Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Mother Speaks (7 page)

Some of the children swooshing water in puddles with their feet or carefully crafting castles of mud are only three or four or five years old.

There is time yet for tragedy in their childhood.

17

Weeks passed.

I felt my spirit splitting into several pieces. It was harder and harder to find the energy to think of plans of escape.

Worse, it seemed that J'role did not want to escape. He seemed content to be trapped with me. I would discuss plans and options and he would listen, and then change the subject.

Having me in his life, without the possibility of me sending him away, actually made him content.

18

We sailed into the sky, again and again, the thrill of floating in a stone ship now long gone. I no longer looked out the oar's small hole. Neither did I pay any attention to the task of rowing. Redbeard cast his powers granted by Vestrial, my muscles left my control, and I had little to do but make my mind wander as far as possible from the pain.

One day as I stared forward, a red-haired woman glanced back at me. She nodded slightly, then quickly turned forward once more.

Was she one of the Overgovernor's spies? Was she a potential ally? Had she overheard J'role and I talking in the darkness? Did she know how much I wanted to escape? To get to my boys?

Our ship was following one of the five established routes over now-familiar landmarks, and had risen to our standard mining altitude. It seemed that certain portions of the sky were more rich in elemental air than others, just as a mine in a mountain might have some veins richer in silver.

Sailors strung the nets out between the ships, and dropped charges of elemental fire to rip holes into the plane of elemental air. I watched these operations, for it was during these breaks that the Therans usually fed us a mix of gruel and water. I needed something to keep my mind off the mess I ate.

On the day the red-haired woman looked at me, storm clouds, dark and foreboding, rolled quickly toward us from the south. Rushing winds and rain-soaked clouds usually sent us back to Sky Point. But this day the captains of the vessels decided to stay, for they had yet to gather any elemental air.

The day turned from bright and blue to gray and dismal. Sails fluttered wildly and the snapping of their cloth sounded like Redbeard's whip. As the sailors quickly lowered their sails, long streaks of rain began to rush by my oar's hole. The drum started up—a steady, slow rhythm, designed to hold us in place and parallel with the other ship as the winds pushed us through the sky. The Therans refused to return to the platform empty-handed.

Another charge went off. I glanced out the window. The tear appeared, finally, the red blossom of flame cutting into the dark purple of the elemental plane. As I stared gasped, for within the hole cut into another world I saw something move.

19

My bowl of gruel slipped from my hands and splashed to the floor as I craned my neck to get a better look at the things rushing up from the deep-blue crack in the sky. I saw three or four white creatures with long limbs and thin, skull-like faces dominated by large mouths lined with sharp teeth. Their long, sharp fingers moved in and out of a grip, terribly desirous for something to rend.

Already, shouts of alarm rang through the air. Sailors scrambled to untie the net connecting the ships, but their efforts came too late. The elemental air rushed up from the hole in the sky and snagged the net. It shot up like a blanket over a rambunctious and sleepless child. The two ships lurched and rushed toward each other. As our ship jerked to port, some of my fellow slaves cried out in fear. Redbeard, always ready with just the right response, cracked his whip to silence us. Then he, wide-eyed with concern, called up the stairs. No answer came back.

As the two ships nearly crashed into each other, sailors on the other ship dropped their end of the netting. The elemental air drove the loose netting up and then rushed out from under it, a strange, amorphous glitter of silver shunting aside raindrops as it raced toward the gray clouds above. A treasure lost to the skies.

For just a moment I felt oddly safe in the slave hold, protected from the rain like a child staring out the window of her hut. I also felt somehow safe from the creatures that rushed by me toward the upper decks, their long bodies like milky water. It seemed as if it were all happening in a dream, and that retribution would be swiftly dealt to my enemies.

The sense of safety ended a moment later.

The first scream came from directly overhead. Dark drops of blood fell with the rain, startling me. I pulled back just as the corpse of a Theran sailor fell from the deck above, cart-wheeling through the air, his chest an open cavity, the ribs shattered and pulled opened wide. The rag doll body slammed into the hull of the opposite ship, bounced off and began its nightmare plummet to the ground below.

