Selkie draws up her knees tightly and clasps them, ignoring the driftwood that sticks in her back in Yamalla's cramped closet. Her heart is beating so hard she fears it might leap out her throat, so she clamps her mouth shut too.

Outside the door, she hears Yamalla's deep voice instructing Triangle to stay here and guard her. Then his footsteps, heavy with purpose, pound down the length of the hull and up the ladder. No doubt he is laden with arms and armor for he is keeping his promise to her. No... more... Abdul.

They should just make sure that he goes away and leaves their ship alone. If only she stays hidden, then he can't find her. That is all they should do. Then they can run, sail far away from here. He is too strong to fight, or to force him to stay away, no matter what Braata says. They just need to get away from him. Like the first time. Then they will be safe.

Selkie shivers, sitting alone in the dark closet, her hiding place aboard the Reef Runner. It is a safe place. She could get to the water and swim if she needed to. No would look here for her, no one that wasn't supposed to find her. Her heart races as she continues to grip her knees tightly to her chest, trying to comfort herself with the thoughts that Yamalla will protect her, will keep her hidden from Abdul. Triangle won't let anyone on board. But what if Abdul fights them? What if he doesn't believe them? Then she will have to leave again. He will hurt them. He always hurts them. She doesn't want them to be hurt.

Her stomach cramps at the thought. She doesn't want anyone else hurt by him. She should make sure he goes away, that they can convince him to go away, because if they can't, he will come, and he will hurt them to find her. What if he is hurting them now? She cringes, rocking a little faster, her thoughts conflicted as to what she should do. Should she just stay hidden, maybe she should run, or maybe, just maybe, she should make sure that he goes away, so that he doesn't hurt them, like he always does.

There are voices overhead, Triangle and Armando, discussing the situation. They are not worried. They say Abdul is one man. She knows better. He is so strong, with his sword that gleams with the blood of so many sailors. It is better to run. They don't know to run.

Yamalla is back. She listens intently, her rocking slowed once again. He is okay. Maybe Abdul is gone, and they can leave.

"Um Selkie?"

Selkie starts, her eyes growing wide with panic.

"It's okay Selkie, don't worry, it's just me, we found him, and we're going to go get him, Krick is hunting him, so you won't have to worry... he'll take care of him." the little water gen informs her proudly.

Selkie shakes her head. "No he is t-t-too st-st-strong..." she stutters. "His sword..."

"Relax... they can handle it, remember I said that we can handle pirates... and he is just one... my master is going to help. Krick is following him, he is heading toward the old docks..."

She shakes her head more fervently, her eyes finally focusing on her little friend. "Nooo... just leave, we should just leave... he will only hurt them..."

"Ju got a plan?" asks Yamalla, straightening his armor.

Krick has already gone on the hunt. In moments, both he and Abdul will be gone out on the streets of Octopon. Kal swallows hard, certain that trying to follow and slay the frowning pirate is NOT the right thing to do, and equally certain that in order to do it right... to take down Abdul one peg at a time, to humiliate him, and to leave him destitute and hopefully broken, would take far more time and planning then Yamalla (or anyone else from the Reef Runner) would ever consider.

How do you explain the art of destruction through good living to people intent on avenging such a dire wrong to a person they care about? For that matter, how do you explain it to yourself?

For a moment he is frozen in inaction, suspended between that place that thirsts to make that pirate twist on a rope spun of the web of the Prince of Thieves, to something altogether baser, faster, more barbaric, and likely far more personally dangerous. Then he sees in his mind the timid, sea green eyes of Selkie.

Yamalla nods his head. The thief's silence is its own answer. "Okay. While ju think up a plan, we go after Krick. Ju too. And ... 'Oscar'.... go get Kal," he says sarcastically.

She is alone in the dimness of the closet. In here, there are no eyes full of lust to strip her, no tongue to lash her frail psyche, and no meaty cruel hands to grope her. She is alone.

Braata has run to take her place at her master's side. Triangle and Armando guard the ship. And Lori, Yamalla, Krick and Kalaban are going to try and take care of.... Abdul... once and for all. She should feel safe, alone here in the closet.

But she doesn't feel safe at all. She feels totally exposed and more vulnerable then ever to that predatory monster of a man. Why? She puts her forehead on her knees and squeezes shut her eyes. Will this ever be over?

She sighs and sobs for a while, then unwinds her arms from her legs. Her elbow bumps against a clay pot. She recognizes it as one that she had transplanted the orange seedling from, to the box it now grows in on deck. She touches the rim of the pot, remembering the feel of the dirt in her fingers as she pushed the orange seed into place.

Thoughts push into her head, trying to shake away the numbing fear. Thoughts of -- a dinner she had made for them; Triangle's smile and nod of approval as he watched her work the rigging; Armando's pasta dinners, and his happy snoring after a full day of sailing; of Lori's beautiful voice as she tells her a tale, or soothes her to sleep with a song after so many nightmares; of Krick and his energetic and playful nature, and how quickly he accepted her as a clutchmate; of Yamalla, her best friend, patient, gentle, and wise like a quiet ocean; and then Kalaban... persistent and ever confusing, yet always ready with a smile.

It would be too horrible for words to imagine what Abdul might do to them, and it hurts her to even try. No wonder she does not feel safe.

Her lips quiver as she finds her resolve. She has to end it. She has to get them away from Abdul once and for all. Far, far away.

She slips out of the closet, but does not venture toward the cabin door where Armando and Triangle watch over the ship. Instead, she heads for the netting in which Yamalla sleeps. She takes comfort in the smell of him, then slips into the water.

Maybe she can lure Abdul away from the Reef Runner. He knew to look for her on this ship, perhaps he has someone watching while he looks elsewhere. Maybe she can leave a trail to someplace safe, like the old wharves. Away from the crew of the Reef Runner, away to a place she knows well. A spot he would be likely to look for her, if he looks in the places he looked the last time.

The water is warm and soft on her skin, settling her in its embrace. She looks up through the netting, spying Triangle and Armando, both perched near the gangway, their backs to her. She shivers nervously, and kicks her feet, consciously causing the water to jump like the splash of a fish. It might be enough to draw the attention of whomever is watching from the docks. She dives under but swims near the surface, so the spy can see where she is heading.

