For lack of anything coherent that came to mind, Kendath offered only a nod. He would have helped Merrin up, but she'd looked none too comfortable on her feet. That, and the fact that helping her required bending over, which boded ill for his wonderful set of cracked ribs. "We have to get out of here," he said bluntly. "That thing that attacked us - "

"Sea dragon, you mean," came a gruff voice from the other side of the cavern, and Kendath whirled around, falchion halfway out of its sheath, before he recognized who must be Uncle Pumfoot. He was a balding man but appeared to be a veteran mariner, with his weathered face and graying beard. He glanced at them askance, as though sizing them up. "'Tis a miracle we're all alive."

With a shriek Kiril detached herself from Merrin and threw herself at the man, who smiled and awkwardly patted her on the back. Kendath, wincing at the shriek's echoes still bouncing around the cavern, sloshed a few steps back and peered warily beyond the corner. No sea dragon so far. His knowledge of such creatures was a bit lacking, but the water in the grotto seemed to shallow for the great leviathan to slither in. Unless high tide came along...

"I repeat - we have to leave," he said emphatically, extending a hand to help Merrin to her feet. He glanced over at... ah... Uncle Pumfoot. "Are you injured?"

"What does this look like?" came the testy retort, followed by a gesture at what seemed to be a broken ankle. "You can carry me or leave me behind. Your choice."

_________________

Merrin took his hand, but it was primarily the ledge behind her that she used to help her upright. She scanned him anxiously. He looked haggard and she thought the tightness in his expression must be from pain. They were all much the worse for wear, but she was sure something more serious must be wrong.

"You're hurt," she ventured, reaching to touch a gash across his forehead with her fingertips. The motion came with a sharp intake of breath that she couldn't quite suppress. Every breath made pain stab through her, but the giant fist that seemed to squeeze her ribs upon exerting herself even that far was undeniably quite painful.

"We all are, lass." The grim-looking old mariner opposite Merrin had Kiril seated on his knee and she had buried her head in his chest. He grunted in discomfort when she shifted.

Merrin dropped her eyes, trying futilely to make some sense of the rapidly deteriorating situation. Another breath made her wrap her arms around her ribcage, wincing. "We're not going to get very far if we go now."

_________________

Kendath didn't miss her wince. Neither did he miss the blood oozing from the mariner's boot. The observations didn't improve his humor. They couldn't stand around in idle palaver. Curse it, they needed to move! If that wretched monster returned... He shook his head with a scowl. "And we'll heal faster if we simply stand here? I'm not hurt. Just tired. I can help you walk." He nodded at Merrin, then whirled on the mariner with his broken ankle. "That's nothing. Mer - the woman here's suffered worse. Grow some guts, man. But if getting eaten's your life ambition, feel free to stay."

Kiril uttered a little gasp and hugged closer to Uncle Pumfoot, who appraised the younger man with narrowed eyes. "We haven't all got your energy. You forget these gray hairs." Nonetheless he grunted and pulled himself to his feet. Taking Kiril by the hand, he grimaced and took a step. "Yup, 'tis the death of me. The fellas call me Pundy, by the way."

"Kendath. And Merrin," the other muttered. He eyed the water level and could have sworn it'd risen. He drew in a long breath, gasping a bit at the stab in his chest, and sloshed back into the water that had now swollen slightly past his knees. With any luck, they could make it out before high tide. A swim would kill him. He offered Merrin his arm. "You all right?"

_________________

Merrin nodded mutely, and looked up once to scan him anxiously before accepting the assistance. With the next inhale and subsequent stab of pain came a crashing wave of guilt. A glance back at Kiril only increased it. Judging from the less-than-ideal circumstances of the four of them, she didn't think it at all likely that many more had survived - more specifically, the captain or his wife. Could the tragedy, the attack, have been because of their presence on the ship?

