It had taken her great effort to reach this place as quickly as she had, effort that had worn her out physically, spiritually, and very much magically. Kara dearlywanted to get some sleep, but she had come to this place for reasons that even she did not completely understand and so needed to at least survey the area in the hopes of finding some answers.
After the unsettling loss of not only the warlord's armor but also both her prized dagger and the two corpses, the young necromancer had used her training to try to ferret out the locations of all-and that had unerringly led her to this most unassuming place. What ties the port might have to all, she could not say, but it clearly did not bode well. Kara wished that she could have consulted with her teachers, but time had been of the essence and she had been trained to rely on herself as much as possible. Delaying the chase only meant it becoming more difficult to track everything later on. That, she could not afford. If the thieves planned on taking the armor overseas, she had to stop them now.
As for the revenants… she had no idea what to do about that unsettling pair. They acted like nothing spoken of in her studies.
Ignoring the unsavory glances from the sailors she passed, Kara headed for the first inn she found. On the one hand, the ebony-tressed enchantress needed food, while on the other, she hoped to garner useful information. Surely those who carried Bartuc's suit had needed a meal or a drink after such an arduous trek.
The Captain's Table, as the inn had been titled, proved to be a bit better in appearance than she expected. Although the building looked old and worn, the gray-haired, imposing man in charge kept it clean and orderly. Kara immediately knew that he had once been an officer in some naval force, from his features likely one of the wealthier Western Kingdoms. Cheerful for the most part, the gigantic figure with muttonchop sideburns brooked no argument from one patron who believed he could depart without paying. Despite his advanced age, theinnkeeper handled the much younger seaman with ease, not only retrieving the money owed him but also depositing the culprit out in the fog and mud.
Rubbing his hands on his apron, the owner noticed his newest guest. "Good evening, milady!" He bowed graciously despite his growing girth, his entire expression lighting up at the sight of her. "Captain Hanos Jeronnan, your humble servant! May I say you grace my little place!"
Unaccustomed to such open displays toward her, Kara did not answer at first. However, Captain Jeronnan, clearly realizing that he had overwhelmed her, patiently waited for her to recover.
"Thank you, captain," she finally responded. "I seek some food and, if you have the time, the answers to a few questions."
"For you, my lovely little one, I'll make the time!"
He walked off, humming to himself. Kara felt her face reddening. Captain Jeronnan obviously meant nothing forward in his comments, but none of the dark mage's intense training had taught her how to take compliments on her appearance. She knew that some of her brethren found her attractive, but among the followers of Rathma such matters were treated with the formality with which they treated everything.
Seating herself in a side booth, Kara glanced around at the other patrons. Most went about the business of drinking and eating, but a few had other matters in mind. She saw a woman in scandalous garments leaning over a sailor, her offer to him needing little actual conversation. To her right, a pair of men dickered over some deal, babbling in a language of which the necromancer had no knowledge. There were also a few males among the clientele who eyed her with more open interest than Captain Jeronnan had and without his tact. One who showed far too much interest for her own tastes received a stony glare from her silver eyes, a sight so unsettling to himthat he quickly turned away, burying his head in drink and visibly shivering for several seconds.
The innkeeper returned with a plate bearing broiled fish and some sea vegetable. He placed that and a mug in front of the necromancer. "Cider in the mug. ‘Tis the simplest drink I've got here, milady."
Kara considered telling him something about the strong herbal concoctions developed by the Rathma faithful, but chose to graciously accept the mild drink. She looked at the fish, the spices giving it a very enticing scent. Of course, at this point Kara almost would have been willing to eat it right out of the sea. Still, it pleased her to find such civilized fare here. "What do I owe?"
"Your company alone's worth the price."
She bristled, thinking of the woman plying her wares on one of the customers. "I am no—"
He looked chagrined. "No, no! ‘Tis just that I don't get such fair visitors much, lass! I only meant sitting here and answering your questions! No harm meant—" Jeronnan leaned closer, whispering, "and I know better than to try forcing myself on one who follows the ways of Rathma!"
"You know what I am and still you desire to sit with me?"
"Milady, I sailed every sea and all over the Great Ocean. I've seen many a magic, but the most trustworthy of mages were always the faithful of Rathma…"
She rewarded him with a slight smile that proved enough to redden his already ruddy cheeks. "Then perhaps you are the man with whom I can trust my questions."
The captain leaned back. "Only when you've first tasted my specialty and given me your fine opinion."
Kara cut into the fish, tasting a small bite. Immediately she cut a second, downing it as quickly as the first.
Jeronnan beamed. "'Tis to your liking, then?"
Indeed, it was. The jungles of the east contained a varietyof marvelous spices, but the necromancer had never eaten anything like this fish. In less time than she could have imagined, Kara had devoured a good portion of her meal, so much so that she finally felt like herself again.
Captain Jeronnan had excused himself now and then to deal with his other customers, but by the time she had finished, there remained only two others, a pair of dourlooking sailors clearly too weary to do anything but nurse their ales and food. The innkeeper settled in across from her and waited.
"My name is Kara Nightshadow," she began. "You know what I am."
