We pulled apart reluctantly. Very reluctantly. Again there was a feeling of parting, an era ending. But it needed to be done. Ciri helped me pick up Ursa's huge shield and prop it into place ready for us to raise it up. It was a huge, round thing. Heavy, iron bound wood that was scarred beyond belief with arrow holes and gashes and chunks pulled out of it by axe and sword blows.

Looking at it from the back, I could see some parts of new wood where the binding had been taken off and a new board added. I guessed that the entire thing had been replaced over time. There's a metaphor there somewhere and I very much doubt that I am the first person to make it so I'm not going to. The point being that the shield is still the same shield. The wood and the cover has been replaced, the iron bindings have been reforged and tightened over time and the handle has been re-wrapped and reseated. It would be all but certain that the central boss of the shield has been replaced along with the leather straps and all of the other things that go into making the thing a shield.

But it was still the same shield. The essential.... shieldiness continues.

I kept my spear in it's separate halves, tucked in it's pouch so that it was easier to sling on my back. If I was going to be jumping over onto an enemy ship then I would need both hands to be free and a huge, ungainly spear would be an awkward obstacle rather than anything remotely useful. Not for the first time, a joke was made that if I had learned to use Father Gardan's axe instead, then I would not have the problem of having to assemble the weapon in the face of the enemy swords and axes. Then I could just get on with the business of killing people.

As it was, if it was the time for assembly that was going to kill me then I was going to die anyway. The spear is still a useful weapon when in it's separate pieces and I had little doubt in the capability of Ciri and Kerrass to buy me the necessary heartbeat or two to get the job done. I was going to lose yet another spear scabbard but I could live with that.

Even I could see what was happening now. It was a game of chicken. Helfdan was going to get closer and closer to the shoreline until just before the Nilfgaardians were going to start firing their arrows. Just before the mage was going to start casting and then he was going to turn. I didn't know what he was thinking but I guessed that it was something along the lines of hoping that he would be able to confuse that first shot.

Regardless, we watched, and we waited.

Helfdan actually went further than that though. He actually had us go one step further. He allowed the Nilfgaardian captain to think that the water currents had just allowed us to drift that little bit closer to the shore and that he, the Captain of the Wave-Serpent hadn't noticed. So the Nilfgaardians actually fired a warning shot in order to fend us off. I couldn't believe it as we watched arrows being set alight along the decks of the four sailing ships as archers raised their bows and the small points of flickering light seemed to shimmer before our eyes. I was not the only person that looked to Helfdan to try and see what was going on. To try and figure out what he was going to do.

But he seemed to be ignoring the Nilfgaardian ships. Just watching the shoreline and the line of sailing that he was following. He seemed to be nodding to himself, gently rocking backwards and forwards. He was also rubbing his hands up and down the rough wood of the tiller as he did so, but the hand movements were a different rhythm to his nodding.

We watched as the water and the small amount of wind carried the cry over the water to us, the order to fire stood out in the relatively still and quiet air.

Then the arrows were up and arcing towards us. A long, slow arc that ended up falling well short of where we actually were. Most of those arrows hissed as they hit the water with small puffs of steam as the cold and the water snuffed out the flames. Some few bounced on the ice into the water. Some even bounced and lay on the ice. Their flames burning for a short while in a small act of defiance against the cold and wet.

I saw one that stuck.

I was not the only one that started to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the gesture and Svein hissed at us to be quiet. Helfdan jerked the tiller a little and we started to move elsewhere, away from the Nilfgaardians in a short, panicked gesture. I can't have been the only one that wondered what was happening. But we just had to watch, wait and trust that Helfdan knew what he was doing.

I don't know what he was thinking. Whether he was waiting for a specific feature of land to pass him by or whether he was waiting to lull the Nilfgaardians into a false sense of security. I simply don't know. Whatever it was that he was waiting for though, despite my preparations and impatience. Despite the waiting and the long, drawn out nature of it. Despite all of that, when it actually came...

I wasn't ready for it. So much so that I nearly fell over when finally, Helfdan threw himself into the tiller and the ship began to turn. Svein took a hatchet to the rope holding the sail up and it fell down to the deck. The men slammed their helms upon their heads and threw themselves into the oars with a roar in the same way that they charged into the ranks of the Ice Giants.

It literally brought a tear to my eye.

I like to think that it also made more than one Nilfgaardian merchant sailor, shit their trousers.

We turned, to my eyes and feeling it was painfully slow. Nothing ever happens quickly at sea, it takes time. It has been said by more than one person that the art of being a good leader is not whether or not you make good or bad decisions. But that you make any decision at all. But then there comes the fact that you have to follow through on that decision and see it through until you have new information that might make you change your mind. If you are a military commander then this is especially true and there is always the risk that hundreds, if not thousands of lives will be lost as a result of your actions.

I am reminded again about that quote that says that the only thing that is worse than a field of battle after a victory is a field of battle after a defeat. So even a field of battle after victory must be pretty fucking terrible.But there must come a moment of doubt after the decision has been made where the next moment of courage has to come where you are forced to watch as the decision starts to come apart. Where it takes time to implement your orders and to follow through on those things. That has also got to take time and you have to force yourself to continue with those actions even when you are equally as terrified by the possible results.

It is even worse at sea. A captain's word is law and when he orders that the action begins then you have to follow through on that. But the speed of turning ships is slow. Painfully slow and you have to watch as the enemy ships react to what you are doing. As the turn began, I watched the enemy crews go about their tasks. It was all too easy to put myself in their shoes as they stared with open mouthed astonishment as their enemies finally leapt forward to the attack. After all that time where we hadn't attacked, it must have been strange, even frightening that now had been the moment where we had turned about to the charge. I could almost feel their thoughts as they wondered why now? Why not an hour earlier or an hour later? Do we know something that they don't.

As it was, we could watch as they delayed. Someone had to shout the same order a couple of times in a frantic increase of volume before those sailors, mercenaries or soldiers for hire realised what was happening and actually started to overcome their shock.

It didn't take that long but it was long enough that we could see the delay. We could watch as it happened. But then a man with a torch started moving across the line of archers on each of the ships again. We watched as the tiny stars of flame began to light up as the arrow heads took their flame.

We were about half way through our turn when those first missiles started to rain down among us. It was also clear that not all of them were actually on fire. They had mixed metal tip arrows in amongst the fire in the hope of picking off more men. Not a bad idea. In the sheer mathematics of things. Every single loss of a man would hurt us whereas they had men and fighters to spare.

Again though, the archers had fired their arrows early. In an effort to get rid of the enemy that much the sooner. The fire was much more dangerous than the more jagged barbs of the metal arrowheads. Somebody got hit as I heard them swearing behind me but I didn't turn to look. It struck me as a wasted effort and I didn't want to start feeling the grief of the thing. I was not ready for that yet. I needed to be hard of heart and ready for the killing.

