Under fallen stars

XIV

9 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet

Laaqueel swam in Iakhovas's shadow, having trouble keeping up with him. In the last month since healing after his fight with Huaanton, Iakhovas seemed to become even stronger. The malenti priestess suspected that newfound strength came from one of the items his spies and lackeys constantly searched for. No human could swim as fast as a sahuagin, or a malenti, and no sahuagin could swim as fast as Iakhovas.

She continued to struggle as they arched through the tunnels beneath the sahuagin palace. Sahuagin homes always had numerous entrances, following tunnels that branched in all directions. Mazes were an entertainment as well as a defense for the sahuagin, and the most complex labyrinths were those constructed under the palace.

The malenti struggled to remember the route. Iakhovas never took the same one twice, and she knew there was some deliberate overlapping and repetition in his routes. It was a constant reminder that, though they were joined by Sekolah's will and the quill next to her heart, Iakhovas would always go his own way.

Make haste, little malenti, Iakhovas taunted. I don't want to keep my people waiting. It would be unseemly if the Royal High Priestess wasn't at her station when I made my announcement.

What announcement? Laaqueel swam harder, flaring out the webbing between her toes and fingers to better catch the water. Still, she couldn't close the distance. It was unsettling seeing him in his human form easily setting a pace she found grueling.

Patience, little malenti. I know events in Baldur's Gate sapped some of our reserves and even the savage nature of the sahuagin is daunted. I've made preparations to fix that. Trust me, they will be reinspired today.

Suspicion shot through Laaqueel. Since his meeting with the Nelanther pirates, Iakhovas had been brimming with energy and mystery. He took a final turn in the tunnel he was following, waiting until he was almost upon it.

Drawn by the wake he'd left, Laaqueel strove to make the corner but couldn't. She slammed into the rough wall, abrading her skin. Biting back a cry of pain, she pushed off the wall and continued her pursuit of Iakhovas.

Another turn and he shot straight up, coursing through yet another tunnel. Laaqueel watched him leave the opening above, flashing swift as an arrow.

As soon as he cleared the opening, Iakhovas spread his arms. Knowing he looked like a sahuagin male to her people, Laaqueel recognized the bit of posturing on his behalf. A sahuagin's fins would have flared out, standing briefly at attention. His arrival was graceful and impressive, showing that he was every inch the predator.

Laaqueel left the tunnel and entered the large chamber behind the amphitheater throne. She heard the clicks and whistles of the crowd and knew that the gladiatorial games that had been scheduled were underway. She'd been informed of them but had chosen to stay in her chambers until she'd been sent for.

Iakhovas alighted on his feet. Instantly the Royal Black Tridents closed in around him, barely giving Laaqueel room to take her place at his side. Iakhovas glanced at her with his single eye. Down in the dark pit of the empty socket, she thought she saw something metallic.

"You've changed your attire since our raid," Iakhovas said.

"Yes." Laaqueel didn't explain why she'd started wearing the hated human clothing. She couldn't really explain it to herself. Most of it had to do with how Bloody Falkane had flaunted his sexual aggression, and how it had affected her. It had, however, served her to notice that Iakhovas was aware of her nudity even though he'd never tried to act on it. The feeling was extremely awkward. She'd never before experienced any of the emotions or confusion the two men now generated within her.

There was something about Bloody Falkane, though, that had stayed with her. Sometimes at night she felt his lips still on hers, burning like the poisonous touch of a vinanquelt. It wasn't enough to cause pain, but it had disrupted her sleep patterns. Only prayers had ever done that before.

The possibility of an alliance with him was never too far from her mind. It could put her on more equal footing with Iakhovas. Though she knew attempting such an alliance would anger Iakhovas, she also thought the cunning and cruel part of him would respect her efforts.

Iakhovas led the way out to the terrace overlooking the amphitheater. He took his seat and the Royal Black Tridents spread out around him. Laaqueel stood at his side.

Below, on the swirl pattern of the amphitheater floor, nine captured surface dwellers fought an afanc. The blue-gray beast had a vicious wedge-shaped head and a mouthful of teeth, made even more distinctive by the long whiskers. Resembling a fish in structure, it was nearly fifty feet long and often was mistaken for a whale because of its size.

