Corsair

FOURTEEN

7 Marpenoth, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

You!” Narsk snarled. “It was you in my cabin in Mulmaster! I know your scent now, human!” The gnoll greeted Geran’s attack with a snarl of pure rage. He yanked out the mace he carried at his belt and drew a long, curved knife to meet the swordmage. Leaping aside from Geran’s first thrust, Narsk answered with a furious onslaught of whistling mace swings, using his long knife to protect himself when the mace’s weight left him out of balance and exposed.

Geran didn’t answer. He leaned away from the mace, parried a knife slash at his belly, and ducked low to cut Narsk’s legs out from under him. But the gnoll leaped over his slash with surprising agility. Narsk threw himself closer after Geran’s sword passed, and lunged for the swordmage’s neck with a snap of his powerful jaws. The swordmage fell back again and survived a knife thrust at his right side only because his spellwards deflected the blade. The tip of the blade gouged a bloody gash against his ribs, but it didn’t sink more than an inch or so into his flesh. The stab still knocked the breath out of him and left him with warm blood trickling down his side, the wound throbbing in pain.

I need to end this quickly, he realized. Otherwise there would be no hope of escaping Moonshark.

With the instant, diamond-sharp focus he’d learned in Myth Drannor, Geran invoked a sword spell even as his steel flew to meet Narsk’s attack. “Arvan sannoghan!” he cried, and the pirate cutlass in his hand blazed with blue flames. Narsk swore and recoiled, but not before Geran slashed his knife out of his left hand, leaving the gnoll’s fur smoking.

Narsk snarled in pain. “Foul sorcery!” he shouted. “Kill him! Kill him now!”

Geran risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Moonshark’s crew was boiling up out of their quarters under the main deck, most with knives, belaying pins, or boarding pikes in hand. They gaped at the spectacle of their captain fighting for his life then started to close in behind Geran-until Sarth raised his arms and wove a fence of lightning across the deck. “This is between Aram and Narsk!” he shouted. “No one else is to interfere!”

The corsairs halted, unsure about whether or not they should intervene, and were dissuaded in any event by the sudden revelation of Sarth’s magic. Narsk roared in fury when he realized that his crew would not cut down his challenger. “You miserable rrrats!” he screamed. “You will all pay for your cowardice!” He threw himself at Geran recklessly, pounding his mace against his foe with a furious barrage of overhand blows.

Geran parried or dodged the blows, although one carried through his block with enough power to drive the back of his cutlass-fortunately not sharpened-into his left shoulder, almost buckling him to the deck. Narsk snarled and redoubled his effort, but this time Geran deflected the mace past him and stepped aside. The gnoll was left off balance and stumbled forward as his mace head brushed the deck. Geran spun in the opposite direction and took off Narsk’s head with one clean cut to the back of the neck. The body crashed heavily to the deck, and the head rolled into the companionway leading down to the crew quarters, disappearing down the steps with several dull thuds.

A stunned silence fell over the crew of Moonshark. They stared down at Narsk’s body, and then they stared at Geran.

We lost the longboat, Geran, Hamil told him. The halfling stood next to Sarth, a pair of daggers in his hands. It slipped from the davit when the trouble started. I sincerely hope you have another plan in mind!

The Northman Skamang pushed his way to the front of the crew and fixed his eyes on Geran. The blue tattoos on his face seemed to writhe and jump in the flickering light of Sarth’s crackling, spitting barrier. “Where’s Sorsil? And Khefen?”

“Khefen’s passed out on the quarterdeck, dead drunk,” Geran answered. “Sorsil’s somewhere astern of us, floating in the water with a knife in her back.”

“Someone had better explain why the captain and first mate are dead and your friends were getting ready to launch the longboat,” Skamang said. He hefted a boarding axe in his hand. “And soon, at that.”

Murkelmor crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled. “I’m wi’ Skamang,” the dwarf said. “I’d like t’ know what in th’ Nine Hells you’re about, Aram.”

Geran stared back at the two pirates and tried to think of something to say. He was not a good liar, and he knew it. Fortunately, Hamil knew it as well, and the halfling had a knack for thinking quickly in situations such as this. Blame it on Sorsil! That’s the best chance I can see, the halfling said to him. Geran glanced over and found Hamil kneeling by Narsk’s body, quietly checking the gnoll’s pockets.

