On The Trail of Jacob Grimm Chapter 9, a brothers grim fanfic

See Chapter One for disclaimers because I still don't own the characters and I'm still not profiting from this except in making reader's happy hopefully.

The worst part of the "plan" was the interminable waiting in the cargo hold, more often than not in the awkward silence that had settled between them and bereft of any sense of time, but wait the brothers did. Their abductors, distinguishable by the heavy clop of booted feet on the deck overhead, opened the hatch only for tasks necessary to keep their hostages alive and in some semblance of health, just a few times each day---or what the brothers presumed to be each day. The dead bodies of the Adalia's crewmen had been removed, mercifully.

When finally, after many such 'days' passed, they heard the lighter gait that they knew to be Gerit Torsten's and the scrape of the hatch opening, both brothers tensed. Will was not convinced Jacob's plan would succeed, but had hadn't come up with any alternative schemes during their captivity…non that would wouldn't end with them shot, stabbed, or drowned at least.

Torsten was followed into the hold by the lumbering Jorn, who toted a large metal bucket with his still-bandaged arm. Will was not at all reassured by the fact that Torsten had tucked a pistol into his belt, in plain view of his prisoners, for this conversation. It would seem the leader of their captors was in no mood for further delays. That could be a problem considering the game that the brothers had planned for him.

"Scotland ahead, gentlemen. Time to keep your part of our bargain. Let's have the book," Torsten greeted. His attention was riveted to the book in Jacob's hands. He scowled at the pendant encircling the journal. "But first," he added, pointing to the charm, "you won't mind discarding that talisman of yours into the bucket?" Jorn moved forward, holding out the bucket, staring at the pendant in an expression of disdain and fear.

Jacob made no move to comply. Will answered for both of them: "Our bargain was that you'd take us to shore, set us free, and then you'd have the book." He held up his shackled wrists meaningfully.

Torsten's jaw twitched a bit. "This is a mere alteration of our bargain. Rest assured, you'll be free when we've destroyed the altar."

Will scratched his chin, making a show of contemplating the proposal with a casualness he certainly did not feel. He kept one eye on Torsten's pistol while he spoke: "I'm wondering if we need to clarify our terms? When I say 'free', I mean 'released from captivity to go on about our lives---and what a lovely time it's been meeting all of you'. I don't mean 'free of our mortal coils', if that's your interpretation of our agreement." He snapped the chain around his wrist again for emphasis.

The hand closest to Torsten's weapon twitched, just a bit. He kneeled so that, once more, he was eye-to-eye with the younger men. "I don't enjoy having to kill, Will---"

"Tell the Adalia's crew," Jacob scoffed from his side of the room.

Torsten was unapologetic. "Unfortunate casualties. Those two would be alive if they'd done as we asked like the rest of their shipmates did…and your should learn from their mistakes, Jacob." Jorn held out the bucket again. Jacob again ignored the order.

"Fine attitude from a priest," Will commented.

"He's not a priest, Will." Jacob watched Torsten's face to see how the man reacted to that revelation. "He's part of an underground society who split from the church. They took matters into their own hands tracking down the Desdemondians and destroying the artifacts because they thought the church was too lenient about letting people with knowledge of the cult survive. Only a member of that society would have so much detailed information about the cult."

Torsten wasn't surprised by that revelation, but Will was caught off-guard. That information hadn't been in Jacob's book. Which meant--- "Father Traugott wasn't a priest, was he?"

"Asute observation, Will. No, that 'Traugott' was one of our own…unfortunately, Jacob slipped away from him before I could reach Hollenstadt, so it was quite fortunate you came along when you did, or we might have lost Jacob's trail altogether. Gaining your confidence meant providing you with a bit more information about that blasphemous cult than we would have liked, but well worth it." Misinterpreting Will's dismay, Torsten added, "But don't fret…the real Father Traugott is happy and safe at a church in Hamburg."

