Reavers of the Blood Sea

by Richard Knaak

  A dying Magori stumbled into Aryx and Delara, sending all three back several paces. Aryx pushed the monster aside.

  The knight alongside Seph fell to one knee, acid streaks across his tortured features. Seph reacted instinctively, trying to help the injured human up while still fighting. He did not see the Magori with the broken scythe sword coming up on his right.

  “Seph! To your right!” Aryx leapt toward the two trapped combatants.

  Aryx’s younger brother looked up and saw the savage crustacean too late. He tried to deflect the blade with his axe but misjudged.

  The broken sword tore a great gash in the young minotaur’s chest.

  A cry erupted from Aryx’s mouth, a horrible cry that startled more than one fighter on both sides. Axe raised high, the rage-filled minotaur cut down the Magori who had wounded his brother. The blade broke through the armored shell, sending an acidic spray across Aryx’s chest. The physical pain only added to his mental anguish, turning him into a berserker. He tore into the next invader without hesitation. When that Magori fell, Aryx went after a third, beheading the creature as it futilely raised a lance to block the blow.

  Again and again he tore into the aquatic reavers. Only at last, when none stood before him, did his rage abate enough for Aryx to realize what he had done. He looked around, his breath coming in ragged gulps, and saw those around him staring in both awe and fear.

  “Aryx!” Delara nestled Seph in her arms. She had tried her best to bandage him, but too much blood had already seeped out, drenching the young warrior’s body. Surprisingly, Seph remained conscious, although clearly pain wracked him.

  “Seph!” Fighting continued on the lower deck, but Aryx abandoned his axe and went to his brother’s side, Seph tried to greet him, but the effort proved too painful. “Seph! Don’t move!”

  “You were … Kaz of the Axe … there, Aryx.…” Seph coughed up blood. “Nothing could … could stand in your way.… You’re a … a great warrior.…”

  “Easy, Seph!” Aryx looked around for Rand. The cleric had saved him from grave wounds; surely he could do the same for Aryx’s brother. Rand, however, stood in the midst of a blazing aura, somehow having at last rediscovered the path to his spells. Aryx ached to call the cleric to him, but if he did, then Rand might lose the one chance to save the fleet. Aryx did not even know if the human could repeat his earlier success, yet he had to be given the opportunity. Otherwise, more defenders than Seph would perish.

  “The sails!” someone roared. “The sails are coming loose!”

  The Vengeance lurched, no longer under even the remotest control of its crew. As the ship turned, Aryx saw two other ships in the distance collide, the bow of one completely demolishing the aft section of the other. As terrible as the sight was, however, the minotaur cared about only one thing: His brother lay dying, and he could do nothing. He gripped Seph tight as the flagship of Lord Broedius’s armada began turning back toward the whirlpool.

  The whirlpool continued to glow and swell, as if all the primal forces in the world had gathered there. It rocked the ships so violently that even the Magori could hold on no longer. By the scores, they plummeted back into Blood Sea. Even some of those aboard abandoned the attack, clearly sensing that some event both monumental and terrifying was about to take place.

  The sinister glow within the Maelstrom flashed once, then again.

  Then the Maelstrom exploded.

  A spiraling column of water shot from the mouth of the whirlpool, rising so high in the sky that it nearly reached the clouds. A torrential downpour washed over the fleet. Crew and invaders clutched to whatever they could, but for some that proved not nearly enough. Aryx and Delara were fortunate; crouching low to the deck, they and Seph slid against the rail. At least one knight fell overboard, his armor guaranteeing his death.

  A rain of flotsam and jetsam pelted them, some objects that no doubt had been swallowed up by the Maelstrom hundreds of years before. Fish, bits of old wrecks, stones, broken statuary that perhaps had come from old Istar, even bones … everything the Maelstrom had swallowed over the centuries came flying up. A Magori staggered by, then collapsed, the broken spar of a ship having speared it like a lance. The rest of the Magori dived over the sides, clearly deciding that the surface was no place to be at this juncture.

  And then a change came over the Blood Sea. The storm still raged and the waves still threatened to throw ships against one another, but no longer did any vessel float helplessly toward the embrace of the Maelstrom.

