by Mel Odom
As the last note faded away, passing through the open windows cut into the coral walls, they hooted their appreciation. Clapping took up too much energy to fight the water and stirred up currents that moved wildly within a contained area.
“Another song, Taleweaver,” someone called from one of the tables.
“Nay,” the bartender interrupted. He was pale and thin, with only a scattering of blue speckles across his body. His silver-white hair floated around his face, kept back by a band chipped from pink quartz. “The man has sung long and strong, and he’s entertained you layabouts for free long past time enough. Now I’m going to stand him to a drink that he may rest his voice. What will you have, Taleweaver?”
“An ale, my kind friend,” Pacys answered, stripping the saceddar from his body. “Nothing heavy, for I’ll not be early to bed tonight.”
Since Taareen had accompanied Khlinat and him there after leaving Faenasuor, the old bard had stayed busy with Telvanlu’s lore-keepers, learning as many of their legends of the Taker as he could. He was only taking a short break now to rest his mind and gain some perspective on what he’d learned.
He took the ale bladder to a back table where Khlinat had camped out. From where he sat, the dwarf had a full view of the tavern and the street outside. The streets, Pacys had discovered, were there primarily for the surface dwelling traders that visited and didn’t feel comfortable with a three-dimensional world.
“Ye sang well,” Khlinat greeted. “Hard to see any of ’em crying in this watery deep, but ye could see the painful joy in their faces as ye called up the ghost of Cormanthyr past.”
“It’s a favored song,” Pacys said.
“To yer health,” Khlinat said, hoisting his ale bladder.
Pacys unsealed his own ale bladder, fixed his lips over the opening, blew the remnants of salt water from his mouth, and squeezed. The ale tasted bitter and strong, a Cormyrean brew that he was readily familiar with. Evidently the balance of trade included beverages.
He swallowed, then nearly choked as a convulsion tightened his body. Harsh music created a cacophony of strident songs in his mind, making his head feel like it was about to split open. The refrain remained steady in his mind, hammering as viciously as a dwarven blacksmith marking out the preliminary shaping on a hard piece of metal. The song gave form to the smell of rankest sulfur and savage heat.
“Pacys?” Khlinat asked worriedly.
Understanding what the song meant, the old bard looked at his friend and said, “He’s here, Khlinat. The Taker has arrived in the Sea of Fallen Stars!”
* * * * *
The wind kicked into Black Champion’s sails, driving the caravel into motion. Her prow slammed into the white-capped waves, burying down, then moving to rise again over the next trough.
Jherek clung to the rigging in frustration, unable to bring the spyglass into use when the ship was fighting the ocean so much. At his side, Azla continued to yell orders, putting up some sails and trimming others.
Vurgrom and Maelstrom, accompanied by the other pirate vessels, sailed at them. Jherek was beginning to believe that the pirates weren’t chasing after them so much as they were fleeing something else. The tarps pulled tight across their decks still intrigued him.
Behind them, the Ship of the Gods increased the volume of smoke pouring out of the volcano. Thunder rent the air, slamming hammerlike blows that took away all other sounds. The concussions reached Jherek, rocking him in the rigging.
In the next instant, the volcano spat flames and burning rock into the air. They spread like fireworks, coloring the blue sky and blue-green water with reds and yellows. The sky faded, quickly lost in the thick black smoke that streamed from the volcano. Around the island where it projected above the waterline, the ocean boiled.
Even as another explosion rocked the area, throwing more burning debris skyward, the first of it started descending. Huge chunks of flaming rock slammed against the ocean, sending up twisting spirals of water. Other rocks hammered against Black Champion’s deck, shattering and skittering crazily when they didn’t penetrate. More of the barrage knocked holes in the deck.
The falling rock smashed through the sails and set them afire in places. Two men went down, battered by the rock and sprawling out dead or unconscious.
