into the bulkhead behind him.

Yorlov, his purple scar writhing like a snake in his agony, grabbed Aragunk by the shoulder. “Beonna! That thing is here for her and the locket. You have to save her! Go!” Aragunk’s head was swimming when Parsons cried from the quarterdeck, “Ahoy, Captain Yorlov! They’re attacking! The enemy ships are attacking again!” Aragunk winced at those words, longing to rush back and repel the boarders with the might of his sword. But the captain grabbed his other shoulder and shook him hard. “Never mind that! Beonna! Save Beonna and Millen!”

Aragunk nodded and set his teeth. “Aye, sir!” He peeked his head over the fallen mast again. The creature had vanished, and it wasn’t hard to guess where it had gone. “Aye, I’ll save them!” He sprang up, sword in hand, and bolted to the galley hatch. With his heart pounding and absolutely no plan whatsoever to slow him down, he tore the hatch open and leaped into the darkness below.