a great roar. The river drops over a huge waterfall. I don't know how high the falls are.' The gargoyle licked his scaly lips with a green tongue. 'I couldn't see the bottom in the dark.'
Artek swore, still fighting the saber's pull. 'The captain has been keeping the ship to the left side of the cavern. He must be steering The Black Dart toward the waterfall.'
'But why?' Corin asked fearfully. 'The ship will be broken to bits.'
'Why not?' Beckla replied. 'The captain's already dead. What does he have to lose?'
Artek racked his brain until he hit upon a plan. It was not elegant-hardly the level of the crafty thieving jobs he had executed in the past-but it was all he could come up with. He struggled against the murderous will of the cursed saber. He had to remain in control only a few moments more, and then the blade could do its work.
'Guss,' he gasped. 'Fly ahead of the ship and keep watch on our progress. Call out when we're near the fork in the river. Beckla, Corin-try to find a way to distract the crew. Use your imaginations! Anything you can do to gain their attention without getting yourself killed will work.'
'But what are you going to do?' Beckla asked urgently.
'I'm going to try to convince the captain to change our course,'
With that, they set to their tasks. Guss rose into the air, wings flapping. He disappeared into the gloom ahead, though not before the others saw him grimace in pain and clutch at the wound on his arm. Grunting with effort, Artek managed to turn and point the quivering saber toward the prow of the ship. The zombie captain stood before the wheel, spinning it wildly as The Black Dart careened down the rapids.
'There,' Artek whispered fiercely. 'That is our enemy. That is the one we must slay.'
To his wonder and relief, the saber seemed to understand his words. It jumped in his hands, ignoring the other zombies, and pulled him toward the pirate captain. This time Artek did not resist. He let the saber lead him toward the prow. It was time to stage a mutiny.
Beckla rummaged through a heap of crates, barrels, and assorted refuse. There had to be something here that would help them.
What are you doing, Beckla? cried a voice in her head. This wasn't part of the deal. They're as good as dead. You should use it now!
'There's still time,' she muttered under her breath.
Time for what, Beckla?' Corin asked. The nobleman stood nearby, wringing his hands.
Beckla swore inwardly. She was getting careless. That was the surest way to get herself killed. And getting killed was definitely not the point of this exercise.
There's still time to help Artek,' she said firmly.
Beckla flipped open the lid of an old chest. It was filled with rusted fishing gear, none of it worthwhile. She started to let the lid drop back down when two objects caught her eye. She looked up at Corin.
'Can you shoot a bow?' she asked quickly.
The young lord shrugged. 'I studied archery as a lad, as all nobles do.' A wan smile crossed his pale visage. 'I wasn't half bad, if I do say so myself. Why do you ask?'
This is why.' Beckla pulled a short bow and a quiver of arrows from the chest and thrust them toward a surprised Corin. The weapon was old, but the bowstring had been wrapped in oiled leather and was still sound. The arrows were rusted at the tip, and their shafts were warped, but they would do.
Beckla grabbed a handful of greasy rags and handed them to the nobleman. Tear these into strips and tie them around the tips of the arrows.'
While the lord did as she instructed, Beckla pulled a small wooden cask out of the chest. Liquid sloshed within, and she hoped the brand on the side meant what she thought it did. With her knife, she pried the cork out of the top of the cask, then bent down to take a sniff. Her head reeled as a sharp, spicy warmth filled her lungs. It was rum, all right- potent stuff, by the smell of it. Taking a deep breath to clear her head, she recalled the words of a spell.
Whispering in the arcane language of magic, Beckla weaved her hands over the cask of pirate rum. A blue aura shimmered around the cask as it slowly levitated off the deck. Guided by the motions of her hands, the cask drifted through the air. A sheen of sweat broke out on Beckla's brow. This was the most difficult spell she knew, and if it failed, she could not try it again. She moved her fingers in intricate patterns, weaving invisible threads of magic. It was all she could do to keep the enchantment from unraveling.
