by Mel Odom
Wick really didn’t want to earn the wrath of the sour-faced big dwarf, so he didn’t mention the eternal fogs that seemed in place over the sea. “Well, then the pirates.”
Hallekk snorted. “Ye only hear of pirates third ‘cause ye ain’t a-faced pirates what’s screamin’ at ye an’ a-comin’ at yer throat with a bared cutlass.”
“No,” Wick said. “I never have.” Nor would I ever want to. Yet, here he was on a pirate ship where that very thing might happen. He shuddered.
Hallekk hmphed in disgust. “Not a-thinkin’ of pirates first thing. Why, ye oughta be ashamed of yerself.”
“I’ve never heard that the grandmagisters conscripted pirates.”
“Me,” Hallekk said, “I’m a-guessin’ they ain’t none too proud of their hand in it. An’ pirate cap’ns don’t talk about the arrangement neither, but that’s what happens.”
“Why?” Wick’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Because Greydawn Moors needed protectin’, of course. Do ye really think them dwarven guards an’ the elven warders on the island are enough to properly defend the Vault?”
“It helps that no one in the outside world knows where Greydawn Moors is.”
“Aye, an’ that’s the main part of the Vault’s defense,” Hallekk said agreeably, “all them people a-thinkin’ the Vault is a myth. But most sea-farin’ folk is mighty curious. Always a-wonderin’ what lies over the next horizon, ye see. The Builders chose Greydawn Moors with care, just so’s most of them curious sea folk would stay away. The Builders picked one of the most inhospitable places in all the world to place the Library. They took into account the monsters an’ the weather, an’ were glad of them an’ it. An’ some say the old wizards specially spelled up the algae that fills these waters.”
“Algae?” Wick asked.
“Why sure,” Hallekk said. “That algae is red, like fresh-spilled blood. It thrives in these waters, an’ it’s what gives the Blood-Soaked Sea its name. Ain’t ’cause them sea monsters is constantly a-gnawin’ on each other.” He glanced at Wick. “A learned man like ye, why ye didn’t believe them old tales, did ye?”
Wick only blinked at the big dwarf, not wanting to lie and not wanting to admit the truth either.
“If’n that was true, why there’d be a shortage of monsters in these here waters, there would. It’d take an awful lot of blood to turn these deep waters this red.” Hallekk relit his pipe. “The wizards put the algae in the water an’ put spells on it so it would never die. Then they arranged for the building of the pirate ships. Poured a lot of gold into the hands of a lot of shipwrights, I’m here to tell you. Then they magicked ’em.”
“Magicked them?” Wick repeated.
Hallekk nodded. “Put wizards’ wards on ‘em what kept them ships bound to these waters. See, the grandmagisters gave the ships to them dwarves what was willin’ to be pirates. An’ then they made sure them dwarves wasn’t a-gonna abscond with the ships by magickin’ ‘em to fall apart if they sail too far from Greydawn Moors. I’ve heard tell of whole crews a-goin’ down with ships what tried to sail beyond the reaches of the Blood-Soaked Sea.”
“The dwarves didn’t want to be pirates?”
“No. Generally speakin’, dwarves is happier on land. On top of mountains or livin’ under ‘em, ye see. An’ they like workin’ with their hands.” Hallekk paused, studying the clouds scudding across the face of Jhurjan the Bold. In heartbeats, the clouds obscured the fierce moon. “No, them dwarves what signed on as the original pirates didn’t come to the work natural-like. But they knew it was necessary ’cause the Builders told em so.
“So you aren’t real pirates?” Wick asked.
Hallekk bristled. “Of course we are, and I’ll keelhaul the first man what makes the mistake of a-thinkin’ we ain’t.”
“Oh,” Wick said quickly, “I would never say anything like that.”
“That’s good. ’Cause I won’t stand for it.” Hallekk gazed out to sea and sniffed. “Gonna rain soon. Ye can smell it in the air.”
Wick started to agree, having realized that agreeing with Hallekk was a plan to follow, but an angry shout interrupted him.
“Lazy halfer! I mighta known ye’d be up here a-jackin’ yer jaws an’ me sufferin’ an’ not gettin’ enough sleep as it is!” Slops stood in the doorway leading down belowdecks to the galley. His big-knuckled fists rested at his hips. “Well, ye done an’ signed on for a world of hurt tomorrow, I’ll warrant ye that.”
