Corsair

Moonshark’s victims with her own steel, or so he’d heard from Tao Zhe and others aboard. And scores, perhaps hundreds, of Hulburgan lives were at risk if he failed to warn the harmach of the pirate plan. He looked over to Hamil and nodded his thanks. “I think we’re out of time.”

“Agreed,” the halfling said. “How far to Hulburg, do you think?”

“It might be fifteen miles, it might be thirty.” That would be a brutal distance if they had to row it, but the longboat had a small mast that could be stepped into place with just a few minutes’ work. Geran hoped to sail to Hulburg, not row.

“They’ll come after us once they find us gone,” Hamil pointed out.

“I know.” Geran thought for a moment, considering how best to sabotage the ship. Unfortunately there was nothing nearby to run her aground on, so he decided to disable the rudder. He kneeled, slashed the ship’s rudder cables with his poniard, and began to haul up the loose cabling. Rigging a new rudder cable ought to occupy Moonshark for a couple of hours at least, and by the time they were ready to pursue Geran and his companions, they’d have long since disappeared. “Go on back and get the longboat ready to launch- quietly!”

Hamil grinned at him. “Maybe this will work after all.” He dashed forward to the main deck, while Geran yanked length after length of the rudder cable up from below. Without her rudder, Moonshark’s bow began to fall off downwind, and she rocked a little as she passed through the swell.

Geran got the last of the rudder cabling that he could reach, picked up the tarry mess, and dropped it over the side. He brushed off his hands, hurried down the ladder to the main deck, and headed forward to help Hamil and Sarth wrestle the longboat over the side. This was by far the trickiest part of the whole business; lowering the longboat was a six-man job, not a three-man job, and it was nearly impossible to do it quietly. With sheer brute force they managed to lift it out of its cradle and stagger over to the rail, but not before the boat’s gunwales thumped the deck a couple of times. Geran winced, but they were getting close to the moment when speed would count more than stealth.

At the aft end of the main deck, the door to the captain’s cabin opened, and Narsk stepped out. The gnoll took in the scene at a glance, catching Geran and his friends with the longboat half in its davit. “What is this?” he snarled. Then he leaped over to the ship’s bell and began to strike it vigorously. “All hands on deck, now!” he shouted. “Trrreachery! All hands on deck!”

Despair paralyzed Geran for five heartbeats. “So close,” he muttered. The first pale glimmers of dawn were beginning to streak the sky to the east. In a matter of moments, the deck would be full of enemies. They wouldn’t live long enough to get the longboat in the water. He could see only one slender chance-to kill Narsk quickly and hope to cow or contain the rest of the crew long enough to make their escape.

Before he could second-guess himself, he dropped his end of the longboat. Moonshark rolled heavily under Geran’s feet, running clumsily before the wind with her helm spinning freely on the quarterdeck. “Guard my back!” he hissed to Sarth and Hamil. Then he drew the cutlass hidden under his cloak and charged across the deck at the pirate ship’s captain.

FOURTEEN

7 Marpenoth, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

You!” Narsk snarled. “It was you in my cabin in Mulmaster! I know your scent now, human!” The gnoll greeted Geran’s attack with a snarl of pure rage. He yanked out the mace he carried at his belt and drew a long, curved knife to meet the swordmage. Leaping aside from Geran’s first thrust, Narsk answered with a furious onslaught of whistling mace swings, using his long knife to protect himself when the mace’s weight left him out of balance and exposed.

Geran didn’t answer. He leaned away from the mace, parried a knife slash at his belly, and ducked low to cut Narsk’s legs out from under him. But the gnoll leaped over his slash with surprising agility. Narsk threw himself closer after Geran’s sword passed, and lunged for the swordmage’s neck with a snap of his powerful jaws. The swordmage fell back again and survived a knife thrust at his right side only because his spellwards deflected the blade. The tip of the blade gouged a bloody gash against his ribs, but it didn’t sink more than an inch or so into his flesh. The stab still knocked the breath out of him and left him with warm blood trickling down his side, the wound throbbing in pain.

I need to end this quickly, he realized. Otherwise there would be no hope of escaping Moonshark.

With the instant, diamond-sharp focus he’d learned in Myth Drannor, Geran invoked a sword spell even as his steel flew to meet Narsk’s attack. “Arvan sannoghan!” he cried, and the pirate cutlass in his hand blazed with blue flames. Narsk swore and recoiled, but not before Geran slashed his knife out of his left hand, leaving the gnoll’s fur smoking.

Narsk snarled in pain. “Foul sorcery!” he shouted. “Kill him! Kill him now!”

Geran risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Moonshark’s crew was boiling up out of their quarters under the main deck, most with knives, belaying pins, or boarding pikes in hand. They gaped at the spectacle of their captain fighting for his life then started to close in behind Geran-until Sarth raised his arms and wove a fence of lightning across the deck. “This is between Aram and Narsk!” he shouted. “No one else is to interfere!”

The corsairs halted, unsure about whether or not they should intervene, and were dissuaded in any event by the sudden revelation of Sarth’s magic. Narsk roared in fury when he realized that his crew would not cut down his challenger. “You miserable rrrats!” he screamed. “You will all pay for your cowardice!” He threw himself at Geran recklessly, pounding his mace against his foe with a furious barrage of overhand blows.

Geran parried or dodged the blows, although one carried through his block with enough power to drive the back of his cutlass-fortunately not sharpened-into his left shoulder, almost buckling him to the deck. Narsk snarled and redoubled his effort, but this time Geran deflected the mace past him and stepped aside. The gnoll was left off balance and stumbled forward as his mace head brushed the deck. Geran spun in the opposite direction and took off Narsk’s head with one clean cut to the back of the neck. The body crashed heavily to the deck, and the head rolled into the companionway leading down to the crew quarters, disappearing down the steps with several dull thuds.

A stunned silence fell over the crew of Moonshark. They stared down at Narsk’s body, and then they stared at Geran.

We lost the longboat, Geran, Hamil told him. The halfling stood next to Sarth, a pair of daggers in his hands. It slipped from the davit when the trouble started. I sincerely hope you have another plan in mind!

The Northman Skamang pushed his way to the front of the crew and fixed his eyes on Geran. The blue tattoos on his face seemed to writhe and jump in the flickering light of Sarth’s crackling, spitting barrier. “Where’s Sorsil? And Khefen?”

“Khefen’s passed out on the quarterdeck, dead drunk,” Geran answered. “Sorsil’s somewhere astern of us, floating in the water with a knife in her back.”

“Someone had better explain why the captain and first mate are dead and your friends were getting ready to launch the longboat,” Skamang said. He hefted a boarding axe in his hand. “And soon, at that.”

Murkelmor crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled. “I’m wi’ Skamang,” the dwarf said. “I’d like t’ know what in th’ Nine Hells you’re about, Aram.”

Geran stared back at the two pirates and tried to think of something to say. He was not a good liar, and he knew it. Fortunately, Hamil knew it as well, and the halfling had a knack for thinking quickly in situations such as this. Blame it on Sorsil! That’s the best chance I can see, the halfling said to him. Geran glanced over and found Hamil kneeling by Narsk’s body, quietly checking the gnoll’s pockets.

The halfling offered a small shrug and nodded in the direction of the rest of the crew. I thought I’d better have a look, he said. There was a letter in Narsk’s pocket. I’ve got it now.