The only question now is... will he follow.

Abdul, flanked by several of his crew, makes a show out of heading down the main streets toward the palace. His right hand man, Karniz, actually goes so far as to punt a monkeybird into a whitewashed wall.

A few blocks from the alley where he had strong-armed the so-called "beggar", he stops and goes over to a coffee shop.

His men follow, wondering at his change in direction and his change in taste for drink. Abdul ignores them. He doesn't explain what he is doing. He never explains anything. He shoves a merchant from his stool and sits down.

That beggar... was no beggar, of that he is certain. He had meticulously "researched" this 'Oscar' person and believes he is definitely not what he appears. Moreover, the pathetic weakling had the balls to insult him, suggesting he also would have the balls to out and out lie.

There is a secret on that catamaran... that ugly ship... that Reef Runner. And with the beggar thinking he has thrown Abdul off the scent, it is time to see if a rat or two use that chance to flee. One thing is for certain, his Selkie is NOT at the palace.

Abdul dumps the coffee on the ground. He opens the lid of the pot and sticks in a thick finger to sample the grounds. And he waits....

One of his men, hot and sweaty, runs down the street. The idiot is too preoccupied to see Abdul sitting in the shade at the coffeehouse and nearly runs past them. Karniz trips the sod, sprawling him to the cobbles. He quickly gets up.

"The beggar has friends. They gathered at the tavern. A lizard man, a woman, and a Korb. The Korb has taken your scent, I think... and it will follow."

Abdul sighs. Under other circumstances, he would welcome the chance to add some antennae to his collection. He takes off his vest.

He dumps the coffee grounds on his neck and chest and rubs them in, as his crew stands around in shock. Then he hands the vest to a fresh crew man. "Put this on."

The man looks vacantly at him.

Abdul frowns. "Put this on you idiot, before I cut you in two." The sailor hustles to comply.

The man looks confused, but pleased. "Thank you sir, it is a lovely..."

Abdul cuffs him hard across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Thief!" he bellows. "This man has stolen my vest!" The man gets up quickly, hurt and even more confused.

Abdul cocks his head. "Run," he commands.

The man stumbles backward, and then turns and flees down an alley.

Abdul looks at the others around him. "Stay here. Find a place to hide if you want. When the lizard man and the woman come, take them down. If the woman is pretty, don't kill her... she might be worth something."

"What about you?" asks Karniz.

Abdul turns and goes into the coffee house. "I am going for coffee, Karniz..."

Sadik bin Sadik stirs from the shadow of the bait shop. Something has caught his attention near the Reef Runner. He steps out into the sun toward the edge of the wharf for a closer look at the water. It stirs.

He kicks a seagull near him. "Go and see if it is anything, you lazy feather pillow," he tells his familiar. The bird squawks at him and takes to the air, circling lazily to the indicated spot.

Sadik waits, and concentrates, letting his familiar's senses mingle with his own. From the air, he can see into the clear water.... and he does see something. Something very, very interesting. That girl... the one Abdul is chasing.... the one worth a lot of money.

"Heh, heh, heh," he chuckles aloud, marking the course she takes. He is already counting the coins. He sends an enspelled message to Abdul, explaining that she appears to be headed to the old wharf where she was last seen.

That girl is worth a lot. And worth a lot more if *he* catches her. Sadik chuckles again, then he starts walking rapidly down the dock, tracking the girl's progress through his familiar, preparing a spell. Perhaps she can be slept?

He hastens his pace, looking out over the water, concentrating on his spell, summoning the magic, moving his fingers... he never sees the wall he runs in to.

He smacks into it and falls back on his behind. A few coins fall out of his belt pouch, one of them gold. He doesn't bother scooping them up just yet, but looks out over the water, trying in vain to re-establish the link with his familiar but the damn gull has flown out of range.

He curses. Finally, he reaches for the gold coin, and then for the first time notices that the wall he ran into has great, green clawed feet. He looks up. It is a lizardman. More specifically, the green warrior from the Reef Runner. He holds a trident casually, but at the ready. His tail flicks, betraying the spiked weapon it bears.

Sadik gives the lizard man a toothy grin.

Triangle looks at him coldly. "Beware the beggar with a gold coin," he remarks. "And one who knows a bit of magic. I think we should have a drink, don't you?"

Abdul has dumped his second pot of coffee and rubbed the grounds into the soles of his feet. It is enough, he deems, to throw the Korb off the scent and onto the decoy.

It is then when the message from Sadik arrives. Abdul frowns an ever deeper frown. His toy had been on that ship that whole time. The beggar had indeed lied to protect her. It makes him angry to be lied to. And someone will have to pay for his anger.

In the meantime though, he has a prize to collect. And if he gets her back, maybe, just maybe, he will let her watch as he feeds the intestines of the crew of the Reef Runner to the catfish....

Her path leads her quickly to waters around the old wharves. She knows these docks well, they had been her home when she first escaped from Abdul. They brought her safety and comfort then, hopefully they would do the same for her now. Her dolphin friends are nearby, ready to spirit her away if things go wrong. She only needs to return to the water in which she now sits.

Selkie hesitates, trying to gather her courage, all the while treading quietly beneath the ladder which will take her to walk upon the gray worn timbers of the dock. The place where Abdul will find her.

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and focusing her mind. There is no danger yet. Slowly she climbs the ladder, the water dripping from her body as she exits its embrace, her clothes clinging to her slim form. She reaches the top, peeking her head up and looking around. Further down the wharf, a lone fisherman sits on the pier. It is the same pier she hung her things under, where she slept, where she hid.

She climbs the rest of the way out, and seats herself on the edge of the dock, her legs dangling over the side. Her heart pounds madly in her chest. She is so exposed here, sitting in the light of day, with the safety of the water, five feet below. But she will wait, and she will sense when he comes for her. He must see her here, away from the Reef Runner, away from her friends. She has to keep him away, so he can't hurt them and so they can escape.

Abdul, reeking of coffee, stalks the alleys of Octopon toward the old wharf. His frown, always present, deepens with the expectation of finally encountering his quarry. Beads of sweat colored with coffee grounds, drip down his thick neck to his massive shoulders. He is a big man, but he can be quiet when he wants to... like now...

