Ocean of Dust (25 page)

She dragged Branda up the aft stairs. The men
watched them but made no move to intercept.

"Let's try the navigator," Lissa said.

Could she trust him? His dislike for her was
obvious, but he seemed to take his responsibility for the ship's
safety seriously. Surely, he wouldn't get involved with Farq? The
deck master did respect him though, she'd seen that. She paused
outside his cabin door. How much time did they have? There wasn't
another avenue open to her. She sucked in a deep breath, blinked
her tired eyes, and pushed the door open without knocking.

He wasn't inside. Charts and books lay strewn
across the desk, and the drapes billowed at the rear windows. His
cabin looked as it always did.

"What now?" Branda asked, peering around the
room.

"We've got to find the captain."

"In middle of night? What if nothing happen
today? What if Farq wait? We may have more time than you
worry."

Lissa chewed her lip and scratched a blob of
dried food from the chart on the desk.

"That's a thought but my gut says we don't
have time to waste. No, we have to find the captain."

"What if Farq with him?"

"I don't know." Lissa paused. "I'll think of
something."

"What if he not listen to us? He get
angry."

Lissa slapped her hand on the desk. "I don't
know. I don't have the answers, but we have to try."

Turning to leave, she remembered the map she
had drawn in the hold, and removed it from her pocket. She had
planned to hand it to the navigator and beg him to explain where
she had gone wrong. After a moment’s hesitation she placed it in
the center of his desk, weighed down by his map ruler. She hoped it
would be safer here.

The bell tolled four times in rapid
succession. The pattern was hurried, not planned, and the tone of
the bell sounded dire and alarming.

"No!" Lissa cried.

After a pause, the bell rang three more
times.

Lissa rushed out onto the narrow walkway.
"We've got to find the captain, right now."

Boot steps and shouting came from the command
deck above.

"What's the meaning of this?" the captain
said. "Who ordered you to ring that sequence?"

"Quickly," Lissa cried, and sprinted for the
stairs, taking them two at a time.

Behind her, Branda tripped. Lissa ran back,
hauled her friend to her feet and continued up.

"Farq ordered it, sir," Seben said.

The young sailor quivered beside the wooden
bell housing. The captain leaned on the rail and peered down at the
main deck.

"Farq!" he shouted. "Pass the word for
Farq."

Lissa surged upward and ran out on to the
command deck.

"What're you doing, girl?" the captain
yelled. "Now isn't the time for drinks."

"Captain," she began, "Farq-"

"Silence. Remove her."

Two men sprang toward her.

"Captain, please," she cried. "The ship's in
danger. Farq-"

Branda bumped into her from behind. The
captain's men were only a step away. Lissa turned and pushed Branda
back down the stairs.

"Run," she said.

Farq charged up the stairs with a long knife
in each hand. Four men followed, brandishing polearms and scowling.
She squealed.

"You again," Farq roared.

The captain's men reached for her. She ducked
and hurtled down the stairs after Branda. "Into the cabins," she
told her.

Farq and his men reached the landing before
them, cutting off their escape route. His jaw was set, his nose
flared and his eyes wide and cold. Her heart pounded and her gaze
darted around, looking for a way out. Boots thundered on the stairs
above her. Branda froze. They were trapped in the middle.

“Now I have you,” Farq snarled.

Lissa jumped up and grabbed hold of a rope
running above, using its slack to pull it down. Two metal eyelets
hung on it, each with a wooden rod acting as a handle.

"Branda, onto the railing," she cried and
pushed her free hand under Branda's butt, pushing her toward the
low railing. "Get up there."

Branda squirmed up, teetering on the edge.
Lissa thrust one of the wooden rods into her hand.

"Take it. Quickly. Now jump."

Branda sat frozen atop the railing, staring
wide-eyed at the deck far below.

"Go," Lissa screamed, and shoved her, sending
her zipping down the rope.

Farq stormed up the stairs, clashing his
knife blades together. His men cheered and urged him on.

