Echoes of the Fourth Magic by R. A. Salvatore Read Free Book Online Page A

fairly dry once again.
    After a few hours of final clean-up, jettisoning everything that wasn’t nailed down, all was ready for their desperate attempt. No one gave any speeches or assurances; they all knew the odds that faced them.
    Thompson remained in the engine room, at the controls for blowing the ballast tanks, while the other six men used belts to strap themselves down on the bridge. Each of them held on to supplies of some sort—food, water, clothing. Corbin clutched an inflatable life raft, a going-away present from his father on the day the
Unicorn
had sailed out of Miami—a joke gift, really, for what use might a life raft be on a vessel destined to prowl at a depth of thirty thousand feet?
    Mitchell carried the heaviest pack: four rifles strapped together in a plastic bag. Del saw no need for the guns, and the sight of the volatile captain holding them disturbed him profoundly. He shook his head incredulously—guns wouldn’t save them from drowning. The irony of that thought brought a wry grin to his face, for if it came to a watery scramble, that heavy pack would likely take Mitchell down first.
    Yet the rifles were indeed a comfort to Captain Mitchell. He could accept that they might all die in the escape attempt; this was Reinheiser’s game and he’d let Reinheiser worry about it. Mitchell was more concerned with situationsthat he could control—situations that he and his guns could control.
    “Let it begin,” Reinheiser said when they had all settled.
    Mitchell took the com and called back to the engine room. “Thompson?”
    No reply.
    “Thompson!” Mitchell growled more loudly.
    “Here, sir.”
    Del and the others winced at the uneven timbre.
    “Our lives are in his hands?” Billy Shank remarked.
    Mitchell spoke calmly but firmly. “Blow the tanks.”
    But again no reply.
    A few more seconds of silence broke Mitchell’s patience. “Blow those goddamn tanks, mister!” he roared. “Now!”
    The sub shuddered with the release of water. Mitchell shut down the intercom and slammed the mike onto its holder.
    With another shudder, the
Unicorn
began to rise.
    Their moment of hope was upon them; as one, they clung to their bindings. They said nothing, each too engulfed by the probability of impending death to think of anything else, those feelings proving too personal and unresolved to be shared. Totally immersed in their work during the last few days, they hadn’t had time to come to terms with this delicate moment, and every one of them welcomed the contemplative silence.
    It didn’t last. Suddenly the door burst open and a terrified Thompson rushed in, tears streaming down his face.
    “Oh, no,” Doc Brady groaned.
    “I’ve got him,” Del shouted. He wriggled free of his restraints and tackled Thompson, pulling the trembling man down to the vacated seat.
    “Get the hatch!” Mitchell screamed.
    Del ran to the door. Dismay stole his breath when he got there. “The rest of them are open,” he cried. “All the way back!”
    The
Unicorn
thudded to a stop, the jolt knocking Del to his knees. He froze, fear seizing him, and did not try to rise.
    “We’ve hit the top of the cavern,” Reinheiser explained.
    “No time, man!” Brady cried to Del. “Get back.”
    Del scrambled to secure the hatch, then dove down, trying to slip under the belts with Thompson, just as the
Unicorn
started moving again.
    Mitchell looked to Reinheiser. “Currents?”
    “Magnetic force,” the physicist answered. “Drawing us to the center of the field interaction.” Suspecting what was about to happen, he warned, “Hold on.”
    Just as Reinheiser finished the statement, it grabbed the sub. Like a great untamed beast, the newborn storm sprang upon the
Unicorn
, seeking an outlet for its uncontrollable power. It raged about in torment, aimless at first, but then suddenly finding a direction. Its power became purposeful anger, guided as if by vengeance toward the black portal, as if it were a sentient thing,