The Sentinel

CHAPTER 7

Sails furled and bow driving, the Wave Wyvern was coming hard, a head-sized wedge that just five minutes earlier had been a mere speck on the horizon. Already, Arietta could see the spray of the sea dividing before the prow and the curtains of water dropping from the oars, and it would not be long before she could make out the scaly face of the ship’s hissing-wyvern figurehead.

“They’re coming too fast.” Arietta spoke just loud enough to make herself heard above the waves rippling around the hull of the Lonely Roamer’s little skiff. “Falrinn won’t have time to reach the reef.”

“Captain Greatorm is a better judge of vessel speeds than we are,” said Jang. The Shou was seated on the rowing thwart, behind Arietta. “Let us be patient.”

“Patience has never been a particular virtue of mine,” Arietta admitted. She twisted around to look past Jang toward Kleef, who sat in the stern with his sword resting across his knees. “Kleef?”

“Patience is good,” Kleef said. Like Jang and Arietta herself, he had forsaken his helmet and armor for a tunic and trousers. “We can’t signal anyone anyway-not unless we want to reveal ourselves.”

They were floating behind a rocky little islet no more than fifty paces across, watching their pursuers through the columns of a tilted, half-submerged temple. According to Greatorm, the temple sat atop an earthmote that had plunged into the Sea of Fallen Stars a few months earlier, creating a submerged reef.

The Lonely Roamer had spent the last two tendays trying to reach the site at the right time. It had been a tricky operation, since the ketch needed to arrive far enough ahead of her pursuers to circle around the reef and slip through a hidden passage into a pocket of deep water. At the same time, Greatorm had wanted to be sure the Wave Wyvern caught up at around mid-tide, when the reef would still be submerged-but not so deeply that the galleass could cross it without running aground.

According to Greatorm’s plan, the Lonely Roamer would sit in the pocket of deep water and serve as bait, and the Wyvern would run aground going after her. Then, when the Shadovar attempted to free the galleass-or left in longboats to continue the chase-Arietta and her two companions would sneak aboard to rescue Duchess Elira and any other captives.

The scheme had as many moving parts as the Lonely Roamer herself, and for that reason alone, it made Arietta nervous. From what she had seen so far, the Shadovar were far from predictable, and not even Joelle knew the full capabilities of their shadow magic. But no one had offered any better ideas, and Greatorm had promised that his gnomish fog-whatever that was-would stop the Shadovar from using their shadowalking abilities. In the end, Arietta had reluctantly agreed that they had no alternative except to try the gnome’s plan.

The Wave Wyvern was close enough that she could see the figurehead’s hammered-silver scales sparkling in the midday sun. But the Shadovar were nowhere to be found. Given their aversion to bright light, Arietta suspected they were hiding below decks, reserving their strength for the battle. Still, their absence and the calm sea gave the galleass the appearance of a ghost ship, and she could not help fearing that she and her companions were the ones being tricked.

“Something feels wrong.” Arietta glanced back again. “Kleef, when was the last time Yder came to you?”

“Last night.” Kleef’s tone was clipped. “If I had seen him since then, I would have said so.”

“Of course,” Arietta said, trying not to take offense. “Thank you.”

Yder had committed no more murders aboard the Roamer, probably because Kleef had tripled the watch and Greatorm was taking pains to keep the Shadovar from locating them after dark. But the prince had been entering Kleef’s dreams nightly, pressuring him to betray Malik and Joelle, and the visits were clearly taking a toll. Kleef’s eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and he was often sullen and irritable.

Except when he was with Joelle, of course. The good lady was spending most of her time with the topsword, taking meals in his company, standing watch at his side, even sitting next to him as he slept. Arietta should probably have been glad to see her taking such care of him, since Yder never seemed to trouble Kleef’s dreams when Joelle was near.

Instead, Arietta found herself a bit jealous. After risking her life to fight at Kleef’s side on the Deepwater Bridge, she had felt a certain rapport between them-a warmth and respect that she had expected to grow into an enduring friendship. Sadly, all that had vanished the instant Kleef learned of her noble blood.