His concentration is constantly tested as his thoughts leap ahead to what he will do once he catches the girl. He hates the hollow in himself that her escape has left. He does not understand it. It makes him angry that he has found it necessary to stalk a mere girl. Be that as it may... once he has her again, he can relieve his anger ... in the usual way and in every new way he can think of. As long as he can see her eyes -- her sea green eyes -- as he wreaks his vengeance -- he will have satisfaction.

He comes around the corner of the wharf. He is surprised to see the slim shape of her that he had known so intimately, sitting with her back to him on the edge of the dock. He had expected to have to pull her from the water, maybe even using a harpoon.

He freezes. It could be a trap. He forces himself to examine every alley, every crevice that he can see, even to check the surface of the ocean, before making another move. It wouldn't do to make a mistake now, no matter how much he aches to get his hands on that body again.

He lacks the patience to be thorough. If there is a trap, and he hasn't seen it by now, he will use his bull-like strength and his scimitar to turn the tables. In the meantime, he *has* to have her in his hands again.

He steps as carefully as he can onto the old boards and advances, his mind firmly focused on the pleasure that awaits him at the end of this last, short trip.

"Yamalla not be made for runnin on da land like dis... " the lizardman comments, trotting behind Lori as they hurry through the streets of Octopon.

"That is okay... we won't lose Krick," she states with a pleasant smile, easily keeping pace with her friend. She looks around at the scattered carts and confused onlookers as they rush through the wide path made by the Korb as he relentlessly pursued his quarry.

They are following on the heels of Krick, the Korb hunter who is on the trail of bigger prey, Frowning Abdul. Yamalla did not want to believe the tale of evil he learned about from the young woman who stowed away on his ship. But he had seen the haunted look in her sea green eyes, and the fear which controlled her. This man they followed almost destroyed the spirit of this poor girl. And now Abdul sought to capture her again, to finish what he started.

Yamalla had given his word to Selkie, to protect her from that fate. And he intended to keep it.

They round a corner and see the street widens up ahead into a courtyard. Yamalla slows slightly, sniffing the air, and listening to the sounds up ahead. There is much confusion, "Braata... I be needin' a spell... I got a bad feelin' bout dis'."

"Right away master... what can I fetch for you?" the little gen asks determinedly.

"I be tinking we need sometin to hold back more den one person..." he speculates, tapping his claw on his chin. "Web."

"I'll be back in a blink, master" she informs him happily, and in a poof of mist disappears.

Lori, sensing her companion has slowed, turns to the lizard man. Her blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. "What is it? Is something..."

Her answer is the twang of Yamalla's crossbow. The bolt zings by her side and she follows its flight into the upper thigh of a cutthroat who has come out of the alley with a cutlass in one hand, and a rope in another.

"Oh my..." she says, reaching for a dagger perched above her thigh. She spots more of them coming from a fishmonger's cart, others from a coffee house. "This looks serious," she says, summoning a spell.

Yamalla wordlessly reloads his crossbow. The man he has shot has gone down, but others are coming.

One of the pirates, his teeth yellow as old corn, leers at Lori. "Ye be making a nice bedcover fer me, lady," he chortles. Then he stops, plants his feet and throws a harpoon at Yamalla.

It clangs off of his shield.

Lori frowns a pretty frown. "Go away," she says, gesturing toward the pirate and three of his fellows. A fine, nearly invisible mist of oily brown liquid sprays from her fingers and settles on the street between them and this group of pirates. Although hard to see, it's effect is nearly immediate. Two of them slip and hit the cobbles hard, one losing his cutlass and the other smacking his elbows so hard he cries out.

Angry cries ring out in the square, calling for the guards, angered over the trampling Korb, and now scared and furious at the pirates who have decided to bring their personal feud to their section of the city.

"I'm back, master... didja miss me?" a high pitched and slightly out of breath voice rings in Yamalla's ear as he loads another bolt into his crossbow, keeping one eye on the remaining pirates, and another on his task.

"Yes, dearly..." <click> Yamalla grins. "Well?" he asks, holding his palm up to his water gen.

"Here you go..." Braata drops the scaly token into his outstretched hand. "I found it as fast as I could... get 'em master!" she states, with as viscous an encouragement as she can muster.

Yamalla pulls at the token like taffy, then blows into its middle. Fine strands of white shoot out from his fingers, enveloping the approaching marauders and sticking them tightly in place.

"Uh oh..." Lori frowns again, spotting two more pirates emerging from a rugseller's stall. She flips a dagger into her palm and pulls another from its sheath. "More uninvited company..." She hucks the first blade as quick as a blink towards the pair. Unfortunately her aim isn't very good, and the dagger slams into the tent pole next to one of the men.

The pirate's gap toothed grin answers her miss cockily as he nudges his buddy in the ribs. "Pretty little thing couldn't hit the side of a dhow with that aim... heh.. looks like we gots us an easy catch..."

His friend chuckles and straightens out a net, which he swings to his side preparing to throw.

Lori's delicate brow creases angrily, and she unleashes the second dagger, missing the man again, instead embedding it next to it's fellow in the tent pole.

The gap toothed pirate grins evilly, and begins to laugh. A movement out of the corner of his eye, gives him pause though. He looks over, just in time to see the last bit of rope holding the awning in place come whipping out of its knot, crack his friend in the face, then with a snap and a flutter, drop the tent down heavily on their heads.

Lori fluffs her hair and grins at Yamalla who looks at her in mild surprise, "I *meant* to do that..."

Kalaban's shirt flutters in the wind as he leaps. He lands on the top of a domed roof, letting his knees buckle to absorb the blow, then, arms raised, sliding down a side until he lithely lands on the flat of the foyer. He snaps out his whip, catching the ledge of the next rooftop a story above him. He swings to the abutting wall and scampers to the top.

This roof is flat, affording him a better opportunity to see.

He dives to his belly and peers over the edge. He sighs. It is just as he had thought. This was *not* a sound idea.

On the street below him, near the courtyard where the pirates had disappeared into the coffee house, Lori and Yamalla are engaged in a melee. The fact that Krick is not there suggests that this little scene is no more than a diversion. Had Abdul wanted to ambush the entire party, he would certainly have used these pirates to help with the able Korb. Since he did not do so, Kal can only assume that Abdul wanted the Korb to continue on his trail...and since that pirate was alone... it is likely that that pirate is not Abdul.

