span "font-size:18.0pt;="" line-height:107%;mso-bidi-font-family:"times="" roman""="" Last Ship Out of Kunark

1

The Morning After

He stood on the shore as the waves rolled in. They were coming in higher with each surge of the tide, rolling up the beach toward him, splashing at his bare feet. He tried to step back but his feet would not move. When he looked down to see why, he found his feet sinking into the sand. He wrapped his hands around one ankle and tried to pull it out but it was stuck fast. His heart started to race, his breaths coming fast as he bent over and dug his fingers into the sand to dig his feet clear. Furiously he dug, but no matter how much sand he scooped out, more sand and water rolled in to fill the hole. His feet were sinking deeper into the beach.

An ominous rumbling sound made him look up. A wall of water, impossibly high, towered over the shoreline and rushed toward him. He tried to back up but his feet were stuck. He fell backward onto the sand. The sky above was dark and angry. A figure in the clouds, made of clouds itself, an angry man with lightning bright eyes set amidst a dark, cloudy head reached toward him. And then the wall of water, topped with white foaming fingers curled over him threateningly and began to fall.

The water pounded into the beach with thunderous fury. He closed his eyes but the water pummeled him, rushed over him, and pulled his arms away above his head with angry current but his feet held fast in the sand. Salt water filled his nose and roared into his ears. He opened his eyes and the blur of warped light through water shone through. He opened his mouth to yell but water rushed in-

Tomon woke with a start. His heart was thumping madly in his chest. His eyes took in the sight of a wooden floor beneath him and a wall of dark timber not far away. He felt himself swaying. Heard the sound of waves breaking apart, but at a distance. He was curled up against hard wood under a rough blanket, black spots all over it as if it had been singed in a fire. A railing was above his head. A white, canvas sail flapped in the air above him. A sail? Memory flooded back in.

A memory of the panicked race through town to the docks with his father. People screaming far behind could be heard. Some people running faster than he, passing them, looking over their shoulders, the flames of the town lighting up their wide eyes as they looked back. He remembered running along the pier, two other ships with sails set already pulling away from the docks into the night. From a distance, he could see some people still trying to jump from the docks to the ships. Some did not make it and fell into the water. He and his father had made it to the last one.

He remembered his father picking him up as they got to the ship. He saw lines of rope leading away to rowboats, visible on the night water due to the fires from shore. Men pulled on oars, trying to pull the ship away from the dock. He had been carried up the gangplank by his father, set down into an out-of-the-way corner, and told to stay still and stay on board. "No matter what happens," his father had said breathlessly. With that, he had unsheathed his sword and run back down toward the dock.

"They're coming!" he had heard people yell while he huddled against the railing of the ship with his eyes shut. Hearing a thud, he had opened his eyes to see a flaming arrow stuck in the deck near his foot. Others had hit around the ship. One had stuck in the sail above him. He had peeked up over the edge of the railing to see if his father was there somewhere, but the dock was on fire. Shadowy figures fought with each other.

"Daaad!" he yelled. The boat was slowly edging past the end of the dock as more flaming arrows flew into the night sky. "Son! Stay on board! Make your mother prou-" As his father's voice was cut off, he'd been grabbed by a rough hand, had a blanket shoved into his midst, and told to put out fires.

Heavy feet thumped along the deck near him, bringing him out of his dreamy recall. A dwarf made his way along the railing, swaying unsteadily as he neared the opening in the railing. "Whoa!" He lurched the last few steps toward the side and wrapped an arm around the rigging coming down from the sails and attached to the side. He jerked his trousers open and passed water over the side, his eyes still closed, head bobbing forward clumsily on his shoulders.

He was a dirty dwarf. His beard was dark with things in it that didn't belong in a beard. Most of the dwarves Tomon knew from town had been proud of their beards and kept them neat. This dwarf had dirty pants, a scarred leather apron over a dirty shirt, and black streaks on his face and atop his bald head as well. His eyes opened and then opened wider. "Blast, where's the gangplank?" As he continued to pass water, his eyes rolled up and around, searching. "Blast, where's Kunark?"

"Gone." The word was out of Tomon's mouth before he knew it. The dwarf turned his face toward him, still passing water. His eyes looked very tired and red. "Gone?" he rasped.

"We had to go," Tomon said. "The shissar were coming. Or the iksar." He shrugged his shoulders. "I never saw them."

"Can't be," the dwarf said. "I saw the mayor waving the treaty in the air. The Emperor's ambassador signed it. We're a free town. Me and the lads, we had a keg to celebrate last night." He continued passing water over the side. Tomon found himself wondering how long he could do that.

"The boy's right, Master Stouthammer."

Tomon looked up to the sterncastle to find the voice. A kerran looked down at him. His clawed hands were on the captain's wheel. Like all the kerrans, this one reminded Tomon of a man-sized cat that walked on two feet. He wore clothes like most men, but no shoes on his hairy and clawed feet. He wore dark leggings and a shirt that had once been white but had burn marks and charred streaks on it. It was open down the front and showed a furry chest. He glanced to the dwarf, "Treaty was a trap. You and most of the garrison had some of that special ale. Compliments of the Emperor. None of you woke up. Not when the bells rang. Not when enemy came through the front gate. Not when the screaming started. Not ever…"

The dwarf dropped to his knees. He'd stopped passing water now, but his face looked worse. "Blast," he rasped, before vomiting over the side.

"That's it, Master Stouthammer, get it out of your system," the kerran at the wheel continued calmly. His eyes looked forward again, searching the skies and the open sea.

The dwarf continued for some time until Tomon felt he could not possibly have anything left to throw up. Finally he fell back on to the deck, leaning weakly on the railing. His eyes were closed with fatigue, his mouth hanging open. "Vagano…what about…my own?" he asked between breaths without opening his eyes.

The kerran at the wheel sighed, his ears flattening in response. "I am sorry," was all he said. The dwarf's face winced. "Why me?"

"You were the closest to me when the attack came, Master Stouthammer." The kerran, Vagano apparently, shook his head as his eyes gazed across the ocean, clearly seeing events from the night before. "My choices were few. I knew this old tug would need a man who was good with his hands. I grabbed you. Hoped you would wake up. Got a hundred souls below counting on you to serve as my boatswain and keep us afloat."

Tomon thought he recognized the voice of the kerran now. It was the same one that had ordered him to start putting out fires last night. Last night-

He had run about pulling burning arrows out of the deck and smothering small flames with the blanket. For a while, it seemed there were more falling on the deck than he or the others could put out. A few people were hit by them and made terrible sounds. He didn't know what to do for them, so he kept putting out little fires. After a time, the arrows stopped falling. He'd followed the flames up some stairs toward the back of the ship, putting them out as he went. He came near the captain's wheel and found the captain laying on the deck with a flaming arrow stuck in his chest. He wasn't moving. Tomon put the flames out before they spread over the rest of the captain's body, but he did not get up. When he called for help, a few men came and one pulled him away. He was pushed against the railing and covered up with the blanket before a deep voice said, "You've done well, boy. Get some rest."

"That's enough rest for now, boy," said Vagano. Tomon was pulled from his thoughts of the previous night and looked up at the kerran. It was Vagano that had started barking out orders and took over the helm when the captain was found slain the night before. "Get yourself some water and a bit of bread from the kitchen," the kerran said. "Get some water for our dwarven friend as well. Then come back to me. We've plenty to do today."

"Will I see my dad again?" Tomon asked.

Vagano stared hard straight ahead but his ears flattened a little. After a long moment he turned his eyes down toward Tomon and did a double-take as if he was surprised to see him still there. "No time for that now, boy. Get to the galley and do as you're told!"