Mad Ship

"Stop being afraid," Ke

She closed her eyes in an agony of terror. "Ke

"Etta!" He took her upper arm in a grip like a vise and shook her. "Do as I say. I will protect you. Now come."

He positioned his crutch once more under his arm and then took off down the beach. He moved like a long-legged creature, swinging on his crutch as he almost ran. Stone and sand shifted under him, but he compensated. From behind them came a cry of outrage from the Other. When it was echoed, Etta glanced back fearfully. There were more Others. They seemed to rear out of the very earth or ooze up from the sand. She ran like the wind after Ke

She caught up with Ke

Her mouth was dry and heart hammering when they reached the end of the beach. There was nothing to be seen, save the rocky headland rising before them. Ke

There was no reply. He looked back at the oncoming wave of creatures. The wind off the water had increased, and the first warm raindrops spattered against the sand. "Ke

Then they heard a shriek of pain.

Etta froze but Ke

"Where are we going?" she shouted through the summer squall.

"Don't know. Around the headland!" The sheeting rain had drenched his black hair to his shoulders and molded it to his skull. Rain dripped from his long mustache. He swayed as each wave washed past him.

"Why?"

He did not answer her. He just forged on and she went with him, clinging to his sleeve. The rain was begi

Ke

Around the headland was a short rocky beach backed by black slate cliffs. Wintrow's body rose and fell with the waves that washed past him. Next to him was an immense greenish-yellow thing. From the way it wallowed back and forth in the water, it was alive. Suddenly it lifted a huge head, and her eyes resolved the contorted shape. It was a stranded sea serpent. Immense gold eyes swirled at her. Another wave washed past them, almost lifting its body. It ducked its head under the seawater and then lifted it again. Then it slowly reared its head higher and shook it. Suddenly a great fleshy mane stood out around its throat. It opened a huge red mouth lined with long white teeth and roared against the wind and the rain.

"Wintrow!" Ke

"He's dead," Etta shouted to him. "He's dead, my love, killed by the serpent. It's no use. Let's go while we can."

"He's not dead. He moved." There was so much frustration in his voice, he sounded almost grief-stricken.

"A trick of the waves." She pulled gently at his arms. "We have to go. The ship."

"Wintrow!"

This time the lifting of the boy's head could not be mistaken. His features were scarcely recognizable, he was so battered. His swollen mouth moved. "Ke

She thought it was a cry for help. Then the boy dragged in a breath and cried out, "Behind you. The Abominations!"

A web-fingered hand wrapped bonelessly around her thigh. Etta screamed. Her heart hammered and her ears roared as she spun to face it. Flat fish eyes stared at her from their frontal setting in a blunt bald head. It gaped its mouth open at her, the lower jaw dropping, opening wide enough to engulf a man's head.

She never saw Ke

The question snapped something in her, or perhaps it was the feel of her knife's hilt in her hand. She pulled it free of its sheath and then lifted her head to shriek her defiance at these creatures that strove to ensorcel her. She slashed at an Other, scoring its rubbery flesh in passing. It ignored her, flowing through the water with a grace it had lacked on land. Ke

"Ours!"

"She is our goddess!"

"You ca

"What is found on the Treasure Beach must always remain!"

The Others belched their words out like the croaking of frogs. They surrounded the serpent. Some lifted menacingly the short jabbing spears they carried. What did they think to do? Slay the serpent? Herd it somewhere?

Whatever they intended, Wintrow was bent on opposing them. He had dragged himself to his feet, but how he could stand, Etta did not see. His body was swollen like a sea-claimed corpse. His eyes were slits beneath an overhang of puffy brow. But he opposed the waves to slog around the serpent and stand between her and her tormentors.

He raised his voice. "Abominations! Stand back. Let She Who Remembers go free, to fulfill her destiny."

His words rang oddly, as if he spoke by rote in a language he did not know. A wave nearly knocked him down. The lift of it raised the serpent's bulk. Her coiling tail found purchase. She slid a short distance toward the sea. A few more waves, and she would free herself and be gone.

The Others seemed to realize it as well. They surged forward, jabbing at her to urge her shoreward. One closed with Wintrow as well. The boy's puffy hand groped at his waist and found his knife. He drew it out and tried to assume a fighter's crouch. That simple act, taught to him by her, cut her to the heart. Her own knife was naked in her hand, and she stood there, idle, while he died? Never. She sprang forward with a sudden shriek. She sloshed wildly through the water, and when she got close, plunged her knife into the creature's sluglike hindquarters. It bounced off the squamous flesh. It had no weapon, but it did not hesitate to attack. Wintrow got in one good cut before the Other seized his knife hand by the wrist. The boy abruptly stood stock-still. Etta could guess the terror that sank to his heart at its touch.