CHAPTER 5: Dark Times Rise

"Don't panic. I'm here to help."

With a good bit of wriggling and twisting, Fawkes managed to lower himself in through the window without falling into the river.  He did fall into the cabin. Landing on his hands, he used the momentum of his fall to roll silently to his feet facing the door out to the deck. Beneath his mask, he smirked at the lock then turned back to the bed.

Through the shades of green the lens of his mask let him see by he recognized Thimmy sprawled on the bed. Leather straps buckled his wrists and ankles to bars at the ends of the bed.  A huge swell of relief flooded throguh Fawkes as he saw that  the boy still wore clothes, though the shirt had been cut open and roughly sewn back up. Eyes wide open stared back at him. He is very quiet despite the fear on his face. Since when has Thimmy been able to keep quiet?

Fawkes stepped to the bed.

"I'm going to ge-" he started to whisper then froze. A long scar ran length-wise down the front of Thimmy's throat. Thimmy had no such scar the other day. This was magic healing. He clenched his jaws. There was only one reason for such a scar.

"He cut out your voice." Fawkes said more to himself than Thimmy the leaned to reach the first buckles. "Now about the-"

Thimmy's shirt moved with very slow ripple. Fawkes stopped and stared. The shirt continued moving. Something else was under Thimmy's shirt. The rippling stopped. With a finger, Fawkes traced the jagged stitching holding the shirt closed, feeling for unseen threads. There were none. It was not a mystic pattern, just shoddy work. He drew his dagger and slit open the shirt then tossed aside the two halves and gasped.

Four sigils gleamed black despite the green of his mask lenses. One on the chest near each shoulder and on on the body above each hip. A spiral wove between, touching each sigil. A lump the size of a mouse sat under the sigil, and the skin. The sigils shifted to a dark gleaming midnight blue and the weave took on its own dim gleam of reddened black. The lump under the sigil shifted and thinned as it began to slither under Thimmy's skin, following the spiral.

"I-I can't get you out of here with that thing in you." Fawkes glared around the room trying to think as he sheathed the dagger. I can't leave Thimmy here, either. That demon seed will consume his soul. He glared at the door. How much time do I have?

"Thimmy, nod if you know what that thing is gonna do to you if we don't get it out."

Thimmy nodded. His face scrunched up and the tears flowed. He turned his face away.

"Don't, Thimmy." Fawkes dropped a knee to the floor. "Those are righteous tears. They are not shame, they are power."

Thimmy turned back to him.

"Good. Now let me get your hands free so we can get that damned thing out of you."

Still crying, Thimmy nodded. Fawkes stood up and hurriedly unbuckled the straps from both wrist. For a moment, each one was stuck to the leather but then the boy yanked both arms free. The mask did not show non-magical colors but it did show the warm spots of fresh blood on scabs still stuck to the straps. Swallowing another rise of anger, Fawkes opened his pouch to take out a little vial as fat around as plum.

"Have you every used Puliro's Ray?" Pulling the cork, he squeezed the soft wood until there was the tiny cracking of a bead. Hurriedly he returned the cork to the vial.

Thimmy nodded. Fawkes handed the boy the vial. With hands still clumsy from their bindings, Shyri's brother began to shake it. A tiny spark of light flared within the vial and grew brighter with every shake. Fawkes took off his mask and stuffed it back into his belt pouch then closed it up tight. The vial, glowing bright, filled the room with light.

Fawkes again knelt on the floor. He gently took back the warming vial and carefully removed the cork.

"Drink the tears, Thimmy."

The boy stared at him.

"Puliro's Ray will let you retch it up like liver oil."

Fawkes set the even warmer vial to Thimmy's lips. At the heat, the boy shrank back. "Won't get any hotter than soup. "Won't taste as well either, so swallow quick."

Thimmy grabbed the vial with both hands and chugged it empty. The room went dark again. Letting out a silent groan, the boy fell back on the bed. Gold battled black until the sigils gleamed like melted coins. The lump slithered around and around the spiral weave. Red fought back against the invading gold.

Footsteps sounded on the deck. Fawkes whirled to watch the door. The footsteps headed towards the cabin door. Suddenly there was the scraping of claws on wood.

"Wha -- !" The shout was cut off with a strangling thud. A jingle of metal fell to the deck. Two more heavy thuds bounded away from the door. Silence, then... splash.

"Hey! What's goin' on up there?"

Fawkes whirled back to Thimmy. The gold was burning away the red. He tossed the flask on the bed so he could use both hands to unbuckle the straps at Thimmy's ankles.

Footsteps stomped onto the deck.

"Myrv?" the same voice called out. "Better hurry, the captain ain't one t' keep waitin'." The footsteps stopped. "Myrv?"

A chest set against the dockside wall began to rattle and shake against bindings holding it to the floor. What now? 

Fawkes undid the last buckle and snatched the vial and cork back up.

"Myrv?"  The footsteps stopped at the door.  "What you doin' in there?"

The red gleam died and the gold winked out of the sigils and spiral. Thimmy rolled to the side of the bed. Fawkes dove, reaching to get the vial to the boy's lips. Retching and coughing, Shyr's brother retched out a foot-long black snake and golden glowing liquid back into the vial. 

Something inside the chest knocked against the lid. By Boki! Another victim?

"Hey." A jingle sounded. "Myrv, you dropped these. Do you need them in there?"

Fawkes corked the vial nodded towards the window.

"Go!"

"Go?" The voice outside door replied. "But you're gonna need the captain's keys."

Thimmy went for the window.

"I'm comin' in," the voice outside the door announced. Something jiggled into the lock on the door.

Swearing under his breath, Fawkes drew his dagger and ran to the chest, cutting the binding ropes. I won't leave anyone behind to such-

The chest lid flopped open. A dapper-dressed tiny man barely two feet tall stood up in the chest.

"Burrfjord's the name." The tiny man bowed to Fawkes then patted his arm. Fawkes' dagger sheathed itself. "Thank you, my dear boy. Now, why don't you go out the window and play. I'll see to the door."

Too stunned to care his jaw hung open, Fawkes could only stare while questions swirled in his mind too fast for him speak even one. What is going on aboard this ship? Why keep a brahnie locked in-

The doorknob turned and the door swung open. A brute of a man was silhouetted in the doorway by the deck lights. A splash came from the window.

"Hey!" The brute shouted. "How'd you get loose?"

"Oh, splendid," the brahnie crowed, "it's playtime."

Fawkes leaped onto the bed and grabbed the window. Squirming madly, he tried to get through it.

A deep rumbling roar filled the cabin and the brute began to scream.

Fawkes squirmed harder and gouging his ribs, Fawkes popped out of the window and fell into the river.

As he surfaced. PeyPey called to him with a low bark. Following the sound, he reached PeyPey swimming towards him. Thimmy lay on his back, holding tight to the massive dog's collar. They swam for the fishing boat.  On the way, something glowing flew out of the stern window and hit Fawkes on the shoulder. The glowing vial with its dark prisoner bounced off and sank down to sit glowing on the river bottom. 

"Don't forget your toys, child," the voice of the tiny man scolded in his ear.

Men shouted and ran onto the deck of the Eddy Rider. Again, the roar sounded. A sudden flash reflected a rainbow off the water. Whatever was happening aboard the river ship now involved magic.

Fawkes dove for the vial then joined PeyPey and Thimmy for the short swim to the Gosling.