At first, Arietta had attributed the change of heart to the typical commoner’s spite for the flawed aristocracy of Marsember. But when she attempted to rekindle their friendship, it had grown clear that Kleef’s animosity ran deeper. Perhaps he was frustrated that their friendship could never blossom into romance. Arietta had encountered such resentments before, and she knew how quickly a man’s affection could turn to hostility when he discovered that his heart’s desire was blocked by his station in life.

Arietta turned back toward the Wave Wyvern. The galleass had drawn so near that she filled most of the view between the columns of the half-submerged temple. A dusky shape with tiny bright eyes stood behind the figurehead, his gaze fixed on the pocket of deeper water where the Lonely Roamer lay at anchor.

Arietta crouched lower in the skiff. “What’s Greatorm waiting for?” she hissed. “Yder must sense a trap by now!”

When no answer came, she glanced over her shoulder to find Jang looking back at Kleef, who sat tense and upright, teeth clenched and eyes wide with dread. Fearing that Yder had found a way to visit Kleef during his waking hours, Arietta reached for her bow … then felt a dark menace searching for her, something savage and profane, the same unholy hunger that had violated her when Malik revealed the Eye of Gruumsh-and she knew why Greatorm felt so confident in his trap.

He was dangling the ultimate bait.

“What are they doing?” Jang’s voice was muffled and hard to hear, no doubt because he was looking in the opposite direction, back toward the Lonely Roamer. “Have they gone mad?”

The last thing Arietta wanted to do was reveal herself to the Eye by looking in its direction, but the confusion in Jang’s voice was too alarming. If Malik and Joelle were doing something foolish-or even treacherous-she needed to know about it.

Arietta reluctantly twisted around and looked toward the ketch, which was about two hundred paces away, bobbing gently against her anchor chain. The pocket of deep water in which she lay was a little calmer than the shallows covering the nearby reef, a difference that would soon be obvious to any seamen aboard the Wyvern. The Eye was nowhere in sight, but several figures could be seen pursuing a larger shape-no doubt Kleef’s man, Tanner-toward the bow of the little ship.

“Relax, Jang,” Kleef said, finally opening his eyes. “They’re just setting the hook.”

“You knew about this?” Arietta asked.

A tight, half grin came to Kleef’s mouth. “My idea,” he said. “Yder has been trying to get me to steal the Eye for him. I thought we could use that against him.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Arietta demanded.

Kleef shrugged. “Joelle was nervous about exposing the Eye,” he said. “She wanted to keep it a secret until the time came.”

Arietta hesitated, feeling a little excluded, then finally nodded. “I see. Well, that makes sense.”

Aboard the Lonely Roamer, the chase had reached the bow, where Tanner stumbled and fell. His pursuers fell on him immediately, and the profane hunger of the Eye vanished at once. The Roamer’s anchor chain began to clatter through the hawsehole, and a dense white fog spilled over her bulwarks and crept across the water toward the reef. In seconds the ketch was no longer visible, and Arietta knew that if all went according to plan, the vessel would soon be escaping through the hidden passage.

“Even better than promised,” Jang said. “I had not expected it to be so fast.”

“Indeed,” Arietta said, still worried. Greatorm had promised that the Shadovar would not be able to dispel the fog, but he had refused to reveal how he created it. “I just wish he had told us how it works. ‘Trust me’ is not very confidence-inspiring.”

“Greatorm is a smuggler,” Kleef said. “You can’t expect him to give away his tricks.”

The fog soon washed over them. It had a salty, acrid taint that burned Arietta’s nostrils and made her think of brimstone, and there was a yellow tinge to it that made distant shapes difficult to see.

Shouts of alarm and frustration drifted across the water from the direction of the Wave Wyvern, and an urgent creaking grew audible as the oars put on speed.

“Sounds like it’s time,” Kleef said. “Let’s move.”

Jang took up their own oars and backed the skiff out of the pool in which they had been hiding, then carefully began to row them around the half-submerged temple. By the time they arrived on the far side of the little islet, Greatorm’s gnomish fog had swallowed everything in sight. The only way Arietta could tell that the Wyvern was crossing ahead of them was by the shriek-splash of her oars.

