But the assassin knew that poison. He had given it to others. He had seen them die as he had. None of them had ever come back.
“Sir Hugh, the ship!” Alfred persisted. “We’re falling! The wings . . . pulled inward. I tried, but I couldn’t get them out again.”
Now that his attention was called to it, Hugh could feel the ship rolling. He stared at Alfred, then let loose his grip on the man. Another mystery, but it wouldn’t be solved by tumbling into the Maelstrom. Hugh staggered to his feet, his hands clutching his pounding head. It was too heavy. He had the dazed feeling that if he let go, his skull might snap loose and roll off his neck.
A glance out the window showed him that they were in no immediate danger-at least not from falling. Alfred had managed to bring the ship into some semblance of control, and Hugh could regain it completely easily enough, despite the fact that some of the cables had snapped.
“Falling into the Maelstrom’s the least of our worries.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Alfred hurried to his side and looked out.
Gazing up at them, so near that they could see every detail of their torn and bloodied clothing, were three elven warriors, grappling hooks in their hands.
“Here, toss them up! I’ll make them fast!” It was Bane’s voice, coming from the deck above.
Alfred gasped. “His Majesty said something about seeking help from the elves-”
“Help!” Hugh’s lips twisted into a mocking grin. It seemed he had come back to life only to die again.
The grappling hooks snaked through the air. He heard the thuds when they landed on the deck, the scraping sound of the iron claws sliding over the wood. There was a tug and a jerk that knocked him-unsteady as he was-off his feet. The hooks had caught hold. He put his hand to his side. His sword was gone.
“Where . . . ?”
Alfred had seen his gesture and was slipping and sliding across the unsteady deck. “Here, sir. I had to use it to cut you free.”
Hugh grabbed hold of the weapon and nearly dropped it. If Alfred had handed him an anvil, it could have seemed no heavier than his sword in his weak and shaking hand. The hooks were dragging the ship to a stop, keeping it floating in the air next to the disabled elven vessel. There was a sharp pull and the ship sagged downward-the elves were scaling the ropes, coming aboard. Up above, Hugh could hear Bane chattering excitedly.
Gripping the sword, Hugh left the steerage way, padded soft-footed into the corridor to stand beneath the hatch. Alfred stumbled behind, the man’s loud, clumsy footfalls making Hugh cringe. He cast the chamberlain a baleful glance, warning him to be silent. Then, slipping his dagger from the top of his boot, the assassin held it out.
Alfred blenched, shook his head, and put his hands behind his back. “No,” he said through trembling lips. “I couldn’t! I can’t…take a life!”
Hugh looked up above, where booted feet could be heard walking across the deck.
“Not even to save your own?” he hissed.
Alfred lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“If you’re not now, you’re soon going to be,” muttered Hugh, and began to silently climb the ladder.
CHAPTER 26
DEEPSKY, DESCENDING
BANE WATCHED THE THREE ELVES PROPEL THEMSELVES HAND OVER HAND ACROSS
the ropes, their thin, shapely legs grasping it with heels and knees. Beneath them was nothing but empty air and, far below, the dark and awesome, perpetually raging storm. The elves were expert at boarding, however, and did not pause or look down. Reaching the deck of the small dragonship, they swung their legs over the sides and landed lightly on their feet.
Having never seen elves before, the prince studied them as intently as they were ignoring him. The elves were nearly the same height as average humans, but their slender bodies made them appear taller. Their features were delicate, yet hard and cold, as if they had been carved out of marble. Smooth-muscled, they were extremely well-coordinated and walked with ease and grace even on the listing ship. Their skin was nut-brown, their hair and eyebrows white, tinted with silver that glistened in the sun. They wore what appeared to be vests and short skirts made like finely stitched tapestries, decorated with fanciful pictures of birds and flowers and animals. Humans often made fun of the elves’ bright-colored garb-to their regret, most discovering too late that it was, in reality, elven armor. Elven wizards possess the power to magically enhance ordinary silken thread, making it as hard and tough as steel.