The wind was blowing against us but the removal of the sail helped with that. And then that resistance was gone and the Wave-Serpent leapt forward, widening our turn a little and we were heading straight for the line of Nilfgaardian ships.

The Wave-Serpent reminded me of one of my father's hunting hounds. The way that they leap at the rope, barking at the air with their teeth snapping as they tried to bite out. Straining against the hold that the hunts-master has on them. In every way that the Skeleton Ship had reminded me of a huge slathering beast lumbering towards us with all the unstoppable power of an avalanche. The Wave-Serpent reminded me of the disciplined hound that was eager to carry out the thing for which she had been born.

And the Wave-Serpent was a ship of war.

Saying that she cut through the water isn't entirely true. We were, after all, heading towards the shoreline, there was also the growing ice on the water that we had to contend with so occasionally we would reach the crest of the swell to come crashing down into the water and the ice which made this horrible, wet, shattering noise. I desperately wanted to look backwards to see Helfdan at the tiller. If the Captain of the ship was still confident then I could still be confident. But if I did that, I wouldn't be able to watch for the incoming fire arrows.

There was indeed a second volley coming in and this time they were more accurate, rattling off the hull of the Wave-Serpent, some of them sticking fast in the various pieces of exposed wood. One solitary arrow struck the shield that I was holding. I didn't see it. I had ducked behind it just before the arrows were due to impact. But I felt it. It was a heavier blow than I was expecting but I had no way of telling if it stuck fast or bounced off. I wasn't going to look as that meant that I was going to expose myself.

“Stay down Freddie.” Ciri told me, tugging me into place. Not that I needed the warning. I was all too aware that arrows can find even the smaller chinks in armour and cover. That is why Kaedweni Longbowmen have been able to defeat the flower of Continental chivalry for centuries.

There was another crash and shower of icy water as we breached the top of another wave. I didn't look to see where the enemy was. I just made sure I had a firm grip on the shield in my hands.

Then another volley of arrows came in. More struck the shield and I was astonished by how hard the impacts were. Despite the heaviness of the shield, I felt them like hammer blows on the surface.

I was still dimly aware of Svein calling the beat for the oars. I looked sideways and I could see Ciri poking her head over the top of the guard rail to have a look.

“Here comes another vo...” and then she had to duck, her words sucked away by the crashing or another wave. Freezing salt water splashed over us and I shivered.

I was absolutely terrified. We weren't fighting back. We were just letting them take their shots at us, raining blows down on top of our heads. I knew why. I knew that we had twelve men, only one of which was a truly skilled archer and he was needed on the rowing benches. But we were sailing into a storm of fire and death and we couldn't fight back. I was shaking with it. Shaking with the fear of wondering if the next few moments would bring death.

And I was so cold. Anger requires heat and warmth and I had neither of those things. So I was unable to fall back on that rage that I would normally use to force the fear back. And I was so very cold.

More arrows were falling now. I didn't look but we seemed to be slowing. A man was screaming behind us and I heard Svein shout at another to stay at the oars, to not help the hurt and dying man. I didn't look. It seemed impossible to me that anyone could survive in that awful storm of fire, wood and metal raining from the sky.

The enemy volleys were losing their regularity, they were falling with a rattling constancy as the enemy archers lost their rhythm, or lost their discipline, or both. They just focused on turning as many arrows as they could on our heads. As much fire as they could at us. We weren't going to survive. How could we possibly survive in the middle of all of that horror?

And we still hadn't been able to fight back.

The shield was having more and more arrows stuck in it now. I could tell because it was getting heavier. More and more difficult to manage and move around. It was weighing down on me and pushing me down into a ball. From somewhere, the thought came that this would mean that Kerrass wasn't properly protected. That the shield was not as large a piece of cover as it should be and I pushed upright against the now constant pressure that was falling upon it. I had to stand to do so, putting my shoulder into it. I briefly wondered if that meant that I had exposed myself to enemy fire. Then I realised that there was no point worrying about it. That I would just have to hope that the shield was big enough to protect me. Surely we must be getting closer now. Surely we must be in reach of the enemy ships, even if we weren't in reach of the shoreline that was our eventual target. Surely we must be getting closer.

I risked a peek, under the rim of the huge round shield and I nearly felt despair reach down my throat and stop my heart.

To my eyes it looked as though we had barely moved. I must have fallen to my knees or something because the next thing I know, I felt a hand clutch me by the armour and haul me to my feet. I have no idea who it was and I put my shoulder back into the shield. Because what else was I going to do really.

There was another crash. A much wetter sounding crash this time but that didn't help prevent the water slipping over the side and down the back of my neck.

Kerrass and I have worked on our communication over the time that we have spent travelling and fighting with each other. I've trained my ears to hear him through the din of whatever else might be happening and so I heard him quite clearly when he muttered. “Here we go,”

The first fireball struck shortly after that. Did Kerrass move it? I think so. Otherwise, the mage in question is an appalling shot, but I don't know how that works when it comes to magic. The fireball itself detonated off our left hand side. Above the waterline, the explosion ripped a hole in the upper parts of the Wave-Serpent's deck, showering us all with smouldering, sharp and ballistic splinters of wood. I had kept my head down but I felt the wood strike my side.

“Keep Pulling.” Helfdan bellowed over the din. “Do not stop.”

The Wave-Serpent survived that impact and she kept ploughing forwards. I had no idea how many men were dead or dying behind me. I could hear one men moaning with pain in time with the oar strokes but I could hear nothing else behind those sounds.

The arrows continued as we got closer, creeping forward under the strength of those men's arms and more and more arrows found their targets. More and more fire arrows found things that they could catch on and more and more arrows hit the shield that I carried. I was struggling to hold it up now. Even with the fact that I had stood and was propping it in place.

Another fireball. I don't know whether the mage had received instruction or had adjusted his aim in some way. But this was much more effective. This time, the explosion struck us beneath the water.

The Wave-Serpent heaved, hurling me from my feet and turning us. A wave surged and the Ship screamed in protest as her boards took the strain of that torrent of water. I fell. Onto the deck of the ship, fortunately. I fell and my death grip on the shield brought it down on top of me.

Holy Flame but that thing was heavy.

“Get up,” A man screamed at me. I have no idea who it was. “Get up, you can lay down when you're....”He was cut off as an arrow pierced his throat. He coughed, blood spraying over me. I could still see the words forming on his lips though.

I ignored him, he was dying. Medical training is occasionally good for some things and there was absolutely no helping that man. The shield was covered in arrows and I could barely lift it let alone get it into place. Ciri was there, her sword drawn as she brought the blade across the face of the shield, shattering the arrows and making it lighter so that I could lift it back into place where Kerrass still waited next to the figurehead.

The best that could be said was that we were closer.

We weren't going to make it.

But the impact had done one thing. It had helped me find my anger.