Then came the deep burbling growl of a keel running aground, followed almost instantly by the crash of tumbling gear and the cries of startled crewmen. The tumult continued for only a moment, then quickly faded as the ship slowed to a dead stop. Jang continued to row, and the Wyvern finally grew apparent, a faint darkening in the fog, about twenty paces ahead.

“Hold here,” Kleef whispered. “Let’s see what they do.”

Jang brought the skiff to a stop without so much as the sound of a swirling oar. For the next few minutes, Arietta and her companions sat listening to an angry Yder yell commands and questions in his native tongue. The longer she listened to his raspy voice, the higher the flame of rage and sorrow rose within her. Farnig Seasilver may not have been a paragon of the noble class, but he had still been her father and a grand duke of Cormyr, and he had not deserved the death Yder gave him. That alone would have been reason enough to fight-even had she not understood the importance of helping Joelle and Malik stop Shar from releasing the Shadowfell across all of Toril.

Winches groaned as the Shadovar lowered longboats into the water. Arietta set her quiver at her knee and nocked an arrow, then prayed to Siamorphe to quiet her pounding heart. This would be only the second time she had gone into a life-or-death fight-the first had been when she joined Kleef on Deepwater Bridge-and she found that the waiting frightened her far more than had the actual combat.

At last, a pair of long gray silhouettes glided past the bow of the galleass and faded into the fog. They were trailing no lines and taking care to move as quietly as possible, so it seemed clear that instead of attempting to free his own vessel, Yder had decided to board the Lonely Roamer from the Wyvern’s longboats-just as Greatorm had predicted.

Jang began to move the skiff forward again, and Arietta scanned the Wyvern’s looming silhouette for any sign of a Shadovar lookout. It took only moments to find a dark shape moving aft from the bow. She drew her bowstring taut, but did not loose.

The Wyvern had not grounded so solidly that the reef was holding her steady. Instead, she was rolling slightly on her keel, lifting and lowering the target in a steady cycle. Arietta waited until she had the rhythm, then let out her breath and let the arrow fly.

A heartbeat later, it took the dark silhouette in the center of the head and sent him flying back.

Arietta already had her next arrow nocked and, when a second silhouette appeared at the bulwark, she was ready. She loosed instantly this time-and saw the arrow tear through the Shadovar’s throat. He stumbled two steps back, then collapsed out of sight.

Not a head shot, but it would have to do. Arietta nocked another arrow and waited, but no more Shadovar appeared as the Wave Wyvern changed from gray shape to wooden ship. Once they’d drawn to within a few paces, Jang stopped rowing. Kleef stood and tossed a hook-and-rope onto the bulwark of the Wave Wyvern, then held the line steady as Jang ascended hand-over-hand.

The Shou was nearly at the top when a Shadovar peered down at him, his glassy blade already descending to cut the line. Arietta planted an arrow in his dusky face, and Jang was over the bulwark, drawing his slender sword and removing the head before the body had fallen out of sight.

Slinging her bow and quiver over her shoulders, Arietta took the rope next. While the distance wasn’t great, she was not as strong as the Shou, and the rocking of the Wyvern made the climb a difficult one. It was nearly a dozen seconds before she neared the top of the rope-and saw Jang reaching down to help her the rest of the way.

“Thank you,” she said, clambering onto the deck. “How many remain?”

“I’ve beheaded the three you hit.” Jang pointed to three headless bodies lying on the deck between them and the bow. “I will look for others.”

With that, he turned and clambered onto the quarterdeck. Arietta nocked an arrow and kneeled beside the headless body of her last target and tried not to think about the three lives she had just taken. It had been easy to kill the Shadovar when they were the ones attacking, but it felt much different when she was the aggressor. She had to remind herself that her enemies had brought this on themselves, that Yder had killed her father and made a hostage of her mother.

The bulwark crackled beneath Kleef’s weight, and a few breaths later he was planting his boots on the deck. He drew his sword and crouched next to her, his eyes scanning the rest of the ship.

“Jang?” he whispered.

Arietta pointed toward the quarterdeck. “He went to check for more guards.”

Kleef looked in the direction she had indicated, then nodded in satisfaction when Jang rose from behind the helm and displayed a fist with no upraised fingers.

