Quest for the Fallen Star by Piers Anthony & James Richey & Alan Riggs

Author:Piers Anthony & James Richey & Alan Riggs [Anthony, Piers & Richey, James & Riggs, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Epic, Fiction, General, Electronic Books
ISBN: 9780812564853
Google: o0reUv_36jwC
Amazon: 0812564855
Publisher: Tor Fantasy
Published: 1999-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

"Captain!" Zubec's voice sliced through the howling wind.

The warm safety suddenly disappeared. Brother Gorin was rushing past her, close on the heels of Zubec. By the Creator, Captain Rone! She ran for the wheeldeck.

Gorin and Zubec were crouched beside Rone. The priest was already beginning to chant, and Zubec cradled the captain in his arms. The wheel spun free behind them.

The Treachery's bow swung across the wind, and the ship tilted dangerously to port. Chentelle stumbled forward, nearly landing on top of Brother Gorin.

A barbed metal tip poked through the front of the captain's chest. Blood soaked the boards under his back. "The wheel," he gasped. "Take the—"

Rone's death shuddered through Chentelle's spine. She felt a terrible cold, then nothing. After a time, she realized that it was dark. She opened her eyes.

Brother Gorin was shaking his head. "The arrow pierced his heart. His spirit was loosed. I could not call it back." He lifted a clawed hand to the captain's face and gently closed the eyes. Then he moved over to inspect Dacius' leg.

Zubec didn't say anything. But his eyes were tightly clenched, and the wheel trembled in his grasp.

* * *

The blasting sagewind carried them eastward until Ellistar was full over the horizon. Then, the flames around A'stoc and Father Marcus sputtered and died. Both men collapsed to the deck.

Chentelle was at their sides in an instant.

A'stoc burned with fever. Chentelle reached into him with her Gift, but his spirit was still walled off from the world.

She switched her touch to Father Marcus. Weariness and guilt swept through her in a massive tide. She jerked her hand away, spinning dizzily under the onslaught. Desperation burned in her throat.

Failure. Pain. She stumbled to her feet, trying to comprehend the rush of emotion.

Strong hands steadied her balance. Sulmar. She latched on to the Tengarian, anchoring herself to his steadfastness.

"Mistress, are you all right?"

She nodded. "I think so. Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

"What about them?" Dacius asked. "What did you sense?"

"A'stoc is still the same," she said. "But he has a fever now, a bad one. Father Marcus—I don't know. I think he just needs rest. But he has terrible feelings of—something. It's difficult to sort out."

"We should take them below," Dacius said. "Leth, Gerruth—give them a hand. Brother Gorin, can you help the wizard's fever?"

"Perhaps," the priest said. "I will try."

"Fine," Dacius said. "But don't exhaust yourself. There's no telling how long we'll be in the clear.

Zubec, what's our course?"

The sailor pointed to the tattered sails, hanging limp in the still air. "We have none, Lord Gemine.

The sagewind pulled us much farther east than I would prefer, but we're stuck here until the wind picks up. I suggest we use the lull to repair the sails. There's not much we can do about the spars right now."

"Agreed," Dacius said. "Then set course for the Holy Land. Get us underway as soon as you can."

"Yes, Lord Gemine. But, with your permission, I would like to bury Captain Rone first."

Dacius stared over the stern rail.

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