by Barb Hendee
Chane felt a strange tingle pass over him, as if his skin had gone numb for an instant.
He had no idea what Welstiel was doing. His thoughts wrestled for a way out of this situation before Wynn was placed in danger again. If the helmsman ordered a shot at the deck, Wynn might be killed-unless the elven captain had ordered all passengers below. And then she might be trapped once the ship began to burn.
Welstiel sat with eyes closed, hands clenched together, and a hum in his throat-and a cold notion entered Chane's panicked thoughts.
All he need do was draw his sword and cleave off Welstiel's head. The unleashed ferals would ravage the ship, and Chane might jump overboard amid the chaos.
But what if some of the sailors managed to survive? What if the elves attacked, seeing one of their own dangling from the ship's rail? What if the ferals panicked and fled amid the fire and quarrels, as the Ylladon crew responded in defense?
And no matter what, Wynn was still trapped in the middle.
Welstiel's interest in keeping Magiere alive, forcing her aground, meant giving the elven crew time to abandon ship-and Wynn along with them.
The half-conscious young elf lying on the deck moaned softly.
Chane held his place, ready to open the lantern.
Magiere locked her eyes on the approaching vessel, its moonlit sails bright in her night sight. It came straight at her, but not quickly enough, and the hunger burning in her belly began to rise into her throat.
Someone shouted, and amid that string of Elvish, Magiere heard Sgaile's longer elven name.
"The hkomas orders us below," he said. "I do not think that wise, but we should leave the forecastle, so the crew may function freely."
Magiere glanced back and saw the hkomas standing near the aftcastle's steps. When her gaze locked with his, he went still as he studied her. His head cocked suspiciously.
"Magiere…," Leesil began, and then stopped as Sgaile sighed in resignation.
Magiere's awareness of them was smothered beneath hunger and the memories of a falchion in her hand and headless corpses at her feet, their black fluids running from her blade.
She had felt this before-but never so strongly. Whatever was coming on that ship, it overwhelmed her and nearly severed her self-control. But the need to hunt was a welcome relief against the pull to go south that plagued her.
She could slaughter what was on that vessel without holding back. She wanted-needed-that release. Her fingernails began to harden, and her teeth ached as they pressed her clenched jaws apart. She tried to force it down, keep it suppressed and hidden until she needed it.
And her hunger suddenly vanished.
Magiere teetered, suddenly faint at its loss.
Chap shifted frantically with a pained yelp.
"What?" Leesil snapped.
The soft light around Magiere vanished, and she looked to the topaz amulet hanging upon Leesil's chest.
The stone was dead and lifeless.
Magiere's stomach turned and shriveled at the loss of promised release as she stared back at the oncoming vessel.
Chap's foreclaws ground upon the rail-wall as he strained to peer more closely at the ship. He had felt the undead-as certain of their presence as of his own breath.
Where had they gone?
Though the ship still came at them, he sensed nothing upon it. This was not possible. He had not been wrong.
But the same thing had happened to him once before, in the streets of Venjetz. He had been running down an undead with Magiere and Leesil, and then his prey suddenly vanished-just like now.
Chap snarled in frustration, and Magiere slammed both her hands on the rail.
"No," she whispered, her voice pained. "No… no… no!"
Chap slipped into her thoughts and saw her rising memories of hunting… memories with far too much longing, close to lust. Someone shouted in Elvish from the rigging.
"It veers again!"
Light flashed on the waters ahead.
Chap slipped from Magiere's mind as he saw the oncoming ship. Its prow aimed to pass close on the elven vessel's seaward side. The light came from one bright spot near its bow.
"What is that?" asked Leesil, pointing out over the rail.
Chap's eyes adjusted and he saw… her.
An open lantern illuminated a tall elven woman dangling inverted over the other ship's near side. A rope cinched around her ankles suspended her with long hanging hair trailing in the rushing water. Half the elven crew ran to the seaward side as the other vessel began to pass.
"Hard to starboard!" the hkomas shouted. "Do not let them round our stern!"