“Looks like he hasn’t found any,” Kleef said, turning forward. “Let’s finish this.”

“You’re leaving Jang up here alone?”

“There may be more guards in hiding,” Kleef said. “And somebody needs to make sure Yder doesn’t come back and surprise us.”

Arietta nodded and led him to the forward companionway, which descended to the rowing deck. As eager as she was to find her mother, their plan called for them to seize control of the Wyvern first, and that meant freeing the men the Shadovar had been using as galley slaves.

Kleef paused at the entrance and looked at the agate glowing on the crossguard of his sword, then motioned for Arietta to wait. He kicked the door open and descended the stairs in a single leap.

Arietta peered through the opening and found him six feet below, crouching beneath the low ceiling and spinning, whipping his sword ahead of him in a clearing circle. He caught her eye and dipped his head in a barely perceptible nod, then completed his turn and stepped away from stairs.

Arietta descended the stairs about halfway, then stopped and peered under the railing back toward the rowing benches. Greatorm’s fog was not as thick below the Wyvern’s decks as it was above, but visibility down there was still even more limited than usual. She had a clear view of only the first three rowing benches, where a dozen haggard men sat with their arms resting on their oars, a few of them too exhausted-or too badly beaten-to even raise their heads.

Kleef pointed his sword at them. “You men,” he said. “Are you ready to fight for Cormyr?”

The cheer that came in reply was hardly rousing, but it was sincere, and someone with a gravelly voice said, “Get these shackles off us, and we’ll fight.”

“Good,” Kleef said. “Consider yourselves soldiers again.”

He started toward the first bench, and that was when a pair of Shadovar stepped out of the murk behind him. A chorus of half-broken voices croaked warning cries, but Arietta’s arrow was already flying toward the shape on the right. It buried itself between the Shadovar’s shoulders and sent him sprawling on the deck.

Knowing she had no time to nock a second arrow, Arietta leaped off the stairs, jabbing her bow tip at the figure on the left. Her blow caught the Shadovar in the back of the head, causing little damage but forcing him to glance back over his shoulder.

That was all the hesitation Kleef needed to whirl around and send the fellow’s head tumbling. He continued his spin, deftly lifting the blade over Arietta’s head and bringing it down through the neck of the Shadovar her arrow had sent sprawling.

A stunned silence fell over the rowing deck. Kleef worked his sword tip free of the wood in which it had buried itself. He glanced at the agate on the crossguard, which had fallen dark again, then relaxed and turned to Arietta.

“Thanks,” he said. “You fight pretty well for an heiress.”

“And you’re not bad for a clumsy ox,” Arietta replied.

The retort drew a chorus of catcalls and cheers from the rowing benches, and she knew that Siamorphe’s grace was still working through her. She smiled and turned to address the deck.

“You were my father’s best men,” she said. “He picked you to escort him on the journey to Elversult because he believed you to be his strongest, most capable men-at-arms. Then the Shadovar came and made galley slaves of you. The next time you meet them, I want you to give them reason to regret that!”

Rather than the enthusiastic cheer she had expected, most of the men merely looked down and tried to avoid her gaze. And those who did speak seemed rather embarrassed and apologetic, promising to do their best and not let the Shadovar take them alive again.

Arietta hid her disappointment with a polite smile. “Well, I’m sure you’re all very eager to be free.” She turned to Kleef. “Shall we?”

Kleef nodded and started down one side of the aisle, his greatsword rising and falling as he freed the men from their bonds. Arietta went down the opposite side with her own sword, though she was not nearly so fast.

Because her father’s ship had not been designed as a slave galley, it lacked the steel eye hooks through which shackle chains commonly ran-and even the shackles and chains themselves. So the Shadovar had improvised with their dark magic, binding the ankles of their captives with thick ropes of pure shadowstuff. And while all of Arietta’s weapons were enchanted-she was the daughter of a grand duke, after all-she lacked Kleef’s strength. Where he simply lopped the lines apart, she found herself sawing and hacking, and she was only halfway down the aisle when she met him coming from the opposite direction.

He glanced over her head toward the men climbing from their benches, then grunted, “Only thirty.”

