He pushed ahead through the sea, trusting in the splashing of his companions ahead of him. A few of them knew similar spells but others relied on bobbing to the surface every so often to sneak another breath.

The other men had deliberately slowed themselves, too. They were dragging along a log weighted with stones, an improvised backup canoe.

It took longer than he'd thought to reach the shore. Magic gill-spell or no, his lungs ached and his muscles trembled. How was the rest of the squad so much faster? Oh right, rudder tails and webbed hands. He despaired of even reaching land before his body quit.

Then he kicked sand and a wave plowed him into the beach face-first. He lay there dazed and shuddering, hacking up water.

His men were already up and shaking him, whispering, "Come on! They'll see us!"

They had to drag him to his feet and he could hardly stagger after them. His cheeks burned; he was a liability. Rain spattered along his back.

They went inland to a site Arlen had rarely seen. Keeping to the shadows let them avoid notice. Ahead lay a longhouse with relatively sturdy wooden walls and a solid wood door.

"Where we found the kid," whispered one of the Opaline men.

But a guard sat in front of the door, doodling in the dirt and rolling pebbles around. Swiftly, one of the squad tossed a rock to clatter against a boulder to the man's left. Then three men crouch-walked closer from the right, and when they made enough noise for the guard to hear, they jumped him. He hardly got out a squeak before they put a knife to his throat and suggested he shut up.

"Has he got the key?" said Arlen, stepping out of the shadows.

"The what?"

Arlen looked to the door. It had a simple wooden deadbolt, easy for a strong man to lift. He decided not to boast that his civilization knew far more about imprisoning people and deterring thieves.

With the door open, Arlen peeked in, and cursed. "Nobody's here!"

One of the team questioned the guard. "Where are they?!"

The guard himself looked surprised. "Thought they were being quiet." Under further prompting he said, "If they're not here, maybe... yeah, I thought I saw the 'guests' being led to the womens' quarters this evening. Didn't make the connection."

That was close by, anyway. Arlen helped tie the guard up, gag him, and stuff him into the house he'd been guarding. That'd buy time.

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The two-story building with its thick hedge was a more secure site. A vigilant guard stood near a burning brazier that hissed and sizzled in protest against the rain. Only one door. Chief Thoko might not have been fully prepared for a commando raid (as Arlen liked to think of it) but he had learned something from having Arlen and that boy stolen from his kind hospitality.

The fisher-mage from Catacomb stared and sniffed into the shadows. "Reeks of magic. I sense some kind of trap worked into the ground."

Arlen asked, "Can we get through the hedge?"

"Give me half an hour with a machete."

Another man said, "I would put the prisoners on the upper floor if I were worried. There's a balcony... Any ideas, outsider?"

Arlen thought about grappling hooks. A sturdy tree stood nearby. "Can you tie that spare rope to a spear, then wedge it into the balcony rail there? Quietly?"

One of the other team members specialized in wind magic. "I can muffle the sound for a minute. I think that trap on the ground will make noise if we touch it."

The unorthodox spear technique took some work. Fortunately the tree and the balcony were in the back of the building, with only trees and a garden nearby. Their best thrower chucked their grappling hook, landed it in the hedge, swore, and took a while retrieving it. Arlen sweated. On the second throw, the spear fell between two vertical beams of the balcony railing and caught. Good!

They walked the near end of the rope over to the tree and tied it there, creating a line between the branches and the building.

The little upper-floor door opened. Everyone held their breath. Then an old man peeked out and went wide-eyed. He ducked back inside and came back with more people staring across and down. Arlen and company waved and shushed them and beckoned for them to cross.

Looked like seven hostages in all, from multiple islands. Two youngsters, an old man, three women, and a scarred man. They got the idea quickly but struggled to cross.

"I'll help," said one of Arlen's team. Arlen didn't trust his muscles to get him across alone, let along carrying anyone.

But he helped hold the rope from his side, anyway, and the strong volunteer made two trips to fetch a child and one of the women. It took agonizingly long and then the last crosser, a woman, fell into the hedge.

She managed not to cry out as she got tangled in sharp branches. Arlen darted closer with several others to try freeing her. She whimpered and let everyone rock her free of the thorny chair. She fell and had to be helped up. But she stood, ignoring her many cuts, and said, "Never mind. Let's go."

In the distance, smoke trailed into the sky. Arlen hadn't needed the distraction but it was welcome. He helped usher everyone toward shore. There, they dragged the spare log into the water and got the prisoners to help pull it, or hang on tight.

Arlen decided not to try the water-breathing again. It had felt like he was hardly breathing, and if a watchman saw him he'd also see the log loaded with frightened civilians. He focused on driving himself onward and left the pulling duty to the good swimmers.

Whether by luck or the distant fire, they got away unchallenged. Arlen was grateful when two of the boats zipped closer, risking discovery, and rescued him and the kids and the injured lady. He gallantly offered his place on the boat to another hostage, but the sailors said, "You're a bad swimmer. Get on."

Soon they were all on the fleet, and the Shark party came into view, returning from their arson job. They were rowing fast. "Don't wait for them!" said Arlen.

Three boats now carried the ex-captives farther away. The fourth stayed behind for Shark Team. Arlen climbed onto that one. Hard to tell, but that might've been a moving shadow in the distance behind it. "Are you going to swoop in?"