attack. None of the fellows assigned this duty were happy about it, since they wanted to be released to participate in the sack. But Sergen was pleased to see at a quick count that most of the men promised had actually reported for this duty.
“Can’t we just have a look in some of those storehouses over there?” one of the corsairs waiting in the reserve asked. He pointed across the street. “We won’t be far off, Lord Sergen.”
“And what would the High Captain say if he called for you to help him, but you’d run off to start stuffing your pockets?” Sergen answered. “I think I’d mind my orders, if I were you. If all goes well, you’ll be relieved in an hour, and it’ll be your turn to enjoy the town.”
The fellow looked glum, but he gave up the argument. Sergen decided to have a look around to see if there was someplace he could put the reserve to work, and led his small knot of bodyguards along Bay Street, searching for any signs of trouble. Gangs of pirates ran from building to building, some already burdened by armfuls of loot. First he checked on the Marstel merchant compound and was relieved to see that the Black Moon corsairs were avoiding it as they were supposed to. Then he headed inland a block and walked eastward along Cart Street, passing more pirates at their work. It might defeat my purpose if the Black Moon actually razes the town, he thought with a grimace. He wanted something left of the place, after all.
The clash of arms grew heavier ahead-much heavier. Sergen frowned and hurried forward to take a look. He reached the corner of Cart Street and High Street, the heart of the town’s commerce district, and saw ahead of him a solid phalanx of the harmach’s own Shieldsworn. The Hulburgan soldiers, a small company of perhaps thirty or forty, fought their way down the street, driving the pirate gangs ahead of them. Sergen scowled at the show of early resistance. The Shieldsworn company was interfering with his long-laid plans to humble Hulburg, and he didn’t care for it in the least. They needed to be broken, and the sooner the better. “Damn them!” Sergen snarled. “Where did they come from?”
“Simple chance, I would guess,” Kerth answered. He moved in front of Sergen and eyed the approaching soldiers nervously. “It seems that not all the harmach’s soldiers were asleep tonight. That’s too many for us to deal with, Lord Sergen. We’d better move on.”
“Agreed,” said Sergen. He frowned and reminded himself that no clash of arms ever went exactly as one planned. It was only to be expected that some of the town’s defenders would organize a brief resistance; fortunately the Black Moon was ready for them. “We’ll go back toward the docks and draw from the reserve to chase off these fellows.”
They turned and retreated down Cart Street to the intersection with Plank Street, and here more fighting greeted Sergen and his guards. A large mass of Hulburgans, most wearing hastily donned coats of old mail or leather jerkins, held Plank Street against the roving gangs of pirates and likewise were advancing toward the harbor. It was more of the sort of resistance that Sergen had hoped to overwhelm with the initial surprise of the Black Moon attack, and he made a note to himself to send more pirates here too. But a dark suspicion was growing in his heart. “I don’t like the look of this,” he said to Kerth. “Come on!”
He backtracked through the alleyway south of Cart Street and jogged westward to avoid the Spearmeet company. At the small square by the Council Hall, he found a strong detachment of Double Moon Coster and House Sokol sellswords standing watch, and he swore viciously. There were too many soldiers and militiamen ready to fight in the streets of the town. A few he might have expected, but there seemed to be companies of Hulburgans and mercenaries all over the town. “By Bane’s black hand, they were ready for us! They knew we were coming!” he snarled.
“Do you think this is a trap, m’lord?” Kerth asked.
“I have no idea, but we’ve got a fight on our hands.” Sergen turned back toward the water, and this time he ran. He shouted for roving gangs of pirates to follow him as he passed by; some did, and others ignored him, but he had no time to argue. He emerged onto Bay Street and hurried back to the corsairs waiting at the pierside where
Resplendent in his scarlet-scale armor, Kamoth jogged into view from an alleyway, with a dozen cutthroats at his back. He strode angrily up to Sergen. “Did you order the ship’s bell struck?” he demanded. “We haven’t been here half an hour yet! What is the matter?”
“Hulburgan companies are sealing off the streets leading to the waterfront!” Sergen said to his father. “They mean to trap us here by the docks. They were ready for us!”
“Then why weren’t they waiting for us on the waterfront? Why isn’t
Sergen stopped and thought about that. “Yes, I did,” he said. Rhovann was well placed in the councils of the town’s leaders. If the harmach had learned of the coming attack, the elf mage would have told him. In fact, they’d made arrangements for just that eventuality. “They were warned, but only a short time before we arrived,” he concluded. “They didn’t have time to summon the Harmach’s Council or make plans for a stronger defense, and my ally here hasn’t had the chance to contact me. This is an improvised defense.”
Kamoth turned on Sergen with a bloodthirsty grin. “Then it doesn’t matter that they were warned. The harmach’s guards are spread out all over the town trying to pin us down by the harbor. We’ll smash them one street at a time, and the town will be ours by sunrise. Where are they?”
“I saw detachments on High Street, Plank Street, and Fish Street. I just sent fifty corsairs up Plank Street to drive off the Spearmeet gathered there. I imagine there must be a force blocking the Lower Bridge too.”
“Good. You stay here and muster all the pirates who answer your recall. I’ll take what you’ve got here and go deal with the Shieldsworn.” Kamoth stepped close and seized Sergen’s shoulder in one hand. He painfully ground his steel-armored fingers into Sergen’s flesh as he lowered his voice; Sergen flinched away. “Do not ring that damned bell again unless the fleet of Hillsfar is standing into harbor, boy. I’m not to be called away from my business here every time you take a fright.”
Sergen winced, but he did not protest. If he had to guard Kamoth from his own recklessness he would, regardless of his father’s anger. He watched as the High Captain gathered the corsairs standing nearby and led them back into the town at a run. Meanwhile more pirates slowly trickled back to the dockside. Fuming over his father’s insinuation of cowardice, he paced back and forth by the waterside, struggling to master his anger.
“Lord Sergen? There’s someone asking for you-an elf.” A deckhand from
“Rhovann?” Sergen murmured. He wondered what the mage wanted from him. They’d made no plans to meet face-to-face during the raid, but then again, Sergen hadn’t been sure he would accompany the Black Moon against Hulburg. He motioned to the messenger. “Bring him here.”
He waited on the pier, listening to the sounds of the fighting that raged throughout Hulburg’s streets. Half a dozen sizeable fires now burned in scattered places throughout the town. If the night hadn’t been so damp, Hulburg might have lost everything west of the Winterspear. As matters stood, he thought the townsfolk would likely save most of the town. Then Rhovann Disarnnyl appeared through the rain and the smoke, dressed in a long hooded cloak. An enormous figure the size of an ogre towered behind him, dressed in a long brown robe with a heavy hood of its own. The creature’s hands were pallid, almost waxy, in complexion. It carried two captives with their hands bound-a young, dark-haired girl not more than nine or ten years of age, and a black-haired woman in a blue dress whom Sergen recognized as Mirya Erstenwold. The girl must be her daughter, he realized. But what is Rhovann doing with Mirya as his prisoner? She certainly had value as a hostage, but he hadn’t realized that the elf mage even knew of her existence.
“Good evening, Lord Sergen,” Rhovann said. He offered a tight smile. “I see you brought your friends with you.”
“Lord Disarnnyl,” Sergen answered. “I’m surprised to find you out and about. I would have thought that you’d be well away from Hulburg tonight. It’s not safe on the streets, after all.”
“Bastion-my large friend here-deters a good deal of trouble,” Rhovann answered. Sergen looked up at the huge, cowled figure standing behind the elf and glimpsed a pasty face, almost doughy in its complexion, beneath