"Aye, but I've never seen one that looked like you, lass."
Kara pushed on, unwilling at this point to be detoured by niceties. "Captain, have you noticed anyone out of the ordinary here?"
He chuckled. "In Gea Kul? It'd be more extraordinary to see someone ordinary!"
"What about… what about a man traveling with armor probably strapped to the back of an animal?" The necromancer paused to consider the implications further. "Or a man wearing armor?"
"We get some soldiers here. Not uncommon."
"In crimson plate?"
Jeronnan's brow wrinkled. "I'd recall that-but, no. No one."
It had been a desperate hope. Kara wanted to ask another, very particular question, but feared that if she did, the captain's easy manner would change. He might be familiar with her kind, but some subjects could be too dark even for him to accept. Walking corpses would certainly be one of those subjects.
Kara opened her mouth with the intention of trying a different track, yet what escaped from her lips proved not to be words but rather a long yawn.
Her companion looked her over. "Pardon me for being blunt, milady, but you look even more pale than you likely usually are. I think you need some good rest."
She sought to dissuade him, only to yawn again. "Perhaps you are right."
"I've got a couple of rooms available, lass. For you, no charge-and nothing expected, if you're worried about it."
"I'll pay you." Kara managed to retrieve some coins from the purse on her belt. "Is this enough?"
He shoved most of it back. "That is… and don't go showing all that money around. Not everyone's a kind soul like me!"
The necromancer could barely move. Her legs felt like lead. The spellwork she had utilized to quicker get her to her destination had taken too much from the dark mage. "I think I will go to it immediately, if you will forgive my leaving."
"Best give me a few minutes, lass. I fear that with the help I hire here, it might not be ready for
you. Just remain here and I'll be back shortly!"
He hurried off before she could protest. Kara straightened, trying to keep awake. Both the spellwork and her own physical efforts naturally had drained her much, but this exhaustion seemed far more oppressive than it should have been, even taking those matters into account. It almost made her believe-
She pushed herself to her feet, turning to the door at the same time. Perhaps Kara had misjudged Captain Hanos Jeronnan. Perhaps his congenial manner hid a darker side.
Aware that her thinking might well be too muddled, the necromancer stumbled her way toward the entrance, not at all caring what the two sailors in the corner might think. If she made it outside, then perhaps she could clear her mind enough to reconsider. Yes, for all the odioussmells of the port itself, the sea air would still no doubt help her regain her balance.
Kara nearly fell through the doorway, so weak had her legs become. Immediately she inhaled. Some of the heaviness in her head evaporated, enough at least for her to get some general sense of her surroundings, but the raven-haired enchantress needed more. She could not decide what to do about the innkeeper until she could think clearly again.
Once more she inhaled, but as her head cleared a bit more, a sense of immediate unease struck Kara.
She looked up into the dark fog and saw a figure in a worn travel cloak standing just a few feet from her. His face remained obscured by the hood of his cloak, but lower Kara could make out one pale hand emerging. In that hand, the figure held a dagger that gleamed even in the mist-enshrouded night.
An ivory dagger.
Kara's dagger.
Another pale hand reached up and pulled back the hood slightly, revealing a face the necromancer had seen but once before. The Vizjerei from Bartuc's tomb.
The Vizjerei who had had his throat torn out.
"Your spell… should've worked… better on her," a voice croaked from behind her.
Kara tried to turn, her body still moving far too slowly. At the same time, it occurred to her that all her training, all her spellwork, had failed to enable her to notice not one attacker, but two.
A second pale face smiled grimly at her, the man's head tipped slightly to one side as if not entirely connected to his body.
The second corpse from the tomb. The wiry man whose neck had been snapped.
"You leave us… no choice."
His hand had been raised, in it another dagger heldhilt up. Even as this fact reached her sluggish brain, the hand of the ghoul came down, swinging hard.
The blow caught Kara Nightshadow on the temple. She spun around once and would have surely cracked her head on the stone path save that the undead creature who had hit her now caught her in his arms. With astonishing tenderness, he lowered the stunned woman to the ground.
"You… really… leave us… no choice."
And with that, she blacked out.
Six
Norrec did not leave his cabin again until time came to retrieve his morning meal. No one spoke to him, especially Captain Casco, who had not forgiven his passenger for leaving the mess near the rail. Norrec actually appreciated the lack of conversation, wanting nothing to slow his return to the safety of his room.
He had slept fitfully during the night, not only haunted by dreams of Bartuc's glory, but now also dread images of Fauztin's vengeful spirit come to claim him. Not until the Hawksfire finally set sail did the veteran fighter calm at all. Out on the sea, troubled spirits could certainly not pursue him. In fact, as the ship pushed out onto the stormy waters, it finally began to sound reasonable to Norrec that he had imagined the dreadful vision, that what he had taken for Fauztin had either been but another Vizjerei-for certainly the port lay near enough to their eastern lands-or the complete figment of his own troubled mind.