Laaqueel knew Iakhovas had chosen nine humans on purpose. The number meant much among the sahuagin culture. There were nine barons, and power was assumed to come from that number.

The humans fought because they had no choice. Armed with tridents, they tried to stay low to the ground. If they'd tried to swim up, the afanc would have easily picked them off.

Finning itself into a frenzy, the afanc began swimming in circles above the group. Faster and faster it sped, until a whirlpool took shape in the water. The funnel danced across the checkerboard amphitheater floor, twisting with quick, darting leaps that scoured the tiles. Debris formed bands inside the whirlpool.

The humans tried to flee, seeing the danger too late, but the whirlpool caught them. The suction ripped them from the floor, pulling them up into the open. As the humans whipped around the outer edges of the dancing whirlpool, the afanc swam in quick lunges and ripped them free in its jaws. When the creature crunched its prey, blood flowed into the water. In less than a minute, all nine surface dwellers were gone.

The sahuagin in the stands shouted out in savage glee.

Iakhovas let them have their moment, then he stood and held his hands out for attention. He waited until every eye was on him, then said, "My people, long have I prayed over our future. I have asked not for mercy from Sekolah for We Who Eat, for that would be foolish. I have asked for strength. We need to be strong, stronger than we have ever been before. Our destiny lies before us, shrouded in human flesh and human death. It is from them that we must rip what is our due according to the will of the mighty Shark God."

His words carried powerfully over the amphitheater. Laa-queel felt moved by them, and was certain that no matter what Iakhovas thought he was doing, Sekolah was working through him.

"Our losses were great at Baldur's Gate," Iakhovas said. "Many of our warriors fell in battle, but that, too, is the way Sekolah wills. Our path cannot be easy, not if we are to remain worthy of our heritage. Sekolah found us and shaped us into warriors." He paused. "No, he molded us in his wisdom into the best warriors."

A resounding cheer went up in the amphitheater. Laa-queel watched her people, knowing Iakhovas had them in the palm of his hand.

"We strike fear into the hearts of any who dare stand in the way of We Who Eat," Iakhovas continued. "As we should for now and for always. We took their lives that night, just as we did in Waterdeep, and we've become stronger because of our losses."

Out in the amphitheater, the afanc finished chasing down the stray bits of bodies left floating in the water. None of the sahuagin guards ventured forth for any of the choice morsels so tantalizingly close.

"Some of you may think we should halt for a time in our war against the surface dwellers," Iakhovas said, "but that would only be giving in to weakness."

Silence reigned in the amphitheater, and Laaqueel knew no one dared dispute Iakhovas's words.

"We were born to fight and die." Iakhovas looked out over the gathered sahuagin. "To do any less would be forsaking all that we know. So now I tell you that I've been told to guide you to a new battleground, a place where we can strike even more terror into the hearts of the accursed surface dwellers."

Laaqueel listened, trying to guess where Iakhovas would next send them. There were always the lands of the Shining South and the Empires of the Sands. Both of those regions conducted a lot of sea trade.

"I was given a dream," Iakhovas went on, "of a sea far from here. An inland sea held hostage by the hated humans."

Consternation spread throughout the ranks of the sahuagin. Laaqueel felt her heart slow, but the quill pricked it and it resumed its normal rhythm.

Be at ease, little malenti. I know what I'm doing.

"And in this inland sea, called Seros by those who live there, I have seen thousands of our people held captive in subjugation. It falls to us to find them and free them from the trap the humans laid for them."

More noise erupted through the ranks, and Laaqueel knew Iakhovas was dangerously close to losing the crowd. Hardly any of the sahuagin had ever heard of an inland sea. To hold the very sea itself captive was unthinkable, an aberration they would struggle to even understand or believe.

"It's true!" Iakhovas roared. "No one may doubt my word, the word of your king!"

Instantly, most of the noise died away, but Laaqueel knew the implied threat didn't quell the confusion within her people.