  “By Zeboim’s grace!” Delara gasped, rising and staring out at the Blood Sea. “It’s … gone!”

  The same mad cry echoed over the ship. Everyone who could stared out at the open sea, gaping at a sight both wondrous and frightening.

  As weak as he had grown, Seph tried to rise. “What … what is it, Aryx?”

  Aryx could not immediately answer. He stared at the sea, first with both eyes, then with the dragon orb, but still the astounding scene remained the same. He swallowed, unwilling to believe but forced to accept. “It’s gone, Seph.… The Maelstrom’s completely vanished.”

  Sword’s Betrayal

  Chapter Sixteen

  No hint of the great fury that had so shaped the minotaurs’ lives remained save the refuse that it had tossed up. Flotsam littered the wild sea wherever one looked. Judging by the size of the water column, Aryx suspected that even some of the shoreline had been showered with items.

  “Vanished …” Seph murmured. He began to cough, softly in the beginning, then with more violence.

  Aryx started to look down, then stiffened as the ship rocked violently, far more than the storm should have caused. He looked up toward Rand, but the cleric remained fixed in position, in the midst of some interminable trance.

  “Look!” someone shouted.

  Not far from the Vengeance, a massive shape broke the surface—the sinister serpentine trunk that Aryx had witnessed before. A second joined it, then another, all intertwining.

  A smaller ship nearer to the massive coils could not avoid them. They twisted, wrapping around the hull of the minotaur vessel, ensnaring it. The coils tightened, crushing the hull of the ship.

  Those aboard could do nothing to save their lives. A few sought to escape into the sea, but the waves took them under even as those aboard the Vengeance watched helplessly. Some tried to combat the scaled leviathans, chopping futilely at the cylindrical trunks even as their vessel collapsed around them. Those below had no chance to do anything but die, either killed by the destruction or drowned as the water rushed in.

  But the human continued to stand there, a statue in tribute to delay.

  “All hands to stations!” the captain roared. “Move it!”

  A voice that Aryx had not heard for some time at last echoed in his head. Draw me, Master.… Now is the time. Draw me.…

  The Sword of Tears. He had forgotten the foul weapon, wrapped up as he was in Seph’s terrible wounds. “Never!” he muttered under his breath. “Never!”

  You must …

  He felt the urge to do so but fought it down. Only despair followed the demon blade. Even now, Aryx could not bring himself to use it.

  The crew would get them out of reach. They had to succeed. Only one thing concerned Aryx now, and that was his brother.

  “Seph! Take it easy! We’ll get you below! Delara, help me get—”

  He stopped when he saw Delara glance down at his brother. Her eyes widened, then her expression tightened.

  Aryx shifted his gaze to the wounded minotaur, who had stopped coughing some moments ago. Suddenly even the absence of the gods and the destruction of the Maelstrom meant nothing to him. For all Aryx cared at that moment, the servants of Chaos could have taken the Vengeance, crew and all, and buried them at the bottom of the Blood Sea.

  Seph was dead.

  Holding his brother tightly, Aryx roared his pain to the world. He rocked Seph back and forth, oblivious to the frantic crew or the oncoming behemoth in the se
a.

  Delara tried to comfort him. “Aryx! He died in battle! He’ll join your ancestors, fighting for honor and the glory of the empire forever!”

  “Glory? Honor? Of what use are those to the dead?”

  She pulled back, startled by his vehemence. Aryx felt guilty for snapping at her, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to strike out at something, anything, in order to assuage his misery and guilt. If he had only been a little swifter, a little stronger …

  You may still gain revenge.…

  The words of the Sword of Tears hit him hard, for they reflected exactly what he desired. Someone should pay, but those Magori who he had not killed had fled to the safety of the water. How, then, could he strike back?

  As the ship rocked, he had his answer.

  Take me up … urged the demon blade. Take me up and strike at Chaos’s servant.…

  Gently he lowered Seph, then stepped toward the rail, almost in a trance. Although Aryx carried his axe, his other hand stroked the hilt of the dark artifact. Ignoring the frantic pace of those around him, he leaned over the rail, staring at the scaled monster, moving ever nearer.