As she concentrated, the cask floated over the head of a zombie swabbing the deck. Beckla twitched her fingers, and the cask tipped, dousing the zombie with a cupful of rum. Heedless of the liquid, the mindless creature continued to lurch about its task. Beckla weaved her hands, and the cask floated toward another zombie. Once again it tipped, pouring dark rum onto the undead pirate, soaking its rotten clothes. As she continued, Beckla tightened her control over the spell, and the cask flew more swiftly through the air, dousing zombie after zombie with the reeking spirits. Finally, the cask was empty. With a groan, Beckla released the spell. Her head throbbed with the effort, but there had been enough rum to douse only half of the zombies. She hoped it would be enough.
'Now what?' Corin asked in puzzlement. He gripped the bow and a rag-wrapped arrow.
Beckla pointed a finger at the arrow and said, 'Urshak!' Instantly the tip of the arrow burst into flame. Corin almost dropped the bow in shock, but a stern look from Beckla made him tighten his grip. 'Start shooting,' she ordered sharply.
Corin raised the bow, pulled back on the string, aimed at a zombie perched in the rigging above, and released. The flaming arrow traced a crimson arc through the air, then plunged directly into the center of the zombie's chest. For a second the pirate stared stupidly at the burning arrow embedded in its body. Then, all at once, the zombie burst into crimson flame. Limbs waving spastically, the undead pirate fell from its perch and plunged to the deck below, exploding in a spray of charred flesh.
Beckla allowed herself a smile of dark satisfaction. The pirate rum was highly flammable, and made an excellent fuel.
'Keep shooting, Corin!' she shouted.
The startled lord lifted another arrow, and Beckla set it afire with a magical command. Corin released the arrow, and another writhing zombie was engulfed in a pillar of searing flame. The bow twanged again and again as Corin released a barrage of flaming arrows. The nobleman had not exaggerated his skill. His aim was perfect, and not a single arrow missed its mark. In moments more than a dozen zombies were ablaze, stumbling around the ship, sending up pillars of black smoke like foul torches.
Many of the burning zombies tumbled overboard, just as Beckla had hoped. However, some of them ran into heaps of old crates or rotten sailcloth and set the materials alight. Other zombies moved haltingly to stamp out the new fires. However, even without being doused with rum, their dry, tattered clothes were flammable enough, and they only succeeded in setting themselves ablaze and stumbling off to start still more fires. Several burning zombies became entangled in the ship's rigging, and in moments flame licked up both of the schooner's masts.
Corin shot Beckla a look of sudden fear. 'I think your plan worked better than you thought it would.'
'So it seems,' Beckla replied dryly. She looked at the rapidly growing fires, wondering if she had just succeeded in getting herself killed after all.
Gripping the tingling hilt of the cursed saber, Artek stealthily approached the undead pirate captain. The zombie stood before the wheel of the ship, steering wildly, his back to Artek. As the wheel spun, The Black Dart tilted alarmingly to starboard. Just when it seemed the ship would capsize, the captain spun the wheel in the opposite direction, and the ship lurched back to port, running dangerously close to the left side of the subterranean cavern. A deep, throbbing roar now mingled with the frothy voice of the river. It could be only one thing: the waterfall.
Artek continued to creep silently toward the captain. He needed just one uncontested swing to lop off the zombie's moldy head, and the ship's wheel would be free. Just a few more paces. Artek raised the cursed saber. Scarlet light flickered down its edge.
Without warning, the decomposed parrot on the captain's shoulder turned its head. Its dead black eyes saw Artek, and the parrot opened its beakless mouth in a muffled squawk of alarm. Artek swore under his breath. The blasted, worm-eaten bird! He sprang forward, hoping to make his swing, but it was too late.
The zombie captain turned with surprising speed and raised its rusted cutlass, blocking Artek's blow. Artek grunted as a jolt of pain ran up his arm. He stumbled backward, then caught himself. The captain was stronger than
