Forge of the Mindslayers: Blade of the Flame Book 2 (23 page)

In frustration, he gnashed teeth that looked more lupine than goblin. He’d followed the priest’s companions as they made their way to the dock and had observed their meeting with the female vampire—from a safe distance, of course. Skarm had considered making an attempt to snatch the dragonwand then, while everyone was preoccupied, but in the end he’d decided against it. If the vampire was another of the priest’s allies—though Skarm didn’t see how such a thing was possible—then she might well try to stop him. Barghests were strong enough to hold their own against a vampire if need be, but the outcome of such a battle would be in doubt. In the end, Skarm had decided against taking such a risk and had continued to observe and trail behind the others as they continued on to the dock, boarded the elemental sloop, and set sail, leaving Skarm behind.

The barghest was beginning to worry. Nathifa was extremely patient as only the undead could be. After all, she’d been scheming to get her hands on the dragonwand—or rather, the dragonhead affixed to it—for decades, but now that she was so close to achieving her goal, she wouldn’t tolerate many more delays. If he didn’t get his hands on the dragonhead soon, it would go badly for him.

From what Skarm had overheard while following the priest’s friends, it sounded as if they intended to return to Perhata after rescuing the priest and his half-orc servant. Provided they weren’t all killed in the attempt, of course. If so, then he would have another opportunity to take the dragonhead when they once more made port. All he had to do was wait.

He shifted to wolf form. He would be able to hide more effectively in this body, and his animal senses would help alert him when the priest and his companions returned. He padded silently down the deserted dock, intending to find a hiding place in one of the alleys between the various warehouses, fish-sellers, and taverns located nearby, but as he passed one particular vessel—a small trading ship—he caught a whiff of blood mingled with the air’s saltwater tang. Intrigued, he leapt aboard the vessel with lupine grace. Sniffing as he went, he traced the smell to the ship’s hold. He shifted back to goblin form, opened the hatch, and climbed down the ladder.

Save for some crates and supplies, the hold was empty. Skarm shifted back to wolf form and sniffed the air. The smell of blood was stronger here, as was another smell: the faint sour-musty stink of decay. Skarm recognized it as the scent of a vampire, and not just any vampire—the one who’d accompanied the priest’s friends on their rescue mission. He sniffed once more and caught a human’s scent … a male. Skarm’s lupine mouth stretched into a goblinish smile. Evidently the vampire woman had fed here and then disposed of the body before leaving. Too bad. Even drained of blood, the corpse would’ve made a nice snack for Skarm. He consoled himself by licking up the few drops of blood the vampire had spilled—they were almost dry, but still tasty enough—and then he returned to goblin form and climbed back up onto the deck. He was grateful the Dark Six had led him to this vessel: she would make a suitable vantage point to wait for the priest and his friends to make port again.

After a quick search to satisfy himself that there was no one else on board, he changed back into his wolf form and settled down on the deck, head on paws, eyes closed, alert for any sound or scent that would indicate his prey’s return.

A
senka had never been aboard an elemental sloop before. She wondered if she could get Baron Mahir to purchase one for the Sea Scorpions. The wind spirit that powered the craft was bound to a metal containment ring at the aft of the sloop and manifested as a glowing blue mass of swirling energy inside the ring. Wind issued forth from the ring to fill the
Zephyr’s
sails full to bursting. Yvka sat in a chair in front of the ring, one hand working the tiller while the other rested on the chair’s arm, using a magical control built into the chair to command the elemental. In addition, the ship was constructed from soarwood—a substance so preternaturally smooth and light that it produced virtually no friction—and her runners slid over the surface of the sea as easily as if she were moving over solid ice. The craft was making phenomenal speed, so much so that Asenka, who’d spent the majority of her life at sea, needed to hold onto the ship’s railing to steady herself.

“Where did you berth this craft?” Asenka called out over
the roaring of the elemental’s wind. “I would’ve known if such a vessel had been kept at the main docks.”

The elfwoman turned toward Asenka. “I find it best to keep the
Zephyr
away from prying eyes—not to mention greedy hands. I have access to a number of … alternate ports scattered around the Principalities. Let’s just leave it at that.” Yvka’s voice was strained, her face grim. She looked away from Asenka and concentrated anew on piloting the vessel.

Asenka scowled. She understood that the elfwoman was concerned for her missing companions—especially Ghaji—but Asenka didn’t appreciate being dismissed so casually. As commander of the Sea Scorpions, she wasn’t used to being kept in the dark. She’d been reluctant to join the crew of the
Zephyr
, but she knew the elemental sloop was their only chance of catching up to the Coldhearts. The rest of the Scorpions had set sail at the same time the
Zephyr
had pulled away from the dock, and though their vessel was a fine one, there was no way she could keep up with the elemental sloop. That was the reason Asenka had joined the others aboard and ordered her second in command to captain the Scorpions’ ship. Since she was a guest, she didn’t feel it was best for her to push Yvka for too much information. She could learn more about these “secret ports” later, after they’d rescued Diran and Ghaji.

Still, wherever the elfwoman had kept her ship hidden, she couldn’t have been too difficult to locate. After all, Makala had found her. The evidence lay right there on the deck before her: a large obsidian sarcophagus with strange runes carved into the sides. This was the object Makala had said she needed to move onto the
Zephyr
before she could accompany them on their rescue mission. Even knowing that Makala wasn’t human, Asenka still had a difficult time imagining the slim, petite woman moving something so massive onto the ship by herself, but the sarcophagus had already been on the ship when Yvka sailed her from her
hiding place and picked up the rest of them at the dock, which meant Makala had been able to move the object, presumably by herself, in a short amount of time.

