Kelton was beginning to think that the bow of the ship was not the place to be. The violence in the waves increased as they neared the island. The giant rocks that ringed the island appeared and disappeared in the sea's exploding white froth. There was panic in Sebastian's commands. The Captain meant to steer close and trick the captain of the other vessel into the rocks. From Kelton's point of view, it was an impossible task. Every trough exposed unexpected rocks, teeth that wanted to chew on man's wooden contraptions. The front of the ship would get eaten first.

Yanda grabbed Kelton's arm and turned him toward her. She spoke as if he understood, pointing at the jagged boulders then at the ropes that secured the fort they had built. He shrugged his shoulders unable to decipher her intent. He could see anger, no, disdain fill her face. Kelton smiled, recognizing Yanda's need for control. Control was easy to give her, after all, she had the only weapon with range. If the Brethren feared the bow, then so should their pursuers. He intended to be at her side, letting her extract whatever she could before they all fell. Yanda rolled her eyes, her whole body sighed, and a half-smile fought its way to the surface on her face. She repeated her words slowly, as if that would help, then stuck her arm through a gap in one of the ropes. She made a fist, tightening her muscles.

Kelton nodded, kneeled down and repeated Yanda's action by sticking his arm through a rope gap on the other set of crates. He tapped his forehead and pointed to her. This time a full smile graced Yanda's face. She enjoyed being in charge. Kelton just liked her smiling. It had been irritating having her avoiding him as if he had the pox. At least this way they would die as friends. That and it seemed to be a wise idea to secure themselves to the nailed down crates. He should have thought of that himself. Unless the ship disintegrated into splinters, they should be able to withstand a hit or two. It was also a wise choice to maintain the terrain they had created. Better to own the ground than allow the enemy to define it. Yanda was arrogant, but not stupid. Not that he ever thought she was.

Sebastian began yelling, signaling for the steersman to shift away from the island. He had been skirting the rocks too closely. Kelton guessed he was trying to find a hole between them to beach the ship. There was no hole that Kelton could see. The gutters of the waves kept exposing hidden dark fangs of rock.

A loud chanting grew above the crashing of water against rock. It came from the pursuing ship, which was keeping wide of the island's teeth as it chased down the un-flagged vessel. The size of the ship was impressive, easily twice the size of Sebastian's. Its deck was at least a man's height higher out of the water. They were running out of time, and space. The pursuing ship looked to squeeze them into the rocks, using Sebastian's tactic against him.

Each of the three masts on the large ship held an armed man, three bows looking down at their small quarry. The chanting increased, setting Kelton's nerves on edge. They were a unit, singing and acting as one. Sebastian's ship was in a panic, the Captain screaming commands and the crew scrambling about in an uncoordinated dance. Some were already cowering on the far side, opposite from the approaching ship. Kelton could feel their fear because he shared it.

Yanda slapped Kelton's shoulder, the second time she had touched him. He looked over, and she made a fist and tapped her heart. A smile grew on her lips as she pointed at him then pointed at her eyes. 'Watch me,' Kelton understood. She picked up her bow and held it before him. There was no visible fear in her. Kelton decided there wouldn't be any showing on him as well. He smiled back and tapped the pommel of his sword.

"Goring," Yanda said, then nodded to him. He repeated the word. Her smile grew, and she repeated it, louder this time. Kelton got the idea, and they began chanting, countering the song from the other ship. He had no idea the meaning, but it didn't matter. The unification of their voices held power to combat fear. He was not alone.

Sebastian's crew picked up the chant. Backs straightened and the cowering lessened. The song battled with the fear, pushing it away. There was a shared strength growing, a belief of something more than the individual. Kelton found it thrilling. He was part of something larger than himself, not running alone through the woods. For as long as it lasted, he had a family again.

The Captain yelled out an order, then repeated it when it wasn't followed to his satisfaction. The ship began to turn toward the island. There was a gap between two boulders, a space barely large enough for the vessel to squeeze through. Kelton heard Yanda gasp and followed her eyes to the sea ahead. A black point, a tip of rock exposed itself between the boulders at the bottom of a wave. Unavoidable, and they were committed.