Torsten's lips curled upwards a bit. He was impressed with both boys in spite of himself. Turning back to the younger Grimm, he said, "And you uncovered more in your studies that I thought, Jacob. I don't supposed there'd be a point in asking you to join us? A scholar of your intelligence would be of great help in our work."

"I don't suppose," Jacob declined.

Torsten accepted that. "The pendant, Jacob, and the book, if you will."

Will mentally braced himself. In the next minute or so, Jacob would hand over the journal—sans map and all references to the altar---for their lives and the plan would either pay off---or they'd both be shot. Jake could at least have the courtesy to look nervous…

Jacob shook his head, "The book won't do you any good, Torsten."

Torsten raised an eyebrow, but played along. "And why is that?"

"I tore out the pages pertaining to the Altar and the Messer before I ever left the book with Will." There was enough truth to that for Jacob to tell the lie convincingly. Besides, where Torsten and his methods were involved, Jacob had no qualms or remorse about fibs, lies, or exaggerations whatsoever. There was more than his and Will's lives at stake. "I knew that if Will had the location of the Anhängers vom Messer des Feuer, that would be reason enough for you to kill him."

Without even batting an eye, Torsten removed the pistol from his belt. He leveled it squarely at Will's head and fired. The bullet lodged itself into the wooden panels just scant inches from Will's ear.

Having made his point, Torsten kept the weapon trained on Will. "The map," he demanded again.

Pale and shaken, Jacob hurried to add: "I have the map right here." He pointed to his own temple, the slight tremor of his hand betraying how badly Torsten had shaken him with that demonstration. Swallowing the painful lump in his throat, Jacob made his expression stoic and continued, his voice unwavering: "Since you aren't as good as your word, Torsten, we're going to renegotiate our terms: Take us up to the main deck. I'll show you where to make anchor closest to the trail that leads to the altar as a show of good faith. For your part, you and your men give Will a boat and let him go---alive, mind you…"

Will turned to glare at Jacob. "That wasn't what we deci----" he argued. The plan had been for both Will and Jacob to be given a boat and set free and Jacob would reproduce the map, not for Will to go and Jacob to stay behind. What the hell did Jacob think he was doing!

Jacob ignored him completely. "For my part, as a show of good faith, I'll stay behind and lead you the rest of the way to the altar and you can do whatever you want with it. And, unlike you, Torsten, I am as good as my word."

"You will not--!" Will barked at his brother. A snap of Torsten's finger, and Jorn was at Will's side in two steps, shoving a rag into the young man's mouth to silence further interruptions. Will knew Torsten had no intention of keeping his word, and, when Jacob glanced sidelong at Will, the single look was enough to tell Will what he needed to know: Jacob had never planned to escape Torsten… nor had his brother abandoned his quest for the altar.

Torsten quietly mulled over the offer. He didn't trust Jacob; that much was clear in his eyes. That was fine with Jacob---he didn't trust Torsten either. The man had no intention of releasing Will; Jacob knew that, too. Jacob only had to buy enough time to get himself to the main deck and what Torsten intended wouldn't matter any more. Jacob wasn't half as worried about slipping away from their captor as he was about what he was going to do about eluding Will once they did get away from Torsten…

Finally, Torsten stood. Tucking the pistol back into his belt, he said, "Show me the book. If it's as you say, we have an agreement." He raised his voice to drown out the protests of the confused Will to add: "And discard that pendant---as a show of 'good faith'."

Without hesitation, Jacob removed the talisman and tossed it at Jorn, who shrank back in fear of touching the charm before it landed harmlessly in the bucket. Torsten pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked Jacob's shackles. Jacob stood, stretching out the kinks and pains of spending too long sitting in the confined position. Grudgingly, he allowed Torsten to take the journal and inspect the pages until the man was satisfied that all references to the Desdemondians had been removed…especially the map. He tossed the useless book back to its owner, admonishing: "If you can't deliver what you've promised, lad…"

"I'll be dead and you'll be no worse off than you are now, so it won't matter, will it?" Jacob finished.

Torsten could say nothing to that. He stepped aside to allow Jacob access to the ladder.

Without a backwards glance at his brother, Jacob climbed out of the hatch.