Chap bolted around the seaward ballista and its crew to stand at the forecastle's stairs. Below on the deck, several elves began uncoiling rope with grappling hooks. Magiere passed him by, leaping down to the deck as she tried to keep the passing ship in her sightline. Sgaile moved to follow, but Leesil grabbed his arm.
"No, they're baiting you! They want you to rush in!"
The ships drew so close that Chap heard a voice shouting upon the other vessel. Sgaile jerked free of Leesil's grip.
"They have one of our people!" Sgaile shouted. "We do not abandon our own."
Chap's awareness suddenly sharpened-as if he were surrounded by undead.
All the voices around him muted in his ears. He shook inside with the need to hunt. Before he could search for the source of his returned drive, the rope on the other vessel's prow went slack.
The elven woman fell into the sea and vanished beneath the water.
Chap barely heard Sgaile's anguished cry.
Fire arced into the night from the Ylladon ship, rising in trajectories toward the elven vessel's sails. Magiere lunged for the deck's rail, shoving elves out of her way.
As the first burning shaft hit, panic flooded Chap's mind.
All he could do was howl, as he searched frantically for his charges-and some means to get them out of harm's way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Magiere rushed the rail-wall, bile rising from her stomach and burning her throat. She barely saw the elven woman strike the water; all her senses were focused upon the presence of undead. Someone behind her cried out in anguish, and Sgaile appeared beside her.
She had to jump, swim, do whatever it took to reach that other ship. She had to hunt.
Chap's howl rose above the commotion, and a volley of fire arced in the night sky from the other ship.
Magiere's rage burned hotter at the sight, and she lifted one leg over the rail-wall.
Something snagged her breeches leg and heaved. Her grounded foot slid, and her back slammed flat on the deck. She rolled over wildly, and there was Chap with his ears laid back, blocking her way to the rail-wall. Sgaile looked down at her, his expression unreadable. Someone shouted in Elvish, and he lifted his gaze up and past her.
The voice was vaguely familiar. Was it Osha?
Sgaile locked eyes with Magiere for a breath, and then he dove over the side, vanishing from sight. Magiere lunged up to follow him, to reach that ship…
Chap charged straight at her, snapping and snarling. He was one with her, alike in the hunt, yet he turned on her? Magiere snarled back at him.
The sky above ignited with fire and light.
Magiere flinched, shielding her tearing eyes as she raised them. A long metal spear with a flaming head slid down the mainsail, leaving a burning trail in its wake. It slammed point first into the deck.
A cracking impact shuddered through the deck, and Magiere lost her footing, buckling to one knee. Yellow light burned her eyes as fire scattered from the spear's head. She threw herself toward the aft, rolling away, but when she came up, her rage vanished.
Chap bolted the other way, toward the forecastle. He dodged droplets of flaming oil falling like burning rain.
Magiere tried to scream his name, but it didn't come clearly through her elongated teeth.
He arced around to the ship's shoreward side, but with the fire spreading on the d
eck between them, Magiere wasn't certain if he'd been burned. She took a breath and coughed as smoke filled her lungs.
What was happening? Where were Leesil and Wynn?
The hkomas shouted loudly over the din. Magiere snapped her head up at the crack of the forward elven ballista. A thrum of bowstrings sounded all around her as a flight of arrows arced toward the other vessel.
Welstiel pulled himself up the rail of the Ylladon ship, worn and drained from widening the influence of his ring. He had barely spread its reach long enough to get close to the elven vessel. When the first volley of burning ballista spears launched, his concentration had snapped, but now it did not matter.
Magiere had more to concentrate on than the presence of undeads.
Two burning lances cut along the shimmering elven sails, instantly spreading fire. The third went long, and its light snuffed in the sea. A fourth hit the hull at the waterline and fizzled out, but it remained embedded.
Welstiel faltered.
Had he gone too far? Had he put Magiere in too much danger, or could she still get clear and make it to shore?
A loud double crack rang out from the other ship.
