'Loose the braces!' he boomed. He turned to Ruha and, more quietly, asked, 'If you'd be kind enough to call off your wind. Lady Witch.'
Ruha uttered a single syllable, and the magic breeze died away. The crew loosed the brace lines, leaving the yardarms to swing free, and the sail snapped and popped as it flapped loose in the wind. The drag of the wyrm's enormous body quickly brought the Storm Sprite to a halt. She swung around and began to roll wildly in the churning sea, still pitching toward the bow and listing toward the wyrm.
All at once, the crew broke into a tremendous cheer, many of them calling Umberlee's favor upon the witch's head. A great swell of pride filled Ruha's breast, and for the first time since the debacle in Voonlar, she felt wor- thy to wear the pin of a Harper.
A loud, sonorous gurgle sounded just off the starboard side. Ruha looked over to see the dragon's corpse sliding beneath the churning black waters. The Storm Sprite gave a long groan and listed even farther to starboard, the harpoon lines swinging toward her hull. Several of the crew lost their footing and would have fallen overboard had it not been for the quick hands of their comrades.
Ruha looked to Captain Fowler. 'Why is the wyrm sinking? Shouldn't it float?'
'Aye, it should.' A larcenous gleam filled the half-ore's eyes, and he glanced toward the bobbing lanterns atop the stern of the departing caravel. 'Unless its belly is filled with foreign gold!'
The Storm Sprite continued to heel, and Ruha shook her head emphatically. 'No, Captain Fowler! Cut it free, or you'll sink us!'
'Cut it free?' the half-ore scoffed. 'My crew would mutiny!'
'They would prefer losing the treasure to dying, I am sure.'
'Don't be,' Fowler said. 'It takes a lot of gold to sink a dragon. And there's the bounty to think of, too. Cormyr pays a thousand gold for each wyrm head brought to port, and every man gets his share.'
'All the gold in the Heartlands will not buy their lives back.'
'Aye, but men sell themselves for less every day.'
Fowler lifted his chin toward the crew. 'If you think they'll forgo their chance to live like kings, you know less about men than you do about the Heartlands.'
Ruha studied the men. As Fowler had claimed, their expressions were more greedy than fearful, and despite the Storm Sprite's increasing list, not a single sailor was moving to cut the wyrm free. The cog continued to tip far- ther, until at last the harpoon lines ran vertically from the wales into the water. The heaving sea dunes crashed over the bow with thunderous force, and the decks sloped so steeply that it was impossible to stand without holding a halyard or shroud. Still, the crew made no move to free the ship.
'What's all this standing about?' Fowler yelled.
'Secure the lines to the anchor windlass and prepare to haul!'
An excited murmur filled the air as the crew leapt to the task with surprising agility, dangling monkeylike from lines and belaying pins. The sea continued to batter the Storm Sprite, spraying white foam over the decks and threatening to capsize her all too often, but it took only a few moments for the men to wrap the lines around the windlass and start winching. Their efficiency did little to soothe Ruha's nerves. In the desert only fools tempted fate, especially for a prize as petty as gold.
'What of your reward, Captain Fowler?' The witch glanced toward the departing caravel. The lanterns atop its stern were still visible whenever the great ship crested a dune, but the gray outlines of the vessel itself were rapidly fading into the night. 'I thought you wanted to catch the caravel?'
Fowler did not even look over his shoulder. 'Not if the dragon pilfered all its gold.'
Several wails of surprise sounded from the windlass; then the Storm Sprite righted herself so suddenly that half a dozen men fell flat on the deck.
'What happened?' Fowler boomed. 'Why are those lines slack?'
'It-it just happened,' came the reply. 'The harpoons must have pulled free!'
A chorus of disappointed groans rumbled through the crew, but Fowler's gray eyes shined with alarm. 'All of them at once? Never.'
The sailors looked at each other with baffled expres- sions, as though they expected one of their number to confess to some mistake that explained the mystery. A babble sounded ahead of the Storm Sprite and to both sides of her bow. The little cog fell abruptly silent, and every head aboard swiveled toward the noises.
