Spirit of the Wind

rifles through my bag when I’m not looking won’t find what they’re looking for very easily. You can’t be too careful, with all the pickpockets out there, you know.”

Swiftraven’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Beside him, Riverwind chuckled, but his laughter quickly turned into a hacking cough, and soon the Plainsman was doubled over, fighting for breath.

“Father?” Brightdawn asked, concerned. She rested a hand on his heaving back. “Are you all right?”

Riverwind nodded. “Seasickness,” he wheezed when he could find his voice. “That’s all.” He straightened up and swept his gaze across the others, all of whom were staring at him.

“Sure, seasickness,” Catt said, smiling. “I have a little cough too.” She coughed to demonstrate. Then, suddenly, she cocked an ear. “What’s that?”

The others froze.

They heard it then. The sound of feet pounding on the deck had grown frantic. There was shouting, too, though it was impossible to make out what was being said.

Reflexively Swiftraven reached for his sabre and loosened it in its scabbard. The shouts were getting louder now. The ship began to lean, timbers groaning as it tacked sharply. A few copper coins, forgotten stakes from the sailors’ card game, rolled off the table and clattered across the floor.

Riverwind moved first, dashing toward the ladder that led up to the ship’s deck. The hatch above him flew open before he could step on the first rung, though, and a spear of daylight stabbed down into the hold. “Out of the way!” shouted a voice. Riverwind leapt aside, and a sailor slid down the ladder, landing beside him with a thump.

“What’s going on?” Brightdawn asked.

The sailor didn’t stop to answer; pale with fear, he fumbled with a ring of keys as he ran toward a locked chest near the door to the officers’ cabins.

“What is it?” Catt demanded. “Why are we turning?”

“Pirates! It’s Red Reaver,” the man answered. He had the chest open now, and the others could see it was a weapons locker. He started pulling out cutlasses and cudgels. “Just sighted her dead ahead, making straight for us. Cap’n Ar-Tam wants the lot o’ ye and your swords up on deck.”

Chapter 9

Above decks, it was as if Chaos himself bad returned. Brinestrider’s crew ran everywhere, securing everything that wasn’t already firmly tied down. Captain Ar-Tam and the helmsman, a young Solamnian lad, were both hauling on the wheel with all their might, muscles standing out on their necks as they fought to bring the broad, ungainly ship about. Brinestrider leaned over farther and farther as she came about.

“Mind your heads!” Kael roared.

Riverwind ducked as he emerged from the hold, and the beam swung wildly overhead, barely a hand’s- breadth above him. The ship’s blue sails fluttered for a moment, then snapped suddenly as the wind filled them. With a groan of straining timbers, Brinestrider lurched forward, running back the way it had come. Slowly, as if weary from the effort, it began to right itself.

As soon as the ship finished tacking, Captain Ar-Tam let go of the wheel and started forward from the helm. He glanced at the sails, swore viciously, then pointed at Swiftraven, who had come up the ladder with Brightdawn. “You, boy! Go help my men let out the mainsail! We need all the wind we can catch!”

Swiftraven took a step toward the sailors, then stopped and looked at Riverwind, his eyes questioning.

“Go,” Riverwind commanded, waving his hand. As Swiftraven ran to help the crew haul on the halyards, Riverwind turned to Kael. “What are you carrying that would interest a pirate ship?” he asked.

The captain shoved past him, snarling a curse, but Riverwind followed him toward the ship’s prow. Spray washed over the bow as Brinestrider leapt across the choppy waves.

“What’s your cargo?” Riverwind repeated.

Kael glared at him. “What business is that of your’n?”

“If there are pirates after us, I want to know why.” The old Plainsman caught Kael’s arm as the captain tried to walk away. “You need my people’s swords. Tell me what we’re defending.”

“Grain!” Kael snapped. “I’m not carrying silver or spices, Plainsman-just crates of grain and a few tuns of wine. The Reaver’s dogs might take the drink, but if they open those crates below and see nothing but bloody barley, they won’t be pleased. They’ll want something for their trouble, and they ain’t above taking a few prisoners to sell at the slave markets in Sanction. They’ll get a good price for my crew and the boy-but the real prize will be your daughter there.” He nodded toward Brightdawn, who had joined Swiftraven at his rope. “A lass as fair as her will fetch a pretty price on the block… provided the pirates don’t use her up first themselves, of course.”

Riverwind glowered at the captain, then turned away and hurried aftward. The man who had gone below to fetch weapons came up through the hatch and began to pass out blades and clubs to his mates; many of the sailors also seized belaying pins and gaff hooks from racks on the masts and gunwales, looping them into their belts and muttering angry oaths.

From the stern Riverwind saw Red Reaver not far off. She was a tall, fast warship with deep crimson sails. Atop her mainmast, he could make out a black flag emblazoned with a white scythe. Though Brinestrider was running hard, moving faster with every heartbeat, the Reaver was gaining on them steadily, cuffing through the water like an arrow. Dark shapes swarmed over her decks and crowded against the rails, waving wicked swords in the air. The pirates’ war cries were faint, but they grew louder every moment.

“She’s gaining on us,” Brightdawn noted, joining her father at the rail. She rubbed her hands, which were red with rope burn. “I doubt we can outrun them.”

“Bloody right we can’t,” snapped the helmsman, glancing nervously at the Reaver. “Brinestrider’s a stout one, but we ain’t meant to move so quick. She’ll be on us right soon-Cap’n only brought us about to buy us time.” He spat vehemently on the deck. “You’d better be good with that sword there, old man.”

With all the cutlasses handed out, the sailor who’d brought them up from the hold ran to the hatch and slid down the ladder again, disappearing from sight. Less than a minute later, he scrambled back up, carrying crossbows and quivers of bolts. He handed the weapons to four sailors, who ran to the stern and began to cock the heavy weapons. As they fitted quarrels in place, Captain Ar-Tam hauled on Swiftraven’s arm, dragging him toward the stern.

“String up your bow, lad,” Kael ordered, shoving the young warrior into line with the crossbowmen. He turned to Riverwind. “You, too, old man. Let’s put a few of the bastards down before they get too dose.”

As Swiftraven and Riverwind bent their bows and nocked arrows onto the strings, Brightdawn continued to peer at their pursuers. “How many of them are there?” she asked.

Kael squinted at the Reaver, then shook his head. “Dunno. Two, maybe three dozen.”

“Three dozen!” Swiftraven exclaimed, shocked.

“Against how many?” Brightdawn asked.

“We got twenty crew, countin’ meself,” the captain answered. “Plus the three o’ ye, an’ the two kender.”

“The kender!” Brightdawn yelped. She cast about, looking up the deck toward the ship’s leaping prow. “Where did Kronn and Catt go?”

“I didn’t see them come up with us,” Swiftraven said, his eyes fast on the onrushing Reaver. He gauged the distance and the wind, waiting for the ship to get into range. “I think they stayed below.”

“Bloody cowards, is what they are!” snapped Kael.

“Mind your tongue,” Riverwind warned. “Kender can be many things, but they’re not cowards. They don’t know fear.”