Bait and switch.

Kal stands up, certain now that no one will be looking for him up here. In the distance he can hear sounds of a noisy disturbance, which is likely to be Krick hunting or possibly even catching the faux Abdul.

If Lori and Yamalla are being delayed, and Krick is being decoyed... then where or where did that crafty pirate go?

Kal walks the perimeter of the roof, conflicted. He checks back on Yamalla and Lori... aching to swing to their rescue... but they are doing fine. So far. Krick... done with his work, has now reappeared on a distant street and has doubled back to the coffee shop, apparently trying to pick up the trail.

"What are you up to?" Kal says to himself. "You only delay if time buys you something. Escape? More men?" Kal scans the harbor, wondering which of the ships might belong to the pirate. "Or time to do what you came... for?"

On the old wharves there are no ships. He sees only a single fisherman plying the waters at the edge of a beaten dock. And a small figure sitting at the edge of the wharf, back to him... facing the harbor, and another, much larger figure trying to edge closer to that one.

A sinking feeling grips him, but he denies it. Selkie is safe in the Reef Runner, isn't she? And that isn't Abdul anyway... is it? He swallows, squinting into the sunlight.

He checks again at the courtyard. Lori and Yamalla have prevailed. Krick has circled behind the coffee house and apparently is on a new trail... this one taking him towards the very wharves that Kal had just glanced at.

He stomach flips. He wildly gestures toward Yamalla and Lori, finally shouting and pointing toward the wharf. "Over there! He is over there!"

He gathers himself and bounds off the end of this roof, barely gaining a handhold on the next. He races across it toward the edge closer to the wharf, where another leap awaits him, and more rooftops. Out of the corner of his eye he monitors Krick's progress. He is thankful... very thankful that the Korb is faster than he. "Let it be fast enough," he prays. "We can't be too late."

And his next leap is farther than any that came before, fueled by a fire within lit by sea green eyes that he fervently wants to look into again.

Selkie shivers as all of her nerves cry out, warning her of the danger approaching. She knows without looking that it is Abdul. The sick despair he planted in her gut tells her so.

For the hundredth time, she waivers and for the hundredth time she resists the temptation to run, to dive into the safety of the water and never surface again. As awful as she feels, sitting here vulnerable, exposed, her back to her nightmare, it would be more awful still to suffer the ignominy of letting her friends fall into a fate similar to hers. This is her nightmare to face. She can't bear to make it theirs.

The boards of the dock creak under his weight, but she does not turn. She wants to scream at him, to tell him he deserves to die, but all that comes out are a few words in a frightened whisper. "I will not go with you..."

Abdul stops in his tracks. He frowns at his apparent failure to startle her. He scowls at the loss of opportunity to simply snatch her. But most of all, he bristles that she has found a ghost of nerve to presume that she can avoid her fate.

"Heh, heh, heh," he laughs slowly. "You have never left me. You can never leave me, my little Silky bitch. That is why you can't look Abdul in the eye, isn't it? You know in your heart you are mine. How can you forget? Wherever you go, you take a little bit of me... with you... inside of you... in your mouth, in your skinny backside ... in your womb. Have we made a baby yet? Maybe that will be our next exercise."

The fear creeps in at his words and images, they make her stomach twist, but she stands, and slowly turns around, keeping her eyes planted on the dock. "No..." she manages to respond shaking her head. "I won't..."

Her eyes creep upward. He wears the same boots, the boots she pulled from his feet every night. His body, so large, and powerful, with his broad shoulders and thick muscled arms which would force her down, and choke out her life. And his face... his frown like a canyon, except when she would cry out... His eyes so dark, so cruel, they beat down her spirit, and drowned her soul in agony. How could she ever hope to escape him? He would always find her, like now. She takes a step back, too frightened to pull her gaze away from him, all the while shaking her head... "no..."

"Yes," he sneers. "Yes, yes... yes!" He lunges for her. In his mind's eye he is already nailing her to the edge of the wharf with his weight, pressing into her.

She can't do it. She can't fight him. She can't even look him in the eye without her insides twisting with fear. He is too strong. She must run. Just run away. Far away.

She stumbles backward, her legs leaden, but then she feels the edge of the dock under her heel. It is all she needs. In the next heartbeat, she dives into the water, going as deep as she can, trying to escape his voice, his image, his lust. Her chin scrapes on the coral sand, her head pounding with the depth, fear still clouding her mind. There is a gentle prodding in her side, a soft smooth nose slides under her hand, and another under her arm, lifting her up, and taking her away from the docks. She is safe... until he finds her again.

Kalaban drops to his knees on the roof of the warehouse. Every bone in him aches to jump down to the wharf and lead the pirate away. And every neuron in his brain screams at him to wait... wait for a better opportunity... wait and see if she can slip from him herself.

He strains to hear. Abdul is not a subtle man. His voice carries, even though poor Selkie's seems to die at her feet. What he hears surprises him. It sickens him. He has seen and heard many base things, but no comparison... to this. He had no true conception of what Selkie must have experienced at the hands of such a man until that very moment when his vile words come to him on the gentle breeze off the harbor.

He is paralyzed. The depth of his anger scares him. Somewhere in that anger and revulsion, there might be something that wants to lash out, to harm ... to kill. It is not his way. Moreover, he is no match for the pirate in a toe to toe contest, and yet that is exactly what he thirsts for. He can't go down there. He has too.

The matter is decided for him. The pirate lunges at Selkie, but she dives away from him and into the water. Relief washes over Kal. His irrational desire to confront Abdul fades as she disappears, safe from him, beneath the waves.

"That a girl!" he says, jubilant. Already a thousand plots start to thread in his brain... plots to tangle and debase Abdul with a thousand cuts to his purse, to his pride, to everything he wants to have. He pictures Abdul, penniless, powerless, alone and in a deep dungeon when he is done with him. Now THAT is a confrontation more to his liking...

And one that is not meant to be.

Abdul hisses in rage and dark triumph. He can still posses her, he can still make her quiver like a drawn bowstring. All he has to do is catch her.

