Thieves of Blood botf-1 Page 13

  Makala knew which she preferred to be.

  Then, just as fast as it had been discarded, the disguise was back in place once more, and Erdis Cai smiled like a tolerant father.

  “That’s enough, you two. We don’t want to make a bad first impression on our guest, do we?”

  Both Onkar and Jarlain nodded, looking only slightly chastened.

  Makala was beginning to feel the first faint stirrings of hope. If there was conflict between the three of them, then perhaps if she were clever enough, she might find a way to exploit it for her own advantage.

  “Jarlain, since you’re so eager to get to know Makala, why don’t you take charge of her for a time?” Erdis Cai said. “See she freshens up, eats, and is provided with new clothing. See also that she gets some rest. Bring her to me again after sunset. I would like to… talk with her further.”

  Without saying farewell to either Onkar or Jarlain or giving Makala another look, Erdis Cai turned and strode off, making his way easily through the mounds of ancient artifacts, precious treasure, and arcane junk that crammed the cavern. Within moments the shadowy gloom of the cavern had swallowed him and he was lost to Makala’s vision. Most of her was relieved to see him go, but part of her, the part that still longed for her dark spirit, wished he had stayed.

  “Come, girl. You heard the master.”

  Jarlain grabbed Makala’s wrist, and the woman nearly panicked, recalling the horrendous fear that had gripped her previously, but this time Jarlain’s touch didn’t spark any reaction within Makala other than disgust.

  Jarlain led Makala out of the cavern, Onkar following close behind. Once they had crossed the threshold, the metal doors swung shut and the lock engaged with a soft click. Back in the corridor once more, Jarlain turned to Onkar.

  “As for you, Commander, go do whatever it is you do when you’re not at sea.”

  Onkar glared and his hands twitched, as if he were considering wrapping them around Jarlain’s neck and squeezing until her pale white face turned purple-black, but he made no move to attack the woman.

  “I suppose I’ll go check on the new prisoners before I turn in.” He looked at Makala. “Have a pleasant day.”

  The vampire headed down the corridor leaving Makala alone with Jarlain.

  “Let’s us two girls go get acquainted, shall we?” Jarlain squeezed Makala’s wrist in a grip just short of being painful, and Makala offered no resisted as Jarlain escorted her down the corridor.

  As the metal doors shut, the green fire burning in the braziers throughout the cavern slowly dimmed until it was gone, leaving behind only the darkness. Erdis Cai strolled through the cluttered maze of his possessions, not needing any illumination to make his way. Even if he didn’t have a vampire’s eyes, even if he were still mortal, so well did he know the position of every item in the cavern that he could have gone blindfolded and still not have bumped into anything or gotten lost. He’d spent a great deal of his time in here during the last few years, too much of it, perhaps. He’d even taken to resting here during the daylight hours, something he knew Jarlain didn’t approve of. She didn’t think it was “healthy,” whatever that meant.

  He paused for a moment and stretched out his senses. Dawn would be coming soon, and though no light could penetrate the tons of rock that lay between him and the sky, nevertheless he would be forced to rest. It was one of the limitations of undeath, but he didn’t mind. The power he possessed was far greater than anything he had known as a mortal man, and it was well worth whatever minor inconveniences accompanied it.

  He continued touring his collection, occasionally reaching out to touch this or that object, as if by doing so he might relive the adventure during which it had been acquired. Though the memories came, they were empty, hollow, unsatisfying, but then Erdis Cai had never been one to settle for past glories. He’d always searched for the next destination, the next challenge… always looking for something but never quite finding it, until, that is, the day he and his crew had anchored offshore of a certain island in the far frozen north where they’d discovered a castle and what dwelled within its cold, dark halls. Erdis Cai had found what he’d truly been searching for that day, or perhaps, he mused, it had found him. Whichever the case, Erdis Cai had, like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, become something much greater than he’d ever imagined.