Arietta frowned. “Thirty?”

“Thirty men.” Kleef looked back toward her. “And only twenty look strong enough to fight.”

Arietta turned to study the men staggering into the aisle behind her. They were filthy and gaunt, with sunken cheeks, lips so cracked they bled, and bare torsos showing through the tattered remnants of their tunics. Their backs were striped by pale welts, and their ribs showed through the gray flesh on their sides. Only their broad shoulders and old scars suggested that they had once been soldiers, and it was obvious that sending them into battle against Yder and his shadow warriors right now would be little short of a death sentence.

“Then it’s time to change the plan,” Arietta said. “Even Yder can’t catch Greatorm in the Wyvern’s longboats. All we need to do is deny the Shadovar a ship.”

Kleef furrowed his brow. “True enough,” he said. “How do we do that without a fight?”

“Like this.” Arietta raised her arms, gesturing for the attention of the newly freed captives. “We need to lighten our load. I want you to start dumping cargo-the locked holds first.”

An astonished murmur spread across the deck. A red-bearded man whom Arietta recognized as one of her father’s personal bodyguards, Balen, stepped forward.

“You’re asking us to throw the Seasilver fortune overboard?”

“No, Balen,” Arietta said. “I’m telling you.”

Balen looked confused. “Why?”

Knowing better than to assert an authority her father’s men might not respect, Arietta simply turned to another captive-a lanky man with a weathered face and a sun-bleached beard.

“Tell him, Mister Grynwald.”

Grynwald, who had served her father as the Wyvern’s first mate, smiled and pointed at Balen’s feet.

“Feel that?” he asked. “The Wyvern is rolling on her keel, and that means she can be freed-if she can shed enough weight.”

Balen was quick to shake his head. “Her Grace wouldn’t like that.”

“She’ll like it more than having the Shadovar cut off more fingers,” Kleef said. He stepped toward the man, then ran his gaze over the rest of the deck. “Do you really think you’re ready to turn the Shadovar away when they return to the ship? Because I don’t.”

When Kleef’s comment drew a muttered chorus of agreement, Arietta added, “The Seasilver fortune is lost no matter what.” She could scarcely believe her own words, but she had no doubts about their truth. “At least this way, there’s a chance we might be able to return and recover some of it.”

Balen looked around at his fellows, then reluctantly nodded. “When you put it that way, I guess we have no choice.”

“Good.” Kleef turned to Grynwald. “You take charge of that.”

“As you like,” Grynwald said.

Though it did not escape Arietta’s notice that all of her father’s men were quicker to acknowledge Kleef’s authority than her own, now hardly seemed the time to make an issue of it. She merely nodded her approval, then turned aft.

“I don’t suppose the shades have been keeping Her Grace in one of the family cabins?”

“No, my lady.” Grynwald pointed forward. “They’ve had her in the Stink.”

Arietta’s heart fell. “I was afraid of that.”

She started forward, barely noticing as Kleef fell in beside her. The Stink was the crew’s nickname for the Wyvern’s brig, a cramped little cabin tucked into the forepeak of the ship. She could not imagine her mother surviving twenty hours in there, much less twenty days, and she felt her stomach clenching with every step she took.

Kleef insisted on leading the way as they slipped through the bulkhead and into a dim aisle flanked by open bunks. At the far end stood a pair of officers’ cabins and the barred door that led into the brig. After pausing a moment to check for lurking Shadovar, Kleef nodded and motioned Arietta forward.

And that was when Jang’s voice rang out from the hatchway behind them. “There is yelling. I think it is coming from the Lonely Roamer.”

Arietta heard Kleef curse under his breath, and they both turned to face the Shou.

“Can you see what’s happening?” Kleef asked.

Jang shook his head. “The fog is too thick. But one voice belongs to Carlton, and another to Captain Greatorm.”

Arietta did not waste time asking what had gone wrong. Clearly, Greatorm had failed to reach the hidden passage in time, and soon Joelle and Malik and the others would be fighting for their lives.

“We have to go back,” Arietta said. “If Yder is catching up to them-”

“Arietta?” The voice was muffled and brittle, and it came from the other side of the brig door. “Is that you?”