As they made their way from the cargo hold to the deck, Jorn in the lead, followed by Jacob and Torsten, Jacob concentrated on memorizing the way back to the prison and noting how many guards had been posted along the way. He'd be in a very large hurry when he returned to the cargo hold---if everything went as Jacob hoped. There was no lock on the outside of the hatch, just a bolt that held it shut. That was good, but not good enough. Torsten still had the Messer and the keys to Will's shackles. Jacob was going to need both.

"We've been searching for the Messer des Feuer for over a thousand years, Jacob, and you come across it after a few years in Heidelberg," Torsten was saying as Jacob half-listened. "I'm nearly ashamed to call myself an expert on the Desdemondians after being shown up by a boy that way. Tell me, what clue did I miss?"

There was no harm in indulging his curiosity, Jacob decided. "Luck."

The older man harrumphed. "I have no idea what that means."

Jacob hid his grin. "Idle bar room bragging. But, I don't guess you get to spend much time in pubs?" Torsten did not disagree. "I'd tell you Torsten, but if you're as informed as I think you are, I'd be tipping my hand too soon." Torsten might not lend and ear to bar room bragging, but Jacob would wager he'd made himself an expert on all accounts mystical, scientific, or magical in his search for the altar. Simply breathing the words 'Francois Penegrast' might sufficiently connect the dots for Torsten to discern the altar's location on his own…and then Jacob would have nothing at all to trade for his life or Will's and no hope of laying eyes on the altar, much less using it to save his Sister.

Torsten chuckled at that. "Then, perhaps you'll satisfy my curiosity about how you knew of the altar and the Desdemondians to begin with? I thought we'd destroyed all the scrolls and books mentioning their cult centuries ago. What did I miss?"

"That's the thing I've learned about myths and legends," Jacob answered, "Stories survive because people love to tell them and other people love to hear them…particularly stories no one wants retold. You can torch every library, every scroll, between England and the Heiliggeistkirche and nothing will change that."

The older man couldn't deny that point. "Collecting myths and pursuing them are two entirely different matters, Mr. Grimm. I'm told by your teachers that you're partial to mythology involving death and resurrection---Eurydice, Savitri, Altar des Feuer." Torsten stopped walking, regarding Jacob with an almost paternal manner. Jacob also paused. "If you're open to friendly advice, then keep this in mind: It's a myth, Jacob. If you believe it to be anything more, you're not as clever as I'd thought. I'm sure you love whomever it is that's making you chase phantoms and superstitions---but all you'll find in the pursuit of the supernatural is the grave. Your grave if you don't use the considerable wits I think God gave you."

They were one floor below the main deck now, high enough that there were portals to afford a view of the approaching shoreline. Torsten beckoned Jacob to one of the windows. "So, then, which way, Jacob?"

Jacob peered through the portal, pretending to examine the features of the coastline. "I can't see very well from here. Can we go up for a better vantage?"

Torsten stared at him suspiciously now.

"I've no intention of jumping overboard and leaving my brother here with you, Torsten, if that's what's troubling you," Jacob snapped.

His captor acquiesced. Torsten took the lead, and Jacob followed him up the small ladder to the main deck and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight. There were a dozen or more of Torsten's men manning posts along the deck, tending the sails, and two at the wheel. Jacob had counted another five or six while he'd made his way up from below deck. He couldn't see pistols or blades, but they were certain to be armed. Two against two dozen were not good odds…but maybe Jacob could even those odds. The coastline was, as Jacob hoped, directly ahead, and Torsten guided him to the bow of the ship. There was no small sarcasm in the man's tone as he asked, "Will this do?"

Jacob nodded---not to Torsten, but to himself. This was exactly what he'd hoped would happen. He drew a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Here we go.

Making another show of studying the shoreline, Jacob answered: "There! That peak. I remember the rock formations from the map…" He pointed at a random set of hills dead ahead…at least, it looked that was from Torsten's point-of-view. From Jacob's line of sight, his outstretched arm and finger were aimed directly at the wooden maiden figurehead, Adalia, carved into the front of her namesake ship.

