'What are you going to do?' the young sailor asked.
'I'm going after that ship,' Azla declared.
'You could rip out Black Champions bottom in the chase,' Jherek protested. 'The currents are already gnawing at her.'
Azla's eyes blazed. 'Unless you can pull a chunk of earwax from your head, cast it into the water and grow an island out of it, I don't see that we have much choice.' She marched from the hold to the boarding party.
'She's tucked her tail between her legs and run,' one of the pirates yelled.
Jherek saw the slaver vessel limping away to the south, evidently trying to leave the area with no further confrontation.
'They're not going to get away,' Azla said in a stern voice. 'They've holed our ship and we're sinking. So we're taking theirs in turn.'
Her crew turned to look at her in amazement, clearly not wanting to believe it.
'Bring us around,' Azla ordered.
The pirates sprang into action, shifting what sailcloth was left after the gargoyles' attack and cutting free other canvas that only impeded their progress.
As he stood on the deck, Jherek could feel the sluggishness of Black Champion's response as she came about.
Sabyna approached. No tears showed in her eyes now, and she acted as if what passed between them only a few moments ago had never happened. 'What's wrong with the ship?' she asked.
'The hull's holed,' Jherek told her in a low voice. 'Taking that slaver is the only hope we have.'
'As you say,' Myrym told Pacys, 'the Dukars were wizards. They found their beginning almost nine thousand years ago, in a small town then called simply Nantar. Nantar was located on the Lower Hmur Plateau, its population made up exclusively of sea elves. At first, the Dukars were lorekeepers only. There were four of them who joined together after being taught by their master, Dukar, from whom they took the name of their order. These were Jhimar, the triton warrior maiden; Kupav, the sea elf; Maalirn, also a triton; and Numos, the female morkoth.' THE THREAT FROM THE SEA
'A morkoth?' Pacys shook his head. 'Chieftain Myrym, in the outer seas, the only morkoth that have been encountered are solitary creatures who dwell in caves and set traps for humans and elves, which they consider delicacies.'
'You've heard of the Arcanum of Olleth?'
'Yes,' the bard replied. 'An empire of morkoth is something I'd have to see believe, though, and to accept the idea of a city of benevolent morkoth is harder still.'
'The city is called Qatoris,' Myrym said. 'It is magically hidden by the Dukars who live there.'
'How can this be?' the old bard asked.
'In the beginning, the Dukars recognized no oaths of fealty to the elven empire though pressure was put on them. Instead, they devoted their time to the development of their schools. Over the next three thousand years Seros knew peace. More years passed, and more wars to go with them, and still the Dukars tried to serve the sea. They were captured and imprisoned many times in the struggles for power among the elves and other races. By the Year of the Druid's Wrath-six hundred and fifty-two years ago-the Dukars had pulled away from Myth Nantar, not wanting to take part in any of the Hmurran civil wars.'
'What of the Taker's Eye?' Pacys asked the locathah.
'When Myth Nantar was built,' Myrym said, 'as I have said, the Coronal gave the eye to the Dukars for safe keeping. They hid it somewhere in the city.'
'But Myth Nantar was lost,' Pacys said. 'That I remember.'
Myrym nodded and said, 'After the Dukars left, sahuagin warriors stole into the city and murdered the sea elves and merfolk who remained to stand guard. The sea devils destroyed much of the city, but could not stay. The mythal was designed to keep creatures like them out. They soon fled, but in later years, the magical shields around the Academy of the Dukars started growing till they encompassed all of fallen Myth Nantar. The water around the city became impenetrable even to those who built it. Some say it is haunted.'
'And what do you say?' Pacys asked.
'Only that the city was properly named, Loremaster. It is the City of Destinies. For the Taker, for you, and for the young warrior you seek. Somewhere in that wreckage is the Taker's Eye, and it holds the key to all your destinies. I have one final gift for you if you will accept it.'
'What is that?'
'You asked me in what direction the young warrior you seek lies. These water lilies may hold an answer of sorts for you.' The aged locathah held the leaves out to him. 'Simply put them under your tongue and think of him.'
The bard opened his mouth and put the leaves under his tongue. He pushed the seawater from his mouth and waited. A pleasant tingling sensation numbed the underside of his tongue and his lips.
All at once it felt as if the top of his head exploded, and he was swept away on a cold, black tide.
Black Champion bucked and fought the ocean like a horse trying to keep its head above the waterline. Jherek peered down at the dark, green-black water little more than an arm's reach from the railing. Perhaps only minutes remained before forward progress became impossible for the caravel. Despite the slave ship's loss of two masts, Black Champion was barely closing the last hundred yards to her.
The caravel smashed through another wave. This time the cold seawater swept over Black Champion's deck, drenching the assembled crew in spray. They didn't look hopeful even after the ship surged forward again.
The slaver tried to cut away as Black Champion came abreast, tacking into the wind. If the slaver had flown another sail, Jherek knew the maneuver would have cost them their last chance at overtaking their quarry. As it was, the single remaining sail only offered a token attempt at quickly changing their course.
'Come hard to starboard!' Azla ordered from the forecastle.
Jherek looked up at the half-elf pirate captain with respect. She stood there knowing she was losing her ship, yet she remained inviolate, totally in command.
'What are you thinking, young warrior?' Glawinn asked.
'Look at her,' Jherek said. 'Aboard a dying ship, about to take on a crew twice the size of hers, yet she knows no fear'
'You don't think she's afraid?'
'Maybe she is,' he conceded, 'but she overcomes it well.'
'Fear isn't necessarily a bad thing, young warrior. It's meant to warn of uncertain situations and concentrate resolve, to give strength to flagging muscles and wings to thoughts. In the end it must be embraced and accepted, not conquered like an enemy blade. Aren't you afraid now?'
'Aye,' Jherek said, continuing to watch the pirate captain as she ordered the grappling crew to the railing, 'and it shames me.'
'I'd rather see you afraid,' Glawinn said, 'and know that you are truly alive, than to see you the way I have seen you in the past days.'
'I have done so many wrong things, made so many mistakes.' He glanced at Sabyna, who stood on the forecastle deck with Arthoris and Azla. 'I've hurt someone I would never have offered any injury. He turned his attention to the paladin and added, 'I've even offended you, who have done nothing but try to help me.'
Glawinn smiled, his eyes twinkling, and dropped his mailed hand on Jherek's shoulder. 'Young warrior,' he said, 'if you made no trespasses, who would there be to say you'd ever been by?'
Black Champion smashed through another wave and took a while to right herself. Jherek held onto the railing, balancing himself easily while Glawinn struggled slightly with all his armor on.
'Keep something in mind, young warrior. A hero who has never known fear or want, uncertainty or anger, hunger or loneliness, is no real hero. It isn't their bravery that should impress you. That turns on a moment, marking an event that most people choose to recognize as heroic. It is in the journey that leads up to that moment, the persistence of vision, that makes a man or woman truly heroic. Do you understand?'
'Some of it.'
Glawinn patted him on the shoulder. 'The rest will come in time. For now we have a ship to take.'