One of the men in the stairs above her snaked
an arm around her waist. She twisted aside and drove her knee into
his leg. It buckled and he crashed onto the step, losing his grip
on her. She stamped on his body and used it to climb onto the
railing, sliding her butt along it just as Farq's knife sliced
through her shirt, its tip scratching across her back. The railing
collapsed with a loud rip of splitting wood.

Then she flew through the air, twelve feet
above the deck, about to plunge to her death. Shrieking, she
stretched her arms above her and wrapped her fingers around the
second rod, right before it slid out of reach. The rope whined as
she hurtled down it, one-handed, the deck rushing up to meet
her.

"Bring her to me," Farq yelled. "You two,
follow me. After the captain."

Branda pulled her aside before she smashed
into the wall of Farq's office. Lissa let go and dropped three feet
to the floor, knocked off her feet by a handful of men pouring out
of a hatchway. Roaring and howling, the men charged another group,
both sides drawing wicked-looking swords from their belts. Who was
friend and who was foe? She rolled out of their way.

Another fight broke out on the command deck.
The sound of clashing blades drowned out the shouting. The captain
fought two of his own crewmembers, his sword stabbing and slashing
rapidly. Nib pinned the navigator to the upper rail, and held an
axe-bladed polearm to his throat.

Lissa squirmed into a corner, clinging to
Branda, while the battle raged in front of them. It was insane to
see men who lived and worked together, now trying to viciously stab
each other. She clapped her hands to her ears and watched, as the
whole ship seemed to be at war. Carg, a sickly old sailor, fell to
the deck at her feet, and a dark stain spread across his tunic. He
pressed both hands to his belly, but blood oozed out of his mouth
and matted his beard. Her heart thumped in her ears as she gazed
into his pained eyes. They turned lifeless when he rattled his last
breath and died. She buried her face, her whole body shaking.

The crew chief appeared and yanked them both,
one-handed, from their hiding place. He carried a monstrous, curved
sword, but Lissa could only see the blood that dripped from its
tip. She backed away, pushing Branda behind her.

"Stop the fight. Please, stop them," she
shouted above the clamor of battle.

"Go below," he said, no emotion in his
voice.

"You help captain?" Branda begged.

"Go below." He pushed them roughly toward the
hatch.

The mess deck was in turmoil. Men hurled
benches at each other, and buckets shattered on top of heads. Two
men threw another headfirst into a post. He sprawled, unmoving on
the floor.

"We've got to hide," she said. "Down
again."

The galley hallway was empty, but the sounds
of the brawl were loud. Boots appeared on the ladder above them,
and Lissa grabbed Branda's hand and darted into the nearest
storeroom, looking for a pile of sacks to hide behind.

Two of Nib's friends followed them into the
room. Each clutched a huge knife that glinted in the light of the
hallway globes. Their clothes were dirty and torn, and their heads
were bald. Blab, the larger man, had a thick, blonde beard that
tapered to a point.

"Look what we got 'ere," he said, with a
wide, lopsided grin.

Lissa retreated against a pile of sacks,
thrusting Branda behind her. Branda peered under her armpit.

"We're not a part of all this," Lissa told
them. "We're not on anyone's side. We just cook dinner."

"Farq wants you," the smaller man snarled.
"You're coming with us."

He stepped forward, arms wide, herding them
toward the rear of the room.

"Let 'em go," Mampalo said, appearing in the
doorway, breathing hard.

"Mamp!" Lissa gasped.

"Walk away, Blab." He aimed his saber at the
man's chest. "They're just girls."

Blab raised his knife and advanced on
Mampalo, while the other man continued to approach Lissa. She and
Branda backed against the wall.

Mampalo made a lightning thrust at Blab's
midriff, but Blab beat it away with his knife and kicked Mampalo in
the leg.

The other man lunged forward and grabbed
Lissa's arm.

"Gotcha." He smirked.

She struggled to break loose, but his fingers
dug into her arm, turning her skin red. He dragged her toward the
doorway.

"I got 'er. Now you walk away," he said to
Mampalo.

Lissa could see that Mampalo had the clear
advantage of reach with his saber, and none of Blab's stabs got
near him. His gorgeous yellow eyes focused unblinking on his
opponent's face.