It took us far too long to right the ship. All the while the Nilfgaardians were just pelting us with arrows. It became necessary to tilt the shield so that Kerrass and I could hide under it. I lost track of where Ciri was and I was swearing. Promising every insult and injury against the Nilfgaardian sailors. The worst possible things that I could imagine were promised upon them, their wives, their children, their pets and parents. I was going to hunt them all down and hold them under the water until the final bubble rose to the surface.

I wanted them in range so that I could get at them. I wanted to vent my own anger and sense of helplessness and beat some understanding into those men. I wanted them to suffer.

So much so that I actually feel a little ashamed of my feelings in that moment.

Survival was a lottery. Not a matter of how skilled, how armoured or how lucky we were. The arrows rained down on us without ending. But I had a luxury that the men of the Wave-Serpent did not. I could take cover.I don't know how those man managed it. But somehow, they stayed at their oars and continued to work under the direction of Helfdan in order to get the Wave-Serpent moving again.

I didn't look. I couldn't look. I was still so focused on my own survival. But it must have been awful. Being forced to just sit there, pushing and pulling at your oar knowing that the next moment could be your last. That the next arrow could end your life or could wound you to the point of uselessness for the rest of your life.

Which would be short, cold and painful.

The courage of sailors. What can I say.

But they worked. Their acts of courage, strength and endurance were beyond those of normal men and we started to move again.

There was a delay before the next fireball landed. Kerrass was struggling. We had had two balls of fire thrown at us but it was impossible to tell what had happened or how much influence he had had. His face was terrifying. The white face with black veins running through his skin was normal and expected to me now. I have seen that face before with the skin the colour and texture of new paper, hair like straw with pulsing black snakes living under the skin.

Normally, Kerrass seems distant in those moments where he has taken too many potions and is struggling to hold on to his humanity and sense of place in the world. But now, he had his teeth gritted in a snarl and he was breathing heavily, the air whistling between his teeth. Blood ran freely from his nose which he ignored although he did occasionally turn his head to spit large blobs of it on the deck next to him.

And there had only been three fireballs so far.

I finally found Ciri, she was plastered against the hull, keeping as much of her body under cover as she could. Her face was a mirror of mine I suspect. A solid grimace of fear and frustrated rage. Wild eyes and wild hair. Her sword was drawn and she held it in a death grip.

“Go.” I screamed at her. “Get away from here. Go.”

“Not yet.” She screamed back in words that I felt rather than heard over the din of roaring oarsmen and the constant clatter of arrows against wood.

“Ciri...” I begged her.

“Not yet.” She snarled back.

“Damn you.” But I did not have the breath for anything else. The Wave-Serpent was moving again which helped me, at least, to feel a little bit better about what was happening.

But the enemy had realised what the problem was. The fact that there had been a large delay between the fireball that had all but stopped us in our tracks and the next one was explained by the probability of the mage realising that Kerrass was on the ship and diverting their magic away towards relatively harmless impacts in the water and off the side of the ship. So there was also a small delay in the arrows approaching the ship as though the tide slackened a little. Not by much. Just that the arrows from the ship that contained the mage seemed to change their shooting patterns.

Not the other ships though. The other ships just kept pounding away indiscriminately.

But then those arrows, and the magical bombardment came back. On the one hand, this was good for us because Kerrass could now use the Heliotrope sign for what it was designed for. Deflecting magic away from himself. I didn't see all of it but I gather that there were several bolts of pure energy that were diverted away by his quick movements and concentration.

But there was another problem. The reason that I didn't see what was happening was due to the fact that the sheer weight of arrow fire coming at me became... extreme. It was like trying to walk into a hail storm. Only the hailstones are the size of fists rather than their normal size of peas. I would be pushed back. Suddenly finding myself on the back foot so I would have to take a step back in order to find my balance. But then I would need another step and another step. Or the shield would have moved. Arrow impacts on the left or right of the shield would almost turn me around so that I would be looking in the wrong direction. Then I would realise what was happening and have to force myself back to the rail.

Kerrass was suffering. He was leaning against me as the ship moved. I heard him vomit, coughing up something from behind me. Ciri appeared from nowhere and helped me prop the shield up but even with her help, we were still being pushed back.

The Wave-Serpent was speeding up. More arrows sped towards us and I saw the first sign of metal punching through the shield that I held. No more than the top of the arrow had made it through, just a glittering tip of metal shone like the stars in the night sky. But it was enough to let me know what was happening.

I swore. I swore long and loud. Then I swore under my breath for a bit because I couldn't afford to take the time to breathe in and out for the purposes of venting my invective any further. But this was not enough for me. I wanted the world to know how angry I was.

“FUCK.” I screamed into the cacophony of falling arrows, the howling of the Wave-Serpent as she fought against the injuries that she had already suffered in order to drive us on. The groaning, screaming and bellowing of the other men of the Wave-Serpent. All of it conspired to drown out my own words. But I bellowed them anyway because it seemed fitting.

The mage must have realised that his new tactic of throwing the magic at the person thwarting him was actually less effective because he threw another fireball. Kerrass swore as it it detonated above us, showering us all with flames.

I did not have the luxury of worrying about it though. I smelt burning hair, burning flesh and all the other scents that came with it. I felt hands, small hands, probably Ciri's hands batting out the flames that had crept up over parts of my clothing. But I could only hold the shield up and close my eyes. I did not dare look back.

I did not dare.

The mage tried again and this time I felt the explosion somewhere beneath my feet, fairly lifting the Wave-Serpent out of the water with a gout of flame and icy water. We came back into the water with a crash. This time, I kept my feet and it was Kerrass and Ciri that fell. I don't know why one thing or the other but there it was. But I couldn't go to them. If I did, I would have to drop the shield and if I dropped the shield, the arrows that were still falling would creep through and get to them, gouging into their flesh.

The fact that those same arrows would probably also kill me did not even occur to me. Instead I screamed at Kerrass to get up. I bellowed at Ciri that now was the time for her to leave. I swore, pleaded and cajoled for them to stand up. Then I begged the pair of them to not be dead.

I literally wept with relief when Kerrass moved. The fact that he moved to vomit did not blunt my relief in anyway. Ciri woke with a start and I returned to my task.

My feet were wet and I looked down. The Wave-Serpent was taking on water. That last explosion had ruptured the decking beneath our feet. She still floated but we were taking on water.

That small voice that lives inside my head. The part of me that watches and comments on everything with the slightly arrogant and detached academic view had two things to say about this. The first was that it wouldn't be long now. Sooner now, rather than later, the cold arms of death would reach me and I would no longer have to struggle.

It didn't occur to me to stop fighting but the fact that it would soon all be over occurred to me then.

But the other thing that this, sometimes hated, sometimes useful and encouraging part of me had noticed was that the Wave-Serpent was another ship entirely. Some ship builder tore up the plans after building the Wave-Serpent declaring that he would never build better.