On the other ship I saw several sailors gathered against one of the things. They had surrounded it, their blades flashing strange light as they swung at it. The thing raked the air with its claws, and they could neither strike it nor avoid the tips of its sharp claws.

Lines of blood appeared on their faces. The sailors cried out in pain, but the pain only seemed to strengthen their resolve to destroy the thing.

A palpable panic filled the hold as slaves on the port stared out at the carnage through the small oar holes, their backs tense with terror, while the other slaves uselessly craned their necks for a view outside. Some of the slaves cried out questions in a variety of strange tongues. A few answers came back. One slave, the red-haired woman, shouted in Throalic, "Elemental monsters. They're attacking the ship!"

Redbeard walked the aisle, snapping his whip, but his heart wasn't in it, the gesture more like a reassuring habit. The snapping of the whip quieted us, but the anxiety did not abate.

I realized that if the sailors lost the battle, we might well be the next victims of the terrible elemental creatures. Chained to our oars and weaponless, we would be easy prey.

More than that, it seemed that the chance J'role said we must wait for had arrived. If the creatures won the battle, then the Therans would be dead and we would only have to face the monsters. No simple task, but possible. If the monsters lost, the Therans would be wounded and their numbers reduced. An even better opportunity.

"J'role!" I shouted without looking at him, so as to not call Redbeard's attention to him.

"Now's Our chance!"

The tip of Redbeard's whip slapped into my face, blocking my view of J'role's reaction.

For a moment I could think of nothing as blackness stuffed its way into all my senses, blocking any sight, sound, or touch. When I came awake again, it seemed that hours had passed, but I knew it had only been seconds. I felt a thin, ticklish stream of blood dripping down my cheek and soaking into my black slave robe. Redbeard shouted at me, his face close and red, his mouth wide in frantic panic. More screams came from the upper decks. The other slaves began screaming as well, holding up their chains to Redbeard pleading for their freedom.

I glanced past Redbeard, and saw J'role huddled over and quiet. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was working on his lock, using his thief magic to free himself.

My sigh of relief was the first mistake I made that day.

Redbeard saw my reaction, whirled around, searched for what had given me moment of respite. He spotted J'role and rushed toward him. "J'role!" I cried. Your father ignored me and continued to work.

When close enough, Redbeard snapped the whip at your father's back. The clown outfit was long gone, replaced now by a black slave robe already pockmarked with ragged holes from the whip. J'role's body jerked in response to the blow, but he kept working, his attention—as much of it as he could retain—focused on picking the lock.

Again and again Redbeard snapped his whip at J'role. Blood rained down on the slaves behind your father. "Stop him!" I screamed, standing. "Stop him! J'role's our only chance." I do not know whether it was from fear or lack of understanding, but no one stirred to lend a hand.

In his frantic desire to stop J'role, Redbeard gripped his whip with both hands and slid it around J'role's neck. He jerked the whip back and began to strangle your father. Panic seized me and then rage at all those around J'role who refused to help. Options for spells raced through my mind, I had to risk drawing a Horror to me. If a risk must be taken, now was the time. Air blast was unavailable, for I could not fling my chained hands wide enough to cast the spell. Earth darts would have been wonderful—but of course I had no dirt. In fact, I had no spell components of any kind near me.

J'role called out for help, his breathing like the gurgle of a drowning man.

Then I thought of icy surface. Could I lean down far enough? I could only try.

Straining my spine as much as possible, I brought my face as close to floor as I could.

The oar squeezed deep into the flesh of my stomach and thighs. I focused on tapping into the astral plane with my thoughts, drawing the magical energy needed to collect the moisture in the room's air. My mind slipped into the strange place between our world and all the worlds around ours.

Were Horrors near? Would they sense me in my weakened, magically exposed state?

The ship tossed back and forth in the rough winds of the rain storm. Screams filled the air during the tiny gaps between the storm's howling. I heard someone shouting from up the stairs, making Redbeard look up and call back. Then he returned his attention to J'role.

