The sea was as calm and clear as glass on the bright day, and as blue and dark as a Herald's eyes, the captain might have said. That, and many other, stranger things, would stick themselves in the giant's mind forever. But then, Fezzik only thought to look out on the water, his eyes distant with dreams of a different life.

"Fezzik! How do you expect to get this sail raised when you stand there like the fool you are?" demanded Kane, a thick, short-tempered sailor they had picked up in the last port, somewhere near Neverland. He was obviously not one of Hook's old men; he had a military way of going about things that had failed to endear him to the crew of the pirate ship Revenge. He was efficient, cool, and completely bothersome. He was about to give Fezzik a few more harsh words (and again upset the crew--they were fond of the gentle giant themselves), when a friendly hand clapped down on his shoulder. Kane turned to face Captain Roberts.

Apparently he was Spanish by birth, but had adopted the name "Roberts" to further his career in piracy, some twenty years ago. He was handsome and dark, and carried a magnificent sword at his side--the crew had never seen its equal in the world. And certainly none of them had ever seen the equal of their captain in swordsmanship.. Intelligent and handsome, and an unrivaled fencer, Roberts was also a kind and generous captain, and his men loved him well.

Aeris, the Herald of the Underground, would have of course recognized him as Inigo Montoya, but with a little of that vengeful, unsatisfied fire gone out of his eyes and replaced by a calm, commanding light. He smiled at Kane, but it was a tight smile, with a warning behind it.

"That, my friend, is not the way we do things here. Come, walk with me."

He led the sailor around the deck, away from the ears of the other pirates. "You seem to like giving orders."

"I was an officer," he began, but the captain held up his hand.

"I thought as much. But as you can see for yourself, my men don't like taking orders from anyone but me. We are friends here. Equals. And you must accept that no man on my ship is better than you...nor are you any better than any other man on my ship. Including Fezzik."

Kane smarted from the words, but he grimaced in agreement. "Yes, sir."
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"Call me Captain--sir is for officers. I think...yes. You'll learn to get along here, after a while." He smiled again, and this time it was more genuine. Kane found himself returning it in full sincerity.

"I'm sorry," Fezzik apologized when the sailor had gone and he and Inigo were alone. "I didn't mean to daydream."

Inigo shrugged. "It's not your fault. You have a dreaming mind. People like him...they don't understand."

"Perhaps I should go...give him a hand."

His face broke into the expression of a man in the throes of guilty pleasure. "But he would be ungrateful..."

"I wouldn't want him to think me hateful--"

"Captain!" It was the lookout, scurrying down the rigging.

"Yes?"

"Storm!" He was gesturing wildly to the west.

Inigo raised an eyebrow, turning around. "You're joking. Look at the sky--" His voice stopped in his throat, as he faced a strange, lonely sight on the horizon. A single column of water rose from ocean, casting unbelievable sparks of light in the sunshine as it spun like a top. One large, dark cloud hung over it, too solitary, too alone to be real. And yet he could hear it if he listened. And he knew it would be on top of them in a moment.

He called orders, the men on his ship obeying without hesitation. Piracy wasn't nearly has difficult as Inigo had thought it would be at first, his five years as Westley's "apprentice" paying off well now. The man in black had taught him to swim, taught him to work the careful rigging of a ship, given him the secrets that had enabled him to win against such a master as Inigo was when they'd met on the Cliffs of Insanity (and thus gave Inigo the advantage again, making him unbeatable in all the world), and showed him the ways of working around men like Kane. He hoped his knowledge would be enough to avoid catastrophe with this spinning water demon speeding towards them. If it wasn't, at least he knew in his heart that Westley, brilliant as he was, could have done no better.

"It's following us," one of the men was whispering, his eyes filled with terror.

Inigo wouldn't have that. Couldn't. "Are there superstitious men among my crew?" he asked, and waited for an answer. "Well? I thought not," he said, nodding once. "Hard port." He was pleased as the pirate's eyes unclouded and he went about his work.

"Inigo," cried Fezzik suddenly, forgetting in his horror not to use that name before the men. "It is following! It is!"