The latter seemed more and more likely. After all, Norrec had been both physically and mentally torn apart by the demands of the cursed armor. The memories of not only the tomb but the slaughter at the inn remained with him. In addition, the warlord's suit had pushed his endurance to the limits and beyond, forcing the soldier to traverse a rough landscape without hardly any rest and at a pace that would have killed many men. If not for the fact that only part of the effort had been his own,Norrec suspected that he would definitely have died along the way.
The waves grew choppier as the Hawksfire entered deep waters. With each groan of the hull, Norrec became more and more convinced that at some point the sea would crush the worn ship like tinder. Yet, somehow, the Hawksfire continued on, riding one wave to the next. In addition, for all their motley outer appearance, Captain Casco and his crew proved quite adept at managing the vessel. They scurried up the ropes, raced across the decks, ever keeping their ship ready to meet the elements.
What they could not entirely keep at bay, though, was the storm. It struck but a few hours out, the sky blackening and lightning flashing all about. The winds picked up, bending the masts and trying to rip the sails. Norrec, who had finally stepped out, quickly gripped the rail as the sea tossed the Hawksfire to the side.
"Starboard!" called Casco from the deck. "Starboard!"
The man at the wheel worked to obey, but wind and water battled against him. A second crew member came to his aid, the pair managing to fulfill the captain's orders after great effort.
Rain at last fell, a torrent that forced Norrec back into the cabin. Not only did he know nothing about sailing, but, clad in armor, he risked his life every time he neared the rail. It would take only one strong wave to toss him over the side.
A soiled lantern swinging violently from the ceiling tried desperately to keep the cabin illuminated. Norrec planted himself on the inside corner of the bunk and tried to think. He had not yet completely given up hope of escaping the cursed armor, but so far had no idea as to what to do. It would require powerful sorcery and he knew no one with such abilities. If only he could have asked Fauztin-
The memory of what he had thought he had seen on the dock returned full blown, sending renewed chillsthrough Norrec. Best to forget about Fauztin-and Sadun, too. They were dead.
Night came and still the storm did not abate. Norrec forced himself down to the mess, where he noticed for the first time some of the crew eyeing him with more than disinterest and disdain. Now a few gazes seemed almost hostile, hostile and yet frightened. Norrec had no doubt that it had to do with the armor. Who was he, they must be wondering? The armor spoke of power, of command. Why did such a one as he travel on a miserable vessel such as the Hawksfire?
Again he took his meal to the cabin, preferring the solitary atmosphere. This time he found the food slightly more palatable or perhaps the previous meals had just burned away his tongue. Norrec devoured it, then fell back and tried to go to sleep. He did not look forward to sleep, both the dreams of Bartuc and the nightmares surrounding the tomb not at all enticements. However, exhaustion quickly set in and, as a veteran campaigner, Norrec Vizharan knew better than to try to fight it. Even the violent rocking of the Hawksfire could not keep his eyes from closing…
" It would be… nice to rest," came a cracking yet still familiar voice. "But, after all, they say… no rest for the wicked, eh?"
Norrec bolted to his feet, eyes wide. Barely any light shone from the lantern, but even with what little he had the soldier could see that no one else stood in the room.
"Damn!" Another nightmare. Staring at the lantern, Norrec realized that he must have fallen asleep without realizing it. The voice had been in his head, nowhere else. The voice of a comrade now lost…
Sadun's voice.
Thunder crashed. The Hawksfire shivered. Norrec gripped the side of the cot, then started to ease himself back onto it.
"You should've… listened to Fauztin… Norrec. Now it… may be too late."
He froze where he was, gaze shifting to the door.
"Come to us, friend… come to Fauztin…and me."
Norrec straightened. "Sadun?"
No reply, but some of the planks just outside
the cabin creaked as if someone walked upon them and paused now before his door.
"Someone out there?"
The Hawksfire dipped, nearly sending him tumbling. Norrec flattened himself against a wall, eyes never leaving the doorway. Had he imagined Tryst's cracking, laboring voice?
The days since the horror of the tomb had tested the veteran's nerve more than any battle in which he had fought, yet still something within urged Norrec toward the door. Most likely when he opened it there would be nothing. Sadun and the Vizjerei could not be out there, awaiting the friend who had so terribly murdered them. Such things did not happen save in tales spoken in whispers around late night campfires.
But such things as the dreadful armor Norrec wore did not happen outside of those tales, either.
Again the planks creaked. Norrec gritted his teeth, reached toward the latch…
The gauntleted hand suddenly twitched-and began to glow a sinister red.
Norrec drew the glove back, watching in wonder as the glow now faded. He reached forward once more, but this time, nothing happened. Steeling himself, Norrec undid the latch, then swung open the door-
Rain and wind battered him, but no fearsome shade stood outside the cabin, bony finger outstretched in condemnation.
Seizing his cloak, Norrec hurried outside, his gaze immediately shifting first to the left, then the right.Toward the bow he saw the dim shapes of men struggling to keep the sails in order, but of the supposed phantoms, he found not a trace.
The hard tramping of feet made him look in the direction of the stern again, where he saw one of Casco's men running toward the bow. The man would have passed Norrec without a glance, but the soldier seized him. Ignoring the sailor's fierce glare, he shouted, "Did you see anyone out here before you? Anyone standing by my cabin?"
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