Welstiel saw two heavy spears with long heads arcing straight toward his vessel. He dashed along the deck but only made midship before one hit-and Klatas screamed.
The ballista spear slammed through the wheel, and the helmsman vanished amid shattering wood. Welstiel skidded to halt and looked back to the prow.
The younger elven female tried to push herself up, staring dumbly about. Sailors at the ballistae abandoned their stations, running for cover. Two leaped over the seaward rail and disappeared. And then Chane raced past Welstiel toward the stern.
What was that fool doing now?
Chane was almost to the aft when another ballista spear struck. It shattered the rail two steps behind him. He stumbled and fell, sliding along the deck amid scattering wood shards. The ferals went mad, screaming as they raced wildly about.
One pair of Ylladon crewmen kept their wits and fired the shoreward ballistae again. Another blaze of fire arced toward the elven ship. Then the pair crouched and took up oil-filled glass balls on long leather cords.
Welstiel had not noticed these before. The crewmen lit rags tied to the globes and began whirling them to sling toward their enemies. Welstiel charged them, panicked over Magiere's safety.
The engagement was not playing out how he had envisioned. But he was not quick enough, and the crewmen released their whirling glass balls.
Welstiel watched their small flames rise and then fall through the night air. The deck shuddered hard beneath his feet as another elven quarrel struck the hull somewhere below the rail. He ducked in against the rail as a rain of arrows fell around him, and he never saw the oil globes strike.
Running and shouting and screaming surrounded him as everything fell into chaos.
Sabel rushed by toward the bow, almost scrambling on all fours, and Welstiel snatched her by the arm.
"Get the others," he commanded. "Go below for our gear. Hurry!"
The terror did not leave her eyes, but she scrambled for the aft hatch.
They had to abandon ship, and Welstiel hoped Magiere would do the same.
Salt water closed over Sgaile's head, and icy cold spread through his muscles. He kicked for the surface, still doubting his actions.
He had sworn guardianship to Leshil and his companions. His first duty was to protect them, and the ship was on fire. But when he saw the elven woman vanish into the sea, his heart seemed to stop.
He was Anmaglahk, sworn to protect his people. He could not let her die.
Sgaile broke the sea's rolling surface and gasped for air, but in his mind, he kept seeing Magiere's face up on the deck.
Eyes black, lost in vicious madness-the same monster that had attacked his caste in Cuirin'nen'a's glade. Even though he had sworn guardianship, his first instinct had been to kill her. Then he saw Wynn and Leshil on the deck's far side, dodging falling pieces of the burning sails.
Osha ran for them, shouting. "Go! I will protect them!"
And Sgaile had jumped.
The sea swells made it hard to search. Everything was beyond his control but the woman who had been dropped to her death. He only hoped she had stayed calm enough to flatten herself and float until he could find her.
Wynn gasped for air and coughed amid the growing smoke. Terrifying sights and sounds drove away reason, and all she could see was the horror of the burning ship.
A living ship.
Some of the crew tried to douse the fire with buckets of seawater, but spattered oil and falling sails kept feeding the flames.
And then Sgaile jumped overboard.
Wynn looked frantically about. Magiere knelt on the deck's far side beyond the cargo grate, but she couldn't see Chap anywhere. Elven crew ran about amid the flames, and a sizzling crackle sounded from up in the rigging.
And Leesil's shout carried to Wynn over the noise. "Magiere! Get out of there!"
He bolted toward Magiere, and Wynn saw the burning foremast crack midway up. It began to topple.
"Leesil, stop!" she screamed out.
He leaped the cargo gate. Rigging and shredded sails tore away under the falling mast as it slammed down on the deck's center-and Leesil vanished from sight.
"Leesil!" Wynn cried out.
Two sudden impacts, like shattering glass, struck somewhere on the deck, and a wall of flame erupted around the fallen mast. Droplets of ignited oil splashed up like fiery fountains and scattered everywhere.
Wynn twisted away, swatting at burning oil spots on her cloak. In one flailing spin, she saw Osha.