The ship rose, riding a wave through the gap. Kelton began to believe they would make it over the rock. Whitewater crashed into the surrounding rocks, then the ship began to drop. Kelton and Yanda tightened their grip on the ropes. Simbawla yelled a warning and an eerie grinding sound vibrated through the boat.

Kelton felt the rope dig into his arm as his body was pulled forward when the ship ground to a halt. Yanda groaned at the strain, and he heard sailors yell as they tumbled on the deck. A wave lifted the stern, and the ship pivoted on its unwelcome mooring. Time slowed as the boat began to turn is an odd stern-high fashion. Kelton closed his eyes and tightened his grip as fate took over the next moments of his life. With waves and rocks controlling his destiny, his body tensed with impending dread.

The rock's hold on the small ship's bow broke amidst the sound of snapping wood. The undulating sea dropped the stern sideways to the island. The port side slammed into the boulder they had only a moment ago, meant to miss. Wood crumbled as the ocean lifted the ship high. The mast snapped, someone screamed, and the ship struggled to not break in half. Kelton opened his eyes in time to see the mast plummet into the sea in a mass of sail and ropes.

The giant rock held fast to the hull. Its black surface glistened with permanent wetness. Kelton saw a face in the striations, one with a beard. It reminded him of Gossamer, though his beard was bushier. A strange memory to mix with the dire situation.

Waves pummeled the boat, spilling over the side but unable to dislodge it from its final perch. Sebastian's ship would never see the open water again. If the cracking wood were any indication, it would soon find the bottom. A cheer broke out from the pursuing ship as it maneuvered near the starboard side. Kelton thought it a fool's errand. He couldn't see how they could get close without the waves and rocks destroying them as well. Kelton stood and looked toward the island. There was no beach, just a carpet of jagged stone that fed into piles of the same. The waves were too violent to seek sanctuary in that direction.

Yanda pulled Kelton down behind the crates. Another scream. An arrow stuck into the wooden box behind them. Kelton didn't understand. There was no point in wasting arrows when ocean and time would kill them all anyway.

The shadow of the slave ship passed over Kelton's position. Its crew began chanting again, this time a deep beat accompanied the words. It had been a long time since Kelton had heard a drum. The Brethren decreed them as anathema to the Goddess, a tool of the unworthy. Once, he and Gossamer had shared a meal with a traveler as poor as they. The man had placed a skin over a wooden bowl and tied it tight. Kelton could remember beating on it for half the night, much to the joy of Gossamer. Kelton wasn't more than 8 or 9 winters old. This drum was deeper sounding and echoed inside his stomach. There was no joy in it.

Another arrow struck into the deck just outside of the makeshift fort. Kelton forced his sense outward. Yanda smiled and rose. She notched an arrow, drew back the string in a practiced way. In the blink of an eye, the shaft left her bow and Yanda ducked back down. The yell that followed silenced the chanting. Kelton could feel the man falling. He heard a thud, the sickening sound of someone finding the deck from a great height.

Yanda raised a single finger. One down. Kelton nodded, feeling the slavers, and thus the ship, pass them by. The whole of the world was insane. Trading arrows with the doomed was pointless. There was nothing to be gained. The ship was unsalvageable and unboardable. Nothing made sense.

"They will return," Sebastian said. Kelton had felt him approach with another following in his wake.

"Why? Do they kill for the joy of it?"

"They mean to board us," Sebastian replied. He was carrying his cache of gold, the fee paid for Kelton's passage.

"They will be smashed to bits," Kelton said. Another loud snap of broken wood echoed his words. "Like we soon will be."

"Nay," the Captain said, shaking his head. "They will anchor slide into us. It will take some time for the maneuver, but soon their ass will be broadside." He looked at the land with longing. "It seems I picked the wrong side of the island, not that wind favored the other side. It was a small hope, but it was all we had."

"Can you not pay them off?" Kelon asked, pointing at the cache of gold. Sebastian laughed a deep throaty chuckle that was at odds with their predicament.

"For what purpose? To be allowed to die dashed against the rocks instead of the sword. Nay. They would just take it and do as they pleased." Sebastian looked down at his treasure as if it were a new babe. "This they will not have. I will die a rich lord of the sea." He smiled as if it were a good thing.