Oblivious, Torsten asked, "You're sure?"

"Yes. The map called the formation the 'Three Thieves'…or I think that's the translation. In Latin, it's called----" Jacob began Serya's incantation.

He spoke only a few words of the spell before Torsten, well versed in Latin, realized what the boy was up to. "That's a spell!" he cried a warning to Jorn and the other men on the deck, knowing they'd never reach Jacob in time to silence the boy. Torsten himself lunged and grabbed Jacob around the neck, squeezing off his breath.

Jacob clawed at the fingers constricting around his windpipe, loosening Torsten's grip just enough to breathe the last two words of Serya's spell. However, the last two words slipped out in the same instant that Torsten flung Jacob roughly to the deck. Jacob's hand swung from aiming at the wooden maiden to graze the sides of the ship and then its planks.

All hell broke loose.

Men who'd been trying to restrain—and silence—Jacob now froze as the Adalia groaned like a living thing in agony and rage as the enchantment spread outward to encompass the whole of the ship rather than being confined to the figurehead at the bow. As every pair of eyes on that deck watched in mounting dread of what was coming, they forgot Jacob altogether. A second groan, like the bellow of a monster heralded the onset of Jacob's spell.

The deck below their feet came to life. Planks of once-living wood pulled themselves free of their nails with ear-splitting screeches of metal and wood. Jorn, who'd been standing right beside Jacob, was catapulted into the air by one such plank when it popped up beneath his feet. The behemoth---and the bucket containing the pendant---disappeared over the side of the ship. Jacob could not hear the splash as Jorn hit the ocean for the din of the groaning ship and the screams of the men who'd shanghaied the vessel. More of Jorn's comrades followed in quick succession. Jacob heard thumps as men below were propelled straight up only to collide brutally with the unyielding decks above their heads. Men who'd tried to flee the planks by heading below deck were thwarted as doors and hatches came to life like snapping jaws and trapped those foolish enough to attempt passage.

Their woes had only just begun. As Jacob looked on—the only one immune by virtue of having been the one to initiate the spell---ropes, woven from once living fibers, began unfurling themselves from the sails. The ropes lashed out like tentacles and began to ensnare the men who'd managed to evade the flailing planks. The planks hampered the men's efforts to flee the snaking ropes. Men were caught around their ankles and dangled like fish on hooks or dunked in and out of the rolling sea…the lucky ones, anyway. Some were caught around their waists by the constricting ropes, and a few very unlucky ones were caught around their throats. Only Jacob, by virtue of being the one who had uttered the enchantment, was immune from the onslaught.

Torsten looked suitably frightened now. "Undo it, Jacob!" he ordered, drawing his pistol and aiming it at Jacob's forehead.

" I'm making 'a slight alteration of our bargain', Torsten." There was no shame in breaking his word to a liar as far as Jacob was concerned, especially with his life and Will's at stake. "I free Will, then I reverse the spell and you're welcome to the Altar des Feuer after I'm done with it. Keys." Jacob held out his hand, his bravado growing in the face of Torsten's obvious terror. He'd only meant to bring the maiden figurehead to life, just to chase his captors around long enough to persuade Torsten to let Will go. Even Jacob hadn't guessed that the entire ship could become a living—and fighting—entity. So much the better.

The pistol remained poised at Jacob's forehead. Torsten's jaw twitched as he stared down at the boy, giving serious thought to abandoning hopes of obtaining the altar just to be rid of the nuisance Grimm brother.

Jacob had to force himself to watch Torsten instead of the pistol. "What? You're thinking of killing me? Go ahead. You won't survive long enough to regret losing your way to the altar. Keys!"

Torsten produced the keys without further delay. He passed them to Jacob.

Jacob had one more demand: "The Messer as well." The barrel pistol dug into Jacob's forehead in reply. "I'm not a murderer, Torsten. I've no particular wish to hurt you or your men. But I swear if you don't hand over that blade and set me and my brother free, I'll let this ship take us all down to the bottom of the sea!" Another crack of planks pulling themselves free punctuated Jacob's threat.