"Don't swim away, Silky *bitch,*" he says into the water. "Daddy Abdul wants to play some more." His eyes scan the surface of the water. "Even Silkies have to breathe.... come out, come out... wherever you..."

<Thunk>

Abdul wheels, spying the still vibrating javelin sticking into the boards next to his feet. He snarls angrily, and draws his great scimitar. Another javelin soars through the air aimed at his chest. He steps to the side, and it slams heavily into the dock next to its mate. He spots his attacker. The korb. A better hunter than he had believed. Looks like he will get that chance to add another korb trophy to his collection. He frowns and takes up a defensive posture, readying himself for the leap. Korb always follow with a leap.

Krick does not disappoint, his jump is far truer than his aim with the javelins, spears in hand, ready to take on this vile opponent. He is not thinking of the cunning this man used to delay his tracking, nor the very large and dangerous looking weapon Abdul holds so confidently in front of him. He is only thinking of the hunt of a prey deserving to die, his mind clouded with determination spurred by the image of this man hurting his clutchmate, and the fear his appearance brought to her eyes. She is one of the thinkers, he, one of the warriors. He will protect her and avenge her, that is his duty to the clutch.

The korb lands with a satisfying crunch on the docks, thrusting his spears firmly into the chest of his opponent. He can be hurt, that he is certain of, as the iron tinge of blood fills his senses. But what he didn't expect, is how much, he could hurt back.

The old wharf creaks under the combatants. Abdul has braced himself for the attack so the Korb does not knock him off his feet. Knowing that the Korb will be faster than he, he does not waste energy plotting a defense. Instead, he prepares a devastating strike. He swings his hands above his head and lands a blow backed by all of his considerable strength on the Korb's abdomen. There is a resounding #crack# as his Scimitar strikes.

Ichor sprays Abdul in the face. His eyes narrow with triumph.

Krick backs off from the blow, realizing too late that there is only water behind him and that it limits his maneuvering. Abdul takes advantage and strikes again, drawing another crack and another spray of gore.

The pirate, although clearly hurt by Krick's spears, chortles. "Abdul is a hunter, not weak prey, Korb... you will take that to your grave."

Krick attacks again, but worried about the water, his first thrust misses. His second hits home and causes Abdul to wince as the spear drills through the meat of his side. The pirate uses his weight to shift the Korb slightly off balance and cuts Krick on his left side.

Krick chitters. The older wounds bleed at an alarming rate, sapping his reserves. He calculates that another blow might finish him. He knows his opponent is also wounded. Which hunter will first land the final telling blow....?

Abdul laughs cruelly, watching the wounds of the korb continue to bleed. The magic of his great scimitar at work again. "Your antennae will make a nice addition to my collection..." Abdul informs him gleefully. He raises his arm for one last mighty blow, sure to finish off the badly wounded korb. His anger at having momentarily lost his Silky, being redirected in a satisfying way against the foolish korb, keeps him from noticing the figure streaking through the air towards him.

Kalaban has his hand on the back of his head and stares in disbelief at the battle raging on the dock between Krick and Abdul. Selkie was safe, they don't need to actually fight a man who is obviously used to killing others. But his dreams of a grand scheme of vengeful stings against the pirate, have collapsed in the spray of blood and gore caused by their weapons. "How? How can this be?" he asks himself over and over again.

He sees the exchange of blows. A lesser man would have been felled by the korb already. Abdul, however, still stands tall, and looks confident in his ability to win this battle.

"Leave it to Krick to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Oh well. Forgive me mother... you taught me better."

And with that, he backs up, and takes a running leap out over the wharf. He uses his whip to snag a flagpole on the building across the way and to redirect himself higher and farther out over the combatants. He somersaults, tucks, and opens himself at the last minute to drive into the battle feet first, aiming at the wrists of the pirate, hoping against hope to make him drop that scimitar and win the day in one fell swoop.

His aim is true. He drives hard into the surprised pirate's wrists. It would have been enough to send the scimitar of an ordinary man spinning wildly into the sea. But, as Krick found out before him, Abdul is not an ordinary man.

The weapon stays in his hands, although Kalaban's moment drives off his aim and forces the blade to hit the wharf with a deep thunk. Krick hurt badly and needing room and time to adjust for another pass at the pirate, clicks at his clutchmate for providing him the opportunity. This, after all, is the reason for the clutch -- coordination and strength ....

The korb leaps backward and upward onto the building with the flagpole. For the moment, Kalaban faces the pirate ... alone.

Abdul growls and lets his famous frown creep into another dimension of unhappiness.

Selkie's lungs burn as they cry out for air. But the dolphins keep swimming, carrying her farther away, far out into the harbor, safe from the sight and grasp of the monster she had described to them. They finally surface. Sweet air once again fills her lungs.

Her heart beats rapidly in her chest, but her senses tells her the danger is long gone. It was a stupid, foolish thing she did to go there and face him. What had she been thinking? She is safe. Maybe he will just go away long enough for them to leave Octopon, bound for far away oceans that he cannot follow them too. That is what is likely to happen... isn't it? Everything will be fine... just stay away.

She looks toward the ship. The Reef Runner appears unfazed, floating in its berth some distance away. Her eyes scan closely, looking for any sign of her friends. Triangle and Armando still hold their positions, protecting their home from all boarders. It might be safe to slip back into Yamalla's cabin... to the closet, and just wait.

A dolphin noses her leg and then chitters at her to look back to the wharf. Reluctantly, she lets her eyes travel to where she just left, expecting to see an angry Abdul, stalking away from the docks. But she sees much more than that. Her eyes widen in horror. Krick is alone on the docks, fighting with Abdul. She sees his large form, rocked back by two mighty blows from Abdul's sword.

Her chest feels numb as if her heart has stopped beating. She worries for Krick, but at the same time she tells herself that the korb is a good fighter... maybe he can get away.

The dolphin noses her again, signaling that she has to aid a pod mate against the predator. One dolphin alone is a poor match for a shark. Her heart is still a frozen sack in her chest. She can't go back near Abdul...

The dolphin offers her its fin. She swallows hard, and her heart starts beating wildly again. "Okay, we go back. Under the docks. Just in case ... just in case he needs help. But silently... like the sea."