Ruha slipped a hand into her aba. 'Perhaps the men should retrieve their weapons, Captain-'
A curtain of black wings rose from the sea ahead, eclipsing the moon's reflection on the water and casting a shroud of murky darkness over the ship. The crew gasped in alarm and retreated toward the somercastle, giving no apparent thought to the spears and axes that lay stowed around the deck.
'What's the matter?' Fowler demanded. As he spoke, a pair of ebony talons shot from the water on both sides of the bow. There was no hide over the gnarled fingers, and even the wrists exhibited bare patches of gray, weathered bone. The claws dug into the wales, and the little cog's bow dipped into the sea. The half-ore released the tiller and stepped forward. 'Cowards! Stand and fight!'
For the first time since Ruha had boarded, the cap- tain's words seemed to have no effect on his crew. The bravest of them watched over their shoulders as they opened a hatch or door, but most simply screamed in ter- ror and hurled themselves through the nearest opening.
Their panic surprised the witch, for until now they had exhibited the unwavering discipline of men who knew their lives depended upon working together. She pulled a small crystal of quartz from her pocket, at the same time catching Fowler's arm with her free hand.
'Your men are braver than this,' she said. 'It is only the dragon's magic frightening them.'
'Only?' the half-ore scoffed. 'It will be enough to sink us!'
Ruha pointed her crystal over the ship's bow. 'I am not frightened.'
The dragon's head rose into view and, despite her claim, the witch was so shocked she could not keep the syllables other incantation from fleeing her mind. She found herself staring not into the slit pupils of a wyrm's diabolic eyes, but into the vastly more sinister void of two black, empty sockets. Though a thin layer of shriveled black scales still clung to the beast's brow and cheeks, its snout was a fleshless blade of cracked bone and cav- ernous nostrils. Even the creature's curved horns, once as sturdy and long as horse lances, were mere splintered stumps of their ancient magnificence.
'Umberlee have mercy!' Fowler ripped a golden ring from his ear and hurled it overboard, a piece of bloody lobe still dangling from the clasp. 'Save us!'
The dragon's empty-eyed gaze followed the arc of the glimmering earring as it plunged into the sea, then snapped back to Fowler.
'If you wish mercy, do not throw your gold to Umber- lee.' The dragon spoke in a voice as raspy as it was loud, and the mere sound of it made Ruha's legs shake so that she could hardly keep her feet. 'Give it to me, and per- haps your death shall be quick!'
When Fowler made no move to produce more gold, the dragon opened its jaws, revealing a hundred broken fangs and a scabrous white tongue, and the Storm
Sprite^s sail billowed toward its mouth. A loud rasp rustled down the length of the ship, and Ruha realized the serpent was gorging itself with air. She squeezed the quartz crystal between her thumb and forefinger, at the same time summoning her spell back to mind.
The rasping ceased, and wisps of dark fog rose from the dragon's nostrils. Ruha called out the words of a wind spell. The quartz crystal evaporated in a searing flash, and a bolt of white lightning leapt from her hand. It struck the wyrm's head with a thunderous bang, hurling desiccated scales and shards of gray bone high into the air. The creature's neck snapped back, and from its shat- tered maw shot a plume of boiling, turbid vapor.
The dragon roared in pain, shaking the Storm Sprite from stem to stem, and the sea sputtered with the sound of its torn flesh dropping into the water, but the beast did not slip beneath the surging dunes. Instead, it dug its ebony talons deep into the ship's wales, then laid its neck over the bow to display the smoking, mangled crater that had once been its face.
'Who would do this to me?' the dragon rumbled. 'Cast yourself to Umberlee, or you shall wish you had.'
Captain Fowler glanced back at Ruha. His lips were as white as the moon. 'Well, Harper, c-can you k-keep your promise?'
Ruha thrust her shaking hands into her aba and, fear- ing her efforts would come to naught, fumbled through her pockets. Live wyrms could be killed, but what could she-or anyone-do against this dead beast?