The halfling offered a small shrug and nodded in the direction of the rest of the crew. I thought I’d better have a look, he said. There was a letter in Narsk’s pocket. I’ve got it now.

The swordmage frowned and returned his attention to the pirates confronting him. He let the point of his cutlass drop. “It was Sorsil,” he said. “She came up on deck and ordered us to put the longboat over the side. It seemed strange to me, but she didn’t explain herself, and Khefen was dead drunk. Then she went to the quarterdeck and sabotaged the rudder. I caught her at it and tried to stop her. Narsk came out of his cabin just in time to see Sorsil knifed and knocked over the rail.”

“Narsk didn’t give us much of a chance to explain ourselves,” Hamil added. He stood up from beside Narsk’s body and moved over to stand beside Geran. “He rang the bell and called all hands on deck, and then he went after Aram. His final mistake, as it turned out.” To Geran he added, Not bad, but don’t say too much more!

“Narsk is dead, Sorsil is dead, and Khefen’s naught but a fat, useless drunk,” Murkelmor said. “I’d like to know who captains Moonshark now.”

“I do,” Geran said at once. If he was going to try to bluff his way out of this, it might as well be a brazen ploy. He winced a little, realizing that he had no idea what that might mean at the moment. Before he could think better of the idea, he pressed on. “By the traditions of the Black Moon, I claim command. Narsk is dead by my sword. I’m captain of Moonshark.”

The crew muttered uncertainly. Some men shouted “No!” or “Not so fast,” while others cried “No, Skamang!” or “Khefen!” instead.

I hope you know what you’re doing, Geran, Hamil said. This’ll be another fight.

“He’s got th’ right t’ make his claim,” Murkelmor said. The old dwarf shook his head. “We all saw it. This is no’ the way it should be, but Khefen’s no captain, and Sorsil’s as dead as Narsk if Aram’s speaking true. My fist stands for Aram.”

“Mine doesn’t,” Skamang snarled. “I won’t follow some stranger who’s been aboard Moonshark less than a tenday simply because he bested the gnoll.” He pointed the spike of his boarding axe at Geran. “I say I’m the captain of this ship.”

Before Geran, the sixty-odd brigands, outlaws, cutthroats, and pirates who made up the ship’s crew stood watching him-and each other-as they waited to see whether he or Skamang would seize control of the ship. No one wanted to be remembered later for backing the wrong man now. Geran forced himself to put on a cold, confident sneer as he studied the ship’s crew. The appearance of confidence might be the difference between life and death-not just for himself, but for hundreds of Hulburgans too. He had to make the crew think he was as hard and deadly as a well-sharpened blade, or Skamang might succeed in overthrowing him. In that case, Geran had no guarantee that the Northman would let him live, let alone sail Moonshark in the direction he needed to go.

“A ship can’t have two captains,” Murkelmor growled. “It’s no’ possible.”

“No, it’s not,” Geran agreed. He fixed his eyes on Skamang, mustering every ounce of icy contempt that he could find. “Will you fight me yourself this time, or do you want to send your ogre to die in your place? My fist will stay out of this if yours does the same.”

“Your fist? All two ofthem?” The Northman laughed. “Drop that cutlass, let every man on this deck hear you call me captain, and I’ll let this whole thing pass. You and your friends can go ashore the next time we make port, with no hard feelings.”

I doubt that it would be that simple, Hamil told Geran. He’ll kill you if you give in now, just to make sure no one else thinks they ought to be in command.

“In other words, you don’t want to meet me with steel in your hand,” Geran retorted. If he could goad the Northman into a duel, he might be able to take the ship with a single sword stroke. He risked a quick glance over at Sarth, who stood near the foot of the ladder up to the quarterdeck. Sarth had a tight grimace on his face, but he gave Geran the slightest of nods. Whatever came, he would be ready.

Skamang’s laughter faded, and a hard edge came into his voice. “I won’t be in such a generous mood if you keep up with this nonsense. You might not care whether you live or die, but I’ll gut any man that stands with you and toss him over the side.”