Chuckling, Blab reached behind himself, and
with a smooth movement took the knife from his friend's hand,
flipped it around, and with both knives lunged at Mampalo.

"Interfering Drujan."

"Let the girls go and I won't run you
through," Mampalo cried, and dodged sideways, narrowly escaping
both blades. He stabbed his sword through Blab's left arm. Lissa
winced as the tip pierced straight through, spraying the room with
blood.

Blab ignored the wound. Instead, he pushed a
knife into Mampalo's guts.

"Idiot. Always fight to kill." He gave it a
hard twist both ways.

"No!" Lissa cried.

Mampalo faltered. He released his grip on his
sword, which slipped out of Blab's arm and clattered to the deck.
He uttered a gurgling, gagging noise, and then looked down, staring
in disbelief as blood erupted from his body.

Chapter 22 - Imprisoned

"Mampalo," Lissa screamed.

She punched and kicked at the man dragging
her toward the ladder. His grip tightened and he turned his head
away from her pummeling. She clawed at him, trying to go back.
Mampalo stumbled against the wall and slid to the floor. His eyes
registered surprise, fear, and then pain. He clasped his trembling
hands to his body, but blood gushed over them.

Her captor snorted and carried her. Behind
them, Blab wrapped his arm around Branda's neck and shoved her
ahead of him. He kicked Mampalo as he walked by, and laughed when
Mampalo reached out feebly with one hand.

"Leave him alone," Lissa shrieked. "Call the
physiker."

"He'll be dead soon enough."

Her body went limp and she let herself be
hauled up the ladder, glancing over her shoulder and blinking tears
away. Mampalo's head slumped forward, and his bloody hands fell to
his sides. His breathing was irregular, and with each exhale the
pool of blood on the floor spread wider. Her stomach churned at the
thought of him dying alone.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so
sorry."

She kept her gaze on him until the last
minute when Blab pulled her up to the mess deck. Then Mampalo was
gone from her. Tears streamed down her face and she cried so hard
that snot dribbled from her nose. She paid no attention to the
shattered globes crunching underfoot, the overturned benches, or
the men lying lifeless on the deck. Blab stepped over them as if
they were a piece of timber someone had left there.

She blinked to find herself in front of the
rear door; the one Mampalo had barreled through on her first day,
knocking her to the floor. Blab pulled the door open and the men
shoved her and Branda inside.

The room served as the junior officer’s mess,
but she had never seen inside. Larger than the navigator's cabin,
but half the size of the infirmary, six people berthed here.
Scheepas were tied to the forward bulkhead, and a table and two
benches stood along the starboard side. Morning suns-light flooded
in through two small windows on the rear wall, which looked out
over the ship's wake. The dust ocean lay only eight feet below.

So many people inside.
The captain
perched on one of the benches, leaning forward with his elbows on
his thighs. She wiped away the tears and avoided his gaze. What was
he doing here? Jancid, the oldest member of the crew, sat to the
captain's left, his face thin and shriveled, and his white hair
contrasting the captain’s long, ink-black ponytails. Grad, the
Bandit player, stood by the windows, scratching his bushy brown
beard and muttering to the man next to him, a thin and balding man
named Sawall. On the windowsill sat a scruffy boy with a cap. She
had never learned his name. Behind her, two grim-faced guards
blocked the exit, their halberds clasped in both hands. Blab
muttered something to them and then left the room, closing the
door.

Lissa glanced at the long faces. Were these
the only survivors? Had Farq killed everyone else? What about the
navigator, the physiker and Cook? She gasped. They couldn't have
sided with Farq.

No one spoke or moved for a long time, until
the door sprang open and Farq strode into the room. His uniform
looked crisp and clean, and not blood-smeared or dusty like
everyone else’s. When he saw her, a wide grin spread across his
face. Oban, the navigator hurried in behind him. Lissa sighed with
relief, but the captain clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

"No more bloodshed," Oban croaked to Farq.
"Honor the captain, even in his defeat."

"Shut up. I decide his fate."

"Hurt them and I refuse to help you," Oban
said.

"Then you'll suffer alongside these fools,"
Farq snapped. "I won't tolerate traitors to my cause."