Torsten barely placed the blade in Jacob's hands when another shriek cut the air. This was not the groan of the living planks or the whoosh of the ropes or the cries of the men under siege. This scream was inhuman…and feminine. It was accompanied by more deafening noises of wood being splintered and sheared. The ship shuddered. Torsten and Jacob both turned to the maiden figurehead. As they watched, she came to life. There were cracking sounds of splintering wood as the figurehead ripping herself free of her perch at the bow of the Adalia. She began climbing the side of the ship, her wooden spear clutched in her mammoth hands. Her wooden eyes were locked onto Torsten.

"Gerit Torsten, meet Adalia… the guardian and avenger of this ship and its crew. Your 'unfortunate casualties being part of her crew, of course," Jacob couldn't help but gloat. Torsten had certainly caused him and his brother no small amount of misery on this journey, after all.

Jacob rolled away from Torsten, who had forgotten the boy. The older man was riveted in horror at the sight of the towering wooden figure lumbering towards him. Transfixed, Torsten didn't have the presence of mind to do so much as scream. "The wise course of action would be a retreat. A rapid retreat." Jacob suggested to the man before hurrying out of the figurehead's path.

Taking the boy's advice, the older man fled even as the wooden maiden Adalia pursued Torsten along the length of the ship and the planks attempted to fling him over the rail and the ropes snaked after him. This madness was simply too much for some of his men, and they jumped overboard of their own volition rather than face the wrath of the living ship.

Satisfied that Torsten and his henchmen were distracted, Jacob raced along the deck, heading back to retrieve his brother. The planks obediently stilled before him while all around him chaos reigned.

None of them had time to see the wheel, unmanned as the man posted there was now being swung by his ankles from ropes of the main mast, begin to turn itself. The Adalia changed its course and headed for a stretch of large, jagged rocks near the shoreline.

Down below in the cargo hold, the chilling roar had almost shattered Will's eardrums. He'd clapped his shackled hands over his ears against the din while around him the ship shuddered and groaned. Don't tell me Jake's absurd plan actually worked…? Jacob had babbled about 'figurehead guardians' and 'formerly living fibers' and something about the one who casts the spell being immune to its effects.

The one who cast the spell. What about the ones who didn't cast the spell? What about prisoners? What happens to them? Will wondered in rapidly mounting panic.

A second groan and something knocked Will from his feet. The ends of the planks below his feet were pulling free of their bindings and bucking like horses. The ship was shuddering as planks along its hull snapped open and shut, allowing water to gush in, stemming the flow, and then allowing water in again. Will was splashed in the face by the on/off torrents while at the same time he was bounced around by the boards. Saltwater began to pool in the small hold.

And then the planks above his head began peeling themselves back to make a gaping hole. Sunlight blinded him as he glanced up in dread of what would happen next. He saw the gush of water sweep some of Torsten's man past the hole. Some were bedeviled not just by the planks and the water, but also by barrels of grease and oil that had been upended by the flailing boards and spilled across the planks. Any chances of fleeing the ship were thwarted by the lack of traction on the slippery stuff. Will also heard cries all around, most of it cries of human terror…some of it inhuman screams. Will didn't care to know the source of that sound.

Then, as he watched haplessly, a length of rope coiled through the holes in the deck straight for him. The rope tried to grab his neck, but Will feinted aside. The rope instead coiled around his ankle. Before he knew what was happening, the rope tried to pull him up through the hole. The chains around his wrists held him back, and Will soon found himself hanging upside down, the prize in a tug-of-war between the rope and the shackles. He was going to be torn in two if he couldn't get free.

"Jake!" Will shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jacob found his way back to the cabin he'd briefly occupied before his capture. The doors stilled to grant him entrance to the room. The wooden furniture was leaping about the room, but also calmed itself in his presence. His belongings had been scattered---whether by the thrashing furniture or by the indelicate searches of Torsten's men he would never know. Jacob frantically searched for the one item he most needed. Where is it, where is it…. He prayed it hadn't fallen through one of the holes made by the bucking planks or it was lost forever. Where---?