  Take me to it … plunge me into it. Together we will avenge all you have lost. Oh, Master …

  He imagined himself atop the Chaos creature, again and again cutting deep with the deadly blade. Aryx saw the creature writhing and dying under his terrible attack. His grip tightened on the hilt.

  Another hand closed on his. “Aryx, what are you thinking?”

  Delara’s voice broke the sword’s influence. Aryx exhaled. “No,” he murmured, knowing that the weapon would nonetheless hear him. “Never again …”

  The Sword of Tears did not reply, perhaps sulking. Aryx ignored it, instead glancing at Delara in gratitude. However, she looked past him, eyes fixed on the servant of Chaos. Aryx looked back and saw that the scaly abomination drew yet nearer, clearly after their ship in particular.

  It wanted them, wanted the Vengeance in particular, and at the speed with which it moved, it would soon have …

  The wind shifted with such an abruptness that it nearly threw Aryx over the rail. He gripped the rail tightly, looking up at the sails. They were filled with an intense wind that seemed so focused that the minotaur wondered whether it could be natural. He looked out at the Blood Sea and saw that the ships nearest theirs had also been caught up by the same wind … in fact, every vessel he looked at moved exactly the same, and all at an astonishing speed.

  “Rand …” He looked up in time to see the cleric collapse into Carnelia’s arms. As pale as ice, Rand had grown emaciated, almost as if what he had done had fed off his body. Of the aura that had surrounded him, Aryx could see but a faint trace. The cleric had drained himself completely.

  The ships of the armada moved faster and faster, the crews scrambling to concentrate. No matter where they were, the various vessels all moved with the same precision, the same swiftness. Even the storm could not keep pace, and as for the horrendous abomination …

  It moved still closer.

  Aryx couldn’t believe it. Despite Rand’s spell, the serpentine forms edged ever closer toward the Vengeance.

  He thought about drawing the Sword of Tears, thought about leaping into the sea, but again could not bring himself to trust the demon blade. It might just as easily sacrifice him in some insidious plot of its own. Aryx wondered if perhaps Sargonnas had been betrayed by it. Perhaps the fact that it alone had survived the destruction of the temple had been because the sword had planned it so.

  Then the Vengeance, indeed the entire fleet, began to pull away. Aryx’s hopes rose. “It can’t keep up the pace! We’re moving ahead of it!”

  Delara said nothing, no doubt as transfixed as Aryx by the dwindling sight of the leviathan. He leaned forward, still feeling some guilt yet knowing that to have leapt off the ship to attack the creature would have been madness.

  A hand drew the Sword of Tears from its sheath.

  Aryx turned, startled. He had only a glimpse of Delara, eyes wide and unblinking, before she scrambled over the edge of the rail. The stone in the demonic weapon glared brightly, almost triumphantly.

  “Delara! No!” The stunned warrior reached out for her, trying to grab her sword arm.

  Delara let go of the rail, diving into the turbulent water.

  “No!” Reacting instinctively, Aryx stepped over the rail, searching the water for her.

  Lord Broedius’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “Aryx! What do you think—”

  He didn’t hear the rest, for at that moment, Aryx caught sight of a greenish glimmer in the water and a soaked, brown form trying to make its way toward the pursuing abomination. Somehow, despite the waves, Delara held fast to the sword … or it held fast to her.

  “Aryx!”

  Aryx replaced his axe in its sling and leapt into the sea after her.

  A wave caught him, nearly throwing the hapless minotaur against the hull. Struggling, Aryx pushed forward, muscles aching as he battled his way against the water. He did not question his sanity, only concentrated on trying to reach Delara. What he hoped to do after that, Aryx did not know. The only thing that concerned him was reaching her.

  Yet despite his best efforts, the Blood Sea fought back. Although Delara made headway, the best Aryx could do was stay in place. If he paused at all to rest, the waves pushed him back. By now the Vengeance and most of the rest of the fleet had passed him by, Rand’s incredible and selective spell pushing them along at a tremendous rate.

