"Aye, captain!" Drayko immediately gave commands for the sailors to prepare for survivors. The crew of the King's Shield reacted in quick and orderly fashion, something Kara Nightshadow had already come to expect. Those who served Jeronnan served a man who had lived much of his life following the strict dictates of discipline. This did not mean that he ruled with an iron hand. Jeronnan also believed in the humanity of each of his men, a rare quality in any leader in these times.
The King's Shield came up to the lone craft, two sailors immediately preparing lines to draw her in. Jeronnan and Kara stepped down to watch them at work, the necromancer beginning to feel uneasy about this discovery. They followed the same general route that the Hawksfire would have used; could this be a boat from that vessel? Had Kara's quest ended so soon, her quarries at the bottom of the sea?
"There's one aboard her," Captain Jeronnan muttered.
True enough, one sailor did lie in the boat, but even as the crew worked to secure the life craft, Kara already noted telltale signs that, for this man, they had arrived too late.
Mister Drayko sent a pair of men down to investigate. Sliding down the ropes, they gingerly turned over the body, which had been lying face down.
Eyes that no longer saw stared up into the heavens.
"Been dead a day," called up one of the men. He grimaced. "Permission to send him to his rest, sir."
Kara did not have to ask what he meant. Out here, there were limitations to what they could do for a corpse. A ceremony… and then a watery burial.
Jeronnan nodded his permission, but Kara quickly puta hand on his arm. "I need to see the body… it may tell us something."
"You think it's from the Hawksfire?"
"Don't you, captain?"
He frowned. "Aye… but what do you plan to do?"
She dared not explain in full. "Find out what happened… if I can."
"Very well." Jeronnan signaled for the men to bring the body up. "I'll have a cabin set aside for you, milady! I don't want anyone else witnessing what you plan. They wouldn't understand."
It took but a short time to bring the body to the cabin Jeronnan had chosen. Kara had expected to work with the corpse by herself, but the captain refused to leave. Even when she gave him a rather cursory explanation of what she intended, the former innkeeper refused to depart.
"I've watched men torn apart in battle, seen creatures I doubt you've even heard of, viewed death in a thousand forms… and after what happened to my daughter, nothing can ever make me flee again. I'll watch and I'll even help, if it comes to that."
"In that case, please bolt the door. We will not want anyone else seeing this."
After he had obeyed, Kara knelt beside the body. The sailor had been a middle-aged man who had not lived a gentle life. Recalling what little she had learned of the Hawksfire, the dark mage grew more suspicious that the boat had been indeed from that desperate vessel.
The men who had brought the body had quickly closed the eyes, but Kara now opened them up again.
"What in the Sea Witch's name are you doing, lass?"
"What has to be done. You may still leave if you wish, captain. It is not necessary that you subject yourself to any of this."
He steeled himself. "I'll stay… it's just that a dead man's stare is said to be bad luck."
"He certainly had enough of that." She reached into her pouch, searching for components. Without the dagger, she could not readily summon a phantasm as she had done in Bartuc's tomb. Besides, attempting to do so might have even made Jeronnan change his mind about letting her continue. No, what she had in mind would work well enough, provided that in the process it did not turn the captain against her.
From one tiny pouch Kara pulled forth a pinch of white powder.
"What's that?"
"Ground bone and a mix of herbs." She reached toward the dead sailor's face.
"Human bone?"
"Yes." Captain Jeronnan made no noise, no protest, which relieved the necromancer. Kara held the powder over the eyes, then sprinkled both sightless orbs with the white substance.
To his credit, Jeronnan kept his tongue still. Only when she next retrieved a tiny black vial, then reached for the corpse's mouth, did he dare interrupt again. "You're not going to pour that down his gullet, are you, lass?"
She peered up at him. "I mean no desecration, captain. What I do, I do to find out why this man perished. He looks dehydrated, starved, almost as if he has had neither food nor water for more than a week. Avery curious state for him to be in if, indeed, he is from the ship we pursue. I would assume the captain there would keep his crew fed, would he not?"