Common sense told her that was idiocy, but it didn't lessen the fist that tightened around her heart upon even thinking for a moment on everything Kiril had lost. Along with that miserable thought, of course, came an unleashing of everything else that Merrin had not-quite-successfully refused to think about. She swallowed the sudden urge to panic and forced her thoughts somewhere else - namely, the increasingly chilling wind piercing right through her sodden clothes, and a less than cheerful view from the approaching mouth of the cave.

Grey water stretched to the horizon, with a similarly grey sky arching overhead. Everything seemed ominously still, which could be taken as either a good sign or a bad one - no sea dragon in immediate proximity, but no recognizable landmarks. Merrin found herself searching the horizon, but there was no Albatross - and nothing else, either. She clenched her teeth against a sudden and sickening hollowness in her stomach. It also kept them from chattering. "Have to find shelter somewhere."

_________________

They sloshed out of the grotto to be confronted by knee-high breakers. They stood at one end of a cove surrounded by jagged palisades that stabbed into the uniform layer of gray. If, in a one out of a million chance, Albatross was out there somewhere, it was choked by mist and beyond their sight. One thing was for certain - this was a far cry from the beach where they'd spent Midsummer's Eve. Gray sea, gray stone, gray skies. Sea dragons certainly had a wonderful taste of decor.

It took three minutes of standing there in the relentless pounding of waves for Kendath to wish they'd never stepped outside. Without much effort, the sea soaked him through, sending brine soaking into his leather and weighing down his cloak. A particularly strong breaker slammed into him, threatening to trip his sodden boots. He tried bracing himself on the cliff behind him but found it slick with algae.

Defeat was inevitable. There was no way up that cliff. Pundy testified this with an I-told-you-so glare and shouted over the roar, "I told you, lad! Useless! We might as well hide where it's warm."

And wait for the sea dragon to claim them? No. "W-we'll try farther d-down the shore," Kendath said stubbornly, then clamped his teeth together to stop their chattering. With his free hand he drew his cloak closer, for all the warm it offered. He braced his heels against the breakers and began wading around the promontory that marked the edge of the cove.

_________________

Merrin doggedly persisted in following, stumbling over the uneven rocky terrain beneath her sodden boots. Every jolt sent a stab of pain lancing up through her to tighten around her ribs like iron fingers.

Abruptly she tripped and felt the shock of cold water all over again, along with a powerful taste of salt. It took what seemed an age to claw herself upright again against the relentless pounding of breakers. It wasn't until black splotches began to swim in front of her vision, and the sea tilted strangely, that Merrin collapsed against the nearest cliff wall and gulped the frigid air, past caring if her teeth chattered. "Stop - have to stop," she gasped at the others ahead, shivering and wondering if it were possible to ever be warm again.

A gust of salt-scented wind cut through her soaked clothes, hardly ruffling the cloak that hung drenched from her shoulders. Merrin concentrated on not blacking out, feeling positively miserable and further ashamed at the fact that she couldn't manage to keep up. She looked up to wearily squint at the horizon. No sea dragon, not yet. Just a minute longer - just a minute - she pleaded with the side of herself that demanded she keep going. It's just water, Merrin, just water, the insistent side pleaded, but Merrin was past caring.

_________________

Cold? Why was it so cold? He was not back in the north was he? Garthag sluggishly raised his eyelids and blinked, he stared at the gray sky quietly and hmhed. At least he was apparently alive, but what of the troublesome duo? Garthag pushed his torso up realizing that he was partially laying on a beach and the waves kept hitting him, with tired moves he dragged himself onto the beach. Apparently he had been thrown overboard or the ship had simply been crushed thus forcing him into the sea.

His current whereabouts couldn`t be determined so easily until night fell, the stars might shed some light upon the fact, but then again it was useless to begin with if he couldn`t find the two. He hated to admit it, but he needed them in order to advance and as much as they hated it as well, those two needed him in order to advance safely. Garthag coughed up some water from his lungs and slumped onto the ground, gathering his thoughts and gazing around at the terrain.