On cue, the object of his search rolled itself from beneath the bunk and stopped before Jacob. The wooden pendant stood itself on end and its cord of woven fibers whipped in a circle that looked almost like a wave of greeting. When Jacob opened his hand, the pendant leaped into his palm and fell still.

"That's helpful," Jacob grinned.

Will's arms burned, his legs burned, and his insides were being stretched almost to the breaking point. He'd tried to reason with the ropes---"I'm not one of Torsten's men!"---but the animated inanimate objects were unimpressed and pulled relentlessly at him while the chains refused to give. He couldn't survive this much longer and there was not one sign of his foolish brother to be seen from Will's inverted position.

What he did see was the lantern.

It was only a few inches from his nose, now that he was suspended upside down while the ropes tried to tug him through the gap in the ceiling. Will stretched his hands to the lamp, straining against the pull of the chains, flipped open the casing and snatched up the candle burning inside. Pulling against the inhuman power of the rope, Will tried to bend his legs towards his arm and put the candle to the rope. From his pain-distorted perspective, it took an eternity for the flame to burn through the rope, but finally the charred fibers snapped.

Will fell, still in the grip of the chains, and landed roughly in the seawater filling the hold, water which was now up to his waist. He dropped the candle when he landed, and it plunged into the water and died at once. It didn't matter. All Will cared about was the end of the torture of his arms, legs, and midsection…

His respite was short lived. There was a snapping noise and two more ropes snaked down through the hole in the decking. They coiled themselves like snakes around Will's neck and yanked him upwards before he had time to react. Will tugged at the unyielding cords as the ropes began to choke him. "That's---not---right!" he wheezed.

Where the hell was Jake!

Jacob dashed from his former quarters and raced to the ladders that descended to the lower decks. Through gaping holes where planks had pried themselves free, Jacob saw men scattering on the lower decks, some being bowled over by wooden barrels of water, whale oil, and grease, others attempting to climb ladders that had come alive to buck and teeter-totter to toss off their hapless passengers. When one ladder stilled to grant Jacob passage, a dozen men climbed over him in their haste to scale the ladder to reach the main deck.

The cargo hold where Will was imprisoned was two more levels down. When Jacob reached the spot he calculated was directly above the hold, he found another gaping hole in the decking. A rope descended through that hole from the mail sail above, down through two levels in the decks, straight down to….

"Will!" Through the gap in the decks, Jacob saw that the rope had coiled itself around his brother's neck and was choking the life out of him.

Will wasn't sure the voice calling his name was real. It sounded like Jacob, shouting from very far away. He couldn't so much as squeak out a word in response to the call as the ropes constricted all the tighter around his throat. Darkness was beginning to ebb into his vision, making the world blurry and far away….

Reacting on instinct, Jacob grabbed the rope that was strangling his brother. Immediately, it slackened to lifelessness in his grip. As the coils around his neck slackened, Will sagged and disappeared into the water filling the hold.

"Will!" Jacob shouted once more. Clutching the rope, Jacob slid down through the gap, descending so fast that the ropes burned his hand, and plunged into the waist-deep, icy seawater. He hadn't meant for the enchantment to get this far out of control….

Jacob snatched Will by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out of the water. No, please, please don't be dead, I can't be responsible…not again….Jacob silently pleaded a panicked and incoherent prayer. His trembling hand went to his brother's throat, seeking out and finding a pulse. Will's breathing was raspy, but he was breathing.

Greatly relieved, Jacob's still-shaky hands fumbled for the keys in his pockets and unlocked the shackles binding Will. Next, he took the pendant and gingerly hung it around Will's bruised neck. The ropes recoiled from the talisman and the bucking and jumping planks and ladders in the small cargo hold stilled. The pendant would ward off ropes and…whatever else came along. At least, Jacob hoped so.

At the jolt as he was suddenly freed from his bindings, Will's eyes opened a slit.

