are strewn about the maze. Or maybe they're at the bottom of the Sargauth.'
'Now this is an adventure!' Corin exclaimed merrily.
Without warning, the schooner lurched roughly to one side. Artek grabbed for a worm-eaten railing, barely managing to keep his feet. He turned around, then swore hotly. Corin stood at the prow of the schooner, hands on the ship's wheel. As Artek watched, the nobleman whistled cheerfully and spun the wheel around. The ship lurched in the other direction, drifting dangerously near the cavern wall.
Artek stumbled forward. 'Give me that!' he said, pushing the surprised lord away. Artek carefully turned the wheel, bringing the rudder back to center. The ship steadied, sailing down the middle of the river once more.
'Were you actively trying to dash this ship against the walls of the cavern?' Artek growled angrily.
'I was only trying to steer,' Corin replied in a small voice.
'Leave the wheel alone. Go over to those old crates and sit down. And don't touch anything else!'
The nobleman nodded silently, then hung his head. He trudged toward the crates and sat with a sigh, staring at the deck. For a moment, Artek wondered if he had been too harsh with Conn. The lord was young, after all, and had only meant to help. Finally, Artek shook his head. He had other things to worry about.
Moving to the rear of the ship, he examined the aft mast. The sails were rotted and rent with holes, but they might manage to hold some air. A stiff wind blew down the cavern in the same direction as the river's current. If they could position the sails right, they might add a little of the wind's speed to the river's, making their progress swifter.
'Beckla, come help me for a moment,' Artek said. As she approached, he pointed to a horizontal boom. 'If we move this cross-mast, we might be able to catch some wind in the sails.'
Beckla nodded and gripped the boom.
Artek turned around to untie a frayed rope. 'Now push when I say-' His words turned into a cry as the boom struck the back of his head with a resounding crack.
'Oops,' said Beckla.
Artek spun around to glare at the wizard, rubbing the back of his head. A painful lump was already starting to rise. 'You know, I'm really starting to get tired of hearing you say that.'
Before she could reply, the ship suddenly tilted to the side again, nearly sending them sprawling to the deck. Artek looked up to see a figure standing before the ship's wheel.
'Corin!' he shouted angrily, marching forward. 'Didn't I tell you to keep your hands off that wheel? Now get away from the-'
His words faltered as he saw the lord look up in pale-faced surprise from his seat on the old crates. If Corin wasn't steering the ship, who stood at the wheel?
As if to answer the question, the figure turned around and grinned. Artek's blood froze. The thing was clad in grubby breeches and a loose, tattered shirt that once might have been white. A grimy red scarf covered its head, and a curved cutlass hung from its cracked leather belt. It was a pirate, clearly long dead. Its bloated flesh was wet and rotted, and one eyeball dangled loosely from the socket. The sickly reek of decay drifted thickly through the air. Even as Artek watched, a chunk of putrid flesh dropped from the pirate's arm, falling to the deck with a nauseating plop.
'Artek, I think you'd better turn-around,' Guss said grimly.
Reluctantly, Artek tore his eyes from the undead pirate. He turned to see a trapdoor opening in the deck of the ship. More pirates climbed out, shambling as they spread across the deck. Artek counted ten of them, then twenty, then thirty, and still they kept coming. All wore rusted cutlasses at their hips. And all of them were quite dead.
The crew of The Black Dart had not abandoned the ship after all.
River of Death
Dropping stray gobbets of rotten flesh, the zombie pirates shuffled toward them.
Artek heard a wet, squelching sound and glanced over his shoulder. Panic clutched at his heart. More half- decomposed zombies clambered out of a trapdoor near the prow of the schooner. The scent of decay wafted in the air, thick and choking. Clutching Muragh, Corin stumbled hastily toward Artek, Beckla and Guss close on his heels. Back to back, they all huddled together in a tight knot, staring in horror at the approaching zombies.
'There must be at least forty of them,' Artek said.
'Sometimes I hate being right,' the wizard sighed.
'Well, this time your guess was dead on.'
'Must you use that word, Ar'talen?' Corin asked in a squeaking voice.
'What word?' Artek demanded.
The nobleman swallowed hard. 'Dead.'
There was no time to reply. The zombies closed in, trapping them in a foul circle. Beckla raised her hands, ready to cast a spell. Guss extended sharp onyx claws. Corin tossed down Muragh and drew his slim rapier in trembling hands. Artek's fingers brushed the hilt of the saber at his hip. He hated to draw the cursed weapon, knowing that once he did he would not be able to stop fighting until all the zombies were destroyed-or he joined them in death.
The pirates shuffled to a halt not a half-dozen paces away, exuding a noisome reek, and then one of their number shambled forward. By its tattered red kneecoat and the gold earring dangling from its moldy ear, Artek guessed that this zombie had been in life the captain of The Black Dart. A decomposed parrot missing most of its feathers still perched on the captain's shoulder, clinging with skeletal claws to the tarnished epaulets of the captain's coat.
'Aaawk!' the bird gurgled. 'Stooowaways, captaaaain!'
'Aaaye, sooo theeey beee,' the captain replied in a slurred voice. Writhing worms dropped from the zombie's festering lips. 'Aaand yooou knooow whaaat weee dooo wiiith suuuch laaandlubbers.'
'Aaawk!' the parrot cried again. ' Waaalk the plaaank! Waaalk the plaaank! Waaalk the pl-' The bird's bubbling cries ended abruptly as its rotted beak fell off.
The captain pointed a bloated arm toward a group of about ten pirates. 'Yooou. Taaake theeese stooow- aways tooo theee plaaank. Theee reeest ooof yooou looouts, maaan yooour staaations!'
Artek and the others watched in grisly fascination 'as the zombie pirates shuffled off to reenact the tasks they had performed in life. A dozen pirates climbed clumsily into the ship's rigging. Several promptly fell back down to the deck, landing with wet, nauseating thuds, then lurched to their feet to try again. Other zombies began swabbing the deck with ragged mops. They made little progress, for every time they cleaned an area to their satisfaction, a gobbet of their own putrid flesh dropped to the deck and had to be wiped up. Still other undead pirates manned the schooner's booms and lines.
'Look out!' Corin cried in terror.
They ducked just in time to avoid a whistling boom as it swung overhead. One of the nearby zombies was not so quick. The cross-mast struck it in the forehead, and its cranium burst apart like an overripe melon.
That's got to hurt,' Muragh winced.
The zombie captain shambled toward the ship's wheel. 'Ooout ooof myyy waaay,' it groaned to the pirate who had been piloting the ship. The sailor-tried to let go of the wheel but was too slow. The captain pushed it roughly aside. With a rending sound, the sailor's arms tore off at the shoulder and dangled from the wheel by their still-gripping hands. The armless zombie tottered away, its shoulders dripping yellow ichor. Disregarding the severed limbs, the captain grabbed the wheel and began steering. The schooner lurched wildly to the left, then gave a violent jerk, hull groaning, as the keel scraped against an underwater boulder.
Beckla and Corin both grabbed hold of Artek to keep from being thrown to the deck.
'Is that thing deliberately trying to run this ship onto the rocks?' Beckla cried.
'Probably,' Artek answered grimly. 'But I don't think it's just the captain. Can't you hear it? The roar of the river is getting louder. I think we're approaching rapids of some sort.'
'Oh, wonderful,' Beckla groaned. 'This creaky old ship will be dashed to bits.'
'I think we have an even more immediate concern,' Corin gulped.