"Casco's a mad, foreign devil, but, aye, he'd still see that his men were fed."
"As I thought. And if this poor soul is not from the Hawksfire, it behooves us to find out exactly which vessel he is from, too. Don't you agree?"
"Your point's made, lass… forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive." With the top of the vial now removed, she used one hand to open the jaws of the sailor. That accomplished, Kara immediately tipped the vial so that half the contents would quickly drain down into the throat. Satisfied with that, she stoppered the bottle again and leaned back.
"Maybe you could at least tell me how you hope to find out anything."
"You'll see." She would have explained, but Jeronnan did not realize how swiftly she now had to work. In conjunction with the powder, the liquid Kara had used would have an effect lasting but a very short time and the necromancer still had the final part of the spell to cast. Any interruption from here on might waste crucial seconds.
With her finger, Kara drew a circle over the sailor's chest, then extended a line from there along the length of the throat, up the jaw, and finally ending at the mouth. At the same time, she whispered the words of the spell. Once that had been done, Kara tapped the corpse on the chest, once, twice, thrice. All the while, the dark mage kept track of each passing second.
The dead mariner let out an audible gasp as his lungs sought to fill with air.
"Gods above!" blurted Jeronnan, taking a step back. "You've brought him back!"
"No," Kara curtly answered. She had known that the captain would mistake this for a resurrection. Outsiders never understood the many facets of a necromancer's work. The faithful of Rathma did not toy with death as some believed; that went against their teachings. "Now, please, Captain Jeronnan, let me proceed."
He grunted, but otherwise remained silent. Kara leaned over the sailor, looking into the dead eyes. A faint hint of gold radiated from them, a good sign.
She leaned back. "Tell me your name."
From the cold lips emerged a single word. "Kalkos."
"From what ship do you hail?"
Another gasp of air, then, "Hawksfirrrre."
"So, he is from the—"
"Please! No speaking!" To the corpse, she asked, "Did the ship sink?"
"Noooo…"
Curious. Then why would this man have abandoned it? "Were there pirates?"
Again a negative response. Kara estimated the time she had remaining and realized that she had better push to the point. "Did everyone abandon ship?"
"Noooo…"
"Who remained behind?" The necromancer tried to keep the anticipation out of her voice.
Once more, the corpse inhaled. "Casco… captain…" The mouth shut, something not at all normal. The mariner's body almost seemed reluctant to add more, but then it finally gasped, "Sssorcererrrr…"
A sorcerer? The answer caught Kara off guard for a moment. She had expected to hear him speak of either the thieves who had stolen the armor or, in view of the crew's desperate act, the two revenants who had attacked her. Certainly their presence would have sent hardened sailors fleeing to the dangers of the sea.
"Describe him!"
The mouth opened, but no words came out. Like the phantasm, this spell allowed only for simple answers. Kara cursed quietly, then altered her question. "What did he wear?"
; Inhaling… then, "Armorrrr…"
She stiffened. "Armor? Red armor?"
"Yesss…"
Something she had not expected. So, apparently one of the survivors of the tomb had been a sorcerer after all.Could it be this Norrec Vizharan of which the earlier phantasm had spoken? She repeated the name to the mariner, asking him if he knew it. Unfortunately, that did not prove the case.
Still, Kara had found out much of what she wanted to know. The last time this man Kalkos had seen the Hawksfire, it had not only been afloat, but the armor she sought remained aboard.
"Without a crew," she commented to a silent Captain Jeronnan. "The ship cannot sail far, can it?"
"More than likely to go in circles, if only its master and this spellcaster remain aboard." Jeronnan hesitated, then asked, "Haven't you more questions?"
She did, but none that the corpse could answer. Kara dearly wished that she still had her dagger. Then she could have taken more time and summoned up a true spirit, something that could have answered with longer, more coherent statements. Older, more skilled necromancers could have performed such a fantastic feat without the use of a tool, but Kara knew it would still be a few years before she reached that point.
