Scimitar Sun (35 page)

Sam slipped through the doorway to the hold and into her hiding place. “Burn it!” she whispered. “Burn it all!”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Firesprite

Mouse’s eyes fluttered open at the first scent of smoke. At first, his sleepy sprite mind thought that it might be pipe smoke from the deck watch, but it didn’t smell right. Then he though about the burning mountain to windward and realized that the harsh-smelling smoke was probably brimstone or whatever they called that glowing orange stuff that burning mountains barfed up. He snuggled back into Cynthia’s pillow and was about to close his eyes again when a cry from the deck perked up his ears.

“Hey! What’s that!”

“It’s that little fire demon!” came another call, this one the mate’s voice raised in alarm. “Hey, stop that you little —  Fire! All hands! Fire on deck!”

Mouse flew up and out the skylight hatch into a stream of curses from the deck watch. The two men were batting at a flaming bundle of tarred line. Another even brighter flame fluttered above them, swooping at their heads, and…giggling. Flicker!

“EEP!” Mouse streaked forward.

“Water! Bring buckets!” Horace roared as men poured out of the fo’c’sle hatch. They flung open the main hatch and two men jumped down. In moments, buckets of water were being passed up to the deck and their contents dashed onto the blaze before it could get out of control.

But Flicker was still free and she flew aloft, fire streaming in her wake like a comet. She glanced over her shoulder at the seasprite and laughed, then landed on the foremast hounds, the supports that held the topmast upright. Flames flickered where her tiny feet danced along the tarred cordage that wrapped the ratlines, licking upward toward the furled topsail. Mouse ignored her taunts and shot aloft, snatching her arm to jerk her away from the mast. But her flesh burned his hands and, with a cry of surprise and pain, he released her. Flicker glared at him as if he was ruining her game, then darted away toward the reefed forestaysail. Mouse clutched his scorched hand to his side and flew after her.

“The bloody mast’s afire!” he heard Feldrin’s voice boom from below. “Someone get aloft with a bucket!”

But Mouse’s eyes were fixed on Flicker. She landed on the forestaysail, pirouetting in a tiny cyclone of flame along the bundled canvas, and it immediately started to smolder. Mouse reached for her again, but her hair flared high and he cried out in alarm as the heat singed his eyebrows. If his wings caught fire, he’d never fly again. But if the ship burned…The ship meant everything to Cynthia, and Cynthia meant everything to Mouse.

“Stand back!” He heard her beloved voice from below, and seawater leapt from beside the ship in a geyser, dousing the ratlines and deck, extinguishing the flames there. Mouse spared a glance and saw Cynthia standing beside the port-side mainmast shrouds, a tendril of water from the scuppers wetting her feet as she brought another spout up from the sea. This one was aimed forward, right at the burning sail and Flicker.

He cheered as water doused the flames, but his glee faded when he saw that the firesprite had evaded the spray. Her hair still blazed, and she swooped around to the starboard side, applying her fire to canvas and tarred hemp wherever she landed. Cynthia sent more water aloft, dousing the flames, but could not catch Flicker in the stream; the firesprite was just too quick.

“I can’t get the little monster!” Cynthia cried as she cast her eyes wildly about for some other means of foiling the marauding firesprite. “Get Edan! Maybe he can call her down!”

“Aye, I’ll get the little rat!” Feldrin shouted, cursing as he disappeared down the hatch.

Mouse flew down and landed on Cynthia’s shoulder, clinging to her sarong amidst the spray as she chased fire after fire that sprouted in Flicker’s wake. The firesprite cried out in glee, obviously enjoying the game, while Cynthia gritted her teeth and cursed under her breath. Mouse felt helpless, cradling his burned hand; his initial heroics had faded, and he now murmured in Cynthia’s ear, trying to comfort her. Finally, he saw Feldrin hauled Edan up on deck by one arm, the young man wearing only trousers and a look of utter bewilderment.

“Do somethin’ about that little beastie!” the captain bellowed. Edan’s eyes were so wide that Mouse though they might pop out, and he gripped the mainmast as if the ship were being tossed in a gale.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Call her down before she burns the ship to the waterline!” Cynthia shouted as she sent another spout of water after the firesprite. “I can’t keep this up all night!”

