"No it isn't," Baker insisted. "It dawned on me while I was talking to a young survivor just now. The story is always the same. Those who fall to the Chaos creatures are not only killed, but their memories are blotted out from all who remain as if they never existed."

"I know that!" snapped Axel.

"And you just confirmed it-you and I both-even that young warrior! We all remember Belicia vividly, don't we?"

"Aye." Axel's eyes flashed, suddenly sharing the insight that had uplifted Baker.

"Exactly! And if we remember her, then there's a very good chance that she's still alive!"

Sailors on the Ocean Black

"Have any of you ever been on a boat before?" Tarn asked, trying to keep his tone casual as the vessel took a sudden lurch to starboard.

"First time, by guff!" Regal boasted, with a chorus of assent from the gully dwarves who were shifting and bickering on the rowing benches. Somehow, three or four of them-all on the portside posts-had managed to get their oars wet and move the boat away from the dock. Now, with a clatter of lumber, the boat was moving with surprising speed.

"And by the way," Tarn added, bracing himself and raising his voice over the din of a dozen arguments. "I think you're supposed to row on both sides at the same time!"

The craft twisted back to port as the starboard oarsmen all dipped their boards into the water and pushed with something approaching unison.

"What fun that? We just go straight then," groused Regal.

Somehow, despite the best efforts of the gully dwarves, the boat continued to move away from the dock. Water heaved all around them, and the slender vessel rocked back and forth, but the Aghar seemed utterly unperturbed by the tumult. Tarn tried to take some inspiration from them, though he still clutched the tiller for security.

The half-breed looked to shore and saw a boat full of Daergar warriors. The deadly assassin called Slickblade, his eyes expressionless in the slit of his black mask, stood rigidly in the bow as the pursuing craft pulled away from shore. The bow was aimed straight toward the Aghar pirates, oars striking the water in precise cadence and churning white waves before the sharp prow.

"Row! Fast!" he urged.

A splashing froth rose along the port side, and their boat wheeled grandly to starboard. The valiant gully dwarves frowned, and their oars skipped over the water as their concentration was interrupted. Tarn, in the stern, tried to shout instructions and encouragement, which mainly had the effect of causing his voice to grow exceedingly hoarse.

The other boat drew closer, and Tarn saw that Slick-blade had armed himself with a long spear. The assassin seemed focused on Tarn. Fueled by memories of the dead Rocco and Duck, Tarn felt more than ready to meet that challenge.

"Come on!" he murmured.

The Daergar craft drove closer, aiming to ram the stern of the Aghar craft.

"Turn!" cried Tarn, adding his weight to the tiller. The boat heeled slightly, lengthening the distance from the enemy, but still their pursuers dogged their heels.

A spear soared at them, and Tarn knocked the weapon aside just before the two boats collided. Tarn straddled two benches, holding his balance in the lurching water-craft. Keeping his weight low, he lunged toward the gunwale, thrusting his sword and striking a solid blow against Slickblade's spear. The assassin hurled his weapon suddenly, but the rocking boat made his aim go wide. The Daergar boat pitched again as Slickblade snatched up another spear.

"You'll sink us both! You're mad!" one of the dark dwarf rowers shrieked, casting a wide-eyed glance over his shoulder.

That gave Tarn an idea. If he could tip the dark dwarves' boat, every armor-clad warrior would sink straight to the bottom of the lake. The half-breed lunged, landing on the edge of the enemy boat, which tilted sickeningly under his weight.

Both hulls rocked wildly. The gully dwarves whooped and grinned while the panic-stricken Daergar rowers tried to pull away. Tarn himself would have toppled into the sea had Regal not seized his belt and pulled him back.

Ignoring Slickblade's hysterical commands, the dark dwarf rowers pulled away, making for the shore with all possible haste. The curses of the infuriated assassin were quickly drowned out by the tumult.

The choppy waters of the sea began to rock the boat. The forces of Chaos were wreaking havoc on the normally placid waters of the lake. The harbors of Thorbardin had been constructed without the breakwaters that Tarn knew were common protection for ports of the surface world. After all, why should the dwarves build a barrier to stop waves that had never before existed?

Tarn heard screams and saw one of the Daergar lake boats pitching dangerously against the docks. Pushed by a surge of water, the metal hull crushed several of its passengers and dumped more of them into the frigid and surprisingly deep waters. The armored dwarves immediately disappeared beneath the surface. Their panic-stricken crewmates made no effort to rescue them.

The Aghar, however, seemed utterly oblivious to the prospect of real danger.

"Whee! Ride waves!"

"Faster! Higher! Bigger!"

"This real ride!"

The gully dwarves howled with glee as the boat moved into the full swell of the Urkhan Sea. Tarn was sickened by the lurching and uncontrolled motion of their boat, but the Aghar seemed to enjoy the rollicking ride. Perhaps it was good that none of them had been on a boat before. They didn't understand how unnatural this roiling swell was on the enclosed underground sea.

On the other hand, the gully dwarves would have probably whooped with delight if they'd been faced with a hurricane. Tarn felt his heart skip a beat every time another wave sloshed into the hull. He recognized the imminent danger: every wave brought more water spilling over the bow and sloshing down the length of the long keel.

"Bail!" cried Tarn, seizing a Daergar helmet and scooping the water that sloshed around his boats. Several gully dwarves immediately joined him in that game, though it took many pointed instructions to get them to pour the water out of the boat instead of over their comrades at the rowing benches.

After much shouting and yelling, most of the little dwarves had begun to bail vigorously while those at the rowing benches-except for two or three who had already dropped their oars overboard-maintained something like a rhythm in the strokes of their blades. True, the boat never maintained a direct heading toward Hybardin, sometimes bearing to port and otherwise to starboard of the Life-Tree, but Tarn figured that as long as they held to the general direction they could get close and worry about the finer points of navigation later.

Moving air gusted past them, and even in his numbed state Tarn was startled by this bizarre phenomenon. He had heard of wind, had even experienced it when he had traveled on the surface of Krynn during the decades after the War of the Lance. Yet it was a bizarre and frightening occurrence here in the enclosed world of Thorbardin.

The air seemed to be gusting from the direction of Daerforge and propelled them toward Hybardin. Somehow the boat managed to stay afloat, aided by the frantically bailing dwarves. Tarn and Regal stood in the stern, taking turns holding the rudder-which at their limited speed was more of an ornament than a directional tool. Tarn tried to shout in a cadence that would enable the Aghar to row with some semblance of coordination.

"Pull!" chanted Tarn in slow rhythm. "Pull!"

After a while Regal took over, and he too shouted the beat to the rowers, "One, Two, One, Two," with real enthusiasm.

Poof Firemaker crouched in the bow, encouraging the rowers and often turning to look eagerly at the smoking, burning pillar of the Life-Tree.