"After you freed us, we rushed out on deck and saw what had happened to the ship and how close we were to the Squirm." He shook his mane of red hair, lips tightening. "By then, we were right on top of it. The pilothouse was smashed, the steering fouled, the light sheaths in shreds, the rigging flying everywhere, spars broken, and even a couple of the parse tubes jammed shut. But you should have seen Spanner and the others. They were all over that decking in seconds, clearing away the tubes, refastening the radian draws, bringing enough of the rigging and sail remnants into play to give us at least a small measure of control. You know what it was like up there, everything tossing and wild, the wind strong enough to knock you right off the deck if you didn't watch yourself, or maybe even if you did."
She nodded, her eyes opening again to meet his. "I know."
"A couple of the men went right up the masts, even in that storm, as if it didn't matter or they didn't care how dangerous it was. Kelson Riat barely missed getting his head taken off by a loose spar, and Jahnon Pakabbon was slashed all the way down his left arm by a spike. But no one gave up on the ship. We got her functioning again in minutes. I'd cleared the controls, but the lines were smashed, so we had to do it all by hand. We used the power stored in the parse tubes to right her, turn her from the ice pillars, and start her back the way she had come. The wind fought us the whole way, blowing down off the ice fields and up the gorge, trying to overpower us. But she's a good ship, Little Red. The Jerle Shannara is the best. She fought her way right into the teeth of the wind and held her own until we found some calm space to make headway in."
He rocked back in his seat, laughing like a boy. "Even Spanner Frew was spitting and howling in defiance of that wind, standing at the wheel to keep the rudder steady, even without the controls to work. Old Black Beard fought for her like the rest of us. To him she's a child he's nurtured and reared as his own, and he's not going to lose her, is he?"
She smiled with him, his glee infectious, her relief giving her an edge on the ache of her body. She glanced down at herself, tucked in one of the berths belowdecks, in the Healer's quarters, she thought. Light shone through the room's only window, bright and cheerful. She tried moving her arms and legs, but her body didn't seem to want to respond.
"Am I all in one piece?" she asked, suddenly concerned.
"Except for a few bad slashes and deep bruises." He arched one eyebrow at her. "You must have had one terrible battle up there, Little Red. You and Hawk."
She kept trying to make her hands and feet move, saying nothing in reply. Finally, she felt a tingle at the ends of each, working its way through the pain that ran up and down her body in sharp spasms. She let herself relax and looked at her brother. "Hawk died for me. You've probably guessed as much. I wouldn't have made it without him. None of us would. I can't believe he's gone."
Her brother nodded. "Nor me. He's been with us forever. I didn't think we'd ever lose him." He sighed. "Care to tell me what happened? It might help us both a bit if you did."
She took her time, pausing once to let him bring her a fresh drink of water, taking him through the events leading up to her finally freeing him from the aft storeroom, leaving nothing out, forcing herself to remember it all, especially everything about Furl Hawken. It took considerable effort just to tell it, and when she had finished, she was exhausted.
Redden Alt Mer didn't say anything at first, simply nodded, then rose and walked to the cabin window to look outside. She cried a little when his back was turned, not tears, not audible sobs, but tiny hiccups and little heaves that he wouldn't notice or that, at least, she could pretend he didn't.
When he turned back to her, she was composed again. "He was everything a Rover is supposed to be," her brother offered quietly. "It doesn't help much just now, but down the road, when it matters, I think we'll find some part of him is inside us, keeping us strong, telling us how to be as good a man as he was."
She fell asleep then, almost before she knew it, and her sleep was deep and dreamless. When she woke, the room was dark save for a single candle by her bed, the sunlight that had shone through the cabin window earlier gone. She felt stronger this time, though the aches and pains that had beset her before were more pronounced. She managed to lever herself up on one elbow and drink from the cup of water sitting on the table next to her. The Jerle Shannara sailed in calm and steady winds, the motion of its passage barely perceptible. It was quiet aboard ship, the sounds of men's voices and movements absent. It must be night, and most must be sleeping. Where were they? How far had they come since she had slept? She had no way of knowing as long as she lay in bed.
She forced her legs from under the covers and tried to stand, but her efforts failed, and she knocked the cup of water flying as she grasped the table for support before falling back again. The clatter echoed loudly, and moments later Big Red appeared, bare-chested and, clearly, roused from sleep.
"Some of us are trying to get our rest, Sister Rue," he muttered, helping her back beneath the covers. "What do you think you are doing anyway? You're a day or two away from walking around and maybe not then."
She nodded. "I'm weaker than I thought."
"You lost a lot of blood, if I'm any judge of wounds. You won't replace it all right away. Nor will you be healing up overnight. So let's try to be reasonable about what you can and can't do for the immediate future."