Asenka gazed up the obsidian sarcophagus and shuddered. The lid was closed and Makala rested inside; asleep or awake, Asenka didn’t know. Makala had shut herself in before the
Zephyr
left Perhata, saying that she could only tolerate sea travel while sealed within the stone coffin. She’d also made it clear that due to the enchantment on the box, she couldn’t open it from within. One of them would have to open it for her. Given the sort of creature Makala was, Asenka didn’t think it would be a bad thing if they never let her out, but since Makala was a friend of the others—or at least had once been a companion of theirs—Asenka decided to keep this opinion to herself. Still, she was glad the woman was shut away; it made her feel safer.

She recalled Makala’s burning crimson eyes, once more heard her harsh, throaty voice.
I do not want to harm you, but remember what I said. I’ll do anything to protect Diran
. Anything.

Asenka couldn’t help shuddering anew.

Tresslar and Hinto stood at the bow of the ship, looking forward, their backs to the sloop’s cabin, as well as to Makala’s dark sarcophagus. On purpose? she wondered. Probably. As uncomfortable as she was looking at the thing, it had to be worse for Makala’s friends, who evidently had known her when she was human.

Asenka decided to leave Yvka to her work, and still holding onto the railing for support, made her way to the bow. It was still night, but they’d sailed out of the fog and the stars shone brightly above, their light reflected like a scattering of diamonds on the surface of the Lhazaar. The sea air was cold, especially with the breeze kicked up by the
Zephyr
’s swift passage, and Asenka shivered as she joined Tresslar and Hinto at the bow. The halfling was swaddled in a fur cloak to protect him against
the cold, as was the artificer, but as she drew near, she could’ve sworn that the air felt warmer.

As if reading her mind, Tresslar said, “It’s a minor spell. It encompasses me—and anyone standing within a few feet of me—inside a pocket of warm air. It doesn’t neutralize the cold by any means, but it should keep us from freezing. I’ve cast a somewhat similar spell on the entire vessel. That’s what’s keeping ice from forming on the deck right now. Standard stuff, really.”

Asenka stood next to Tresslar and immediately felt even warmer. The artificer might be overly humble of his accomplishments, but there was no denying his skill.

“How far behind are your people?” Tresslar asked.

Asenka reached inside her cloak and beneath her tunic. She wrapped her fingers around the scorpion medallion that hung from her neck, closed her eyes, and concentrated. All the Sea Scorpions wore similar medallions. They didn’t permit full telepathic contact, but they did allow their wearers to gain a sense of the others’ approximate location.

Asenka opened her eyes and removed her hand from the medallion. “Not close enough. We’ll arrive at Demothi Island two hours before the rest of the Scorpions join us.”

The Sea Scorpions’ vessel, the
Water Dragon
, was a well-made craft and swifter than the Coldhearts’
Maelstrom
, but she had only minor magical alterations to increase her speed and durability—nothing like what the
Zephyr
possessed. The best the crew of the
Maelstrom
could do was sail full out and catch up when they could. At least the winds were strong this night.

Asenka went on. “The big question is, will we intercept the Coldhearts before
they
reach the island?”

Hinto responded. “They left Perhata a half hour or so before we did. At our current rate of speed—and given that they’re sailing an ordinary ship …” He paused and looked up at the
stars, as if doing a quick mental calculation. “It’ll be close. If we don’t catch up to them before they reach the island, we’ll get there soon after.”

“You sound like someone who knows what he’s talking about,” Asenka said.

Hinto turned to the Sea Scorpion commander and smiled. “I was born aboard a ship. I’ve spent more time with my feet on a deck than I have on dry land.”

Asenka nodded, accepting Hinto’s assessment.

“What’s so awful about Demothi Island?” Tresslar said. “It must be a particularly nasty place for Haaken to take Diran and Ghaji there instead of just killing them outright.”

“That it is,” Asenka said. “It’s the most terrible place in the Gulf of Ingjald, perhaps in all the Principalities.”

Tresslar snorted. “No offense, but during my youth I traveled the length and breadth of the Principalities. These waters contain more darkness than you could possibly imagine.”

Asenka bristled at first, but from the artificer’s tone it was clear that he wasn’t trying to belittle her but simply state what he saw as fact. “Demothi Island is dark enough. According to legend, almost a thousand years ago an evil priest named Nerthach, a worshipper of the Keeper, traveled to the island and cast a massive spell to raise all those who’d died in the gulf. His motivation for doing so is unclear. Some say he wished to create an army so that he could conquer and rule, while others say he wished to let lose a plague of undead upon the region in honor of the dark god he worshipped. Still others say that he was simply mad. Whatever the reason, Nerthach cast his spell, and it succeeded, but not in the way he intended. Nerthach was transformed into a black-rock statue that stands in the center of the island. This statue possesses two large ebon gems for eyes, and it radiates an evil power that resurrects anyone who dies in the waters of the Gulf of Ingjald. The living dead gather
in the waters offshore of Demothi, and when anyone is foolish enough—or unfortunate enough—to make landfall on the island, the undead rise forth from the sea to slay them.”

Hinto’s eyes widened after hearing Asenka’s tale and he trembled. Tresslar appeared unmoved, though she thought perhaps his face was bit paler than it had been.

“That’s quite a story,” the artificer said.

“It’s more than that. While no one in his right mind would approach Demothi Island, in the past I had cause to sail nearby once. I peered at the island through a gem of long-seeing and …” She trailed off. “Let’s just say that I saw the legend was true.”

“So you think Haaken plans to maroon Diran and Ghaji there?” Tresslar said. “On an island full of undead?”

Asenka nodded grimly. “I’m sure of it.”