The dolphin chitters its agreement, and with its podmates, speedily escorts Selkie right back to the spot she had just fled in panic.

Kalaban flashes his rapier and main gauche. He knows he cannot hope to slay this man, only to survive him long enough for help to arrive. He holds his attacks in favor of his favorite tactic... parry, parry, parry. But he does not withhold his favorite weapon.

"Ah, it is another bad day for you," says Kalaban in mock sympathy, "one of many, judging from your hideous frown. Are you having a hard time... catching what you want?"

Abdul roars and swings wildly. Kalaban dodges, relieved that it did not appear too difficult.

"And another night, without a date too," he says, pointedly referring to Selkie. "If your hands were not as coarse as a porcupine fish, I would suggest using them to relieve your...."

Abdul exhales, his eyes narrow, his anger focusing on this tart tongued man. He knows better than to engage in banter -- it is better to just slice off the head that holds the offending tongue. He swings again, this time aiming far better. Incredibly, his foe deflects it with his rapier.

"Not in the mood for talking? Understandable," says Kal, "considering the loss of your catch with the sea green eyes? It is time to learn the fool's lesson, Frowning Abdul." He raises his main-gauche to his lips, as if in mock thought, in truth preparing to use it as a blocking tool for the blow he wants to provoke.

"Every thief knows that 'once given to another, a true heart cannot be stolen.'"

He had meant it in an abstract sense... that Selkie's loyalties have been diverted to the crew of the Reef Runner. Abdul takes it differently. His black eyes glitter dangerously at the suggestion that *his* Silky bitch had given her heart to this preening fool...

He is flooded with jealousy and stung by the kernel of truth in the notion that his rape and his possessiveness could never equate to love. He lashes out with all of his strength, cutting horizontally at Kalaban's chest.

He is expecting the blow, and neatly interposes his main gauche. His smile at his success fades to a grimace when the force of it drives his own weapon into his chest, followed by the blade of the scimitar.

"Are jou sure?" questions Yamalla as he glares down the empty alley. "I-and-I tink it be leading back to da ocean, not da palace."

Lori rolls her eyes in exasperation, "Yes, Yamalla, I am quite sure. I believe the gentleman knows a Korb when he sees one."

The lizardman turns his glare to the 'gentleman' - a greasy beggar leaning against the rotting timbers of a dilapidated tavern. The beggar smiles a nervous, gap-toothed grin and nods his head. "A beggar be sayin' anyting jou want ta hear when ja be showin' him da coin."

Lori pivots with a dramatic flare of hair and starts walking down the alley. "Fine," she calls over her shoulder, "you wait here and poke around at the dirt for more tracks, I'm going this way - it feels right to me."

Yamalla glares appraisingly at the beggar, then at the retreating backside of Lori, then back at the beggar, who still grins. He shrugs, flips another coin to the beggar, and says, "I-and-I just hope her intuition be as strong as her stubbornness" before turning to follow.

A few blocks later, it becomes obvious to both of them that they are indeed heading back towards the docks. Fortunately, it is also clear that this is the direction that the Korb came - frightened faces and overturned carts act like an arrow pointing the way.

"Yamalla not be happy with de direction we heading."

Lori glances at him quickly then gives a feminine shrug. "Just as long as we give that pirate his just dues, I'm happy."

The scales on Yamalla's back tighten as he finally recognizes the area he is in, and the slight tingle of deja-vu causes his jaw to tighten even more. He had been this way one other time - with Kalaban. The first time they had "met" Selkie. Yamalla knows that things are coming around in a circle and he

offers a quick prayer to Shango that it does not mark the last time he would see the girl he has come to regard if not as a daughter, then certainly a younger sister.

Lori blinks in surprise as a fine spray of sea water sprinkles her face signaling the return of Braata. A shimmering scale held tightly in her mouth, she wiggles over to Yamalla and deposits it in his waiting hand. "Got it master! You were right though, it was tough getting it, I dunno why, I mean it was just a Hold spell, but it took me *three* tries to get it, but since you told me to keep trying I did, and I got it."

Yamalla can't help but smirk at the vivaciousness of his little Maridan - a bright light even when things are dark. "Tank you Braata, I will be seein' that jou get a little something extra tonight."

"Oh thank you master, it was no problem though, really it wasn't, I'm not too tired, it was just hard convincing this one dumb old genie that I really, truly did need that spell, and once I asked him... What was that?!?"

The attention of all three snaps up ahead where a painful cry echoes around the corner of a building. It sounded like Kalaban... if someone were to rip his guts out. They sprint the last few yards, and race around the corner, stopping dead at the site of Kalaban a couple dozen yards away, sinking to one knee, his hand grasping his bloody chest. A foul pirate towers over the swashbuckler, wielding an enormous, jagged scimitar and grinning fiendishly.

"Abdul." hisses Lori. Yamalla turns in shock at the tone of her voice and sees a mask of hatred descend on her beautiful features. Returning his focus back to Kalaban, Yamalla doesn't even look at Braata as he tells her to fetch him a Cure spell. He is busy loading his crossbow with a thick bolt, and doesn't notice that she is already gone.

Kalaban can feel his blood soaking the front of his shirt. He tries to force himself not to think about it, staving off the creeping shock that he has been cut. Badly. The force of the blow has taken him to a knee. He doesn't feel any pain though. With a chill, he realizes that is the way of a clean, deep cut.

How long did he need to keep Abdul busy? Two, three minutes? So far, he has lasted one, and it looks like he won't make it to the next. It was stupid to engage this man... he had known it all along. And yet, he had no choice once Krick had charged him. Now, strangely, even though he thinks he is near death, he finds that he has no regrets. Standing up to this hideous creature who so abused poor Selkie and nearly downed Krick all by himself, feels right. Besides, it seems... well... poetically brave. All in all, it is not such a bad way to die... if he could just strike that one telling blow for Selkie.. the one that marks the conclusion of this man's pursuit of her.

"Don't think about the blood..", he wills to himself. From his new (lower) vantage point, he spots an opening. A long shot to be sure... but that is where he makes his living.

He tucks his weapons to him and rolls between the pirate's outstretched legs even as Abdul drives down his scimitar in what should be the final blow. He pops up unsteadily on the other side of the man. The flashy maneuver should be more than enough to buy him an advantage.