I exhaled, my breath turning as misty and white as it might on the upper reaches of a mountain. The mist flowed down from my mouth, and a thick layer of ice formed on the floor. It spread out five feet across, then rushed forward, a blue-silver carpet of ice unfurling, slipping around the legs of the benches the other slaves sat on, racing toward Redbeard, who was still struggling to strangle J'role.

20

The ice rushed up under Redbeard's feet. In that moment he tugged hard on his whip, making J'role gasp sharply. The momentum of the tug rocked Redbeard back, and he uttered a cry of surprise as his feet slid out from under him. Falling backward, he dragged J'role with him, bending your father over backward to the floor, the whip still wrapped around his neck.

J'role used that moment to wriggle free of the whip. With the deft motion of a well-practiced thief, he slipped the keys from Redbeard's belt. He then swung his upper body back up and began searching for the right key. But Redbeard was already scrabbling to stand. A slave stuck out his foot and tripped the slave master. Redbeard scrambled for balance on the ice, then fell back down. The slave smiled, something I'd never seen him do before in the two months he'd been with us.

A cheer went through room.

J'role found the key, undid his shackles, and stood. Another cheer and a rattling of chains filled the room. A charge of thick energy passed through us all. Suddenly we could remember the taste of freedom. We needed our chains undone now. J'role dodged a kick from Redbeard and tossed the keys to some people on benches behind him. Immediately they began fumbling with the keys to free themselves.

Meanwhile, Redbeard had scrambled up, avoiding the clawing hands of nearby slaves and the quick kicks of their legs. He stepped off the ice, whirled his whip back, and snapped it at J'role in three quick, successive blows. J'role moved quickly right, left, then right again, each time just a hair's breadth from the snap of the whip.

The keys made their way back along the benches. Prisoners found their freedom, passed the keys back, then rushed forward to help J'role. A few of the slaves slipped on the ice patch, but most flung themselves into Redbeard, knocking the slave master to the ground and burying him under their bodies.

The keys reached me, and I undid my shackles. I jumped up—realized that was a mistake in my weakened condition—and staggered a moment. I covered my eyes with my hands and drew in a long, slow breath.

Footsteps came from the stairs. J'role turned, and a Theran sailor, his hair heavy and wet with rain, his silver and white clothes streaked with stains of blood, stared in horror and disbelief at the rebellion before him. In that pause J'role rushed up the stairs. The sailor swung his sword. J'role ducked beneath it and drove his right shoulder into the man's abdomen. The sword slammed into the stone wall, and the two men tumbled down the stairs and out onto the floor.

Redbeard screamed harsh words—obscenities, no doubt, and orders for us to free him. I moved quickly to the front of the hold, intending to ignore Redbeard in my desire to help J'role. I hadn't even gotten that far, however, before a group of slaves grabbed the guard's head, a dozen hands all at once. No word or signal had been given. A perverse communication of pain had passed from mind to mind. As a single, writhing entity of arms, they twisted Redbeard's head, first to the left then to the right. A sharp crack, much like the sound of his whip, resulted from the first twist. The second produced a simple grinding.

I rushed past the horrible scene and came up to J'role and the sailor rolling back and forth on the ground, each seeking the final, decisive advantage over the other. The other slaves were still enraptured by the fate of the Theran they hated most, and paid not the slightest attention to my husband's skirmish with an unknown sailor.

The sailor's sword lay on the ground. I picked it up and shouted at him, ordering him to surrender. My plan had been to use Redbeard as my hostage. That possibility removed, I decided to replace the slave master with the sailor.

Although the sailor did not understand my words, he turned quickly to find me standing behind him, sword raised high. He paused. In his eyes I saw him weighing a decision.

Then he tensed and rushed at me. I am no swordmaster, but I swung the blade down well enough, catching him in the shoulder. A splash of blood cut an arc through the air and spattered the gray stone wall. The sailor cried out in pain as J'role used his legs to knock him down to the floor. Then other slaves swarmed over the sailor like waves crashing onto a rocky shore.