He was surrounded by a rocky terrain, but he guessed it could be counted as a beach of some sort. Garthag turned around to sit down and tried to determine the most logical course of action, he couldn`t go wandering around aimlessly hoping to run into the two. Who knew? They might as well be dead in the end and Garthag would have been forsaken on some petty island in the middle of the ocean. The mere thought of such a twist of fate chilled him more than any winter breeze, no, he couldn`t fail now, to be brought down by this minor incident!? Garthag grinned his teeth persistently and decided to skip the search for now, he would have to get some kind of a fire up. He required wood, but that was nowhere in plain sight so he would have go and look for some, even wet would do, it was not like he was currently going anywhere.

Garthag stumbled up taking support from a rock besides him and wandered off to find his needs.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Kendath absolutely refused to admit that his aching body greeted her words with a surge of relief. He too slumped against the slick stone behind him and closed his eyes, taking long rattling breaths through the agony in his chest. He imagined a lead weight in his mind, sinking, sinking and dragging the light-headedness with it. A rest was all he needed. A breather. Literally. Somehow he found the pun amusing. The sea's roar became a drone... a buzz in his ears...

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself on his knees, with his face approaching dangerous proximity of the surging waves. A paroxysm of alarm made him leap up and back against the cliff, though even that seemed farther away than he recalled. What was he doing? Furious at his weakness, he looked around for his companions. Pundy and Kiril were nowhere to be found, but Merrin was still collapsed against the cliff. He seized her shoulders, shook her, and was on the verge of deciding whether or not to slap her for good measure, when a tinny voice drifted down the coast towards them.

" - found it! Right here!" It was Pundy, Kiril wrapped in his arms, just around the head of the promontory and waving vehemently. Nonplussed, Kendath squinted at them, but brine sprayed in his eyes and momentarily blinded him. Next thing he knew, they were gone - he assumed vanished around the bend in the shoreline.

"Come on," he mumbled, offering Merrin a push. Fighting the waves, he took one step, then another. The spot where Pundy had disappeared was only forty feet away, but with the treacherous footing, it could have been a tenfold that distance. Eventually, though, both of them managed to make it to the head of the promontory.

There it was, beautiful and serene and inviting. A stretch of beach. Nothing close to the beach where they'd played on Midsummer's Eve. Quite the opposite, actually - incisive rocks and all. But it was flat in comparison. And it was attainable land.

_________________

Merrin felt a dim surge of relief upon turning the sharp edge of the cliff to see solid land ahead. The slosh through progressively shallower water was long enough for her to regain some grasp on common sense, and begin the grapple with the pressing need to get away from wherever they were - get back to somewhere even approaching what looked like civilization. Judging from the forbidding cliffs stabbing up towards a flat grey expanse of dull sky, entirely unmarked by human habitation, it seemed that this was not the spot.

She collapsed onto hands and knees, scraping them on the rocks, and sat up to hug her knees in order to perhaps regain some modicum of warmth. One step at a time. "You're hurt," she said breathlessly in the direction of Pundy, who was still supporting a clinging Kiril. Merrin's throat felt raw from gulping air. "We have to - find some way to, to splint that, and then..." she trailed off.

He met her eyes gravely over the top of Kiril's head. "Lass, I think..." the grizzled sailor hesitated, eyes flickering to the girl in his arms, and changed what he'd been about to say. "Aye. I'll agree with ye there."

Merrin took a long, shaky breath and turned to fix her eyes on Kendath. His own unsteadiness certainly hadn't escaped her, however fleeting consciousness had become for a moment out there under crashing breakers. Another stab of agony in her midsection was an unwelcome reminder that she had her own problems. They would keep. She steeled herself and staggered upright, managing to attain a passable semblance of steadiness.

"You're not fine, either," she managed, bracing herself for the denial.

_________________

"On the contrary..." Kendath replied, staggering onto the rocks and flopping down like a landed fish. Bad idea. The sudden bend sent knives stabbing through his chest again. Panting, he leaped back to his feet and, shaking loose the hair plastered to his forehead, scowled at nothing in particular. His cloak was weighing down on his shoulders, so he unclasped it and tossed it to the ground in disgust. Water streamed in rivulets down his leather armor and pooled in his boots. He not only looked like a landed fish; he felt like one.