“She won’t listen to me. Not now. Once she gets going, she won’t listen to anyone!”

“How in all Nine Hells did she get out?” Feldrin snapped, looming over the young man, his huge hands clenched as if strangulation would be the next step in the conversation.

“I don’t know! I was…I mean, I was sleeping and…” Edan looked around in confusion, his eyes flicking from face to face. “I don’t remember letting her out, and even if I did, I never open the cage without putting her chain on!”

“Her chain?” Cynthia stopped for a moment, an idea flashing into her eyes. “Her chain! Where is it, Edan?”

“Uh…right here, I…Yes, right here!” He fished the thin golden chain out of his pocket and thrust it at her. “But how can we — ”

“Mouse!” Cynthia barked, startling the seasprite right off her shoulder. “Mouse, you’re the only one who can do it! You’re faster than she is! You can take the chain and clasp it around her waist, then haul her down here!”

“Eeep?” he asked skeptically, eying the chain, then Cynthia, then the swooping,
burning
firesprite.

“Yes, you!” Her voice was stern, but her eyes pleaded with him as they welled with tears. He had never been able to bear her crying, even when she was a child. “You’ve got to do it, before she — ”

“The forestays’l!” Horace cried, drawing their attention forward where the sail had burst into flames.

“Bloody hells!” Feldrin cursed, surging forward. “Cut the halyard! Helmsman, bear off the wind!”

Cynthia sent a spout of water shooting forward to douse the burning sail, but it had already torn from luff to leech, its charred remnants fluttering in the breeze. Sailors hauled the burnt canvas down and worked to get the outer jib aloft.

“Mouse!” Cynthia cried again as more fires sprouted up along the tarred shrouds and stays.

“Eeep!” Mouse tightened his belt a notch, fluttered over and snatched the gold chain from Edan’s limp fingers, grasping the clasp in one hand and letting the length of it trail out behind. He shot aloft, his gossamer-crystal wings humming like a swarm of angry hornets, trailing a stream of silvery dust in his wake. He saw her near the forward trestletrees, setting yet another blaze, and closed on her fast, but she saw him coming and streaked into the sky, trailing flames.

Mouse shot after her, climbing then turning as she plunged back down toward the deck. Cynthia was right; he was faster. The chain dragged on him, making it difficult to maneuver, but he was gaining.

Flicker shot down the main hatch, swooping through the passages and cabins at full speed, Mouse right behind her. But with the added weight of the chain he could not manage the corners as well as he normally would, and the seasprite careened off bulkhead after bulkhead. He followed Flicker as she shot through the door to the main hold — astonishing a dumbstruck sailor filling a bucket with water and passing close enough to singe his hair — then back out through the main cargo hatch.

Mouse grimly flew on, gaining on his quarry, but unsure how long he could keep up the pace. She darted right and he followed. Then she reversed and shot back past him, her tinkling laughter taunting him as his outstretched fingers missed her ankle by a hair’s breadth. He turned and pursued her up the ratlines, weaving in and out of the rope steps even as they narrowed at the top.

Suddenly, the chain jerked him back, ripping through his grip like a knife, eliciting an “EEP!” of alarm. He fluttered to a stop and looked back; the chain had snagged one of the lines. As the ship rolled, it came unwound and fell toward the water.

“EEK!” he cried, diving for the thread of gold as it fell toward the waves. If it sank, there would be no hope to catch Flicker, and she would eventually set something on fire that even Cynthia could not put out, something like the store of fire casks stowed under the fo’c’sle.

Mouse streaked toward the water, pushing himself as fast as he had ever gone. He felt a brief spasm of triumph as he snatched the gold chain from the air…then hit the surface at full speed.

The impact shocked him, and for a moment he didn’t realize what had happened. He looked at his hand and sighed in relief to see the chain still firmly clasped there. Then water filled his mouth; he coughed and stared in astonishment at the bubbles rising before his face. He was a seasprite, true, but that encompassed his love for the sea and sailing — not for being underwater. He shot up and exploded from the water, coughing and sputtering and shaking water from his wings as he flew after the crazy firesprite. Now he was truly angry.

