Flux

night.
    The pirates’ lethargy had vanished and now they rushed about, furling sails, securing anything on the deck that could move, coiling and uncoiling ropes in some pattern he was sure had purpose, although he couldn't fathom what.
    The temperature had dropped and, although it was not yet raining, Miner fancied he could smell fresh water. A stiff wind made the pirates’ billowing clothing flutter and snap.
    The waves must have intensified, because now even these seasoned sailors were having trouble keeping their footing. They staggered here and there with faces drawn tight with worry, paying Miner no mind at all.
    The first raindrops began to patter against the deck. They were fat and cold, and although Miner pulled the blanket over his head and although he still wore Ennek’s sweater, he was very swiftly soaked to the skin and shivering violently. His stomach lurched and rolled and he was very glad he hadn’t eaten anything that day. But he wasn’t afraid. If the worst has already happened to you, what is there left to fear?
    The rain came harder, sweeping across the ship in sheets, and Miner kept his head down. The sea grew rougher and the ship creaked and groaned in protest. The pirates ran around even more frantically, their shouts torn away by the wind. Somewhere something snapped with a blast like cannon fire, but Miner simply twisted his body and wrapped his arms around the mast to keep himself from sliding too much. He lost his grip on the blanket and it flew away. He barely noticed—he was vomiting up bile and trying hard to breathe properly in the downpour.
    The ship’s bow raised high into the air, sending everything that wasn’t tied down skittering and rolling to the stern, and then the ship dove downward. A wave crashed over the railing and for a moment Miner was certain he would be washed to sea, but the chains held him fast. Perhaps some of the pirates weren’t so fortunate—he thought he heard an anguished cry.
    Miner had barely regained his breath after the wave when the ship yawed violently to starboard and the deck was at such a steep angle that he was nearly hanging from the mast by his wrists. A truly horrible sound came from below decks, a sort of inanimate screech, and just as suddenly as it had tipped, the ship righted itself. Miner swung back into the mast, smacking his sore head. His hands were twisted and trapped beneath him and despite the din of the storm he heard the bone in one wrist snap. There was no pain to accompany it, not yet, and perhaps he’d be dead before he even felt it.
    Another wave came over the railing. He didn’t catch hold of the mast quickly enough and this wave sent him across the deck as far as his short chains allowed. When it receded, he was left flopping on his back like a fish. He rolled onto his belly and began crawling back, but there was a new wave, and then another, until he was gasping desperately, certain he was going to drown.
    But either the repeated blows to his head or the lack of oxygen must have affected him, because it seemed as if the rain stopped all at once, like someone turning off a faucet, and the wind stilled, and the ship completely stopped moving. But an enormous wave rose over the railing, its sides as sleek as glass, and standing atop that wave like a sea god was a man dressed in tattered rags, his arms outstretched, his hair in dark ringlets, his mouth opened in a roar of fury.
    Ennek.
    The wave crested the ship, depositing Ennek as gently as a mother might her child. Ennek looked about and when his eyes caught the sodden, miserable heap that had once been Miner, Ennek screamed again. He rushed forward and knelt beside Miner’s body, rolling him onto his back and searching his face. “Miner? Gods, are you hurt?”
    Miner smiled woozily up at him. It was kind of the gods to let him meet his death with such a good hallucination, he thought. It was even better when he realized he could feel Ennek’s hands on his cheeks, Ennek’s skin dry and fever-hot. “I loved him,” Miner said, because those seemed like good final words.
    Ennek shook his head and tugged at the chain that bound Miner to the mast. Miner hissed a bit when the movement jostled his wrist, sending up the first bolt of pain.
    “I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I promised I’d keep you safe.” As he spoke, Ennek ran his fingers gingerly over the manacles. He muttered a few words Miner didn’t understand, and then swore. “Damned metal. So much harder