*
In abject horror, Tasha watched as Hal was knocked over the ship's rail. Only dimly did she hear the splash his body made as he struck the ocean waters below. She remained frozen in position for another moment. Then, screaming in fury, Tasha rushed forward and leapt at the man carrying the board.
Her shoulder caught the man squarely behind the knee, causing him to cry out in surprise and fall painfully to the side. Wasting no time, Tasha quickly snatched up the fallen piece of lumber and swung it at the man. There was a solid crack as the board snapped over the man's head, sending splinters cascading into the air. The man collapsed to the rolling deck unconscious, blood welling out from a long gash over his eye.
Tasha didn't even notice. She was back on her feet and scanning the water below for any signs of Hal. She nearly cried out in frustration for it was far too dark for her to see very much. Then, a ways off to the left, there appeared to be a flash of movement too spasmodic to simply have been more water.
At that moment Tasha was spun about by a rough hand on her shoulder. Not even hesitating in her movements, Tasha’s training took over. Using her turning momentum as she'd been taught and thrust a right cross out blindly. The sailor who had grabbed her shoulder instantly regretted it as Tasha's fist collided solidly with his long nose. The man clapped both hands to his face and spun away, grunting in pain.
Another sailor advanced on her from the side, both arms outstretched to grab a hold of her. Tasha deftly stepped within the man's reach, her arms crossed at the wrists and lunging for his throat. Slamming his neck into her wrists and staggering back, the man dropped to his knees, gasping and choking for air.
Tasha was finally given a moment to assess the situation. Three more sailors were quickly advancing on her, along with their dwarven captain, Dirgen. For some reason, the knuckles on the dwarf's right hand glittered metallically in the moonlight.
Tasha was getting very upset. She was certain that she couldn’t take on all of the men by herself. She was equally certain that Hal was drowning as she stood there. Yet she couldn't just turn and leap overboard, she highly doubted that the sailors would even let her try given the hungry look in their eyes.
Tasha could have wept in frustration.
At that precise moment, there came a horrendous yell from behind the sailors. The sailors, spooked, turned back towards the sound. Tasha stretched up slightly on her toes and got a better view.
In the middle of the now mostly dispersed crowd, stood the Crimson Bloodied-Fist, dressed only in his kilt. The blue tattoos across his chest and forearms glowed eerily in the moonlight, seeming almost to ripple and move with a life of their own as the keltoi inhaled and exhaled explosively. Ceorn's hair was in complete disarray and his yellow eyes seemed unfocused but clear at the same time.
Without warning Ceorn charged forward. He slammed into the first sailor at full tilt and bodily shoved him back into one of his associates. Ceorn then pivoted gracefully on the ball of one foot and slammed a brutal roundhouse punch crushingly into a third sailor's face. The man's body actually left the deck for a moment, flipping completely over to land painfully on his face. The keltoi glared over at the dwarven captain and slowly began to move in on him, an evil grin spreading across his face.
Tasha took a moment longer to make certain that Ceorn had the situation well in hand, feeling even more reassured when Garn came up on deck to inspect the noise. Realizing that she could wait no longer, Tasha hopped up onto the ship's railing, trying to get a fix on where she'd last seen Hal and dove headlong into the icy ocean water.
She sliced through the waves like an arrow passing through silk, chilled to the bone in a matter of seconds. Tasha plunged downwards, searching in all directions for any sign of Hal.
Deeper she swam, her lungs already beginning to cry out for air. She ignored it. Under no circumstances was she about to let Hal drown. Yet, no matter which way she looked, she could not see him. It's too dark!
Tasha began to panic. Her need for fresh air was getting stronger but her own stubborn nature wouldn't let her quit. Desperately, Tasha closed her eyes and curled up into a little ball, stretching out with her mind.
For yet another terribly long moment, she had no response. Then, a ways off to her right, Tasha found him. He was slowly sinking, about twenty meters away from the ship's hull. After firmly establishing a mental link with Hal's barely conscious psyche, Tasha rocketed in that direction. Swimming with long, powerful strokes, all the while ignoring the slow, burning sensation in her lungs.
At long last she reached him. His large body was completely unresponsive, sinking slowly into the ocean's depths. Tasha wrapped both of her arms about Hal's massive chest and began to kick upwards, straining for the sky with all her might.
The first couple of feet went well, but the lack of fresh air had taken its toll on Tasha. In mere moments her strength began to flag. Hal was just too heavy for her to carry without help. She began to panic again. Dammit Hal! she though furiously at him as she kicked. Wake up! For the love of the Gods Above, Hal! You must wake up!
For a brief second, Tasha would of sworn that she had felt some sort of response from Hal. Then it faded and continued to fade away into an impossibly black pit. Tasha was absolutely frantic. Hal! she screamed mentally. Please wake up! Please! If you don't wake up, we'll die! We'll both die! Please wake up, Hal! Please...
