Chapter 2 – Part 7

“Help me get her armor off!” Delegado said, dropping his bow and unfastening buckles as quickly as he could. Ois’ lips were turning a dark gray. On a human they would be blue. The half-orc cursed without words as the frigid metal burned his fingers, knowing that he had to get Ois out of the mithril before she stopped breathing.

Thomas knelt by Ois and fumbled in his belt pouch. He came up with a scroll tube. “Last one,” the half-daelkyr chattered. “Emergency.”

Delegado got the breastplate loose and began to massage Ois’ chest through her soaking wet blouse padding. “She should have left him, my father’s body isn’t worth her death!” Delegado snarled, hating himself for her sacrifice. He could feel a heartbeat, but barely.

“Oalin’s blessing, the blessing of nature, the endurance of the bear,” Thomas was chanting. The scroll disintegrated slowly, and waves of vitality entered Ois. She coughed once, and her heartbeat became stronger, but she did not wake up.

“Thank you,” Delegado said.

“Whatever,” Thomas coughed. He was shivering himself.

Delegado searched for something to say, something to acknowledge. He was not blessed with a diplomat’s tongue. “Thought you were out of magical devices?” the half-orc asked.

For a moment it seemed as though Thomas would not answer. “I kept one I didn’t tell you about,” Thomas said finally. “I – haven’t considered us as a team for a few days now.” The half-daelkyr always sounded resigned and bitter, but now ever the more so.

“Glad you kept it,” Delegado said quickly. “I’m glad you were here.”

The half-daelkyr looked at Delegado with new eyes. Despite their shivering, their wounds, the hurtful things that had been said and done, things seemed better. The stormstalk’s eye, on the other hand, glared hatred. “Her inner strength will only last for a few minutes,” Thomas warned. “We need to find her some blankets. Your dragonmark, maybe?”

“Used it finding arrows, but I can find things even without it,” Delegado said. “Let’s get her belowdecks, see if we can find something. At least we’ll keep her out of the wind.”

“Pick your bow up first,” Thomas warned.

Delegado did, and quickly, fitting an arrow. Thomas slid his greataxe out.

“What did you hear, or see?” Delegado said, looking around. The ship was moving quickly, but no one appeared to be on deck.

“Nothing,” Thomas answered him. The half-daelkyr gritted his teeth. “Too much of nothing. Who’s trimming the sails? Who’s steering?”

Delegado stepped forward, hid behind the mast, then peered around it at the forecastle. The deck of a ship was like any other terrain, you had to use what was there to your own advantage. The half-orc forced his mind back, forced away the fear that he felt for Ois, the anger that he felt at himself, the guilt that he felt for Ois and Orphan’s condition, and the frigid wet that threatened to collapse his body.

A tall figure was at the forecastle, its hands on a great ship’s wheel. It turned its head to stare at Delegado. The instant that the half-orc saw the skin that looked to have been carved from rock with a torturer’s knife, and the eyes that emitted a baleful glow, a chill went through the son of Tharashk that had nothing to do with his swim in the ocean.

“By every manifestation of the Host, it’s another one of them,” the half-orc said aloud.

“What?” Thomas asked.

“Another fiend,” Delegado told him.

“Why are we moving away from the Wastes, then?” Thomas asked. The stormstalk swerved to look behind them, then looked back.

Delegado shrugged. “Who knows, we’ve seen that they fight each other sometimes, maybe he wants us for himself.”

“So what, we just attack?” Thomas asked. “If he can run this entire ship, he must be some kind of wizard, or something, some kind of –” The half-daelkyr broke off as the two of them heard steps.

The vessel’s captain had left his post, and he was walking towards them.