I don't know who built the ship. As Helfdan had told me, she was an old ship when Helfdan was young let alone when Helfdan took command of her. But something about those old shipwrights made me wonder what they knew then that we have since forgotten. We had worried that she would barely survive one fire ball and now she had taken four. She was hurt, maybe even fatally so but manned by some of the finest Skelligan sailors that the islands have ever seen, commanded and steered by.... I will say it.... the greatest Ship's Captain that the ocean has ever seen.... She carried on. She fought on.

We were moving faster now. The currents and the tides were fighting us less.

There was another fireball which, by accident or by Kerrass' design, was pushed further to one side. There were more splinters, more fire and more burning bits of wood. But the distance between us and the enemy ships had closed with a suddenness that took my breath away. Suddenly, the spells stopped. Too close to the Nilfgaardian ships I suppose.

We were still being shot at but even that seemed more chaotic. It felt like the last gasp of desperation that a man or a woman will make to throw their children to safety before succumbing to inevitability.

“Now Freddie,” Kerrass told me, spitting another mouthful of dark red horror to one side. “You ready?” He drank off another potion and his skin started to return to normal.

“Fuck no.”

Behind him I saw Ciri taking some backwards steps as she got ready to run. She had one of the crew's shields that she held above her head to shelter from the arrows but even I could see that she was hurt. One arrow was sticking out of her leg. I had no idea how bad it was because she had broken the shaft of the arrow.

“Is it time?” I asked Kerrass. He had thrown the first potion bottle aside and I did not hear it smash. He flicked the top off the next bottle with his thumb.

“There will not be a better.” He said before drinking the potion at a swallow. He grinned at me, his teeth stained with blood, slime and potion residue. Black rings of exhaustion stood out under his eyes which were bloodshot now and not only had his nose bled but I could see wet redness at his ears as well.

“You look fucking awful.” I told him. Being unable to think of anything else to say at what was probably the culmination of our friendship.

“You look gorgeous.” He said with a feral grin.

I was sure I could see fangs. One day, I really will check whether they are figments of my imagination or if they really do exist.

One day.

Ciri ran, casting the shield aside as she did so.

The sun went out, behind the vast bulk of the Nilfgaardian ship and Ciri leapt. I couldn't see if she made it.

I pushed what remained of the shield aside as Kerrass also took a short run and leapt. I saw him catch a rope and felt a small piece of hope as I saw Ciri's booted foot disappear over the top of the deck.

The distance looked impossibly far and there was no way that I could ever hope to make that jump.

I swung my spear on my back.

But there was never going to be another chance.

I ran. Jumped onto the rail of the Wind-Serpent and leapt into the air.

There was a distinct moment after my foot left the railing of the Wave-Serpent. I remember it so very clearly. The yawning black chasm of the swirling, freezing water below me. I remember the touch of ice and that my boots seemed so heavy that I was certain that I would be dragged down into the depths of the abyss. It was as though, in that moment, nothing else existed and that I was looking at a painting of what was happening around me.

Then I saw the rope and I put all my will, all my focus and all my energy into catching that rope.

I did catch it, but then the next thing happened. The thing that I had simply not realised that it might be a thing. Even though I had caught the rope, it had not occurred to me that I would still be slamming into the side of the Nilfgaardian ship. I was supposed to brace with my legs. Kerrass had done exactly that.

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But because I was so focused on catching the rope, I simply forgot about this next, necessary step.So when I did hit the hard, tar covered hull of the Nilfgaardian craft, the breath exploded out of me, my hands went numb and I let go in shock.

I fell. Only for a fraction of a heartbeat but I honestly feel that it was the longest fraction of a heartbeat in existence. Time enough to feel that I was falling, time enough to scream, time enough to force my hands to close around the rope and arrest my descent.

The following moments where I just hung there were almost as bad as when I was simply falling, as I just swung, gently.

And there was nothing I could do.

I've been in worse situations. I have. I've faced down creatures of unimaginable power. Things from other worlds that have powers nigh on to that of Gods. But as I swung there from the rope, frozen in terror, hanging on for dear life where my gloved hands refused to do anything other than to hold on, I remember thinking....

This is it. This is how I die.

It was ludicrous to even begin to imagine climbing up the rope. I was well below the line of the deck so there was no leverage for me to find with my feet. My arms were aching and I could feel the growing inevitability that, sooner or later, I was going to let go.

I was going to fall. Then my choices were freezing to death in the icy water, getting crushed to death between the boats, dying from the impact, or drowning. None of those seemed like good options as I just swung there.

At some point, I had shut my eyes, squeezing them shut with the fear. I was almost certainly screaming in fear and terror at my own weakness.

Gradually, I fought the panic down. I could hear combat above me, the unmistakable sound of metal weapons clashing against other metal weapons and metal armour. I could hear the splashing of the water and somewhere I could hear the sounds of oars in the water and the bellowing of a Skelligan who refused to let his crew die and insisted that they force themselves onwards.

I don't know where I found the courage. It might have been the thought of Kerrass and Ciri facing unknowable odds above me, or it might have been the thought of my friends back on the Wave-Serpent facing those same odds as they struggled through. But I found it, buried in the depths of my soul though it might have been. I found that courage and I opened my eyes.

As is the way with such things, the imagination conjures more horror than could ever possibly exist in the real world. It was then that I found that, although I was dangling over the precipice, the hull was not that far away. There was still no realistic way that I could climb up. I had already delayed the climb for far too long and there was the very real possibility that by the time I got there, it would all be over one way or another.

But Helfdan had been aiming for the back of the boat. And that boat was taller at the back than it was in the middle for reasons of ship building that I've never quite understood.

So if, instead of looking up, or down, I looked over to the side. I could see a ledge that was the anchor point for some of the ship's rigging.

So, speaking theoretically of course. If I swung my legs like this. And then aimed myself like this. Then theoretically I should be able to swing over to the ledge like this. It still meant that, at some point, I would have to let go but that was a problem for a few heartbeats later.

So if I did swing. Obviously I wouldn't because that would be foolish. But if I did, then that would mean that I would be able to jump like.....

Holyflameholyflameholyflame.

This.

And catch the rope.

I literally vomited with relief.

But I didn't have time for that. I was on the side of the ship and men were moving up towards the back of the ship where I assumed that Kerrass and Ciri were fighting furiously. A man, he was older I think, turned to look at me. We stared at each other for an eternity. He opened his mouth to shout.

And I ripped his throat out with the dagger that I wear at my waist.

Another death on my conscience. It felt like it had been a while since I had last killed a human. He had been armed with a boat hook.

I vaulted over the rail in a display of agility that I doubt I could have managed cold-bloodedly. Three men had seen me board and were rushing towards me. To my right, men were pushing to get up the stairs towards the upper, steering deck. So I stabbed one of the men who had their backs to me in a place where I hoped his Kidneys could be found before I sent him stumbling towards the three oncoming men.

Not much time. I felt very vulnerable. One decent body check would send me over the rail.

