Another explosion rocked the ship, which was tilting drastically to the left. Zed grabbed the nearest doorframe and held on as the he felt the ship begin to right itself.
I can't do this, he thought, panicked. If I go out there, I will die.
Sounds of combat drifted through from the main deck; swords clanging, men calling out to comrades, the hiss of hot lightning on damp wood. He recognized the sorcerer shouting in some ancient language, followed by the airy sound of a raging fire spinning from her hands out to burn all in its path.
Zed reached down and placed his hand on the hilt of his rapier. The worn leather felt familiar in his hands, though it did nothing to boost his confidence.
His hands flew to his ears as a huge boom of thunder filled the air, followed by half a dozen screams as god knows what came down upon the defenders on the main deck.
"I can't do this," he whispered. Slowly, he sank to his knees. "I can't do this."
He was scared, more scared than he'd ever been in his life. He felt like a lost child, all alone and afraid. This was not what he'd been trained for. He knew how to sneak into your room at night and slit your throat so you died even as you dreamt of joyous things. He knew how to gain your trust and learn your secrets, only to leave with you missing the strange little halfling and wondering wherever did he come from. He knew how to spy. But this was a war.
In his mind, he pictured his charred corpse after he was struck by the creature's lightning, clutching the long gash on his side inflicted by one of the cult members' daggers. He saw this image and cried. He simply sat there and let the silent tears fall down his face in the darkness of the lower deck's storeroom.
Like any mortal man, he feared his death. This was no way for him to leave this world. Lady Amalee would miss him.
The tears stopped as he thought of Lady Amalee. Lady Amalee would not cry. She was brave, far braver than her poor little servant hiding away while his companions fought the beast on their own.
Zed imagined his lady's face when she found out that he had died like a coward. She would cry, then. Not because he was weak, but because he was gone. She was too kind to hate him for something as trivial as dying. And that was the worst thing of all.
Zed was a servant. If he were to fail at his job in this way, he ought to be punished. But Amalee would call him a hero. She would be lying, and Zed would have to watch her cry from whatever heaven or hell he went to.
He would not let that happen. He would see her face again, feel her presence in every room, even after she left it. He would live for Amalee's sake, if not his own.
He stood up.
He would fight in Amalee's name.
Once more, his hand fell to the hilt of his sword. Now, as he gripped the handle, he pictured the face of the woman who gave it to him. he would be strong and always stand by his lady's side.
With that image in his mind, he pulled open the door and ran to the upper deck to slay the beast.