He ran along the shoreside rail-wall, the glint of a stiletto in his hand. Before Wynn knew what was happening, he ducked and drove his shoulder into her chest. His arm coiled around her as the breath was crushed from her lungs.
Wynn gasped for air as her feet left the deck. Over Osha's back, she saw a long pillar of fire rolling from the deck's center toward the rail-wall- toward her.
The whole ship swirled away as she slammed down hard, sliding across the deck beneath Osha. She felt him roll, curling himself around her, until they slid to a stop.
And that rolling column of fire-the fallen foremast-crashed against the rail-wall where she and Osha had been an instant before.
Osha lurched up on his knees and slashed down at her with his stiletto. She barely flinched before the blade split the side of her cloak's collar. He ripped it off of her, nearly flipping her over on her face, and grabbed her by the arm. As he pulled her up, they both looked frantically about.
The crew had abandoned any attempt to control the flames. A visceral scream, like a great cat in anger, broke over the fire's crackle. Before it had even faded, Osha shouted.
"Leshil!"
Wynn saw Leesil half-crouched on the cargo grate's far side, surrounded by fire. Magiere clawed at the flames, trying to reach him. Her eyes were black disks as tears ran down her snarling face. The grate burned too wildly around Leesil, as did the forecastle and deck between him and the aft. Even the far rail-wall was ablaze. He ducked low, shielding his face and eyes as he twisted about.
Wynn rushed for Magiere, looking for any way to get to Leesil. Then her feet left the deck again.
Osha swung her back with his arm around her waist.
"Put me down!" Wynn shouted. "Leesil cannot see. He needs help!"
"Bith-na!" Osha shouted in her face, then shoved her into the corner between the aftcastle and rail-wall.
"No" to what? Wynn struggled against him. What did he mean?
Another bright red-yellow light grew in the air. Gasping, she saw the burning mainsail sagging toward the deck.
"Magiere, look up! Get back!" Wynn called, choking on her words.
Cargo hold. Now!
Chap's voice erupted in Wynn's head.
She saw him racing along the far rail-wall from the forecastle… running on top of the rail. His shimmering fur gl
inted with red and yellow firelight.
Wynn writhed in Osha's grip. "Come on! Below… we meet Chap below!"
Osha released her, shaking his head, and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him. She stopped at the hatch stairwell and shouted as loudly as she could.
"Magiere, come on! Chap says to go to the cargo hold!"
But Magiere either did not hear her or would not leave. The burning mainsail writhed in the wind, like a living thing of fire that coiled down to snatch her in its grip.
Magiere cried out like an animal, reaching through the flames for Leesil. Her gloved hand began to smoke, and she snatched it back. She let hunger fill her and shut her eyes against the fire's brightness. She tried stepping into it.
Heat instantly seared her face and hands, and she leaped back.
Wynn shouted over the roar-something about a cargo hold-but Magiere couldn't take her eyes from Leesil's blurred shape amid the blaze.
Another flickering blur raced toward him from the ship's far end. It loped along the burning rail-wall, and then brightened by firelight into a silvery canine form.
Chap leaped high through the flames.
His forepaws struck Leesil's shoulder. Both toppled upon the burning cargo grate, and it shattered beneath their sudden weight.
Firelight surged around Magiere as she screamed.
Leesil was gone. And Chap with him.
More light descended from above her.
She saw the first whipping corner of the burning sail coil around the mid mast. She threw herself backward, rolling away as the descending inferno swallowed the midship.
Wynn had shouted something about the cargo hold.
Magiere turned on all fours, knocking aside a deckhand as she lunged toward the hatchway. A blur of gray-green cloak disappeared down the stairs, and she rushed in behind it, nearly falling over the first step.
Osha turned with wide eyes, and Wynn stood below the last step.
"Chap said we must get to the cargo hold!" she shouted.
Magiere understood now.
"No!" she growled back. "You… get off the ship! I'll… get to Leesil and Chap."
Wynn opened her mouth to argue.
"Take her!" Magiere shouted into Osha's face.