"Fezzik--" He almost found himself admonishing the giant, but then he looked again. It was true. The water spout moved with them, tracing an ever closer path with their movements to escape. Coincidence? Inigo had seen those tall spouts before, and he had never seen one move like this. He didn't think that chance was a likely explanation. He turned to his crew.

"We won't abandon," said Trent calmly. He was one of the best on board, a boy of perhaps seventeen. His eyes were blue, good, steady eyes, and Inigo's thoughts turned momentarily to a promise.

"No, we won't," he answered simply, his eyes darkening deeper, his face setting into hard lines.

He barked a series of orders, short and harsh, almost shearing his voice of its long, heavy accent. He glanced back to the water. It jigged easily with the ship, just as he'd expected. He turned back to his crew and gave another order, one so shocking it made them raise up.

"But..." began a man.

Inigo only gave that short nod. "Ram it."

The men who had said over and over they would follow him anywhere were true to their word. They obeyed.

He looked at Fezzik. "Listen well." He whispered in the giant's ear, and Fezzik bent over, listening to it all carefully. Then he straightened up and rushed over to the other side of the ship. Inigo turned to face the water spout. They were almost under its black, swirling cloud. One hand gripped the side of his ship, the other on the hilt of the sword of his father. His face never moved a centimeter out of its cold, set expression.

He could feel the spray coming off the spout. The roar was horrible, deafening, the pressure making him clench his teeth and grip tighter to the rail. Wait...wait...

Men were shouting behind him. Prayers in many languages. Curses. Exclamations. Wait...

"Now!" he thundered, raising the sword high and waving it to Fezzik. The giant took a mighty leap and grabbed the sail, swinging it around. The wind caught it, and the ship turned. Mother of God, it was slow. It was so slow. But the prow tilted, changed course. And the water spout brushed against the side of the ship, covering it in a few inches of water, but not tearing the wooden planks to splinters, as he had whole-heartedly believed it would for a moment there.

The men were shouting again behind him, this time in triumph. He turned, the faithful, nameless sword going back to his side, smiling to Fezzik, who was waving. The wind had picked up--they were using the very wind of the water spout to get away from it. It pushed them steadily away, and there was no catching them. With the wind in her sails, the Revenge was the fastest thing on the water.

A screech of anger and frustration tore the air around them. It came...as impossible as it was...from the cloud above the water spout. The spout suddenly collapsed in on itself, a huge splash flying up. And then, a hand came up out of the wave. A hand of water...a hand reaching for the Dread Pirate Roberts. Inigo could see fish swimming frantically around in it. In his shock, he could only focus on a single fish in the hand, a bright yellow thing, beautiful in the light of the sun that shone through the water.

Fezzik began racing up the boards of the ship to his friend, the water the spout had left splashing up around his thick legs. "Inigo!" he bellowed.

It had him. The hand was around him, holding him. His shock evaporated as he saw the yellow fish swim by, and he called his friend, panicking for perhaps the first time in years. "Fezzik!"

The giant grabbed him, tackling him at the waist with such force that he should have been killed by the blow, but the hand was lifting him, pulling him towards the water. His arms were tight at his sides, and he struggled vainly. The hand squeezed him, squeezed his breath out of him. "Fezzik..." he managed to gasp.

The giant pulled back against the hand with his incredible strength. It was useless. The hand shook once, Inigo's body tossed in its vise grip. Fezzik fell away, tearing the fine sword from Inigo's side in his struggle to keep a grip on his friend. He roared Inigo's name over and over, reaching for the water as the hand dragged him down...and down...

The other pirates, all of them, it seemed, caught the giant, pulling him back. In his day he had battled ten men at once, but there were too many there. They held him tight, keeping him from leaping over the side into the water that had swallowed their captain. Finally, he sank to his knees in the water on the deck, looking down at his hands, at the big, strong hands that should have been strong enough to save Inigo...but hadn't. And then he looked at the sword of Inigo Montoya's father, and remembered how his friend had kept his promise of revenge. Inigo had one more promise to keep. Fezzik, there on the deck, staring at the light of the beautiful day on the delicate work of art that Inigo had swung with such pride, determined that he would help Inigo answer to that last promise. He would go to the Labyrinth, to the Herald Aeris.