“Leave him alone,” Hallekk ordered, turning to face the other man. “I been a-watchin’ how you been a-treatin’ the little man here, an’ I know ye been a-tryin’ to break him. Only he’s tougher than ye think. He’s handled everythin’ ye’ve dished out to him since he’s been in the galley.”
Slops crossed his meaty arms and puffed out his chest. “An’ who do ye think ye are to be a-tellin’ me my business?”
Wick took a step back instinctively.
Hallekk seemed to swell to twice his size. “Why, ye daft lummox, I’m quartermaster of this ship is who I am! An’ don’t ye ever think about forgettin’ that! If’n ye forget again, I’ll wallop ye and put a swellin’ on yer crusty ol’ knob what’ll make ye twicet yer size!”
Wick’s knees trembled. Even if Hallekk spares me from Slops’ wrath tonight, he’ll make up for it tomorrow! He started to take a step toward Slops.
“Ye just stand yer ground there, little man,” Hallekk said without looking at him. “I ain’t dismissed ye yet.”
Wick’s heart sank as he looked at the evil glare Slops shot him, but he stopped dead in his tracks. Of the two, he’d rather have Slops mad at him.
Slops cursed colorfully, then turned and marched belowdecks.
Hallekk dumped the ashes from his pipe over ship’s side, then thumped the railing to fully clear the bowl. “Don’t ye worry none about ol’ Slops, little man. I’ll have a word or two with the cap’n come morning. As quartermaster, managin’ manpower is one of me duties.”
Wick wasn’t at all sure that course of action would help, but he wasn’t about to try to talk Hallekk out of it either. Tomorrow, he was certain, would be a very bad day to be in the galley. He yawned tiredly in spite of his fears, barely managing to cover his mouth.
The big dwarven quartermaster smiled at Wick gently. “I know ye’re tired, little man. Ye should see yerself off to bed. But I wanted to talk to ye tonight, kinda put the thought in yer knob that maybe ye can still serve the Vault whilst servin’ aboard One-Eyed Peggie.” He shrugged. “Pirates an’ librarians, we all serve to protect the Vault’s interests.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so,” Wick said, “but you don’t really sound like you believe that.”
“Oh, I believe these ships what was give to the dwarven pirates all them years ago will fall apart if’n we don’t carry out our orders,” Hallekk said. “Look around at ol’ One-Eyed Peggie. However long it’s been since them troubles with Lord Kharrion an’ his goblin army, ol’ Peggie don’t really look none the worse for wear of it. Takes a little tendin’ now an’ again to keep her afloat, I’ll warrant ye that, but not as much as other ships I’ve seen. Why, if’n ye get over to the mainland an’ any of them ports what the goblinkin run, ye’ll see some ships in true sorry shape. An’ ain’t none of them more’n fifty years old.” The big dwarf slapped the solid railing in front of him. “No, ol’ Peggie’s some magicked up, an’ I know that. It’s enough for me. The rest of it about the Vault an’ how important it really is, I don’t really know. But then, I don’t really care either. My home is out here on the salt, not in Greydawn Moors. I don’t have to believe in them legends.”
“But it’s all true. The librarians shelter the knowledge that will keep the Darkness from the lands.”
“Seems to me,” Hallekk said, “that a man a-wantin’ to keep back a heap of darkness would pass around the light to others so it’d be bigger. Instead, the grandmagisters seem intent on holding all that knowledge—and light—at the Vault f
or themselves.”
“Because releasing the knowledge unsupervised into the world again can be catastrophic,” Wick said. Even as his words died away, he knew that his argument was weak in the eyes of anyone brought up outside Greydawn Moors.
“Get yerself abed, little man,” Hallekk said. “Time an’ tide await no man.
Wick knocked the ashes from the borrowed pipe and handed it back to Hallekk, thanking the man profusely for his generosity. The big dwarven quartermaster only waved the thanks away as if the gift of the pipe were nothing, then went on about his rounds checking with the night men aboard the pirate ship.
Wearily, the little librarian returned to the galley to leave the bucket. He glanced around fearfully before stepping into the galley proper to make sure Slops wasn’t waiting up for him to start on the abuse that would certainly start on the morrow. Wick breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered the galley was empty.