Flicker saw him coming once again, laughed and flew back down toward the ship, evading him neatly. But Mouse had renewed energy, buoyed by his fury at the little being that would burn everything he knew and loved. He closed in behind her, and as he flew he coiled the trailing chain in his hands so that it would not become tangled again. She dove through the netting under the bowsprit and shot up the other side, but he anticipated the maneuver and cut her off. As the ship plunged into a cresting swell, he hit her full force, driving them both back down through the netting and into the water.

He actually heard Flicker’s hair extinguish with a
ssst
, and the two of them floated together for an instant, entangled in each other’s arms, legs and wings. Then the firesprite’s eyes fluttered wide in panic. She tried to draw breath but choked on the water and began to struggle for the surface, but Mouse would not release her. Then
Orin’s Pride
ploughed right over them, tumbling them under her hull.

Mouse didn’t like being underwater, but at least he knew how to act when it happened. He held on tight to both the chain and Flicker, holding his breath as they twisted and rolled until he couldn’t tell up from down. He blinked as the turbulence subsided, and looked around. It was dark, as dark as the inside of a boot stuffed into the bottom of a sea chest in the bilge of a sinking ship (what an adventure
that
had been!), and Flicker was limp in his arms. He clasped the chain around her waist and tried to figure out which way was up. He was running out of air, but there was no moon, and he couldn’t distinguish the starlight from the shimmer of phosphorescence that glowed in the ship’s wake.

Then Flicker convulsed, coughing out a bubble, and he realized that bubbles were the answer. He blew out a stream of bubbles and followed them up, bursting from the surface in a spray of seawater and stardust. He soared aloft with Flicker in his arms. His fury melted when he looked at her waterlogged body. Her hair was gone, her flame extinguished, and her wings were like limp black spider webs, her gossamer-smoke washed away by the sea.

“Eep?” he asked, but she did not respond.

He flew back to the ship, hoping she wasn’t completely drowned. He kind of liked her when she wasn’t trying to burn everything up.

≈

“Flicker!” Edan cried as Mouse deposited her on the deck before them. “Oh gods, he’s drowned her!”

“Better her than us,” Feldrin said, muttering a curse. “Bloody beastie near burnt my ship! I’d squash her meself if I — ”

“Feldrin, hush!” Cynthia shoved through the knot of sailors gathering around the two sprites as Edan reached down to pick up the sodden firesprite. “Is she alive, Edan?”

“I don’t know. She’s not breathing!” He cradled her in his hands and jostled her, trying to rouse some sign of life. “Flick? Come on, Flick! Wake up!”

“Best let her be, lad,” Feldrin muttered. “She’s drowned good and — ”

A rumble like distant thunder behind them brought their attention up to the smoldering volcano. The glow was brighter than it had been only moments before. There was another rumble, and they felt the vibrations through the hull of the ship even as they heard it.

“Phekkar,” Cynthia whispered, remembering another injured sprite and the curse Odea had brought down on her family. If Flicker died, she had no doubt that the fire god would take his vengeance out on them. “We’ve got to bring her back somehow, Edan! Hasn’t this ever happened before? She’s never been caught out in the rain or doused in a bucket?”

“Yes, sure. But she’s never been
drowned
before!” His face was streaked with tears, his eyes still wide with panic. “We would always just relight her.”

“Relight her? You mean…”Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Bring her down to the galley, Edan. We might be able to save her!”

“But she — ” Another rumble cut him off and he stood, following her down the companionway to the galley, trailed by Feldrin and those sailors who weren’t tending the ship.

Cook frowned when they burst into the galley, but Cynthia would have none of it.

“Bring a lamp and a bowl, quick! And matches! Is the stove lit?”

“Aye, it’s always lit, mistress,” he said, nodding to the great cast iron stove as it swung lazily on its gimbals. “Fire’s banked, but it’s lit.”

“Stoke it!” She took the lamp someone handed her and poured the oil from it into a porcelain bowl, then took a match and lit it. She looked to Edan. “Light her!”

Edan placed her gently into the bowl of burning oil, and Cynthia cringed as the hair on his hands burned away. Flicker lay in the oil, the flames licking at her, sputtering but not catching.

“It’s no good,” he said, sniffing back tears. “It’s not hot enough.”

“If hotter’s better, we can do that.” Feldrin picked up the flaming bowl and told the cook, “Open the fire box.”

“But, sir, I — ”