I had time to shrug my spear bag off my shoulder into my hands when one of the three were on me. Two of them had stumbled with the falling corpse of their comrade but one had dodged. Remembering Letho and his lessons, I stepped forward inside his reach. The pommel of whatever he was wielding struck me in the shoulder, numbing my left arm. I still had the knife though and I rammed it into his chest once, twice and three times.

I left the dagger in his body and pulled out the blade part of the spear. The two others were recovering now and I would have to deal with them. But that wouldn't help Kerrass or Ciri and that was vital. I needed to draw men down on me. Deadly to me? Probably but if I didn't then no-one would survive. Not just me.

I kept my most recent kill as a kind of shield, steering him with my left hand on my own dagger as I turned and ran my shorter spear through another man that was struggling to get towards the back of the ship. He stumbled and fell into his mate.

I felt a blow land on my back, somewhere between the shoulder blades. I spun and a young man with a makeshift club looked astonished that his attack hadn't felled me.

The other man looked less surprised and was lunging forward with some kind of curved sword.

I might have laughed. I remembered an old fencing master informing us that curved swords are meant for slashing, not stabbing.

But I was too tired and far too terrified for that. So instead, I pushed the now dead man with my dagger in his belly on to the more competent of the two men. The one with a sword rather than whatever it was that the other was wielding.

Club man froze in terror as the man that he had struck refused to obey the laws of nature. He held out his club towards me as though he was warding me off in some way. I wish I could say that I spared his life. He was one of those people that should not really be fighting. He had been hanging back from the combat and I wondered if he was the son of someone, pushed to the back of the fighting.

But if I spared him then he had already proven that he had no problems hitting someone in the back and he would likely do so again.

So I ran him through, ripping the blade through his guts as it came out, spilling his guts over his feet.

I think he was about fifteen.

The other man had fallen under the dead weight. He wailed as I killed the other. I stamped on his neck as I fitted the two halves of my spear together. It took me two tries to get the necessary snapping sound that I was looking for.

The sailors at the back of the ship had realised what was happening behind them and a couple had turned to face me.

The first, crazed out of terror or disbelief, charged forwards, impaling himself on my spear. I feel no guilt on that death. I just had to hold my spear out and he ran onto it. But more were coming. I placed my foot on the body and snatched at my dagger. I had a feeling that I would need it.

More men came. I was supposed to be looking around for the mage but I had no idea where they might be or what they might look like. So I just reasoned, with a strange sense of calm, that the task here was simple. The more men that I could draw onto myself, the more men that I could kill, the less that Ciri and Kerrass would have to face. And they were the ones that would be able to identify what we were after.

So instead of an all consuming fear that overwhelmed the senses, like what I had felt all those years ago when I had been hanging from this same ship by the rope....

Yes I know, but it felt like years at this point,

… I had very specific fears. Practical fears. Fears that had a purpose. My biggest worry was that I would get overwhelmed so I would need movement. The other problem would be what would happen if the blade of my spear became trapped either between, or in, the bodies of my enemies. Either problem would be potentially fatal. So I had to fight differently. I had to move the blade of the spear. More slashes rather than thrusts.

I had time to think that Kerrass would be absolutely furious with me.

Somewhere in the part of my brain that was watching proceedings, I was astonished that I hadn't simply been shot yet. We knew that the ships all had archers on them. It was part of the problem that we had had to overcome in the first place. I don't know why this didn't happen. I can only guess that the sheer impossibility of what we had already accomplished had robbed them of sense.

The ship, the tiny little Skelligan ship. With a fraction of it's proper crew had dared to even begin to survive the horror of fire and metal that had been thrown against it. But not only had it survived, but it had kept coming on. No matter how many arrows that were sent against it. No matter how much was done to try and destroy those people. No matter the fire storms and the magic that was thrown, that skelligan ship had just refused to die and had kept, coming. On.

Not only that. But they had attacked. How dare they?

So it was more than likely. Maybe even more than possible that in their rage and fear at this seemingly unkillable group of people, they had taken leave of their senses. I don't know. I never got the chance to ask them.

I didn't salute the oncoming men. I saw that as wasted time and effort. Also, I felt more than a little bit that these people didn't really deserve the honour that the gesture suggested.

I kind of wish I had now though.

But I charged towards them to meet them. It was not bravery, nor was it strategy. It was simply that, I was bound to start falling back at some point. The sheer press of numbers would make sure of that. So I wanted room behind me. That meant running forward to meet them.

The first man was surprised that I got so close. I twisted away from his first blow and drove my spear towards his throat. He fell backwards. Carrying on the movement, the next man was racing towards me, also surprised that I had moved forward so that his weapon was out of position.

I can't judge him too harshly as my own blade was in the wrong place to strike at him. But it is always a mistake, in any weapon to assume that only the bladed part of the sword or spear can cause you harm. I drove the pommel of my spear into his face. He dropped his sword in surprise, pain and shock and covered his face with his hands, I'm pretty sure I saw blood.

I side-stepped in an effort to keep him between me and a third man as I was now holding my spear like a quarter-staff. I used that to drive the blade towards a fourth man who fell backwards.

The press was on me now and, as I predicted. It was time for me to start falling back from my enemies.

I spun and slashed and stabbed and spun again. I railed at my attackers as more and more came. I soon found that it was not particularly difficult to keep them back from me. But I couldn't strike back. All I could do was defend myself and hope that in doing so, I was drawing people away from those that could actually fight back. Every man that raised their blades or their cudgels against me was not shooting arrows at the onrushing Wave-Serpent that was driving it's way towards the shore.

I hoped.

Every man that aimed their arrows at me rather than at Kerrass or Ciri was a victory. I had achieved that ideal that Helfdan had needed out of me. I was willing to die so that others might live. I would never reach the objective that we were aiming for. Against a mage I was utterly outclassed, but Kerrass or Ciri would have a chance. I shivered at the thought that Ciri, or Kerrass might take an arrow, so easy to do in the thick of things and that it was all over.

But instead the enemy were coming at me instead. At every moment, I expected the next moment to be my last. I grew to anticipate what it would feel like when the blade sank between my shoulder blades. Or that final crunching blow against my ribs or my skull. I began to anticipate the impact of the arrow and how that would throw me backwards. I even began to look forward to it.

Because I was beginning to tire again. That burst of anger that had taken me off the rope and onto the side of the ship. That had given me the energy and the clarity in order to kill those first men, was now stymied. I could not reach my enemies. I could not get hold of them or bring them to bear. I could not get at them in order to ensure that they fell. But more came.

A time came that I could not see what was happening. All that I could see were the faces of men, bared, horrible, rotting teeth in snarls of hate as they tried to reach me in order to end my life. All I could hear were the baying sounds of those same sailors that were hungry for my blood.

But I spun and slashed and stabbed and spun again. Desperately keeping those blades away from me for just a little bit longer. Keeping moving so that the arrows would miss me for just a little bit longer. Just a bit longer because every single second that I was alive was another second that others survived.