But again, he is disappointed. Abdul, although fooled some by the move, is not caught unaware. He has turned and faces Kalaban again, his sword coming to the ready position.

The cloying certainty of his own death spills out from Kal's heart like his blood. There will be no more parries. No more dodges. No more projects. No more cards. No more swims into either the green ocean nor into the green eyes of the girl he first encountered only a few feet from here.

But there is time for his swords. Both his real one and the one in his mouth. "If you *must* have something of us to keep forever, here... have this..." he says. And like lightning his rapier carves his scripted trident symbol into Adbul's forehead.

Abdul stands there stunned for a moment, until the blood trickles into his eyes and he realizes he has been cut. His frown folds into itself. "Now... you.... die."

Kal is woozy. The effort from his strike has drained him. His arms hang limp, his sword tip touches the dock. His left hand drops his main gauche and touches his chest, where he finally confronts the sight of his own mortality pouring like a waterfall down the front of his shirt. His mind is permeated with a warm buzzing sound. He falls to both knees. "And... you ... hit... like... a ... girl..." he says. And then he goes for a swim in a world of black.

Selkie watched helplessly as the dolphins sped her back towards the docks. Even from that distance she could see Krick was bleeding profusely from the deep wounds inflicted upon him by Abdul. Her heart caught in her throat as she coasted to a stop underneath the docks, watching Abdul raise his arm one last time to strike her friend down. She wasn't close enough to do anything, there wasn't time, she was too late. But then a flash of white and steel, knocked the blow down, like a seahawk snatching a flying fish from the air. Her hands covered her mouth as she gasped in surprise. It was Kalaban. He had saved Krick, giving the korb enough time to leap to safety.

Her mind races, her heart flooding with relief. Now Krick needed healing. She could do that, once Kalaban runs away and is safe.

But he doesn't run.

The tightness returns to her chest. She watches as the two fence briefly, Kalaban trying to use his agility to offset the pirate's superior strength. It is a short contest, one that ends in a lot of Kalaban's blood.

Even though he is clearly winning the battle, Selkie's nightmare looks highly agitated and murderous. His frowning face sends tremors of fear through her making her literally quake in the water. She sees Kalaban dodge through the pirate's legs. She is seized with paralysis, knowing she has to do something or it will soon be over, but unable to block out the leering face of Abdul.

Kalaban pops up behind the pirate, hoping to evade his deadly attack for a few moments more. Why doesn't he run? Just dive into the water and be safe?

But he stays, and Abdul is not fooled by his maneuver, turning to face him, readying to strike the final blow. Kalaban manages to cut him, a trail of crimson, dripping down his scowling brow. It only serves to anger the pirate further, and saps Kalaban of the last bit of his strength, as his life pours out of his chest with every pulse of his heart. He sinks to his knees, offering one last final jibe, then collapses. Abdul leers and raises his massive arms preparing to deliver a two-handed chop to the fallen man's neck -- to finish him off for good.

Something stirs deep within Selkie and ignites like a spark in dry tinder, dispelling her paralysis and summoning everything she has to muster. She cries out "NOOOOOO!!!" and at the same time dives with her will into her ally, her friend... the sea... and takes from it the strength she has found the need to exert. Now.

The sound of rushing water drowns out everything else, as the sea, roused from its slumber, rises up beside the dock in a menacing column of roaring water. A shifting, shimmering form steps from within to stand between Abdul and the fallen Kalaban.

A form with sea green eyes.

Abdul gapes at the eyes, his victim for the moment forgotten.

The watery column changes form into a large fist and gently picks up Kalaban. The pirate bellows in anger and cuts at the body but he is too late and his blade passes harmlessly through the sea. The fist carries the fallen man away from the doom Abdul foretold and sets him on a neighboring dock. Like a loyal nurse guarding the nursery, the column rotates and presents its fist --guarding the path from any who wish to do its charge harm.

Abdul snarls. His attempt to sate his jealous rage has been frustrated -- at worst postponed. But it is a good trade considering the prize that has returned in its stead.

Selkie stands and finally faces her nightmare. A wash of fear, anger, and determination flood through her. But this time, she catches the eyes of the frowning pirate and does not look away. She will not let him do this. It ends. Now.

The pirate lowers his scimitar and starts to circle her cautiously. His dark eyes gleam with anger at her defiance, certain that her new found courage proves the words of the fallen man that she has given her heart to another.

"I knew you would come back to me," he says sardonically. He is wary, angry, jealous. He notes that she is alone and unarmed, although she clearly can wield magic he did not know she possessed. "No iron skillet this time, my Silkie she-pup."

Her body shimmers and shifts as he circles her. Abdul tries in vain to recognize her features, her slim hips and waist, her small breasts, and delicate mouth. He snarls in frustration. Selkie's form is changing, blending into the sky, the water, the sunlight, and the wood of the docks. Even her eyes echo her change, now holding his defiantly. She is different. As evidenced in the magic she wields, her shifting form and the courage she now shows.

"I can't let you hurt my friends anymore..." she states quietly, her eyes locked with Abdul. "I can't let you hurt *anyone* anymore..."

Abdul is stunned. His mouth, acting on its own, drops into the deepest frown his face (famous for his frowns) will ever know. "You... cannot ... stop me..." he says menacingly, trying to circle her shifting image.

He tries to keep the sea green eyes before him, but now they flicker in and out as she stays out of his reach. "Ask your boyfriend, dying on the dock," he says pointedly. "Yes... dying, like your father before him, bleeding until all that is left is chalk in his veins. The only thing missing in this picture is me driving you to heights of pleasure while he watches with his dying breath."

His frown turns into a leer. "How does *that* feel, Silkie bitch? Your heart is not safe with a *dead* man."

Selkie grits her teeth. He is trying to make her frightened again, but it won't work, not anymore. She is no longer helpless, all around her are her elements, the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, and the sparkling water surrounding her. "Then, I was alone... and you had many..." she embraces the anger that is welling up inside, giving her the courage to face her demon. "...now, *you* are alone..."

"Maybe she cannot be stoppin ju by herself, mon... but her no longer be alone..." a deep voice breaks their rapport.