"I will lead you there," Iakhovas said, "and we will find our people. A way will be made for us to achieve this, our greatest of destinies. Once again, our people will be made whole, no longer separated by the ignorance the hated surface dwellers would wish on us. I give you this, my promise, and I stand on it in the blood of combat to prove to you that Sekolah watches over our actions."

Before anyone knew what was going on, Iakhovas leaped from the terrace and swam out into the amphitheater. The afanc noticed him at once and began finning toward him.

The royal guards mustered quickly to go to his aid. Laaqueel reached for the gifts Sekolah had bestowed upon her, wondering if any of them would truly be enough to stand against the monster even now gliding toward Iakhovas.

"No!" Iakhovas shouted. "Do not interfere. Trust in the will of Sekolah."

Laaqueel rushed forward to the terrace railing. Fear pounded through her as she wondered what would happen to her when Iakhovas was killed by the afanc.

Iakhovas hung motionless in the water, floating well above the tiled courtyard. He spread his arms out, claws wide on his hands and feet.

The afanc streaked straight for him. It opened its mouth, knowing its prey couldn't escape.

Jherek woke from a troubled slumber, never free of the nightmarish shark that pursued him. Pale moonlight streamed through the iron bars of the hold overhead, letting him know it was still in the dark hours of the night. The familiar creak of Breezerunner's rigging and planks sounded around him. Two men's voices talking casually to each other came from above.

Nearly all of Breezerunner's crew were asleep around him, rolled tightly into themselves against the chill of the night that filled the hold. Only Tynnel was awake, sitting across the hold and staring up at the iron bars overhead. Jherek made brief, uncomfortable eye contact with the man, glancing quickly away. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bulwark. Since their confrontation a few days ago, they'd had little to say to each other.

Slight fever still coursed through Jherek, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. At least now it burned and kept his sleep erratic, but it didn't leave him shaking all the time. The chill bit into him with jagged fangs, though, and he wished he had a blanket so he wouldn't wake up feeling stiff all the time.

Breezerunner still sailed through the River Chionthar as it had every night that Jherek had been aware of. Old Captain Finaren, who'd never liked even the idea of river travel, told him that normally a ship tied up at night on a river. There were too many dangers, unseen shoals that could rip a keel out from under a ship, or twists that could be missed in the night that would leave the ship run ashore, to risk sailing in the dark. Even the merchantman's necessary four-foot draft could prove challenging for the ship's pilot. The young sailor knew there must have been some reason for Vurgrom's haste, and he wished he had some clue as to what it was.

The fever left his mouth dry. Quietly, not wanting to disturb those around him, Jherek made his way to the water barrel. He used the dipper hanging on the side and drank deeply.

"Malorrie."

The whisper drew the young sailor's attention up. For a moment, he thought he'd imagined Sabyna's voice, a product of wishful thinking and the fever.

"Malorrie."

He glanced up, thinking perhaps he saw a slight shimmering against the star-studded night above. "Sabyna?" he said softly.

"I have the key to the brig lock." Her voice seemed to come from the air itself.

"How did you-"

"Vurgrom sleeps occasionally. I waited till his mage was deep in his own studies, then took my chances."

"That was foolish," Jherek said. "You could have been hurt."

"Quiet. I've heard them talking that we'll reach the end of the river tomorrow. If we're going to have a chance at all, it has to be tonight."

Jherek nodded. "I agree, lady. Once you give me the key, get yourself off the ship."

"I can do more good here."

"No," Jherek said softly.

"We don't have time to argue. Even invisible, if any of the pirates look in my direction at the right time they could figure out what's going on. If Vurgrom should wake up and find his key missing, all hell will break loose."

"Of course."

"Stretch your hand up."

Jherek did, standing on tiptoe. The hard metal key brushed his fingertips for a moment, and he seized it. He felt the warmth of Sabyna's hand close around his briefly, and he wished the touch could have lasted longer. He felt an immediate wash of shame and guilt. He was in no way deserving of her. His face burned and he hoped it was too dark in the hold for the ship's mage to see.

"As soon as you are ready," Sabyna said, "you should make your move. It's only a couple hours before dawn now, and most of the pirates are asleep."

"Aye, lady."

"I told you not to call me lady," Sabyna admonished.

"As you wish."