Arietta closed her eyes-mostly relieved to hear that voice-then said, “Yes, Your Grace. We’ll have you out in a minute.”

“What are you doing here?” the grand duchess demanded. “I had hoped you had escaped.”

Kleef looked from the door to Arietta, then whispered, “Jang and I will go back to the Roamer.” He turned to leave. “You see to Her Grace.”

Arietta caught him by the arm. “No, wait.”

“Arietta?” Elira called. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, Mother.” Arietta squeezed Kleef’s arm, hard, and said, “You wait.”

Kleef sighed, but nodded. “Just make it fast.”

Arietta released Kleef and slid the bar aside, then pulled the door open to reveal a dark cramped cabin barely four feet wide and five feet long. Her mother sat on the edge of one of the two bunks, holding a bandaged hand and blinking into the dim light. She looked dirty and frail and starving, and Arietta’s heart ached at the sight.

“Hello, Your Grace,” Arietta said, stepping through the door. “Come out of there.”

The grand duchess studied Arietta for a moment, then looked away. “I’m not sure I can,” she said. “Perhaps you should have your man carry me.”

Kleef made a disgusted sound. Arietta turned to see him glaring down at her with an expression of impatience.

“I’ll meet you at the bow,” Arietta said. “Just bring the skiff up.”

Kleef turned on his heel and started down the aisle. “That’s a small skiff, my lady,” he said. “It might be better if you stayed behind, in case we need to pick anyone up.”

Arietta put some authority into her voice. “Then leave Jang.” When Kleef did not even slow down, she quickly added, “What are you going to do if Yder starts hurling magic at you? Throw your sword at him?”

Kleef stopped at the bulkhead and nodded, then turned to Jang. “You take command here,” he said. “Don’t let the Shadovar retake the ship. Sink it, if need be.”

“Sink it?” the grand duchess demanded, suddenly finding the strength to rise to her feet. “Do you know to whom this ship belongs?”

Arietta slipped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “He knows, Your Grace,” she said, guiding her across the threshold of the brig and out into the aisle. “And he’s absolutely right. We’re at war.”

Kleef nodded without looking back. “I’ll see you in one minute,” he said, turning to ascend the companionway. “Don’t be late.”

The grand duchess tensed. “Arietta, did that man just give you an order?”

“I wouldn’t call it an order,” Arietta said, guiding her mother down the aisle toward a wary-looking Jang. “It’s more of a suggestion.”

“I know an order when I hear one,” the grand duchess said. “Who is he?”

“He’s a topsword in the Watch,” Arietta said. “And one of the men who helped take the Wyvern back … and rescue you.”

“So he’s common.”

“He’s far from common,” Arietta said, thinking of Kleef’s skill with a sword. “But he’s not noble.”

“Then what …” The grand duchess stopped to turn and peer up at Arietta. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken a watchman as a lover!”

Arietta felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “You must be delirious,” she said. “Kleef is a better man than most lords I know, but what you suggest wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” the grand duchess demanded. “Singing in taverns, fighting in the streets like a regular man-at-arms. Why not bed a watchman for good measure?”

“Now you’re just being rude,” Arietta said. “Kleef risked his life to save you.”

“As well he should have,” the grand duchess retorted. “If you had just listened to your father, none of this would …”

The grand duchess stopped abruptly, but Arietta was already reeling, her heart aching as if from a blow. Her mother had just given voice to her own worst fears, and now she found herself floundering in a sea of doubt again, wondering whether her faith in Siamorphe was just a spoiled noblewoman’s silly fantasy after all.

“Arietta, I didn’t mean to say that you’re responsible,” the grand duchess said. “Only the Shadovar are to blame-”

“It’s quite all right, Your Grace,” Arietta said. “I understand exactly what you meant.”

They reached the bulkhead. Arietta removed her arm from around her mother and turned to Jang.

“The grand cabin is in the stern,” she said. “Would you see that Her Grace is made comfortable and given food and water?”

Jang cast a wary glance at the grand duchess, then said simply, “Yes.”

“Thank you.” Arietta started up the companionway, but stopped halfway up and glanced back down at her mother. “And, Jang, do remember that you’re in charge.”