“D’you mean to gut me too, Skamang?” Murkelmor said. The dwarf took two steps toward where Geran and his friends stood, and turned to face the Northman. “Aram’s got me fist at his back, if that’s slipped your mind. We stand wi’ him.”

Skamang scowled at Murkelmor. But then Tao Zhe stepped out of the crew and went to stand by Geran too. The old Shou cook’s footsteps broke the remaining indecision among the crew, and in twos or threes most of the rest of the men shifted over to Geran’s side. Only the half-dozen goblins and half-orcs remained by Skamang’s fist, and they began to mutter and shift restlessly as they realized that their party was now outnumbered.

Seems like Skamang and his allies haven’t endeared themselves to the rest of the crew, Hamil observed to Geran.

Geran straightened his shoulders and allowed himself a small smile. He’d been afraid that the crew would choose the devil they knew instead of the devil they didn’t. The Northman was a longtime veteran of Moonshark, after all, and no one had any doubts about his prowess or his ruthlessness. On the other hand, all they knew of “Aram” was that he knew how to use a blade and that he’d been caught in the middle of some sort of mischief during the watch. Based on that alone, he would have expected the crew to turn against him … but then he realized that no one on Moonshark missed Sorsil or Narsk, and Skamang would have been just as bad as the preceding captain in his own way.

“It looks like the vote’s in, Skamang,” said Geran. “I say I’m the captain. This is your last chance: Yield, or it’s over the side with you and yours. Alive or dead, I don’t much care.”

The Northman’s face darkened in fury, but he could count as well as Geran. He looked around the deck, and then he gave Geran a curt nod. “So be it. You’re the captain. But we’ll be watching you, Aram. Make one mistake, and you’ll see just how quickly those dogs on your side of the deck will turn against you.”

Geran held his eyes for a long moment and then looked around at the rest of the crew assembled on the deck. “Does anybody else take issue with me? Speak now, or hold your tongues later.”

The pirates looked at each other, but no one else stepped forward. Geran nodded. “I thought not,” he said. “Very well, then. Dagger is the new first mate. Vorr is the ship’s mage, as you’ve all seen by now. When they speak, they speak for me. Murkelmor, you’re the second mate. The midwatch is yours.”

“What about Khefen?” the dwarf asked.

“Take him below and lock him in his cabin. I’ll put him ashore the next time we make port. I’ve got no use for him, but he hasn’t done anything to me. You can take Sorsil’s cabin, Murkelmor.”

“Aye, Captain,” Murkelmor said.

Hamil sheathed his daggers, brushed the hair away from his eyes, and stepped out in front of the crew. “What are your orders, Captain?” he asked.

Geran glanced up at the sails, luffing awkwardly as Moonshark drifted downwind. The wind had shifted and strengthened during the last hour, coming around to the northwest. It was promising to be a blustery autumn day on the Moonsea, with a stiff wind that would make for fine sailing-if he didn’t have to sail straight into it, which it now seemed that he did. Already he suspected that the ship was too far east to make Hulburg without hours of laborious tacking. When he’d planned to abandon Moonshark and strike out for Hulburg in the ship’s boat, it would have suited his purposes quite well for the pirate galley to find itself adrift with a damaged rudder, unable to pursue him and too far away to join the attack on the city. Now, with the longboat gone but the ship at his command, he’d have to find a way to bring Moonshark to the shore somewhere near Hulburg. He could order the crew to the oars, but Geran wasn’t so sure of his position that he felt ready to try them with a long stint of rowing just yet.

“The first thing we need to do is repair the rudder,” Geran answered Hamil. “Until we get the rudder fixed, take in all sail. The Black Moon is gathering near the ruins of Seawave at sunset today. By my reckoning that’s a good ways north and west of us yet, and this wind is driving us farther east every minute.”

Rather ironic to order the repair of the rudder you sabotaged not an hour ago, don’t you think? Hamil told Geran with a small smirk. Then he turned to the crewmen around him. “You heard the captain!” he shouted. “First watch, get aloft and take in the sails! I don’t know about you lads, but I don’t want to spend all day rowing to Hulburg. Looting and pillaging’s no fun when your back’s sore and you’re dog-tired. Master Murkelmor, I know you’re a mate now, but you’re the best carpenter we’ve got on the ship. Have a look at the rudder, if you please.”