  If that were so, why did he hold onto all these things? Why did he spend so much time among them while his fleet, under Onkar’s command, sailed the Principalities, working to make the final preparations for their next adventure, the one destined to be the greatest of them all?

  He knew how Jarlain would answer that question, for she had spoken to him on the subject numerous times before.

  You’re in your eighties, Erdis. You’re coming to the end of what would’ve been your natural life span just as you’re about to see the fulfillment of a plan you’ve worked to bring to fruition for the last forty years. It’s only natural that you should spend some time in contemplation and self-reflection.

  Perhaps she was right. Jarlain possessed great knowledge and insight into the mysterious and often baffling ways of the mind. Certainly she had infinitely more understanding than he-who, at heart, was still just a simple sailor-would ever have.

  Lately he’d begun to fear that something else was at work here, something darker and more complex than the simple melancholy of an old man. He thought Jarlain had gotten it right when she’d first pointed out that he was, at least in terms of years, at the end of his human life. More and more often it felt like the personality that called itself Erdis Cai, the man who had once been one of the greatest mortal sailors ever to ply the seas, was dwindling away, eroding, shedding pieces of itself, like a calving iceberg, and in its place remained only a cold, fathomless darkness, like the uncaring ebon depths of the most frigid sea. Forty years ago, his body had died and been reborn, but now it seemed his very self was dying, and what new being would arise from its ashes, he couldn’t guess.

  He grew tired of this brooding. He would just have to trust to the grand darkness that had transformed him so long ago. He pressed his hand against the crimson symbol on his breastplate-a symbol known as the Mark of Vol.

  Thy will be done, Mistress, he thought.

  He sensed the night dwindling outside Grimwall, felt the first light of dawn glowing gently above the eastern horizon. A dull, leaden weariness came upon him, and he knew it was time to rest. He simply lay down where he was, between a massive shield he had once stolen from a storm giant and a large clay jar. He didn’t bother to remove his armor. He was well beyond the need for what mortals would consider comfort.

  As the day’s oblivion began to take hold of him, he thought of Makala. That she was something special, he had sensed right away. Just how special, though, remained to be seen. She would be the next mystery for him to explore, and he was looking forward to it immensely. That, at least, was something about him that hadn’t changed.

  He closed his eyes as in the outer world, the sun edged up over the horizon and a new day began.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I think we’re coming out of it.”

  Yvka looked drained, as if keeping the elemental active during the storm had taken a great deal of energy out of her. She was pale, her face drawn, and Ghaji feared she might pass out any moment.

  Diran’s suggestion had worked. By going southeast, they’d escaped the storm’s fury, and the waters they now sailed were calmer, and the rain fell more gently. The wind was still blowing strong but nothing like the gales they’d experienced before. Diran and Ghaji stood next to the mast where they’d ridden out most of the storm, prepared to make any needed adjustments in the sails.

  Ghaji leaned close to Diran and whispered, “Do you think she’s going to be all right?”

  Diran glanced back over his shoulder at Yvka.

  “It’s difficult to say. She claimed the magic that controlled the elemental was embedded in the pilot’s chair and the containment ri
ng, but our journey has obviously taken a toll on her. Perhaps it’s simply fatigue.”

  Without waiting for Ghaji to reply, Diran headed back toward the pilot’s chair.

  “The wind’s strong enough,” he said in a gentle voice. “Perhaps it’s time we gave the elemental a rest.”

  Yvka looked at Diran with half-lidded eyes. “The elemental doesn’t need…” She broke off and gave Diran a tired smile. “I see. I am weary,” she admitted. “I don’t need more than an hour’s meditation, two at the most. I am an elf, after all.”

  “Of course,” Diran said. “Ghaji and I can sail the Zephyr while you rest. We’ll call you if anything happens.”

  Yvka looked at Diran for a moment, and Ghaji thought she might change her mind about resting, but finally she nodded and lifted her hand off the chair arm. As soon as she did, the glow in the elemental ring faded, and the wind that had been issuing forth from it died away. Yvka flexed her fingers, the joints making soft popping sounds as she did. She then removed her other hand from the tiller and rose from the pilot’s seat. Diran then sat and took hold of the tiller.