Simbawla stumbled up to the bow. The side of his head was gashed and leaked blood. It didn't look deep, but some hair was missing. Yanda forced him to sit on the crates. She tore off the sleeve of her blouse and pressed it against the wound. Kelton felt useless in her aura of combat competence. It was as if she had been bred for such things. Maybe her arrogance was earned.

Sebastian and Yanda traded words. She pointed to the stern as they talked. The Captain nodded when an agreement was reached. He stood up and called to the crew, most of which looked reluctant to leave what little cover they could find. After a short speech, of which Kelton understood nothing, the crew, except one man, moved to the stern of the ship. Most bowed to Sebastian before they retreated.

"It is time for you to choose," Sebastian said to Kelton and pointed to the deck at his feet. "Here we fight." He gestured to the stern. "There you will live."

"I already chose," Kelton said, tapping the pommel of his sword. The reality of their situation would not change his mind. In truth, life on the run had exhausted him. If any are willing to fight, then they would have his sword as well. The Captain nodded and spoke with Yanda. Yanda looked at Kelton and gave him a small bow of her head as well.

A skinny man, whose clothes looked a size too big, joined them on the bow. In a strange ceremony like performance, Yanda placed her hand on his shoulder and rattled off what could only be her name. A long series of words that began with 'Yanda' and ended in something close to 'Aborocollo.' The man looked to his Captain with questionable eyes.

"She wishes to know the name of the brave one who will die at her side," the Captain interrupted.

"Kabal," the man said, his lips curling at the respect he now knew he was receiving. Kelton remembered singing with Kabal the night before. He seemed no different than the other of the crew, yet here he stood when the others preferred to trade death for enslavement. Yanda smiled and repeated the man's name, slapping him on the shoulder. Kabal spoke to Sebastian who answered in kind, adding a smile.

"I told him she knows that her name is difficult," Sebastian said. "It's important to her that he heard it, not that he can repeat it." Kelton doubted anyone could say it after only one hearing. The man bowed deeply to Yanda. She accepted the respect than repeated the process with Simbawla. Kelton began to hear a pattern in the words that made up her name.

"Simbawla," he said with a bow. Yanda repeated his name and turned to the Captain. Kelton closed his eyes and let only her name cross his senses as she repeated it again. It was beautiful in a way. One's lineage packed in a title that a person could always carry. Something no one could take away. He wished he knew his mother, his father.

"Sebastian," the Captain said. Yanda repeated it, and he bowed his head. Yanda turned to Kelton and repeated her name.

"Kelton Gossamer," Kelton said, adding the one he called father. Yanda repeated it, somewhat butchering Gossamer's name with her accent.

"Yanda Serinda Orctavia Onlain Grovicko Sabo Divarina Linbola Travici Bangala Wath Nab Fortuna Mina Mordico Yovia Aborocollo," Kelton said. He was sure he had slaughtered most of it. Yanda's language had sounds his mouth didn't easily form. He just wanted her to know that he listened. It was important to her, so it was important to him.

Yanda's eyes widened, and her head tilted as she studied Kelton. Her eye shed a tear that ran along her nose. Kelton's face flushed and he bowed his head as the other's had. He expected her to release his shoulder and turn away. Instead, she pulled his head down and kissed his forehead as a mother would a child. She turned to Sebastian and spoke softly.

"Yanda says that we are now second only to her kin. She will hold the door open to Har'thoran and plead with her Goddess for the acceptance of our souls." Sebastian interpreted for Kelton and then the crew.

"Tis' a good plan," Kelton said.

"Aye, better than what they offer," Sebastian agreed, pointing at the slaver's ship as it continued its large circle.

Sebastian spoke to Kabal who ran to retrieve a thin rope. Together, with Simbawla, they pulled up the iron anchor that hung just over the bow. They disconnected the anchor rope and tied Sebastian's money cache to the iron. It went over the side without ceremony or any visible signs of regret. In the cacophony of crashing waves, It disappeared without a sound next to the bearded rock.

"And thus their spoils are lessened," Sebastian said, wiping his hands together. Kelton could see it pleased the Captain. The slavers would never know the wealth they missed. It didn't seem to matter. It only mattered that they didn't touch it. Yanda smiled and tossed her waist pouch to the Captain, who promptly threw it over the side. Kelton hoped her Goddess didn't charge a fee for entry into Har'thoran.