After he’d put the bucket away, Wick retreated to the crew quarters. He stared in dismay at the bodies filling the large room. The pirates slept in shifts, dividing up the watches, but most of them slept at night. Even the small corner of the room he’d claimed seemed filled with cast-off clothing from earlier work chores.
His nose wrinkled in disgust. He’d read about the closeness of sailor’s quarters in books, but the experience didn’t compare. A book talked about the sometimes rancid odor, but actually being there was awful.
Carefully, he threaded through the sleeping bodies and the hammocks until he reached the corner of the room he’d been left with for the past seven nights. Thankfully, his hammock was still on the floor. It was twisted, but it remained whole if unattached. He had no idea where the borrowed bedding he’d been given was, but he hadn’t been using it anyway because it was so dirty.
After rolling the hammock up and tucking it under his arm, Wick returned to the ship’s main deck. He’d seen men tie hammocks to the rigging before, and there were a few there now, but he’d never dared sleep out in the open. Besides the sea monsters, there was the pirate crew that seemed to hate him.
He had to struggle with the knots and the length of the hammock cords, but he finally got them right. Carefully, he eased his weight onto the treacherous hammock. The cords rolled up tight against him, following the contours of his body. He sighed in near content.
Sleep didn’t come easily. The little librarian’s mind was filled with all that Hallekk had told him. Wick continued to struggle with the idea that the Builders of the Vault of All Known Knowledge had established the Blood-Soaked Sea pirates. But the reasoning behind that seemed clear enough. And Hallekk had no reason to lie.
Wick listened to the sound of the wind through the sails above him, listened to the creak of the rigging and the yardarms. Despite his best efforts to relax and the fatigue that ached within him, sleep evaded him. His mind raced, dredging up the hardships Slops would undoubtedly be inspired to put him through starting early the next morning. He burrowed into the hammock, pulling the bedding around him. His eyes closed only for a moment.
“Fire!” a man yelled suddenly. “Fire’s a-comin’!”
Wick’s eyes snapped open as he sat up and he immediately spotted the ball of fire arcing across the sable heavens. Other pirates took up the hue and cry of warning, filling the ship with anxious noise.
Against the night as it was, Wick couldn’t properly judge how big the fireball was. For a moment it looked as though the fiery missile would miss the ship, then it turned and veered straight for One-Eyed Peggie.
As he watched the fireball, Wick knew it wasn’t of natural origin. Should it land aboard, the thing could very well be the death of them all. He roused himself from the hammock, twisting and spilling out in his fear and fatigue, as the ship quickened around him.
The fireball slowed in its headlong descent as Wick pushed himself to his feet, and then it neatly landed on the yardarm near the crow’s-nest.
6
Embyr
Wick ran across One-Eyed Peggie’s yawing deck, drawn to the flaming figure standing atop the yardarm. Even as his curiosity pushed him on, fear twisted his stomach with ragged claws when he realized what the flame-being might be. They’ve been gone for hundreds of years! They disappeared at the end of the Cataclysm! One of them can’t be here now!
The figure stood wreathed in the night’s gloom, appearing and disappearing behind the billowing sails. Flames created a nimbus of twisting orange and yellow lights around the figure’s head.
The pirate in the crow’s-nest yelled and drew his cutlass, but cowered at the other end of his weapon. Quick as a striking deathadder, the flaming figure swept the dwarven pirate’s sword aside and slapped the man with the same hand on the return blow. The two impacts resounded over the ship’s deck. The pirate pinwheeled from the crow’s-nest, arcing high out over the ship, then fell. The pirate flailed his limbs and screamed until he vanished beneath the water.
“Aldy!” Hallekk’s voice rang out. “Get a line out to that man afore he drowns!”
“Aye, sir!”
With Hallekk on deck, the pirates formed a skirmish line, obviously taking comfort in the burly quartermaster’s presence. Wick paused at the railing and glanced back as Hallekk strode out on deck.
Hallekk gazed upward at the flaming invader, one scarred fist wrapped around the hilt of his cutlass. “Chaury, go and wake the cap’n.”
“Aye, sir.” A man scrambled from the motley group forming on the deck.