Then the pressure lessened. A man that I had expected to have to fend off was suddenly not there. Or rather, he was, but he was clutching his throat with that strange look of panic and confusion that always seems to occur when a man realises that he is dying. The man next to him was trying to reach round his back to whatever it was that had inconvenienced him as his legs folded under him.

But then I had to turn away. People on my other side were pressing against me again.

Kerrass was there. His sword flashing in smaller, but infinitely more deadly arcs than I could have managed. We did not have the breath to greet each other or crack a joke in order to mock each other. In stories, men have a moment to look at each other in the middle of the conflict and share a joke. That didn't happen, we did not have time. Nor did we have the stomach for it. It seemed crass somehow that we should joke about what was happening. Our last words to each other should not be spoken on a battlefield.

Instead, we fought together. Tired, exhausted even and we fought together in the way that we had trained to fight since we had first started out on the road together. Kerrass following his path and me following mine. I would like to say that we have never been better.

I don't know the truth of that, but I would like to say it nonetheless.

My memories of those moments blur together. I remember Kerrass overextending to his left to finish a man to his left, leaving himself vulnerable on his right. A man moved to attack him and I stabbed him in the chest.

I remember tripping another man as he rushed at Kerrass for Kerrass strike to spill the man's guts out on the deck to steam in the cold. I remember turning to see the arrow that was about to kill me. I remember thinking that one of those men had finally remembered that they had been shooting not a matter of moments ago and that I was about to pay for that memory. I saw, literally saw, the arrow leave the bow only for Kerrass' sword to intercept it with a clang. I don't care whether you think that that's impossible. I saw it. I might have avoided it but I was reaching to try and get at the person that was trying to get behind Kerrass and stab him across the back of the leg.

So many memories come back to me now.

I remember being rushed from one direction, fending another man off before drawing my knife and gutting the man rushing me rather than take the time to bring my spear back into play. I remember a moment where, again, my blade was out of position and I had no time to do anything, so instead, I drove the butt of my spear into the man's throat to see him fall back, clutching his throat and choking.

It might sound like I killed a lot of men on the deck of that ship. I did. I am not going to waste our time by trying to dispute that. I did kill a lot of men. I have no idea how many either by myself or while working in partnership with Kerrass. I would certainly say that it was more than all of the other times that I have killed men in my life.

Why was the count so high? As I say, I don't honestly think that those sailors knew what to do with the fact that we had chosen to attack them rather than admit that we had been defeated. I honestly believe that the shock and horror of finding enemy fighters on their deck overwhelmed something in their brains which meant that they had no idea what to do next. So they lost co-ordination and courage. Going backwards when they should have gone forwards is a common mistake anyway.

But also, do not assume that our count made that much of a dent in a ship's crew count. Yes, the Wave-Serpent is crewed by thirty men but the Wave-Serpent is a small ship, even for Skellige. Helfdan would say that he prefers quality over quantity and behaves accordingly.

But on this ship. Clearly the flagship of this small flotilla of Nilfgaardian merchant ships, we were barely making any headway. We had made a dent. Certainly we had made a dent. But we were three people against a ridiculously larger force and we had taken them by surprise with the sheer ferocity of our attacks and the fact that we had attacked at all.

So what happened?

There was a flash of light. Of light and heat followed by a wave of force that knocked me from my feet and sent me sprawling backwards. I slipped on something. Probably blood or something else that really belongs inside the human body and fell backwards.

“The next man that moves.” It was a woman's voice and her voice cracked at the end. “The very next man that moves gets a lightening bolt to the face.”

It was Ciri. Of course it was Ciri. Who else could it have been. No Nilfgaardian merchant was going to bring a woman onto a ship. Only Skelligan Captains that don't really believe in superstitions would do a thing like that.

But I swear, I swear that I did not recognise the voice when she first started shouting.

I started trembling. I wanted to burst into tears but somehow there seemed to be a wall in my mind between me and those tears and I could not break through yet. I was on my back, lying across a few of the men that I had killed and I wanted to scream, shout and throw a tantrum. My brain felt as though it was trying to explode out of my skull sending skull fragments, blood and whatever else there is everywhere. I balled my fists and pushed them into my eyes.

“Come on Freddie. No time for that yet.” Kerrass' voice. He tugged me to my feet.

Ciri was standing a little way off. She had her sword drawn and was holding it to the throat of a man. He was blubbering and, I may be wrong, in the process of shitting himself with fear. Ciri was filthy, covered in blood, her hair matted with filth, sweat and Flame knows what else. But she looked beautiful in that moment. Stood with the mage at sword point.

He was an odd looking man. He was almost the perfect example of a mage from the south who had learned how magic from the north lived and was trying to live like that. Except somewhere in the process, he had missed some fundamental part of how it was all supposed to work. He was dressed like a civil servant. An entirely unremarkable man, slightly overweight with a trembling chin. He had the cleanliness that all magic users seem to share and his clothing was immacculately clean but in his style of dress, he looked like a Southern Mage.

In the South, before Ciri's return to public life and the then Emperor's acknowledgement that some mages had their uses after all, magic users were expected to be the servants of the Empire. You could either serve, or you could be locked up in the magical academies to “study” or to otherwise be kept an eye on. Much like the southern courts expect women to be seen and not heard, mages occupied a similar, if not lower, social standing. This had started to improve since the Lodge of Sorceresses had proven so invaluable in the recovery and protection of the now Empress. There were even rumours before that when Yennefer of Vengerberg, rather infamously, became court Sorceress to the Emperor when she was leading the efforts to try and recover the Emperor's daughter.

Apparently they got on quite well.

But I digress.

So this man looked like a Southern mage. But he had tried to take on some of the fashions and pagentry of the north. So over his drab, mundane clothes. He wore a chain of office that was dripping in Gold and precious stones that could, if the jewels were not fake, have probably bought a new ship. His fingers were heavy with rings and there were precious stones in his lapels and in his fur hat. It was an odd combination that kind of left me feeling sick.

I managed to climb to my feet. Not because I was strong enough or anything like that. It was more because I refused to appear weak before all of these Nilfgaardian sailors. Exhausted wasn't the word for it. I had become an automaton, like a Golem or an elemental servant that a Mage would create in order to be able to get some work done around the forge. Still trying to recover from the fact that I had survived.

I was hurt. Behind the wall that I had erected, along with the tears and the scream that was bubbling up in my throat, there was also pain. A lot of pain and I had no idea what I was going to do about any of that.

“How are they doing Kerrass?” Ciri called over to us.

Kerrass handed me my spear which I must have dropped at some point when I fell. I took it automatically, glaring the sailors that were standing at bay. Waving their weapons backwards and forwards. Others were tending to wounded, still others picked up bows.

Kerrass moved to the side of the ship, those that stood between us and where he wanted to go, moved aside, watching Kerrass warily.

“They're not doing well.” Kerrass called back.

And just like that. Where we were and what we were doing came rushing back in a flood and I ran to join him on the rail.