  Then a spark of emerald light caused him to stop and stare. He looked with astonishment, with horror, as Delara, at last having reached the monstrous servant of Chaos, managed a glancing strike. However, a wave caused by one of the colossal segments threw her back, tossing her about like a tiny bit of wood.

  Aryx cried out to her … a dreadful mistake. Another wave caught him, forcing him under with his mouth still open. Water filled the gray minotaur’s lungs, and he started to choke. Aryx desperately swam for the surface, but it evaded his weakening strokes.

  Unable to breathe anymore, he blacked out, awaiting the cold caresses of the sea goddess, Zeboim.

  * * * * *

  Enough rest. It would be better if you woke before the world ended.

  The insistent voice stirred Aryx to life. The bedraggled minotaur coughed up water, his eyes stinging from the sea. Aryx struggled to raise himself but collapsed, burying his face in sand. He managed to spit the grit out, then tried to push himself up on one elbow, succeeding this time.

  Blinking away seawater from his eyes, Aryx tried to focus on his surroundings. For a time, he could only make out blurred shapes, most of them likely rocks. Gradually the shapes defined themselves, proving to be, to his disappointment, exactly what he had thought they were … rocks. Aryx had hoped to find Delara or at least some trace of her. Daring to roll over, the weakened minotaur studied the rest of the area. He lay on the shore of some vast land, probably an island, but he recalled none from the charts. Some plants lined the inner edge, but beyond them, a high ridge prevented Aryx from getting a better idea where he might have ended up.

  That he had survived at all surprised him. Even supposing that he hadn’t swallowed half the Blood Sea, Aryx couldn’t imagine how he had kept alive, especially unconscious, long enough to wash up on some distant shore.

  A heavy, awkward weight on his back assured him of another miracle, the fact that his axe had remained hooked into its harness. At one time in his life, Aryx might have thanked the gods, but if any of them had been responsible, he doubted it had been for good reasons. Still, he unhooked the weapon and, after some debate, headed to the southwest, along the shore. The ridge there looked less steep, giving him hope of climbing it in order to identify his location.

  Of Delara, he still saw no sign. A part of him feared that she had drowned, but another part recalled the sinister power of the Sword of Tears, which clearly needed a wielder, willing or otherwise, in order to act. For all Aryx knew, she still fo
ught the Chaos creature.

  As he climbed, Aryx also wondered about the voice that he thought had awakened him. It had reminded him of the sword, but surely the demonic blade could not speak to him from so far away. He also doubted that any of the gods, even Kiri-Jolith, paid much mind to him now. Certainly Aryx had made a poor pawn for their games. Perhaps a certain silver warrior guided him now, but even that Aryx found unlikely. His ancestor had made it quite clear he would be on his own.

  He abandoned the hopeless train of thought as he reached the top and got his first good look at the landscape. To his surprise, forest and plains, with a smattering of hills mixed in, stretched ahead as far as the eye could see, even the dragon orb. While this might have been an island, Aryx had his doubts. As he scanned the area, more and more the frustrated minotaur suspected that he had somehow ended up on some part of the mainland … but where?

  They had been too far south for him to end up on the island of Saifhum and far too north for the sea to take him to Kendermore. If anywhere on Ansalon, this had to be a part of the great peninsula, possibly Kern. He saw no sign of habitation, but then, few had ever made use of its great expanses. There had been some talk about the empire at last expanding here, for the forests offered strong timber for shipbuilding, but this war had put aside such a notion. Perhaps if the minotaur race survived …

  Aryx pushed on, trying to keep the shoreline in sight while he looked for the best possible place to turn inland. He had no idea what to do or even if the fleet survived. The cleric’s unorthodox spell, which surely had not come from Kiri-Jolith, might have sent them anywhere, but …

  The gray minotaur froze as he noticed a figure wending its way over the plains northwest of him. Just a tiny figure, but one that looked vaguely like a minotaur.

  Delara?

  Picking up his pace, Aryx scrambled down the other side of the ridge, all the while trying to get a better view of the distant figure. Even the god’s gift failed to enable him to see it very clearly. It looked like another minotaur, but he couldn’t be certain.