Sabyna went to the aid of one sailor, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the relative safety provided by the prow castle. Glawinn joined her, holding his shield up over them and protecting her and the sailor. A large rock rolling in yellow flames and trailing smoke struck the shield but the paladin’s strength held and it flew away in fragments.
Black Champion wallowed through another trough, but her gait wasn’t as sure. She turned crossways, leaning hard over to port. She stuttered as she went over, loose and not working with the pull of the wind powering her.
Jherek glanced back at the wheel. The pilot lay stretched out on the deck, blood staining the wood around him and a gaping hole in his chest. Without a steady hand at the wheel, the young sailor knew Black Champion would be at the mercy of the cruel sea stirred by the raging volcano. He considered dropping to the deck and trying to get back to the wheel but he knew he’d never get there in time.
While he hung in the upper rigging, one of the large flaming boulders rolled into view without warning. He heard the sizzling heat of the boulder as it passed ponderously by.
Tumbling end over end, the boulder slammed into the mainmast only three or four feet up from the deck. The treated wood, hardened by processing and spells, shrieked as it exploded from the impact. The boulder sunk into the deck, burying itself in the wood and smoldering.
Sheared in two, the mast fell heavily to starboard, tangling itself in the suddenly slack lines of the rigging. Jherek fell with the slack, his fingers still hooked in the rigging. He hung on, watching the deck come up, knowing if he fell all the way and hit he’d be gravely injured if not killed outright. Even trying to angle for the sea beyond the sides of Black Champion would only leave him either in the water or at the mercy of Vurgrom’s cutthroat pack.
When he hit the end of the slack hard enough to almost wrench his shoulders from their sockets, the young sailor said a brief prayer of thanks that he’d had the strength to hold on. He got his bearings quickly and started climbing through the rigging again, aiming for another section as the mainmast continued to roll around, threatening the other sails and rigging. He already felt Black Champion slowing, losing speed as readily as she lost her sails.
“Cut away!” Azla ordered from below.
Glancing down, his fingers cramped from the agony of keeping his hold and from the drop, Jherek saw the ship’s crew lurch across the deck to follow their captain’s command. Knives glinted in their fists as they sawed at the ropes holding the rigging. A small group of men lifted the broken end of the mast and guided it toward the port side of the ship, intending to slip it over the side.
The rigging Jherek had hold of alternately tightened and loosened as the crew cut the mast away. He kept climbing, knowing Azla wouldn’t order them to stop while he got clear. Every heartbeat the broken mast stayed tangled up with the rest of the sails and rigging put Black Champion at risk.
He knew there wasn’t enough time to go down, and the nearest rigging was still too far away to make the jump possible. Even as he realized he was running out of options, he spotted one of the smaller pirate ships racing up on them from starboard.
“ ’Ware the ship!” Jherek called out in warning, listening as Black Champion’s surviving crew rapidly took up the cry.
But the warning came too late. Pirate bowmen let fly and arrows found targets among Azla’s crew. The second volley that raked the deck had fire arrows among them that started blazes in a handful of areas in the deck and in the surviving sails.
Jherek positioned himself at the edge of the sagging rigging, feeling Black Champion foundering beneath him. The ship turned sideways, floating loosely with no hand at the wheel. In the next instant, the ship hee
led over the top of a deep trough stirred up by the exploding volcano. Her masts dipped, raking the tips through the advancing wave curling over to replace the trough.
Water swamped Black Champion’s deck, washing away at least two screaming sailors. Jherek felt certain the ship was going to disappear beneath the waves as well.
* * * * *
T’Kalah stood on the ridge overlooking Vahaxtyl and stared in disbelief as heat washed over him. Red-hot lava burst from the Ship of the Gods to consume the city where he’d been born, fought, and lived. It flowed, a heavier liquid than the sea around it, and settled over the city. The lava was tens of feet thick, perhaps even hundreds.
The extrusion kept coming, piling deeper. As the chill of the sea settled into the lava, it cooled and turned solid, becoming gray. Still more flowed from the broken mouth.