I should have seen it. I should have witnessed it. It's the kind of thing that should have been recorded really. So that people could sing about it in times to come. I wish I had seen it. It would have broken my heart to watch it happen but I should have seen it.

I should have seen the moment where the Wave-Serpent died. I should have seen her sacrifice herself so that what remained of her crew would survive. She had thrown herself onto the rocks with all of the strength that she could muster shattering herself against the teeth of the islands that she had served in all of her long history. She was already a shattered wreck of what she had been.

Flames had caught up around her from the fire arrows and the fireballs and the Flame knows what else had been done to her. The rocks had been the thing that had finally killed her and now the waves were battering her into a wreck. The waves with their increasing amount of ice that could be visibly seen to batter and bash the wooden hull into splinters.

It was a grand death for a ship as storied as that one but it was a death that came too soon. I know that Skelligans believe that death in battle is the height of life. But I am enough of a Continental man to believe that death should come in comfort and gentleness. With friends and loved ones beside you.

I wanted to believe that she could have died as Helfdan's funeral barge. That is how the Wave-Serpent should have died.

Instead it was at the hands of some fire arrows, a mage's spells, the ice and the rocks that finally killed the Wave-Serpent and it would be these things that finally saw to her ending.

I sobbed as I saw the remains, the shattered beams, the mast standing at a crooked angle. I could see the figurehead, snarling her defiance as the flames licked up towards her.

But I should have seen the Wave-Serpent die. Such a thing as that deserves to be remembered.

Her crew were still fighting though. Further down the coast, The first of the four ships in the formation had realised what was happening when Helfdan turned the Wave-Serpent for shore and had had time to react. Although not quite able to beach, the first ship had launched boats full of sailors that were heading towards the Wave-Serpent's corpse. The ship immediately behind us had dropped anchor and had done the same. As we watched, the remains of Helfdan's crew were struggling to make it ashore.

There were so few of them. So very few. The only one recognisable from this distance was Kunnr. Kunnr the Shining, son of Hlaf the Boar-biter had found a solid piece of land and was wielding his twin axes against the oncoming sailors. The blades glittered in the soft light. But the corpses only made it more difficult to get the rest of the men ashore. All the while, more and more Nilfgaardians were streaming towards the remaining men.

There were so few of them though. I turned helpless eyes to Kerrass who's eyes were bleak. I ran towards where Ciri had the mage and grabbed him by the lapels.

“You cast fireballs at us right?”

He gibbered in fear at me.

“You can do other spells too right?” I demanded.

I ignored his whimpering.

“Then you can help our friends down there or I swear....”

Ciri had realised what I was getting at and hauled him over to the rail.

“Fireball.” She told him. “Among those men. Now.” She pointed at the charging sailors as we continued to sail past them.

He continued to burble.

“I SAID FIREBALL.” She screamed at him, getting frantic now. Every second that there was a delay was carrying us further and further away from where the fighting was.

“I think you broke him.” Kerrass commented. Always the first with a wry comment. He still had his sword drawn and was watching the rest of the crew. If any of them had been thinking about it, they could probably have just rolled over us and not even noticed it.

Ciri looked around, panic in her eyes. Then her eyes settled on the back of the boat.

“Watch him Freddie.” She told me. “If he moves or says anything, then do something disfiguring and painful. Don't kill him though as I want to talk to him. He as questions to answer.”

She all but threw the mage at me who I caught and took great delight in resting my dagger up against his crotch.

But then I couldn't help but watch as the remaining crew of the Wave-Serpent struggled to climb over icy, freezing cold rocks in order to get to the shore. And all the while we were getting further and further away. That problem with warfare at sea. You need to make a decision now because if you hesitate, then it will be too late.

But I didn't know what to do. I looked at Kerrass helplessly but he was staring down at where the few remaining members of the Wave-Serpent's crew were struggling for their own survival. The other ships were firing their bows at them as they sailed past with those ships that were ahead of us in the formation turning back to give their archers another go. All the while the men were struggling to get ashore and Kerrass and I watched helplessly. There was nothing we could do.

Except to bear witness to the bravery of those few remaining men.

Then I heard the ship that we were on groan. The huge trading ship had a different voice to the Wave-Serpent. I cannot disentangle my own thoughts from Helfdan's ship. I think of her as a woman now, who died in all of her glory doing her best to carry her people to safety. That journey with Helfdan and his men has forever changed the way I think of ships. Now, I can see why men give them names and assign them personalities. Why they treat their ships with affection and talk to them in the small hours of the night when no-one else is around to listen.

But there was a different note to the Nilfgaardian's ship. It was deeper, more drawn out. There was a popping noise as well that was new, something that I hadn't heard before. This was not a ship that was in tune with the person at the tiller. This was not a ship that wanted to go this way or that way. This was a ship that was at war with itself.

And it groaned with the efforts that it was being put through.

Then the ship began to turn. Slowly at first but we were turning nonetheless. I felt my jaw drop open as I turned and stared towards the back of the ship where Ciri stood, hurling herself into the steering wheel. Turning it and then holding it there. Teeth gritted with the effort. Cords standing out in her neck as she screamed with the exertion.

Because the ship didn't want to turn towards the shore. Towards the rocks and towards it's death.

Now I know the science of the thing. I know that the Nilfgaardian ship still had it's sail up. I know that the wind was coming from the East which meant that Ciri was actively sailing the ship into the wind. I know that the reason that Helfdan and the crew had found it relatively easy was because they had oars and had taken their sail down. That they were lighter on the water and all the rest of it. I know all this. Rational, scientific brain knows all of these things.

But the more powerful, emotional centre of me knows that the Ship fought against Ciri. That it did everything that it could to avoid it's coming annihilation.

At the time though, I had no idea what was going to happen. All I saw was Kerrass tying himself to something.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“I would find something to hold onto if I were you Freddie.” He told me calmly. “Also that Wizard you're holding onto. I would bet money that this is going to be rough.”

The sailors had realised what was going to happen now and were running around screaming. They had no idea what to do though. A couple made a half hearted attempt to attack Ciri and died for their trouble. She had tied the wheel to our new course and just stood next to it with her sword drawn and an expression on her face that begged the other sailors to come on and die.

None took her up on the offer. Instead, they took Kerrass' example and started securing themselves. I had done the same. Not that I yet understood what was about to happen but I have spent several years doing exactly what Kerrass tells me to do in moments of crisis and it struck me that now was not a moment to change away from doing that.

Then, when I had a moment, still holding onto the Wizard by the scruff of his neck, it began to dawn on me what Ciri was trying to do. It was not logical, it very nearly got us all killed including herself. But in the heat of the moment she had chosen how to behave and acted on it.

The Ship, that had been groaning with the pressure of the wind trying to push it backwards and the conflict between the sails and the ship's inertia, screamed as the first sound of sharp rock scraping against the hull came to our ears.

Ships do not die quickly.

Then there was an answering scream as this was answered on the other side.