This time, she knew that she felt something. Nothing tangible enough to phrase into words, but something. Mentally, Tasha could feel Hal beginning to claw, crawl and fight his way up out of the pit. Enough so that he could help in some small way.
All through this, Tasha kept on kicking. Smoothly and powerfully. After another moment, she noticed that they were beginning to rise less slowly. Somehow, Hal seemed less difficult to carry. Not that he was actually able to help swim, but that he wasn't just dead weight now.
Then, ever so faintly off in the back of her mind, Tasha would have sworn that she'd heard Hal call out her name.
They broke the surface. Tasha gasped in lungful’s of sweet, cold air. A wave tossed her and Hal against the hull of the Dirgen's Pride, almost causing her to lose her grip on the big man. As it was, just keeping his head above the water was struggle enough for her.
"Give him here!" cried out a voice from her immediate right. Tasha started violently and looked. There was Garnthalisbain, crouched over and floating in midair several inches above the surface of the water. He had one arm stretched out, the other was clenched around three ordinary goose feathers. Tasha struggled to hand Hal over to the mage, but just had no strength left.
At last, Garnthalisbain lowered himself down closer to the floundering pair and hooked his hand under one of Hal's large arms, gently stroking one of the feathers over his bicep and whispering in a strange tongue. Then, to Tasha's utter amazement, Garn casually scooped Hal up over one shoulder and held out his free hand to her. She took it without a word and let the feather be passed over her arm as well. Within seconds Tasha was standing next to Garn on nothing but air.
"Whatever you do," he said cautiously. "Don't let go of me until we get back on board." Tasha nodded as Garn closed his eyes in concentration. Slowly, the three of them began to rise up into the air until they were level with the deck of the ship and could step aboard once again.
Tasha was unsurprised to see Ceorn standing amidst an array of unconscious sailors with an enraged look on his face. He held the unconscious Dirgen by the scruff of his neck and was holding a metallic object in his other hand. When Tasha took the time to look at him curiously, he showed her the item. "Brass knuckles," he clarified, disgust dripping with every syllable.
Tasha nodded though she wasn't terribly concerned with that at the moment. Garn had laid Hal's drenched form down on the deck and was checking for a pulse. He blinked suddenly. "Well I'll be damned," he whispered. "The bastard's even more stubborn than he looks." Quickly, Garn tilted Hal's head to the side and let
as much of the water drain out of the big man's lungs that he could. Satisfied that he'd done his best with that, the mage folded his hands over and placed them over the big man's breastbone, thrusting repeatedly to get Hal's heart started again.
Garn kept it up for a minute or two, stopping occasionally to breathe into Hal's mouth and force air into his lungs. There was no effect. Tasha could feel Hal slowly slipping away again, sliding back down into that endless pit of darkness. Not wanting to get in Garn's way, Tasha knelt down on Hal's opposite side and gripped his massive hand tightly, sending desperate messages to Hal's fading mind.
"Breathe dammit!" Garn cried out angrily, frustration etched across his face. "You've still got a pulse so bloody well breathe!" He leaned down forced air into the big man's lungs again.
They kept this up for another couple of minutes before, finally, Hal coughed. Water spurted out of his mouth in a great gush and spilled out onto the deck. He coughed again, violently. Hal's body curled up onto its side and spewed out the last of the water settled in his lungs, allowing him to take his first real breath in minutes.
Hal's eyes fluttered open and he collapsed down onto his back. Garn let out a long held breath, sighing in relief. "You scared me for a minute there, oaf," he said wearily though without a trace of venom. "I thought for sure that you'd been gone." Hal coughed again, unable to answer. The mage grinned and pat the big man gently on the chest. "That's okay, we'll talk about this later. But right now, I'm going back to bed." And with that, the mage casually stood up and walked back to his cabin.
Ceorn knelt next to Hal and grinned down at him. "Well there, Hal. I hope ye' don't mind my endin' the fight you started without me, do ye’?" Hal shook his head feebly, minutely. The kelt laughed. "Don't worry 'bout it, lad. We all make bad decisions after a few pints. Ye can’t win every fight now can ye’?" The kelt stood back up and dragged Dirgen off to the side to have a few choice words with the distinguished captain.
As they went out of sight, Tasha heard the dwarf mutter one last "Ahr," under his breath.
Tasha continued to hold onto Hal's hand and stare down at him. Hal met her gaze and locked onto it, not looking at anything else. Weakly he squeezed the hand that she held and blinked once. Tasha nearly wept with relief.
When she was able to speak again, she said through her watery eyes: "Hal, you and I are going to have a nice little talk about all of this as soon as you're up to it. You hear me?"
A ghost of Hal's goofy grin spread across his face. His lips moved partially and with as much strength as he could muster, he whispered. "Yes, milady."