“Belay that order, quartermaster,” Captain Farok bellowed from behind.
The pirate crew glanced up at the forecastle. Shifting lantern light fell across Captain Farok, twisting the shadows and spinning them in all directions.
“I’m among ye,” the old captain went on in a commanding voice. He gazed bravely into the top rigging of his ship. “Only a dead man could sleep through the likes of this.”
Wick swallowed with difficulty, wondering if the captain truly knew what he faced. Hundreds of men, dwarves, and elves had faced creatures like the one on the yardarm during the Cataclysm, and they had fallen without ever defeating one.
“Who’s come aboard my ship without my leave, quartermaster?” Farok demanded.
“I don’t know, sir,” Hallekk answered, waving to a handful of dwarves that had armed themselves with bows. “But I means to find out.” He turned to the archers. “You men ready arrows.”
Wick couldn’t believe it. Surely they’re not going to try to shoot her! He watched in frozen amazement as the archers nocked their arrows and pulled the fletchings back to their ears.
One-Eyed Peggie gently rode the waves. Breakers crashed against her bow and port side, the drumming sound echoing up over the ship. Sailcloth popped overhead.
Hallekk cupped his hands around his mouth. “Get out of that ship’s riggin’ or we’ll feather you.”
The flaming figure’s head barely bent down for a moment, as if deciding that the pirates gathered below were hardly worth the effort. Fiery wings spread out behind her for a moment, then quickly folded in again.
Hallekk picked three men standing close to him. “You three clamber up them ropes an’ put a sword ’twixt that thing’s wind and water if ye hafta.”
The three pirates sprang into action at once, quickly swarming up the rigging. Fingers and toes hooked into the rope as they climbed.
Near-panicked, Wick walked from the railing to the big dwarven quartermaster’s side. “Hallekk,” he called softly.
Hallekk never looked in the little librarian’s direction, his eyes intent on the three pirates nearly halfway up the rigging. “Not now, little man. I got business to tend to.”
“You can’t send those men up there,” Wick said.
“Already been done.”
“It’s a mistake.”
That got Hallekk’s attention. He lowered his gaze and glowered at the little librarian. “Mistake that was made was that thing’s choice of landin’ spots.”
Wick gazed back up at t
he flaming figure as it surveyed the three climbing pirates approaching the crow’s-nest. The figure remained at ease, as if the climbing men represented no threat. “She didn’t have to land here.”
“She?” Hallekk repeated.
Without warning, Critter glided out of the shadows and perched on Hallekk’s broad shoulder. “The halfer knows who’s up there,” the rhowdor shrilled. “Done come up with a new way to bring more ill luck on us, he has.”
All the pirates nearby gave Wick harsh stares. Although there had been no more instances of attacks by sea monsters, almost all of the crew blamed Wick for the appearance of the sea serpent eight days ago.
The little librarian shrank into himself. He wanted to do nothing more than remain lost in the background. But that would never do—not if he wanted to live long enough to see the next morning. “If you get her angry, she’ll burn the ship,” Wick said, “and us with it.”
“Who is she?” Hallekk demanded. “I’ve never seen the like as someone such as her—if’n it is a her.”
“An Embyr. One of Lord Kharrion’s Embyrs.”
“I never heard of no Embyrs.”
“They’re creatures Lord Kharrion made near the end of the Cataclysm. They’re dangerous.”
Hallekk shook his head in fierce pride. “Ain’t no way whatever it is can be more dangerous than a ship full of Blood-Soaked Sea pirates.”
“An Embyr is.” Wick watched as the three pirates closed on the flaming woman. They climbed more slowly now, warily spreading out to attack her from three sides. Drawing their swords, they closed on her, making their way up now with one hand. “She’ll burn the ship, Hallekk, and us with it.”
Hallekk shook his head stubbornly. “Ain’t no way she can destroy a whole ship.”
“She can,” Wick replied. “Several accounts exist concerning whole cities the Embyrs laid waste to during the Cataclysm.” He watched almost breathlessly as the three pirates drew back to menace the fiery woman with their cutlasses.
Imperiously, she gestured at the three men. Flames darted from her fingers and coiled briefly around the rigging the men clung to. A wisp of smoke fluttered from the rope strands and they parted as though a fast blade had cleaved them.