Then there was a delay and I found myself hoping that there would be no more. But there was a new noise then. A noise that sailors all over the world dread. I had never heard it before but I instantly knew what it was. A kind of onrushing noise that seemed to echo through the hull. Sea water was coming through one, or both of the injuries that the ship had suffered.

“Holy Flame.” I muttered. “Holy flame keep me warm and safe in this, my hour of nee.....”

The ship didn't have enough inertia behind it to properly beach itself onto the rocky shore. But by the Eternal Flame in Novigrad, It made a good effort of it. I suspect it was already a wreck before it finally came to a halt. The holes in the hull had made sure of that with the incoming water and whatever else was going on. But it came to a halt with a jerk and an almighty crash that echoed in my skull. The front left of the ship exploded first.

As I say, ship's do not die quickly. So I got to see the ripple in the wood rushing towards me as planks bent and broke under the stresses of what was happening below decks. The nails that had held those same boards in place were forced free and pinged around the place including gouging me across the forehead. Then one of the great boards of decking would break and the splinters would fly everywhere. I saw several crew shredded by the ballistic wood, flayed alive by the splinters that flensed the skin from their bones.

One man, fell to his knees with his hands clutching at his face, blood running freely between his fingers. Another ran over to help his friend and pulled his hands away before having to turn away in horror. The man had a shard of wood. About the length of my index finger sticking out of his eye socket.

Men were screaming as we started to come to a halt. I began to think that surely, surely we must have slowed down by now. Surely the effects of those rocks beneath the surface would have robbed us of some of the momentum that was carrying us towards the waiting arms of death.

But no. When we finally struck that final resting place it was with the force of a giants boot, kicking me in the chest.

We were thrown into the ropes that held us down. So hard that I blacked out for a few seconds. Not for long though as I was quickly woken up by the icy spray of water coming off the rocks and the ship's hull. It was terrifying. The ship had come to a halt and was gently beginning to tip to one side so that the corpses of the men that we had killed were beginning to roll over. As I looked up, I could tilt my head over to one side and look into the abyss of swirling water and reaching stones.

The mage, that I was tied with, was screaming. He kept trying to move his hands and begin some kind of incantation but he never quite seemed to manage to get the concentration together. The words choking in his throat and his hands beginning to tremble with fear. I could see that blood was beginning to run from his nose and ears.

I shook myself and started to work my way free. All the while gasping for breath that just wouldn't seem to come while desperately trying to blink the salt water from my eyes

“Hold on.” Someone shouted. Then I felt the ropes slacken and I felt myself begin to fall. I scrabbled to get hold of something. Anything to arrest my descent.

If I'd thought about it. It would have been easy. But in the heat of the moment, struggling to breathe having recently lost consciousness, I panicked. Kerrass caught me, catching hold of one of my reaching hands as he made it to my side.

Ciri was half helping, half dragging the mage to his feet. The Nilfgaardian sailors were making their own way. Some were desperately trying to salvage the ship. An effort that was clearly useless but I suppose that the saying about “What you learn to do first, you do in a crisis,” holds true in the high seas as well. Men were running around frantically, screaming and shouting. Someone was trying to shout orders and more people were trying to jump overboard. As I watched, I saw a plank from the decking snap under the stresses, the tumbling end collided with the skull of a passing sailor. He fell and rolled towards the side of the ship. I was frozen by the sight, watching him as he hit the railing and just continued to tumble down towards the waiting rocks and swirling, angry water.

“You alright?” Kerrass screamed so that I could hear him over the noise.

I glared at him regarding the ridiculousness of that question. I was clearly not alright. I was clearly terrified and trying really hard not to actively shit myself in fear. As an anchoring technique, focusing on your bowel movements are actually quite helpful. He seemed to take that as a positive though and helped me to a standing position.

The ship groaned again as it continued to complain about it's fate. It jerked spasmodically over to one side as it settled further into whatever setting it had found.

“Come on.” Kerrass shouted at me and I followed him stupidly. Ciri was already dragging the mage towards the splintered horror of the front of the ship. More water was rushing into the hull now and booming against the walls of the cargo bays. But there was the thumping sound that I had remembered from sailing on the Wave-Serpent. There it had seemed peaceful and meditative as the ice had bounced off the sides of the ship. But now? Now it was a slow booming of a funeral drum.

The ship lurched more as we staggered forwards. We caught up with Ciri and I put my arm under the mage's shoulder to help drag him along. One of the sailors was charging at us with his sword raised and a wail of despair echoing in his mouth. Kerrass killed him quickly and I suppose that there are worse methods of committing suicide. But I thought that he might need some help if some people decided to avenge themselves on the three of us and Ciri was far more sure footed than I was.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I demanded of her when I got closer.

“You wanna help them out don't you?” She demanded. “I wanted to get to shore to help Helfdan and the rest fight.”

“You could have just teleported.” I told her. “That's the entire point of this isn't it?”

We staggered as the ship lurched again, the four of us drenched in spray. I didn't quite lost my feet. This because the Mage caught me. I have no idea why, maybe he thought that he could garner some goodwill if he saved my life. Maybe it was a reflex reaction of some kind. I have no idea. But I didn't fall.

“Do you know.” Ciri yelled as she answered my question. “I actually didn't think of that. But in all fairness. That would only have had me helping them. You want to help them too, don't you?”

“Yes.” I admitted. “But turning into the shore and getting us killed in the wreckage doesn't seem like a particularly efficient....”

“Turning around would have taken too long.” Kerrass was resheathing his sword. “And it would have taken us the other way, into the path of the Skeleton Ship. I too am not done with killing yet.”

We had reached the front of the ship.

“So what now?”

“Well,” Ciri said. “We're closer to shore now so we won't hit the freezing cold water.”

“So?” I demanded.

“So we jump. Or rather you do.” She vanished in a flash of green light.

“It's alright for her to say that.” I told Kerrass. My voice sounded dry and restrained. Something that I found astonishing. I even thought I could detect humour in my own voice. “She can reappear on dry land.”

“She can.” Kerrass had grabbed hold of the mage before looking over the side of the ship, choosing his ground and pitching the mage over the rail. He watched as the mage screamed. “Come on Freddie, it's not that far.” He was grinning as he vaulted over the side.

“There's a joke here.” I told the empty air. “A joke about it not being the fall that kills you.”

I turned and looked back at the rest of the ship. You could see the back of the ship being battered by the waves. Even if the waves weren't that high, they were powerful enough to be moving the back of the ship independently from the front of the ship where I stood. More and more wood was splintering and I didn't think it would be long before the entire thing would break in half. Then, anyone left aboard would be dead.Further back, I had a glimpse of the Skeleton Ship bearing down on us. The big ship that had been ahead of us in the formation had turned in order to get back into the fight, such as it was. The wind had blown it wide and into the path of the Skeleton Ship and I could see that it was already being held fast in the ice. Men were jumping over board to land and run for it on the ice that was reaching towards where I stood with fingers that grasped and strangled the life out of the world.