  The rain had tapered off to a mild drizzle now, and Yvka removed her sodden cloak and hung it over the guardrail to dry. She then headed toward the cabin just as the clouds broke, revealing a hint of dawn. When she drew near Ghaji, she paused.

  “There’s both water and food in the cabin. Feel free to come in and get it. If you want it, that is.” She smiled then continued on into the cabin.

  Ghaji watched her go, admiring the smooth, languid way she moved even tired as she was. When she closed the cabin door, after giving him a last meaningful look, the half-orc turned to Diran. Diran smiled and waggled his eyebrows. Ghaji sighed.

  “Diran?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What’s this stuff? It looks like seaweed, but it’s thicker and it’s all around us.”

  “Seaweed?”

  There was something about Ghaji’s words that set off a warning bell in the back of Diran’s mind, though he wasn’t sure why. He locked the tiller into its current position, rose from the pilot’s chair, and moved toward the starboard bow where Ghaji stood looking over the guardrail.

  The stormclouds were long behind them now, and the late morning sky was a rich, clear blue. The rain was a memory as well, and the breeze had done much to dry the deck, as well as their cloaks, which hung on the railing next to Yvka’s. The elf-woman was still resting, though she’d been in the cabin longer than the two hours she’d claimed was all she needed. Ghaji had entered the cabin once, on the pretext of fetching them some breakfast, and he’d struggled to hide his disappointment was he returned and announced that Yvka was still meditating. Diran, to his credit, had managed not to laugh.

  He joined Ghaji at the guardrail and looked down at the water. Just beneath the surface was a thready mass of greenery that indeed looked something like seaweed, and as Ghaji had said, it seemed to surround the starboard side of the Zephyr, stretching off into the distance.

  “It’s like this in front and on the other side, too,” Ghaji said. “I checked.”

  “It doesn’t appear to be slowing us down.” Even without the elemental’s aid, they were making good time, but Diran couldn’t shake the feeling that this situation was familiar somehow. A mass of seaweed covering the water for miles… ships sailing right through it with ease, almost as if it parted to allow them passage…

  “By the Flame!” Diran whispered as sudden realization struck him. “We’re in the Mire!”

  “The what?” Ghaji asked.

  Instead of answering, Diran said, “Go get Yvka.”

  Ghaji scowled, but rather than questioning Diran further, he walked to the cabin. A few moments later he returned with Yvka at his side, the elf-woman looking rested and restored.

  “Imagine my disappointment when Ghaji told something about a lot of seaweed in the water. Not to be rude, but where else is seaweed supposed to be?”

  “I’m afraid we’ve blundered into the Mire,” Diran said.

  Yvka just looked at him for a moment, as if he’d just told the first part of a joke and she was waiting for him to deliver the punchline. When none was forthcoming, she said, “The Mire is nothing but an old sailor’s legend.”

  Diran gestured toward the guardrail. “See for yourself.”

  Yvka walked over to the railing and peered out across the water. She stood there for several seconds before returning to them. “There’s seaweed out there close to the surface, and a lot of it, but that doesn’t mean this is the Mire.”

  Despite the elf-woman’s words, her tone wasn’t as confident as it had been a moment before.

  “Whether we’re in it or not, would either of you mind telling me exactly what this Mire is?” Ghaji asked, exasperated.

  “My father used to tell me stories about the Mire-stories that he swore were true.”

  “With all due respect,” Yvka said, “fathers tell their children spooky stories all the time, and they claim them to be true to make them even scarier, but that doesn’t make them true.”

  “That still doesn’t tell me what the Mire is,” Ghaji complained.

  Diran turned to his friend. “The Mire is a huge expanse of seaweed rumored to be thousands of square miles wide. According to the tales, ships have no trouble sailing into the Mire, but once inside, they become trapped and can never win free.”