" 'As you wish,'" she repeated. "I do like the sound of that."

He heard the smile in her voice, and his heart ached that he wasn't able to see it. When he realized how selfish he was being, both for wanting to see her and for keeping her there any longer than she had to be, he whispered, "You should go before you're spotted."

"All right. Tymora's favored blessings of good fortune to you and the crew, Malorrie of Velen, that you may be seen safely through this night."

"And you, lady." He didn't know if she'd heard him. Even though he didn't hear her footsteps, he felt that she was no longer there.

"Let me have the key, boy," Captain Tynnel said in a rough voice.

Jherek crossed the floor and gave the key to the man. Whatever slight friendship that had existed between them when they'd first met seemed to have vanished. The young sailor still didn't know how or why that had happened.

Tynnel pushed himself to his feet. "Let's rouse these dogs. Quietly. We've got my ship to take back, and in one damned piece, Selune willing."

In moments, they had the crew awake. All of them were full of fear and nervous energy when Tynnel slid the key home and twisted the lock. The tumblers instantly fell into place.

They went through the door and into the pitch black filling the center of the hold, moving by memory and by feel. Jherek went first among them, followed by Tynnel. He breathed rapidly, from fear and the fever filling him. He ran his hand along the wall, located the steps leading up to the main deck, and started up toward the lighted rectangle of the hatch.

Tynnel gripped the young sailor's wrist. "Once we get up top, things are going to get confusing. No matter what else, we have to seize control of the tiller-else Breezerunner will be run aground."

"Aye, sir." Despite the tension between the captain and himself, Jherek knew he'd carry out the orders to the best of his ability. He continued up the steps, going slowly, rocking his weight smoothly so the steps wouldn't be as likely to creak underfoot. His heart pounded and he was drenched in the sweat of the fever.

He peered out at the deck before his head ever cleared the hold. He glanced only briefly at the dark shore speeding by, almost overwhelmed by the actual sight of Breezerunner's magically enhanced speed. He turned hurriedly away.

Two pirates were talking at the nearby railing. From their conversation, Jherek knew the subject was Sabyna and how Vurgrom had promised the ship's mage to them once they reached the end of the river in the Sunset Mountains.

The young sailor's anger came upon him full strength at the graphic nature of their discussion, but he kept himself in check. Malorrie had always instructed him in the dangers of anger, and Madame litaar had never put up with it.

Two more men stood at the stern castle manning the rudder. Vurgrom's ship's mage occupied the bronze-colored chair mounted there. Moonlight glinted darkly against it. Sailcloth above moved and cracked occasionally, but left great wells of shadow that a clever and surefooted person could use to his benefit.

The land on either side of the River Chionthar here bore scrub growth, short, stocky trees and an abundance of brush. Only a few trees of any real height lined the bank and leaned out over the water. The ship's mage piloted Breeze-runner in the center of the river, and she glided smoothly along against the sedate current even with all the arcane speed she mustered.

"Move," Captain Tynnel ordered.

Jherek pushed out of the hold and stayed hunkered down as he crossed the deck. He placed his feet rapidly but carefully, staying within the pools of shadows created by the sails overhead. He heard the crewmen behind him, though, as they came up on the deck, and so did the pirates.

"Hey, what the hell?" someone yelled.

Giving up all pretense of getting across the deck unheard and unseen, Jherek sped for the stern castle. He pushed the fever and the uncertainty to the back of his mind. Live or die, it all came down to the next few minutes.

The man standing beside the seated ship's mage came forward, peering down at the deck and trying to find the source of the commotion.

"The prisoners have escaped!" someone screamed. "Sound the alarm!"

Swords hissed from leather. Halfway up the steps, Jherek lunged for the man leaning over the railing, catching him by the shirt front. The young sailor pulled as hard as he could, yanking the man over the railing and toward the deck below.

As the pirate screamed and fell, Jherek stripped the cutlass from the man's hand. The young sailor heard the bone-splitting crunch of the man impacting against the deck at the time he had his foot on the top rung of the steps leading into Breezerunner's stern castle.

He raced toward the ship's mage, grimly aware of the battle that had broken out behind him.