though they were making conversation about something.
Just as you're about to finish the spell, you signal me, Cale said. I will close on them. Mags, you shoot at Dolgan the moment he is visible to you. He's to your right of the forecastle door. I will tell you if he moves.
Understood, Magadon answered.
Cale and Jak both nodded, pretending to be in accord about something. They turned and started back toward the forecastle, continuing to move as slowly as before.
Jak palmed his holy symbol and began to incant.
From his vantage in the crow's nest, Magadon looked down at the forecastle. He imagined the slaad's location and drew an arrow to his ear. He found his mental focus, summoned his energy, and caused it to manifest physically on his arrow. The tip's edges glinted dim red, charged with power.
He judged the wind and the distance, and readied himself. The moment Jak rendered the slaadi visible, he would let fly.
His heart nearly stopped when the cold edge of a sharp blade settled against his throat, and the sharp point of another settled against his spine. Magadon had heard nothing.
'Goodeve, Mags,' said a voice.
Drasek Riven's voice.
Magadon went cold.
Jak whispered the final word to his spell even as his mental voice said to Cale and Magadon, Now!
Cale stepped from the shadows around him and into the shadows beside Azriim. He materialized at the same moment that the magical pulse from Jak's spell reached the slaadi. The pulse hit Cale and the slaadi and stripped all three of their invisibility.
Cale drove Weaveshear into Azriim's side, through his ribs, through his lungs, and into his heart. The slaad gasped with pain and sank to his knees, his mismatched eyes wide with surprise. Blood poured from his open mouth.
Cale expected a mentally-charged arrow to come streaking out of the crow's nest but it never did. He had his back to Dolgan but his augmented magical sense saw the slaad as he pointed his hand at Cale.
Cale jerked Weaveshear free of Azriim and tried to intercept whatever was coming but he was too slow. A white-hot lightning bolt issued from the slaad's palm, slammed into Cale's side, burned a hole into his flesh, and sent him skidding across the deck. For an alarming moment, his pain-wracked body would not respond to his commands. The air smelled acrid, with an undertone of burning flesh and cloth. But as his shade flesh regenerated the injuries, the pain subsided and his body answered.
Mags! Cale projected to Magadon, climbing to all fours and turning around. Shoot!
Jak became visible as he chanted the words to another spell and fired a bolt of white energy into Dolgan. The divine force hit the slaad in the side. He grunted and took a backward step. Jak charged at him, blades bare.
Meanwhile, Azriim had found his feet. Like Cale, the slaad's flesh was already regenerating. He leered at Cale as he stood, still bleeding from a hole in his side, and spat a gob of blood to the deck.
Cale rose on wobbly legs and brandished Weaveshear.
The noise of the battle was waking the slavers. On the maindeck, sailors rose, assessed the situation, shouted, and grabbed for weapons. A call went up: 'Invaders at the forecastle! They're at the captain and Hack. Arms! Arms!'
Cale had only moments. He advanced on Azriim but Magadon's mental voice sounded in his brain. Erevis, stop! Riven. . has me.
It took a moment for the words to register. When they did, Cale stopped cold and cursed. Jak, too, stopped his charge.
'Now, now,' said Azriim, favoring his side but still smiling. 'Mind the cursing or I'll have Riven gut your mindmage.'
Cale gritted his teeth. Magadon's mental projection must have reached the slaadi. Azriim took out his bronze teleportation rod and began turning its dials, slowly, just to gloat. In his other hand, he held a wand of blackened iron capped with an orange jewel.
'Thank you for the amusing diversion,' the slaad said. 'Regrettably, I cannot linger. I had hoped to kill you myself, but alas, we often do not get what we wish.'
Before Cale could reply, Azriim projected to Riven, Kill the mindmage, Riven. Then we travel. . The connection was cut and Cale did not sense whatever last bit of information Azriim sent to Riven.
Magadon's mental scream caused Cale to clutch his head. A sympathetic stab of pain traveled through the psychic connection and doubled Cale over. He felt Magadon die and the mindlink terminated.
Smiling even as his body began to transform again, Azriim turned the dial on his teleportation rod with his thumb while pointing the iron wand at the forecastle.
'Farewell, priest,' Azriim said.
Cale and Jak both dived for cover.
A tiny ball of fire shot from the wand, hit the forecastle, and blossomed into a globe of flames. The sheath of shadows around Cale kept the flames and heat from his flesh. When he looked up, he did not see the slaadi. They were gone. Jak's cloak was smoking but otherwise the little man appeared to have avoided the flames.
The forecastle was ablaze. The entire ship would soon be afire.
The crew stood stunned for a moment, clutching weapons, wearing snarls, watching their ship burn.
'They've burned the captain alive!' shouted a bald, tattooed giant of a man. 'At 'em, lads!'
Cale and Jak stood and went shoulder to shoulder. The crew advanced warily. Cale could see their courage building. They would soon charge.
'We could return to the Plane of Shadow,' Cale said out of the side of his mouth, though he figured he knew Jak's answer.
Jak shook his head. 'We cannot leave the slaves, Cale. Let's finish this. I can take care of the fire.'
Cale nodded, brandished Weaveshear, and awaited the advancing crew. Meanwhile, the little man hurriedly incanted a prayer. When he finished, the ship listed to one side, as though struck by a powerful wave. Cale barely kept his feet.
The crew exclaimed, several fell to the deck, and all looked around in alarm.
Cale looked out to sea, which appeared calm. What could-
A wave surged upward from the sea and crashed over the railing. To Cale's astonishment, and to the open- mouthed shock of the crew, it did not soak the deck but instead held the form of a churning pillar, about the size of an ogre. It moved rapidly over the deck with an awkward undulation until it stood before Jak and Cale. Sound emerged from it, like the crashing of surf, or the swirl of a whirlpool. The cadence suggested that the sounds were speech.
The crew froze in their boots.
Cale realized that he was looking at living water, an elemental. He had heard of priests summoning such creatures, but he had never known Jak to do so. The little man continued to surprise him.
'A servant of the sea-bitch!' one of the crew shouted.
'Quench the flames and begone,' Jak ordered the elemental.
The elemental responded in its incomprehensible tongue, thinned, elongated, and stretched forth for the forecastle. Its body soaked the flames, steaming and sizzling and smoking. In three heartbeats the fire was quenched.
The living wave instantly dissipated, drenching Jak's and Cale's boots and those of the crew. The elemental had returned to its place of origin, leaving a watery trail behind.
'Nicely done,' Cale said.
'We're at sea,' Jak said. 'I thought I should be prepared.'
Unfortunately, the angry crew did not seem as impressed. With the fire extinguished, they charged full on, weapons bare.
Azriim, Dolgan, and Riven appeared on the maindeck of Dolphin's Coffer. Azriim had retaken the form he had used when he first set foot on Dolphin's Coffer back in Selgaunt.