"What about him?" insisted the former naval officer. "What happened to him… and the rest, for that matter, lass? One day on a rough sea's enough to kill many a man, but there's something unsettling about the look of him…"
Feeling somewhat ashamed that Jeronnan had found the need to remind her, Kara quickly leaned over the corpse again. "Where are your comrades?"
No answer. She quickly touched the chest, felt it sink under the slight pressure of her fingers. The liquid component of her spell had begun to wear off.
The necromancer had one chance. The eyes of a dead man often retained the last few images he had witnessed. If the powder she had placed on them still had some potency, then Kara might be able to see those images for herself.
Without looking back at the captain, she said, "Under no circumstances must I be interrupted for the next step. Is that understood?"
"Aye…" but Jeronnan said it with much reluctance.
Kara positioned her gaze directly over the sightless orbs, then began muttering. The gold tint to his eyes seized her, pulled her in. The necromancer fought back the instinctive desire to flee from the world of the dead, instead throwing herself fully into the spell she now cast.
And suddenly Kara sat in a boat in the midst of a stormy sea, pulling at the oars with all her might as if the three Prime Evils themselves chased the tiny vessel. The necromancer looked down, saw that her hands were thick, rough, seaman's hands-the hands of Kalkos.
"Where's Pietr's boat?" a bearded man called out to her.
"How would I know?" her own mouth snapped back, the voice deep and bitter. "Just row! Got us a chance if we keep headin' east! That hellish storm's got to end somewhere!"
"We shoulda taken the captain with us!"
"He'd never leave her, not even if she sank! He wants to ride with the demon master, let 'im!"
"Watch out for that wave!" someone else shouted.
Her head turned toward that direction, epithets such as Kara had never imagined men using spitting from her lips. In the distance, she saw two other lifeboats, each crammed tight with desperate men.
The bearded man suddenly stood up, not the wisest thing in such conditions. He gaped at something behind her-behind Kalkos-and pointed frantically. "Look out! Look out!"
Kalkos's gaze shifted as best it could. The sailor continued to man the oars.
At the edge of the the mariner's field of vision emerged a vast, serpentine tentacle.
"Turn about! Turn about!" Kalkos called. "Sit down, Bragga!"
The bearded man dropped to his place. Those able to work the oars desperately tried to turn the boat around.
Over the roar of the waves and the crash of thunder, Kara heard the distant screams of men. Kalkos looked that direction, revealing the horrific sight of scores of tentacles overwhelming one of the other boats. Several men were lifted into the air, some by the suction cups of the tentacles, others by macabre, grasping claws-almost hands-that plucked sailors from the boat as if they were flowers.
Kara expected the sailors to be drawn to the cavernous opening that she now witnessed in the center of a massive, monstrous form, a creature much like a gigantic squid, but with only one massive orb and horrid flesh that marked it as no denizen of this mortal plane. Instead, however, the monster simply held them aloft, using its clawed appendages to attach other sailors to various suckers. The victims cried out, pleading to those in the distance to save them.
"Row, damn you!" Kalkos roared. "Row!"
"I told you he wouldn't let us go! I told you!"
"Be quiet, Bragga! Be—"
A vast wave washed over them, throwing one shouting man overboard. Next to the tiny vessel, an array of tentacles rose from the water, surrounding Kalkos's companions on all sides and reaching hungrily for each.
"At 'em with your blades! It's the only—"
Yet although the men managed to parry the assaults of a few of the demonic arms, one by one they were picked off the boat, screaming-until only Kalkos, one oar used as a weapon… remained.
Kara felt a chill as wet tentacles seized her legs, grabbed her arms. She felt the suction cups attach to her body… No! This had all happened in the past! This had happened to Kalkos, not her!