Currents whipped across the seabed, ripping kelp free of the silt and sending it rushing away. T’Kalah stood against it, battered unmercifully, seeing if it meant to take his life as well. He embraced it, knowing if it didn’t kill him it would only make him stronger.
XXVII
1 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet
Miraculously, Black Champion caught a gust of wind that righted her long enough to pull out of the downward plunge the caravel had taken in front of an approaching wall of water. Jherek held onto the rigging as the wave overtook the ship. The caravel shuddered when the wave slammed into her, twisting violently. Men’s screams echoed over the crashing thunder of the impact. Azla snarled orders, trying desperately to rally her crew to meet the challenge of the pirate vessel that stalked them so easily now that Black Champion had lost over a third of her sails.
A ragged line formed along the starboard side. Only three men had bows and they struggled to bring their weapons to bear while trying to hold onto the railing as well. A curling wave peaked and raked brine fingers over them, tearing one of the bowmen from his feet even as he loosed a shaft. The cascade of water shoved the sailor across the deck and hammered him up against the stern castle then carried him on. Only Glawinn’s quick grab and strength prevented the man from being washed overboard.
The salt spray from the waves crashing into Black Champion drenched Jherek and burned his eyes. The rough rope of the rigging sawed into his fingers and felt slick and unsure at the same time as it sagged.
Thankfully, the high waves smashed against the pirate vessel as well, stripping control from her for a time. Azla continued calling orders as she took up her own bow. She put a shaft to the string and threw a leg over the railing, threading it into the railing with her foot braced to hold her steady. Black Champion rode high on the next wave, towering over her pursuer. In that time, the half-elf sea captain put two shafts through pirates.
Black Champion dropped again, fast enough to trigger a feeling of vertigo in Jherek’s stomach. The young sailor turned his attention back to the stern deck and started clambering through the rigging.
Below, Sabyna made her way across the slick and treacherous rise and fall of the deck toward the stern as well. Skeins slid across the wooden planks near her, darting out to smother flaming arrows that stood upright from the deck. With the sea spray whipping over the railing, Jherek doubted that any fire would take hold above decks, but the threat remained to the belowdecks. Black Champion would remain wet outside, but her belly could turn into a firepit.
The caravel plunged downward again, riding out the back side of the fast-moving wave and dropping into the trough it left. Without warning, the pirate ship slid down the wave as well, careening down the slanted water.
“ ’Ware the ship!” a man bellowed. “ ’Ware the ship!”
Jherek, locked into the rigging, watched helplessly as the pirate ship sped on a collision course with the caravel. “Sabyna!” he yelled, not knowing if his voice would carry through the violent sea lashing around them.
The ship’s mage whipped her head around. Spotting the approaching vessel, she sprinted toward the rear mast and locked her arms around tightly. Her raggamoffyn familiar blew apart into hundreds of pieces, then flew after her. When the creature reached her, the whirling pieces reformed and wrapped around her, helping secure her to the mast.
The pirate vessel slammed into Black Champion, its prow riding hard against the starboard side and sending Azla’s crew scurrying for cover. Wood splintered and Jherek prayed that it was the other ship or the railing and not anything below the waterline.
The shudder of impact rippled through the caravel, knocking it loose from the death grip the sea had on it for a moment. Choosing the moment of opportunity or perhaps torn free from their own ship, a handful of pirates leaped aboard Black Champion. Even as the pirate ship slid away and the caravel rose from beneath the other vessel’s weight, a clash of swords surged up from the deck as well. A crashing wave splashed over the combatants before they barely had time to cross blades. They spun away, tumbling head over heels, grabbing onto whatever they could.
Before any of them could get to their feet, another onslaught of fiery rocks cannonaded against the decks with hollow, thunderous booms and pelted the ocean around them. White-capped water spiraled up from the impact areas.
Black Champion turned sideways in the following trough, completely out of control. Jherek knew the ship was a wreck waiting for the brine to drink her down. He turned in the rigging and waited while the ship righted herself again. Timing the slow roll back to starboard, he threw himself out toward the rear mast, free of the rigging in an all-or-nothing gambit.