Too soon, the slaver's ship came around and dropped anchor on the windward side of their wrecked vessel. The sails were lowered, and they slowly drifted backward on the anchor rope, ass end first. The competence of the maneuver demonstrated that this was not the first shipwreck they had assailed.

"Who is captain?" A man in a dark green tunic called. His clothing billowed like a sail, masking his true shape. From his chin, a black beard grew and came to a sharp point halfway down his neck. It looked odd without hair above his lips or on his chins.

"I," Sebastian called back.

"You have no sovereign, so I claim your ship and its contents for mine. Do you yield?"

"The stern yields, the bow does not," Sebastian yelled back, anger wrapping every word. The other man conversed briefly with his crew, then turned back.

"There is one among you, the woman with the bow who killed one of mine," the man yelled. "Surrender her and the stern, and we will leave you to the rocks." Sebastian's face reddened, and his lips tightened. He whispered something to Yanda. She quickly raised her bow and an arrow streaked toward the green-shirted man. The distance was great, and the target rose with a wave. The shaft missed, embedding itself in the railing a hand's width from man. Kelton smirked when everyone on the slaver's ship stepped back. Rocks, arrows, blades, it didn't matter what form death took. It only mattered the cost the slavers had to pay.

"So be it," the man yelled. Kelton felt the intent before he realized there was a bow in the mast. A man had hidden behind the thick wood where the cross beam for the sail joined it.

"Down!" Kelton warned as he dropped behind the crates. Kabal screamed and fell, an arrow sticking out of the left side of his chest. Kelton had been sure the bowman meant the bolt for him. It was no wonder the Brethren feared them so much. The wood had no intent, and once launched, there was no foreshadowing where it would land. A lousy marksman was as lethal as a good one.

Kabal's eyes filled with fear, his mouth spitting blood. Each breath brought pain to his face. He tried to speak and failed. Yanda crawled over to him and touched her forehead to his. She whispered something for Kabal's ears, not that he could decipher it. His eyes softened as she kissed his forehead. Yanda wiped his lips with her finger, then spread a line of his blood on her cheek. Kelton was shocked when Kabal forced a smile to his dying lips.

A terrible sound came from Yanda's lips. A cry of anger that dug deep into Kelton. It held unknown words whose meaning was clear. She rose on one knee and in a single movement, raised her bow and launched an arrow. Kelton felt all intent leave the sailor on the mast. No sound, he was there and then he was not. When Yanda lowered herself again, Kabal's face was lifeless. She kissed his forehead again as if to tell him he had been avenged. Angry commands could be heard traversing the slaver's ship.

"Tell her I can draw out their bowman," Kelton told the Captain. Sebastian relayed his words. Yanda shook her head and indicated Kelton should remain low.

"Tell her I am going to draw out their bowman," Kelton said and stood. The ship was drifting ever closer. He felt the desire before the sailor even emerged from behind the railing. The intent to kill was strong, forcing its way through Kelton's foggy sense. Kelton waited until the man was committed, then ducked down behind the crates.

"Left side of the deck," Kelton said. An arrow struck the crates behind them. Sebastian relayed to Yanda who quickly lifted up and launched another arrow. This time it missed its mark, though the curses that could be heard spoke of its closeness.

Twice more Kelton and Yanda repeated the process. Another near miss, and a loud grunt that spoke of injury. The slavers changed tactics, deciding exposure to Yanda's eye was not worth pot shots with a bow. The next time Kelton stood, there was no intent against him. The ship just drifted closer, all hands hiding safely away from the edge.

"They fear her bow," Kelton said. Yanda smirked when Sebastian relayed the words.

"They will board us next," Sebastian said. "They are loyal to their own, mercy will not be given." He looked at Yanda and pursed his lips. When he turned back, he spoke softly to Kelton. "We cannot allow her to be taken. They will ruin her beyond all thinking. Better to fall to our swords than become their captive." Kelton nodded, though he questioned his commitment to such a task. He wasn't sure he could kill a friend, good reason or not.