Despite recalling that, however, she still felt the mariner's own horror as a new and terrible thing happened. Even despite his clothing, Kalkos felt weaker, drawn-as if the very life werebeing sucked from his body. His flesh wrinkled, dried despite the wetness all around him. He felt like a water sack whose contents were being swiftly drained…
And then, just as all life seemed stolen from him, when his body felt like no more than a dry husk, the tentacles suddenly dropped Kalkos back into the boat. Too late for the sailor to survive, Kalkos already knew that, but better to spend his last few moments of life back in the boat rather than in the gullet of such a hellish beast.
Only when talons dug into his arms and dragged him to a standing position did he come back from the brink enough to register that someone else had joined him in the lifeboat.
No-not someone-but some thing.
It spoke in a voice reminiscent of a thousand buzzing insects in agony; although Kara strained to make its form out clearly, the eyes of Kalkos no longer saw well. The enchantress could only perceive a terrifying, emerald and red shape looming over the dying sailor, a shape that did not conform to any human standard. Oversized eyes of deep yellow that seemed to have no pupils fixed on the unfortunate Kalkos.
"Death is not your pleasure yet," it chittered. "This one has things it must know! Where is the fool? Where is the armor?"
"I…" the mariner coughed. His body felt so very dry, even to Kara. "What…?"
His inhuman inquisitor shook him. A pair of needle-tipped spears came from nowhere, pressing against Kalkos's chest. "This one has no time, human. Can offer you much pain before life flees. Speak!"
From somewhere within, Kalkos found the strength to obey. "The s-stranger… armored… blood… still on… Hawksfire!"
"Which way?"
The mariner managed to point.
The demon, for Kara knew it to be one, chittered to itself, then demanded, "Why flee? Why run?"
"He-demons on ship."
The murky creature made a sound unlike any Kara would have expected from one of his kind, a sound that she recognized instantly as a sign of consternation. "Impossible! You lie!"
The sailor did not answer. Kara felt him slipping away. His last attempt to respond to the monstrous figure had drained him of what little he had left of life.
The half-seen creature dropped Kalkos, a jolt of pain coursing through the necromancer as the body struck. She heard the demon chitter again, then spout one comprehendible word.
"Impossible!"
Kara had a lone brief glimpse of the
inner side of the lifeboat and the sailor's fingers twitching-and with that, the vision faded.
Inhaling, Kara clutched herself tight, eyes still fixed on the corpse's own.
She felt the nearby presence of Captain Jeronnan. The former naval officer put comforting hands on her shoulders. "Are you all right?"
"How long?" the necromancer murmured. "How long?"
"Since you started whatever you've been doing? A minute, two maybe."
So short a time in the real world, but so long and violent in the memories of the dead. The necromancer had performed this spell before, but she had never faced a death time so horrible as what this Kalkos had suffered.
The Hawksfire sailed a day or two ahead of them, no crew left to man the ship save the captain and this sorcerer, Norrec Vizharan. The last name should have warned her: "Servant of the Vizjerei"? More like one of the untrustworthy mages themselves! He had the armor, even had the audacity to wear it! Did he not understand the danger?
Without a crew, even he would have trouble keepingthe ship on course. Kara had a chance to catch him after all, provided that neither the revenants nor the demonic forces she had witnessed in Kalkos's death time had not caught up with the murderer already.
"So," continued Jeronnan, helping her to her feet. "Did you find out anything?"
"Little more," she lied, hoping her eyes would not give her away. "About his death, nothing. However, the Hawksfire is definitely still afloat, both the captain and my quarry aboard."
"Then we should catch up to them soon enough. Two men can't do much to keep a ship like that going."
"I believe it is only two days ahead at most."
He nodded, then glanced down at the corpse. "Are you done with him now, lass?"
She forced herself not to shiver at the memories she had shared with the late Kalkos. "Yes. Give him a proper burial."
"He'll get that… and then we'll be on our way after the Hawksfire."
As he departed the cabin to summon a pair of hands, Kara Nightshadow pulled her cloak about her, her gaze still on the body, but her mind on to what she had just committed herself-herself and every man aboard the King's Shield.
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