Free Deborah Hale by The Destined Queen Page A

or three pockets full. Why?”
    “Come!” He tugged her toward Captain Gull. “Perhaps there is something we can do to help, after all.”
    Action was the best antidote he had ever found to the paralysing venom of doubt and fear.
    “Are you daft?” demanded Gull when Rath asked if therewere any bows aboard the ship. He pointed toward the front-most of the ore galleys, now close enough for their bulk to strike cold terror into the stoutest heart. “Do you reckon those hulks will feel a few pinpricks?”
    Either their crews had not seen the small wooden ship turn to charge them, or they could not believe their eyes. Rath was eager to foster that disbelief. In as few words as possible, he explained his plan to sow confusion with Maura’s madfern.
    “Very well,” snapped Gull between issuing other orders, “we have bows, but I am not fool enough to place one in your hands.”
    He called four of his men, bidding them to arm themselves and take their orders from Rath…provided those orders did not endanger his ship.
    As the men rushed off to find their bows, Rath turned to Maura. “Have you any more of that linen for binding wounds?”
    She had listened to what he’d told Gull, so she did not ask why he needed it. Instead, she lifted the flap of a large pocket at the base of her sash and pulled out a roll of the bleached cloth. She handed it to Rath, who began tearing the linen into small scraps. When he gave these back to her, she placed a large pinch of madfern into each one, then tied it closed with a bit of thread pulled from the torn edge of the binding cloth.
    “This may not work, you know,” she muttered as she knotted the last fragment of thread.
    “We will never know unless we try.” In truth, Rath did not care a great deal whether the plan worked. As long as it gave him and Maura something to think about besides the danger into which they were sailing and over which they had not the least control.
    The Phantom slipped between two of the ore galleys as Rath fitted the first of the madfern bundles onto a wooden arrowhead.
    The archer grimaced. “It won’t fly well with that thing on the tip. An arrow head must be sharp to cut the air.”
    “Do your best.” Rath pointed toward the mast of the nearest Hanish ship. “It does not have far to travel. Loft it as high at you can and try to hit something so the arrowhead will burst the pouch.”
    “Aye.” The young archer did not sound very confident. He fired off the arrow, while Maura chanted the madfern spell.
    Rath wished he could borrow that seeing tube of Gull’s to watch the arrow’s flight and be certain it hit. Since he doubted Gull would lend it and since everything was moving so swiftly around them, he murmured a plea for the Giver’s help, instead. Then he bid the other archers to fire as the Phantom threaded its way among the ore galleys. Maura’s madfern supply was soon exhausted, with no effect that Rath could tell.
    Then one of the archers nudged him. “Look back there!”
    Rath surged up on his toes and craned his neck. At first he could see nothing remarkable. Then he noticed that one of the ore galleys they had passed was drifting toward the one nearest it. The other ship did not make any effort to avoid being hit. Closer and closer the two vessels drew with lumbering grace until they slammed together in a thunderous shriek of metal.
    The deck of the Phantom erupted in cheers. A dozen hands appeared out of nowhere to thump Rath on the back. The crewmen suddenly looked at Maura with the respect she deserved.
    “Well done, inlanders!” Captain Gull cried.
    Rath caught Maura by the hand and the two of them exchanged a questioning look. Had those little packets of madfern caused the ore galleys to collide?
    Perhaps they would never know, but for now Rath was more than willing to take the credit. A new energy seemed to sweep over the deck of the Phantom, as if the wind had suddenly begun to blow in a more favorable direction.
    “Look