  “It’s just a fable,” Yvka insisted, “a story told to explain ships that most likely went missing due to storms or other natural causes.”

  Ghaji glanced toward the starboard bow and pointed. “You mean ships like that one?”

  Diran and Yvka looked in the direction Ghaji indicated. Off in the distance was a shape that appeared to be the partially submerged remains of a ship larger than the Zephyr-a two-master, perhaps, though it was difficult to tell since so much of it lay below the water’s surface.

  “Yes,” Diran said dryly. “Precisely like that. Does it strike either of you as odd that we’re heading directly for it, almost as if we’re being guided there?”

  Ghaji stretched out his arms then did a couple of torso twists to limber up. “Best get our weapons, eh?”

  The half-orc didn’t sound displeased at the prospect that they might be approaching danger.

  Ghaji was probably getting restless, Diran thought. It had been nearly an entire day since he’d had the opportunity to fight someone.

  “Should I activate the elemental?” Yvka asked. “If we’re going toward the vessel anyway, perhaps we shouldn’t waste any time.”

  The elf-woman’s meditation had restored her energy, and she was now wide awake and alert. Diran had no doubt she could summon and direct the elemental’s power, but he wasn’t certain it was a good idea.

  “We don’t know how thick the seaweed truly is. It’s possible that the soarwood runners will be able to cut through the substance of the Mire without any difficulty, but it’s also possible that by sailing at our top speed, we might end up entangling ourselves. We’re making good progress at our current speed; I suggest saving the elemental for when we might truly need it.”

  Yvka considered Diran’s words for a moment before nodding agreement. She returned to the tiller, and Diran and Ghaji armed themselves. The priest donned his cloak, though it was still damp from the rain, and retrieved his bow and arrows. Ghaji got his axe as well as a grappling hook. The points were sharp, and the rope looked strong.

  The Zephyr continued sailing toward the half-submerged vessel, and before long they were within shouting distance of the derelict. Yvka locked the tiller once more and was about to prepare to put down anchor, when the wind died and the sloop began to slow down on her own. Diran peered over the side and saw that the seaweed was much thicker here, and instead of giving way before them, it now seemed to be pressing against the Zephyr’s hull, as if purposefully retarding the vessel’s progress.

  When they’d come within a half dozen yards of the other ship, the Zephyr came to a halt.

/>   This close, they could see that the partially submerged vessel was indeed a two-master, though the ship was tilted back so far the bow pointed skyward and the tip of the second mast barely extended past the water’s surface. The sails were still up, though the fabric was sodden and torn in numerous places, as if someone had repeatedly slashed it with a sword. There were no visible signs of damage on the hull, at least not from their vantage point, and the vessel’s name was clearly visible on the port bow, painted in faded black letters: Proud Pelican. The seaweed around the ship was so thick it resembled solid earth covered with wet green grass and a thin layer of water. It looked almost as if the plants were holding the Proud Pelican in place, and that the vessel would slip completely beneath the waves if they were to release her.

  Evidently Ghaji was having similar thoughts, for he said, “Looks almost solid enough to stand on.”

  “Be my guest,” Yvka said. “I’m not setting foot on that muck!”

  “I don’t blame you, lady!”

  Startled, the three of them turned toward the direction the new voice came from. Perched atop the tip of the bow, straddling it as if he were astride a horse, was a halfling. Diran judged him to be three feet tall, an average height for his kind. He had an athletic build, ruddy skin, dark eyes-brown, Diran guessed, though it was hard to tell from such a distance-and straight black hair tied into a ponytail. As was common for halflings, he had pointed ears, though not so sharply pointed as Yvka’s. He wore sailor’s garb: brown leggings, bare feet, an orange sash around his trim waist, a white shirt with billowy sleeves, and a red scarf covering the top of his head as protection against the sun. Tucked beneath the halfling’s sash was a long knife that, in his small hands, would look like a sword, and Diran guessed he wielded it as such. Though Diran had never spent a great deal of time around halflings, he judged this one to be a young adult in his early to mid-twenties.