His eyes stung with saltwater. He blinked rapidly and squinted farther inland, where sprawled a growth of forest sprawled, trees like skeletons with their boughs extended, sparse leaves clinging to the branches. The vegetation did grow more verdant towards the center of the island, as demonstrated by the fingers of green crawling up what appeared to be a small mountain range, or perhaps a volcano. A uniform layer of mist crowned the entire island, shrouding the volcano's summit in gray.

There was no sound - were isles like this supposed to have sound? Kendath didn't know, but he'd heard stories about jungles - anything from mosquitoes to natives to wild beasts. But here, there was nothing. No flutter of wings in the canopy, no buzz of insects. It was as if the island had fallen asleep eons ago and had never bothered to awaken.

"Where are we?" ventured Kiril, breaking away from Uncle Pumfoot at last. She stared at the desolate place with wide eyes. She kept remarkable calm, though her voice quivered with fright. Pundy said nothing, only slipped his large hand over her small one.

Kendath was still regarding their surroundings with a mixture of bemusement and wariness. Some sixth sense told him he didn't need his falchion, but he kept his hand near it just in case. Loath to turn his back on the unknown, he shot over his shoulder, "We're not welcome here. There has to be a way off this rock. Build a boat, if we have to. We need - " He stopped at the expressions on both Merrin's and Pundy's faces.

"What we need," the mariner amended firmly, "is to get ourselves taken care of first. You might have boundless energy, but your friend here isn't looking too good. Neither am I, if I say so myself."

_________________

Merrin shot him a grateful look, but she knew from experience that Kendath would continue denying he was hurt until he was nearly dead. Steeling herself to demand that he let her help him was something she found herself wanting less and less to do. Turning around brought them face to face -

Without thinking what the reaction might be Merrin closed her eyes and thrust out a small hand to rest on the battered black armor. White light rippled from her fingertips, coiling luminously around his torso to target the injuries Merrin has known must be there. Blessed whiteness misted through her mind, far different from encroaching blackness, and Merrin opened her eyes feeling somewhat rejuvenated, if not healed - there was still an iron fist around her ribs.

The silence following stretched for a few tense seconds. Merrin drew herself up without meeting his eyes and turned around, to meet the startled gaze of Kiril's Uncle Pumfoot. She avoided those too and let herself collapse on the rocks. "Kiril, come here."

_________________

Kendath felt the hand on his back and halfway turned around, but before he could inquire as to her intentions, he felt himself filled with the strangest sensation. The easiest way to describe it was cool water rippling through his chest, stilling his heart for one ephemeral second and flooding through the rest of his body. His lungs tingled as they expanded with a great rush of air. All right, so he had to admit it. He had needed healing. His denial was spawned from his belief that nothing could be done about it anyway, but apparently one fact had slipped his mind - Merrin, Chosen of the Gods. And now him, saved by the grace of the gods. He wasn't sure what to make of it, and, to be honest, it was something he'd rather not think about at that moment.

His word of thanks died on his lips when he noticed the white light spreading from her palm again to encompass Kiril's small frame. The girl emitted a gasp and performed an experimental pirouette. When she came skipping back, a flush tinted her cheeks. "You're like them, you're like them!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Merrin's waist. "Like those healers in the stories! Wait 'til I tell Mama!"

"Healer, is it," Pundy grunted, eyeing Merrin askance. He extended his leg. "What do you think you can do for this broken ankle here?"

And as she moved to oblige, Kendath couldn't help but notice the color draining from her face with each miracle she performed. He, Pundy, and Kiril were not the only ones wounded. Guilt twinged him for not paying more attention to it before. "What about you?" he asked with a cough. "Can you heal yourself?"

_________________

Merrin straightened while Pundy stomped incredulously and muttered things in a rough undertone to accompany Kiril's high-pitched shrieks of glee. She smiled once, fleetingly - hardly a smile, but more a curve of her lips there ephemerally and then gone - and looked at Kendath. There was an unmistakable anxiety in her eyes, and not for herself, but the question hung in the air. Kiril, arms still about Merrin's waist, was looking up at her inquiringly. It took an astounding amount of self-control not to wince at the insistent band of pain that seemed to be tightening even as Kiril's arms did.