<twang> A heavy bolt slams into the dock beside Abdul, missing him by mere inches. He spins quickly to see the large form of the wounded Korb leaping through the air at him with spears at the ready, a very angry looking lizardman wielding a heavy crossbow, and a pretty blond woman, weaving her hands in a quick pattern summoning magic to no doubt be used against him.

"No one will be doing any dying today... except you..." Selkie states quietly. She is not a prophet. But noting the determined look of her friends .... yes! her friends... she is ready to believe it.

She beckons the water column toward her... not to grapple with Abdul, but to take her more quickly to Kalaban. Although Abdul no longer controls her, his words have frightened her. Kalaban might be dying....

The water carries Selkie across the span quickly, and she steps onto the dock, as quietly as a cat. Kalaban's face is ashen. His still form still lies exactly how the fist had placed him. Her stomach knots, as she fears she is too late, but his chest betrays a shallow breath. It is all she needs.

Selkie is down on her knees beside the fallen thief, her face a mask of concern as she notes the rate at which he bleeds, the magic of Abdul's sword. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, blocking out the sounds of combat behind her, focusing on the gentle lapping of the waves beneath them and the soft beating of Kalaban's heart. Her hands glow with a soft white light, as she reaches out and gently touches his chest, soothing his heartbeat, and stopping the bleeding. Her eyelids flutter open, as she feels Kalaban's breathing steady and his heart grow stronger. She watches him carefully, studying his calm, strong features, features which never seem to frown, and never seem to hurt.

Abdul's anger boils over. He is done with the interference of these outsiders in his affairs. He hardly knows who or what they are, but the very fact that they presume to fight *him* over his Selkie galls him to the marrow. He wipes the blood from his eyes and spits.

The Korb is back. Abdul judges he is but one blow away from slaying the insectoid. He prepares to fend off the charge and keep its body between him and further bolts from the lizard man. He spares a quick glance at that one... the so-called captain of the Reef Runner. He moves with an infuriating calm, suggesting that he is in no fear whatsoever that Abdul will stop him. He looks at the woman... and leers. She will be the next possession to taste his charms... after he gets his silky Selkie back. He waits for her eyes to open, so that he can freeze her with his own. He raises his scimitar, preparing to administer the coup de grace on the Korb, who will, as all Korb do, leap on him.

Her eyes open, a shocking blue that takes a small iota of breath from him. It is the last thing he ever sees. His world is folded in blackness. Suddenly, he feels exposed, naked helpless. He waves his sword knowing the korb is coming, and all but helpless when it smacks into him with both spears. He hits the carapace of it but it is a glancing blow. The korb's spears, however, strike home, one below each edge of his rib cage.

His mind is flooded with pain. He lashes wildly. How had it come to this... to fall to a ragtag mob? He was only a few scant feet away from Selkie.... he should have had her and been gone. He roars his rage. "I will rip you open! I will eat your livers!" He throws the korb off of him in a last burst of his mighty strength.

Gasping, bleeding, he staggers around blindly, trying to keep his sense of direction. As best he can tell, he faces the lizardman. "You are fools. You think you are saving her? You can never save her. She is MINE. ONLY MINE! Even in death I will always have her!"

Unseen by the pirate, Yamalla's eyes narrow dangerously. The pirate has thoroughly disgusted him. He raises his reloaded heavy crossbow and takes his time aiming. "Ju tink so? Let's find out..."

<Thwack>

Selkie is shaken out of her thoughts by the roaring of Abdul's voice, and turns just in time to see Yamalla firing one final bolt into her nightmare. A nightmare that has now ended, as he falls like dead wood to the ground, his sword clattering to the planks beside him.

Shouts are heard in the distance, an angry mob, the city guard, the clank of armor and weapons. Selkie pauses, unsure of what to do, panic creeping back into her heart. But she can't leave Kalaban hurt. But the crowd…

Yamalla catches her fearful look. He approaches at his best pace, his mass shaking the dock. He waves her toward the ocean. When she hesitates, he widens his eyes and repeats the gesture more insistently.

She takes a last look at Kalaban. He is far from well, but stable. She bites her lip, then gives Yamalla a weak smile of relief. She bounds to her feet and dives headfirst into the watery column, its form dissipating as she exits, the water returning with a splash to the ocean.

Yamalla sees the cut of fins swimming rapidly toward the Reef Runner. He smiles then turns back to his tasks. Selkie is safely on her way home.

It isn't so bad, dying. It is warmer than he expected. And wetter. He hadn't been sure he would still be himself in death, but apparently that is the case, since he still has thoughts. There is no pain. No blood. Overall, not so bad.

There is freedom in dying.

The part of him that loves to scheme chastises himself for his stupidity. This ending was so foreseeable he could have written it down. But the other part of him, the part that loves life, is not displeased. It is a good death... saving a friend even though he is a korb and won't appreciate it... and making a mark, no matter how feeble, to strike a blow for Selkie. His only disappointment is that she did not see any of it. Although ... on the other hand... there is not much to be gained by impressing a woman by dying bravely. You are still dead.

Still… It does matter. At least it does to him. He wonders if she will think of him when he is gone, even a little.

His thoughts wander and he can't remember them. His ears buzz as if full of bees and he feels as if he is lifting toward heaven. There is a moment of unimaginable pleasure as a white light courses through him and he believes his soul to be released from his poor (bloody) body. He opens his eyes.

And he sees green. Sea green. Sea green eyes. Selkie's eyes. Are they the eyes of an angel?

Suddenly there is an unwelcome turn of events. His body, warm and relaxed, is wracked with cold and pain. He clamps his eyes shut again. He feels the press of hands on his wounded abdomen. He senses the dock on his back. Someone is trying to cure him... and ironically has called him back to a place of great discomfort. Still, there were those eyes. He remembers Selkie curing the dolphin and wonders if she is doing the same to him? His heart flutters a bit. He grins. "Selkie.... thank you..."

"Eh? Open ju eyes Kalaban and wake up. Nap time is over, mon."

Kalaban's eyes pop open and he sees the hands on his abdomen are scaly and large, not fined boned and delicate. "Yam?"

"Ja. Close one for ju, my friend."

"Where's Selkie?" he asks.

"Right where she ought to be, Kalaban. Right where she ought to be."