Young Warriors Read Online Free PDF Page B

she froze. A single manacle was clutching the mage’s tail at its narrowest point, just below the great fan, holding almost half of it above the water. The fan itself was split and shattered, the supporting bones fleshless in places. The scales on the tail were twisted and buckled where they’d dried in the air. Neesha moaned, sickened at the sight.
No
wonder the water here is foul,
she thought.
    She had come to rescue Shashu. Now, remembering the mad look in his eyes, she thought they might be too late.
    Rage, pure and fierce, coursed through her, and she turned to the human boy.
Humans
had done this, offending even the heartless Creesi. No wonder she’d sensed anger from them. Anything that could wreak such torture on a living being didn’t deserve to live. Neesha drew back her hand to strike.
    â€œI’ll climb up and see if I can loose the chain,” the boy said, unaware of his danger. He turned to look her in the eye. “We’ve got to save him if we can.”
    She lowered her hand and nodded, ashamed.
    Fare climbed the slippery rocks, his stomach in knots. He knew pirates were killers, but this! This was unclean, and a sin against the gods. It made him feel ashamed of being human.
    Then he was looking over the edge of a gently sloping ledge. Catching his breath at the suddenness of his exposure, Fare looked slowly around, then blew his breath out in a long, slow stream. No one was here. He pulled himself up and looked around.
    One of the links of the chain that bound the merman was slipped over an iron rod sunk into the rock. Fare almost laughed with relief. No lock! He went to the rod and tried to pull the chain up and off. It came almost to the top, then stuck. After straining for a while, he let it go and sat down, panting, to consider the matter. He needed slack. He was about to call down to the mermaid when he heard footsteps. Amator, the pirate chief, stepped over the sleeping body of the guard.
When you wake, dog, I’ll have the flesh off your back,
he thought. “Worthless, motherless, sea wrack,” he muttered.
    When times were good for pirates, things fell apart. The men could see no reason not to get drunk and stay that way. And Amator knew from experience that you could only press them so hard about discipline and keeping watch. At this post especially.
    They didn’t understand that he wasn’t worried about being attacked from this place. He was worried about losing their prize prisoner. The fish-man’s magic had brought them untold success on the sea, and the Creesi had given much aid in that regard.
    But now they had withdrawn, angry at his treatment of the prisoner.
    â€œPlotting,” he mumbled, and realized with a grin that he was drunk, too.
    Let ’em plot,
he thought.
There’s nothing they can do.
It was the prisoner who raised storms or calmed the sea. And it was Amator and not the fish-men who held him captive. He’d do as he pleased with the ugly unnatural animal. And if the Creesi didn’t like it, they’d soon find out who was in charge and what was what!
    Amator leaned over the pool, put his great, scarred hands on his knees, and shouted down, “You there! Show yourself!”
    Shashu’s face rose slowly from the water, his staring eyes filled with hate and pain.
    â€œHave you decided, thing? Will you do as I’ve asked?”
    The mage didn’t answer.
    â€œSuch a simple thing,” Amator sneered. “Teach me to raise storms.” He shrugged, grinning. Then, at the expression of loathing on the prisoner’s face, he grew angry. “Too proud to answer, eh? Maybe I’ve been too kind. Let’s dry you off a little more and see what you think then, eh?”
    Amator moved around the pool to the iron rod and lifted the chain off with a casual grunt of effort.
    Fare rushed from his hiding place behind a fold in the cave wall, shoving the pirate over the cliff and into the water with a mighty