She gently disentangled herself and took what was meant to be a deep breath. It cut off short halfway through. Merrin found herself biting her tongue rather hard. "No, I don't think so," she said finally, dropping her eyes. "I'll...I'll be fine. It's fine."

Kiril was satisfied with this, but her rather more observant uncle raised a bushy eyebrow. "If you'll pardon the expression, lass, you're white as new-woven sailcloth."

Merrin shrugged uncomfortably and the accompanying blaze of pain nearly brought a muted moan with it. "There's nothing to do about it," she returned in what was meant to be a steady tone. It came out flat and a little snappish. She reached to gather her hair, hanging in wet tendrils, in one hand, and glanced out to sea to avoid his gaze and Kendath's. Why did she still feel ashamed? "We have to get out of here somehow."

"There's no boat," said Kiril, now a little troubled, coming to put her arms around Merrin's waist again. "We can't sail without a boat."

Her hug tightened only marginally but Merrin sucked in a sharp breath. "Gods -" she started, and cut it off mid-sentence. "Don't do that - please, Kiril." If only they would all stop looking at her!

_________________

Evidently Pundy sensed her discomfort, for he pulled Kiril off and led her away a few steps, where he could be heard humming her a tune.

The mariner wasn't the only observant one, not that her short bursts of breath were easy to ignore."Hypocrite," Kendath muttered. He began making a motion to unsling his pack, then remembered that it'd been claimed by the storm. Instead he picked up his cloak, produced a dagger, and hacked a sizable strip off. Letting the rest of his cloak drop back on the ground, he squeezed water from the strip he'd torn off. It didn't look an attractive bandage, but it would do. "Relax and hold your arms out," he instructed.

_________________

Despite her short breaths threatening to increase in frequency - and not due to the pain in her ribs - Merrin raised her arms with only a touch of reluctance. Relaxing, however, was quite another matter, and she stopped trying when even his gentlest touch made her clench her teeth against encroaching waves of pain. It wasn't until her head spun dizzily that she realized she was holding her breath, too, and let it go in a rush. It might have come out as a moan but Merrin couldn't honestly tell, and didn't care as much as she had.

She wasn't sure if she'd stayed completely conscious through the painful process, but at least the flush rising to her cheeks was smothered by their already pallid hue. Merrin wasn't even sure whether she liked his touch - certainly not under these circumstances - or shied from it, but in any case, she ended with both hands on his shoulders, and must have been not quite conscious at some point because she couldn't recall how it came about.

She exhaled shakily when he finished and tried to smile. The pain hadn't lessened that she could tell, but perhaps it would. Merrin tentatively wrapped her arms around her midsection. Maybe it had abated, a little. "Thank you."

_________________

After having collected a fair amount of firewood, Garthag decided to head back to the beach as all tough it was a quite an open place yet it was a place where he might spot any ships or some ships might spot his fire. Who knew? It all seemed ridiculously childish and hopeful to one such as him, but then again he didn`t have much of a choice. He could of course walk across water with the aid of a spell, but it would required absolute calm from the sea and he would have to find a next island during that calm in order to hopefully advance to the mainland.

Hopeless that what he felt like and tired, but at least relieved that he was not being bothered by the hypocrites and who had hopefully met their ends in the midst of the storm. Garthag reached the beach and stopped to stare at a couple of figures there, from a far he couldn`t recognize them and he wasn`t sure if he wanted to. Killing them would be so much easier than trying to decided whether they could prove hostile or not. So, luring them in was the best option he had to disarm them and to ensure his safety.

Garthag assembled the firewood and with a few words of magic, a bonfire was ready before him, Garthag sat before it in a relaxed position, but held his hands ready. One wrong move and he would use the bonfire along with his spell to cook them alive. Garthag`s cold, gray eyes slitted slightly as he stared at the figures waiting for them to approach.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!