The crewmen started to move as Hamil badgered them. Some started aloft to begin reefing in the sails, while Murkelmor motioned for a couple of his fellows to join him on the quarterdeck. Two more men came up to carry Khefen below. Sarth leaned close to Geran. “You’d better have that cut tended,” he said in a low voice. “If you pass out on your feet, we might have to repeat the whole round of challenges.”

Geran lifted his hand from his side and saw blood on his palm. He winced and then looked around for Tao Zhe. The Shou cook was the closest the ship’s company had to a healer. “Tao Zhe! Fetch some hot water and your sewing kit,” he said. “Narsk left me something to remember him by.”

Murkelmor and his helpers began to lay out a new rudder cable. Geran didn’t bother to press him to hurry his repairs; the dwarf knew that the ship’s participation in the attack on Hulburg depended on regaining the ability to maneuver as soon as possible, and he drove his small crew of woodworkers and ropelayers as hard as they could be driven. Geran remained on the quarterdeck, watching Murkelmor work as Tao Zhe in turn worked on him. Narsk’s blade had left a deep gash, but he’d been lucky not to have worse. “I thought Narsk had killed you with this one,” the Shou told him as he stitched the wound. “You were fortunate this morning.”

“It’s not so bad.” Geran gritted his teeth against Tao Zhe’s work. He’d had his wounds sewn more than once, and each time it seemed worse than receiving the wound in the first place.

“Truly I did not expect you to move so quickly against Narsk when we left Zhentil Keep that morning,” Tao Zhe remarked. “Nor did I expect you to be adept in magic. You seem to be a man of hidden talents.”

“Narsk forced this fight on me. I had no intention of challenging him, but he left me with no choice.”

Tao Zhe nodded. “I am not greatly troubled, mind you-Narsk was not much of a seaman, and he was a greedy and vicious brute. Almost anybody would be a better captain than he was.”

Geran snorted. “My thanks for your confidence.”

The Shou smiled. He glanced around and leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “What really puzzles me is why Sorsil was attempting to leave the ship. It seems hard to believe that she would desert Moonshark without anything from her cabin, or that she would subdue the other two men on watch and hide them under a canvas but leave you and your friends free to stop her from going. I am not a very clever man, but it would seem much more likely to me that three men who’d only been aboard for a tenday were instead conspiring to steal the boat. But if that were the case, then I would still be left to wonder why they wanted to leave Moonshark. How strange that events transpired in the manner you described!”

Geran studied the old Shou carefully. It seemed unlikely that Tao Zhe was the only crewman aboard Moonshark entertaining such thoughts. “Speculation is pointless, Tao Zhe,” he said after a moment.

“Of course. But it is certainly not speculation to observe that you and your comrades are hardly the typical sellswords or outlaws who sail under the Black Moon.”

“What does the crew make of this, then?”

“Because they fear your magic, they will follow you for now,” Tao Zhe answered. “No one liked Narsk-or Sorsil. But you should watch your back. And you should not expect the crew to deal with challengers for you, not until you demonstrate that you are a captain worth following.”

“I understand.”

“I only say what is plainly true,” Tao Zhe answered. He finished with his needlework and covered the wound with a hot compress. “There is little more I can do. It will trouble you for a tenday or so. Try not to get stabbed there again.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

The old Shou grinned. He collected his medicine kit and retreated to his galley.

Murkelmor managed to rig a working rudder cable only a couple of hours after sunrise. With the rudder repaired, Geran was able to turn Moonshark back to the northwest and Hulburg. But the strong autumn wind was directly out of that quarter, and so he had to resign himself to a west by southwesterly tack, heading back out toward the middle of the sea as the pirate ship fought its way back to windward. A gray, stiff chop arose by afternoon, so that Moonshark battered her way through whitecapped waves as she ran, soaking the decks with cold spray. The rough seas ruled out any idea of taking in sail and putting out oars that Geran might have entertained; rowing was possible under such conditions, but just barely.

In midafternoon Geran decided that he couldn’t afford to extend his tack any farther to the south, and came north to run across the wind. He wasn’t sure if he’d strike the coastline east or west of Hulburg at this point, but he was fairly certain that he’d be nowhere near as far west as the ruins of Seawave. Due to their night of sailing off course and the morning of drifting ahead of the wind, there was no way they’d reach the Black Moon’s rendezvous point. If he had been intending to join the raid on Hulburg, he’d have to steer straight for the city at this point and join the rest of the flotilla there.