"Are you all right?" Jacob asked, tying the now-slack and dormant ropes under Will's arms in preparation to haul his brother out of the hold.

Will's voice was little more than a whisper. "From now on…I make the plans…in this family." Then his eyes closed again.

Only a few feet from the railing and the safety of the ocean that surrounded the Adalia, Torsten stumbled and fell…the deck beneath his feet had worked to trip him up while the figurehead closed in behind him. As soon as he fell, the wooden maiden was upon him. He saw her from the corner of his eye as she hefted her weapon, and he had but a split-second to roll aside as her massive sword arched downwards for a killing blow. The blow would have cut him in two had Torsten not managed to dodge out of its path. Instead, the sword shattered the railing on its downward strike and, with its momentum and enormous length, cut through the hull and sliced into the main deck and the two levels below, and became embedded.

The wooden figurehead emitted another ear-shattering, inhuman keen as she tried to pull her weapon free. Torsten wasted not one more second and used the diversion to scramble over the side of the ship and dive into the ocean. He swam for the shore without looking back.

The combined power of the figurehead's cry as she fought to recover her weapon and the sword lodged three-levels deep into the bowels of the ship formed cracks in every deck of the ship. Each successive cry from the maiden and every tug as she struggled with her weapon, made the cracks spread longer and wider. The ship groaned like a living, wounded thing, with no one left aboard to hear except Jacob and the semi-conscious Wilhelm.

The impact of the maiden's weapon jolted Jacob---who was lugging his brother towards to ladders that led to the main deck---off his feet. He fell, dragging Will down with him. This, however, was a stroke of good luck that saved both brothers from a grisly demise when the sword sliced through the hull and the planks and lodged itself in the planks only a few feet in front of them. Jacob threw himself across his unconscious brother as splinters of wood flew and bits of broken planks rained down upon them. The screech of the figurehead's cry filled the air until Jacob feared his eardrums would burst from the din.

He felt the deck beneath them shake and dared to lift his head to see what was happening now. Jacob saw the sword embedded in the timbers; he couldn't see her, but he knew that, on the main deck, the maiden was trying to dislodge it and the ship was lurching with each attempt to pull it free. A massive crack formed in the planks. It spread rapidly down the length of the deck…snaking towards the spot where Jacob and Will had fallen. Jacob wished the mindless figurehead would stop her antics before she tore the ship apart…

…and belatedly realized he was the only one with the power to stop the maiden. Hurriedly, he took the journal from his pocket and searched for the proper words to reverse the spell he'd cast.

The main deck having been abandoned by those who'd survived the onslaught of the suddenly animated ship, no one was present to shout a warning to the brothers below when the Adalia finally reached the massive boulders that protruded from the waters near the shoreline and smashed itself into the rocks.

The impact of the mammoth rocks against the already damaged and compromised hull of the vessel was simply more than the ship could withstand. The cracks in the decks formed by the maiden's weapon became large splits down the middle of the boat, from bow to stern.

The words to end the spell were barely out of Jacob's mouth when the Adalia scuttled itself. Jacob and Will were pitched against the hull and then rolled backwards into the corner. Jacob struggled to keep his grip on his brother's inert form with one hand and his journal with the other.

The crack in the deck widened into a chasm. As Jacob watched, seawater swirled upwards from that chasm…No, he corrected his observation, the water was not rising. The boat was sinking. The chasm snaked towards the brothers while water spilled over the planks. It crashed into the brothers, nearly tearing Will from Jacob's grip. The surge of water was too powerful; Jacob could not hold on to him without both hands. He dropped his book and wrapped both arms around his brother and hung on with all his strength. The water swept the journal into the chasm and out into the sea.

"Will…" Jacob shook his sibling hard as he could, trying to alert him to the mortal peril they were in, but Will grunted faintly and would not be roused. "Will!"

Then the gap was upon them.

With no avenue of escape, Jacob could only hold onto his brother with all his might as the deck pitched beneath them and sent them both rolling off the planks and into the dark, frigid water.