Jherek slammed against the taut sail covering the rear mast’s midsection. He skidded down almost immediately and narrowly missed a section of sailcloth on fire from one of the rocks. He pushed off again and hooked his fingers in the support rigging above the steering section. Rigging strands parted and sagged as more rock sliced through the ropes.
As Black Champion briefly rose again, the young sailor spotted Maelstrom and Vurgrom’s other ships in the distance. They were well separated from each other, evidently not taking any chances of being thrown together by the storm lashing the Sea of Fallen Stars. All of them seemed to be faring well.
Swinging his body to get momentum, Jherek swung forward again and released, sailing through the distance and dropping on the stern castle near the wheel. A large wave sluiced through the railing and washed across the deck, fast enough and strong enough to take the dead pilot’s body across the planks to the railing on the other side. Debris continued peppering the caravel, filling the air with punctuations of thuds and pings.
Jherek was hit in the shoulder hard enough to knock him down. He glanced at his arm and saw an eyeball-sized rock smoldering in his flesh. Fighting back the pain and shock, he slipped his knife from his boot and pushed the rock from his arm with the blade. He tested his grip and found he could still make a fist, but most of his arm was numb.
He got to his feet with effort and launched himself at the spinning wheel as Black Champion wallowed in another trough. He seized the wheel as they went over into the trough, fighting the ship and the sea. The young sailor’s muscles strained and burned with agony, but no matter what he did, the caravel seemed determined to founder. The ship fell hard to starboard and looked like it was going under.
Sabyna lurched to the top of the stairs leading up to the stern castle, holding on again as Black Champion slid across another water wall. To Jherek, it felt like the ship had suddenly hit a patch of ice. The caravel seemed determined to race to her doom.
This time the ship’s prow pointed straight down into the black water at the bottom of the next trough and the wall of water rushing up from behind her seemed destined to push her end over end. The young sailor felt certain they were going to plunge into the unforgiving heart of the dark sea like an arrow finding its mark.
There’d be no survivors.
Jherek lacked the wind he needed to straighten her up and he wanted to cry out in frustration, knowing there was no way he could save Sabyna from the harsh death that lay before th
em all.
Then the cold, powerful voice filled his mind. Live, that you may serve.
A wind blew hard and clean from behind him, coming from a different direction than it had only a moment ago. The surviving sails filled, twisting Black Champion from the deadly course she was on.
Jherek pulled the ship into the wind, guiding her with an unforgiving hand. His injured arm burned and ached and felt numb all at the same time, hardly giving him any strength at all. But Black Champion came around into the wind, her holed and flaming sails capturing enough of it to pull her on course, turning her to face the oncoming waves. She met the next wave with her prow and cleaved it cleanly. The new wind stayed with her, pulling her out of the wallows, and it seemed as though less debris struck her.
An awestruck look filled Sabyna’s face as she gazed around.
“Who are you?” Jherek shouted into the wind. “Who are you and what do you want?”
He felt scared and mad all at the same time. Despite all the good the voice had done over the years, he felt certain he was at risk and had taken his friends there with him because that voice wanted him there. Whoever owned that voice had saved him only to take a firmer hand in his destiny. Was he pawn or prisoner?
Only silence answered him above the creak of the rigging and the crashing waves.
Then an answer did come. Soon, my son.
“Tell me who you are!” Jherek shouted again.
“Who are you talking to?”
Jherek glanced to port and saw that Sabyna had joined him at the stern castle. Her short-cropped hair lay plastered against her skull, and a half-dozen bloody scratches covered her left cheek. Her eyelids blinked tightly against the salt spray continuing to come over the railing. The young sailor only shook his head, having no words—only the frustration that filled him.
Skeins coiled protectively around the ship’s mage, barely holding its pieces together.
Jherek gazed at her, taking in the wounds he saw.