Since the afternoon was growing late, he figured he’d better prepare the crew for a change of plan. He called Murkelmor, Tao Zhe, and a few of the other fist leaders together on the quarterdeck about an hour before sunset. “Between the rudder damage and the shifting of the wind, I think we’re too far east of the Black Moon rendezvous to meet up with the other ships,” he told them. “They’re gathering a good twenty miles west of the town in just a couple of hours. But I think we can reach Hulburg by midnight without too much trouble, and that’s what I intend to steer for. We know that’s where the rest of the Black Moon is bound, and we can join the flotilla there.”

“The High Captain will no’ be pleased with us,” Murkelmor said.

“It can’t be helped at this point,” said Geran. “If the attack on Hulburg succeeds, I’d wager that many sins will be forgiven. If not, well, I’ll take the blame.”

Moonshark kept on her northerly tack for the rest of the afternoon and through the sunset. Still no sight of the northern shore greeted them, and Geran began to fear that he’d somehow completely lost his reckoning in the last few hours. He couldn’t bear the idea that Moonshark might be too far away for him to get some word of warning to Hulburg. At least the raid would be one ship short if that were the case, but then he and his companions would have to deal with an extremely-perhaps lethally-disappointed crew. Finally, as the last embers of sunset gleamed low in the sky to the west, the lookout aloft called out “Land ho!” Geran hurried to the bow, peering into the gloaming to see what he could make of their position, and his heart sank.

They were still ten miles east of Hulburg, perhaps more. He quickly calculated time and distances in his head, trying to envision the course they’d have to follow. With this wind, Moonshark could make perhaps seven or eight knots running close-hauled, but they’d have to cover maybe three times as much distance on the tack as they actually managed to make good against the wind. That meant another four or five hours of sailing before they reached the Arches. He returned to the quarterdeck, thinking furiously.

“Do you know this stretch of coast?” Hamil asked him. “How far from Hulburg are we?”

“I do, and we’re too far east,” Geran answered. “I think we’re out of time.”

Hamil and Sarth exchanged looks with each other. The sorcerer frowned. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

Geran didn’t see any other alternatives. He pointed at the coastline, perhaps three miles distant. “Unless I’m badly mistaken, that’s Sulan Head. It’s about ten miles east of Hulburg by the old coastal road. I’d bring the ship in to land on the beach at its foot, but that might take another hour, and I don’t dare let the crew see me do something like that. They would surely suspect treachery. Sarth, can you reach the coast from here with your flying spell?”

Sarth studied the distance and nodded. “Yes, and perhaps a little more.”

“Then I need you to leave the ship, get to Hulburg, and warn Kara, the harmach, whomever you can find that the Black Moon raid is on its way. I don’t know if I can beat the Black Moon ships to Hulburg from here, not with the way the weather is running, but you may be able to on foot. By my reckoning, you’ve got three or four hours to cover the distance. Can you do it?”

“It must be done, so it will be done.” Sarth looked back at Moonshark’s deck. “What about you and Hamil? If the crew notices that I am missing, they may rise against you.”

“I’ll tell them you’re below, using Narsk’s cabin to study your spells. That should work well enough for a short time.” Geran paused as a stray thought crossed his mind. “That reminds me-Hamil, what’s in that letter you found in Narsk’s pocket?”

Hamil frowned. “I’d forgotten it. Just a moment.” He pulled it out and carefully opened it under the light of the swinging stern lantern. After a moment, he shook his head and passed it to Sarth. “It looks like some kind of incantation.”

Sarth glanced at it and shrugged. “Arcane words are written in several different tongues, and I had thought I would at least recognize a few words in any of them. But this is nonsense to me. Keep it safe, and I will see if I can use magic to decipher it when I have the opportunity to study it carefully.” He looked back to Geran. “What will you do with Moonshark?”

Geran smiled grimly. “I still need to get to Hulburg, and Moonshark’s going to take me there. Now, let’s get you on your way, because I’ve got to turn the ship and run away from the coast again in just a few minutes.”