lies in his sword, not his brain?
I will need to maintain a careful observation here.
'When will you finally get that axe sharpened?'
Daggrande snorted. 'When this boat lands on the sandy beaches of Shou Lung, and not a moment before!' The dwarf continued with his whetstone, honing the fine steel to a hairsplitting edge.
'I thought you didn't believe we'd land in Kara-Tur!' Hal countered. He knew that Shou Lung was the greatest empire upon that distant continent.
'I don't, we won't, and I meant what I said!'
'If it's not your axe, then you're tightening the spring on your crossbow or polishing your helm!' Halloran wouldn't let up.
'What else is there to do on this blasted barge?' demanded the dwarf, huffing impatiently and turning back to his work. In truth, the sea made him edgy, and his companion knew it.
A huge, lanky dog sauntered over to Halloran and leaned against him. The creature was one of the greyhounds that accompanied the legion. This one, called 'Corporal' by Hal, had taken a liking to the young lancer and pestered him more or less constantly for food.
Amidships, Storm and two other chargers stood impatiently in the makeshift shelter the crew had rigged. A long voyage, Hal suspected, would be harder on the horses than on the men.
But suddenly Halloran paid the animals no attention, for their own Osprey had veered to within a hundred paces of Falcon, and the young horseman had eyes only for the flagship.
Or rather, for one of the passengers on that vessel. The Bishou's daughter, Martine, had just stepped from the cabin, her red hair catching the sunlight and bursting with its own fire. She walked slowly about the deck of the other ship as she did several times a day, chatting with the sailors and occasionally relaxing against the rail.
Once she had noticed Halloran watching her and had given him a friendly wave. He had shyly returned the gesture, but now he took pains to be discreet in his observations, pretending to busy himself with his horse or equipment.
Still, whenever the two ships sailed near each other, he made it a point to watch the Falcon, hoping for a glimpse of of Martine. When he saw her, the memory put a rosy glow over the rest of the day.
Meanwhile, Daggrande started to sharpen his dagger, keeping his own eyes anxiously over the bow.
Twenty-sendond day, aboard the Falcon
Last night was the heaviest weather of the voyage; with relief, we counted fifteen vessels in the dawn. Swanmay lost a mast; morning spent in repairing damage. By noon, we're at speed again, backed by a good wind from the northeast.
The uncertainty begins to weigh upon us all. Never have men sailed so far to the west. Around us is naught but the rolling swell of the deep sea.
When will we make landfall? Some grumbling comes from the men, but it is to be expected. Strong, healthy troops are bound to grow restless over the course of a long voyage.
I grow displeased with the assessor, Kardann. The Council of Six has chosen unwisely, I fear. The man is no adventurer. He has been sick the entire voyage and already speaks of his return homeward. I fear he will undermine my ambitions unless I can keep him on a very short tether.
Unfortunately, the terms of my agreement with Amn have conferred all the power of the council into this weasel of a man, including control of the finances backing the expedition. I will have to ensure his understanding of one fact: The legion answers to me and me alone!
Darien moved quietly in the shuttered privacy of her small cabin. A candle flickered with the swaying of the Falcon, but its light was sufficient for her purposes. Indeed, she preferred its soft illumination to the harsh glare of the sun, so painful for her sensitive eyes.
Lifting a sturdy rucksack from her bench, she sought a hidden flap. Her white, dextrous fingers flipped a simple catch, and she pulled a soft volume out of its secret compartment. The leather-covered book contained dozens of sheets of fine vellum, and on each was inscribed one or more of her powerful incantations.
She took her spellbook to the small desk in the cabin, in the shadow, away from the flickering candle. The darkness caused her no difficulty, however, as she gently lifted the leather binding and began to read.
She turned the parchment pages carefully, silently mouthing the words as she read. Her full concentration focused on the tome before her as she studied and learned. Underlying her concentration was a powerful challenge burning at the core of her being.
She would be ready.
Thirty-second day, aboard the Falcon
Complaints and cowardice grow more apparent. This morning a near mutiny on Swallow. I sentenced two men to hang, commuted one, and watched the other swing.
Still nothing but the sea — not a bird nor a floating log to give us hint of land. The tumor of faithlessness must be controlled.
Evening. Now we've had wind drop away to nothing. The fleet sits with limp canvas, becalmed in the tropics. We must take action; we must do something!
'What are they doing?' Halloran asked, squinting into the setting sun. Falcon stood still in the water a few hundred yards away, her flaccid sails hanging in pathetic emphasis of their situation. The pennant of the Golden Legion hung straight down from the mainmast, its golden eagle concealed by listless contours of fabric.
The hour was late, but still the sun burned with a penetrating fire, casting nearly horizontal rays as it sank toward the western sea. No ripple disturbed the flat, lifeless surface of endless water.
'Eh? Who's doing what?' Daggrande put down his freshly oiled crossbow and joined Halloran.
'Look for yourself.'
They saw the crew of the Falcon gathering amidships, leaving the raised afterdeck clear.
'That's the elf,' spat Daggrande as a hooded figure emerged onto the Falcon's deck and climbed the steps to the rear. She stood alone there, turned away from the sun, away from the facing of the little fleet.
The sound of her voice carried across the water as she raised her hands and barked harsh syllables.
'Black magic, by Helm!' chuckled the dwarf. 'That pointy — eared faerie might come in handy after all!'
'What magic?' Halloran felt a chill and was unable to shake off the feeling of eeriness. He remembered the magic of a decade before, the apparition that had claimed his tutor and sent Hal himself fleeing panic-stricken into the desert. He had used none of the few spells he knew since that fearful day. The feeling of his sword beneath his hand now gave him some comfort, but he could not shake his apprehension as he watched Darien finish her casting.
Abruptly the elven mage dropped her arms and ceased speaking. Halloran jumped, as startled by the sudden halt as he had been nervous during the casting.
For a moment, the supernatural stillness closed in again, no breath of wind stirring the water or the fleet. The sun seemed to touch the water as it set, and Halloran half — expected to hear the hissing of steam from the scalding contact that looked so near.
He felt it first as a cooling touch against his right cheek. He heard a sailor shout on one of the other ships, then saw a smattering of ripples spread in patches across the sea. The pennant of the Golden Legion suddenly stirred, offering a tantalizing glimpse of its proud eagle emblem.
Then the sail of the Falcon billowed outward, and Halloran felt the Osprey lurch beneath his feet. Their own sail came taut with a snap, and the caravel's timbers creaked and groaned under the increasing strain.
Soon a pleasant breeze pushed them briskly along. Fresh from the northeast, it filled the sails with its reassuring power.
Once again the Golden Legion sailed to the west.
The stream twisted through dense jungle, verdant foliage more entwined, more overpowering than Erix could have imagined. She rode with Kachin in a slender canoe. The cleric deftly handled a great fan of pluma, and the slow whirling of the feathermagic propelled the boat with a gentle grace among the vines and fronds and water lilies. The guards and slaves followed in two more canoes, larger craft propelled by the paddles of the passengers.
Kachin had earlier explained the nature of feathermagic, and its opposite power, talonmagic.
