Corsair

TWENTY-SEVEN

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

The sounds of combat grew steadily louder as Sergen peered from the window of his suite high in the keep’s central tower. From his vantage he could see that the surviving Black Moon pirates had abandoned the gatehouse battlements. The fighting on the quay and the decks of Kraken Queen was over; the dead and dying littered the decks and sprawled across the wharf. He glowered at the Hulburgan caravel lying alongside the Black Moon flagship, fuming at the turn events had taken in the last hour. Only this morning he’d had his breakfast on the balcony of his room, sipping from a goblet of chilled white wine as he contemplated his return to Melvaunt and the best use he could make of Mirya and her daughter against his accursed cousin, Geran, and the rest of his accursed stepfamily. Well, it seemed that Geran-it had to be Geran, who else? — had followed him all the way to the hitherto hidden refuge in the Sea of Night, determined to once more foil his carefully laid plans. It was beyond infuriating.

“My lord, we are ready,” his armsman Kerth said. Kerth and the five magically tattooed warriors in his detail had spent the last quarter hour stripping the suite of everything that might be of use, including a small fortune in gemstones and gold. If Sergen had had all of his armsmen present, he might have tried to influence the course of the battle by throwing his soldiers alongside his father’s pirates … but most of his personal guards were still in Melvaunt, watching over his interests there. The armsman glanced out the window and asked, “What are your orders?”

“The keep is lost,” Sergen replied. “But it seems to me that the Hulburgan ship is lightly guarded. With a little luck, I think we may be able to make our escape on Seadrake. But I’d like some insurance in the event that proves impractical.”

“We could slip into the forest and hide, my lord. The Hulburgans would never find us.” That was his magical conditioning speaking, of course; Kerth had to think first and foremost of Sergen’s personal safety.

“I don’t care to be marooned here, Kerth. Now come with me, and stay close.” Sergen glanced around the chamber one more time and then strode out into the corridor beyond. Kerth and three of his soldiers followed closely after him, swords bared in their hands; the remaining two struggled to keep up, carrying a heavy chest full of Sergen’s treasure between them. He wondered briefly where his father was, and whether he still defended any part of the keep, but then he put Kamoth out of his mind. If the pirates were still fighting somewhere in the fortress, it would serve as an excellent distraction for what Sergen intended to do. His father would understand.

He led his guards to one of the servants’ stairs in the center of the tower and quickly clattered down the steps. At each floor he paused and listened carefully, but fortune favored him; the squads of Hulburgan soldiers and mercenaries roving the keep’s lower floors didn’t chance to cross his path. He detoured carefully around the great hall on the keep’s main floor, slipping through the kitchens-as he’d guessed, the servants who worked there were no longer at their places-and then used a freight ramp that led from the back of the kitchen to descend to the granaries and cellars below. Two more turns and a narrow stairway later, and he emerged in one of the gated corridors on the second level of the dungeons.

There he found seven of Kraken Queen’s crewmen gathered around the gate of one of the treasure vaults. “Here, now,” Sergen said. “What’s this about?”

The pirates exchanged looks, but none of them spoke. Sergen smiled to himself. “Allow me to make a guess, then. You all thought you’d fill your pockets with Black Moon loot before taking your chances in the jungle. Am I right?”

A bald Turmishan with a square beard of tight black coils straightened up and looked Sergen in the eye. “What other chance have we got? The harmach’s soldiers hold the keep. When the ship founders, it’s every man for himself.”

“Can you eat your gold?” Sergen asked. “Do you think you can bribe the nothics and chuuls and tall mouthers out in the forest with a few pretty coins? No, you’ll be dead within a day if you run off into the jungle. It seems to me that’s not much of a chance at all.”

“Then we’ll die with our pockets full of gold,” the man snarled. “What else can we do?”

Sergen’s lips twitched toward a smile at the irony. He was not far off from that very situation, but at least he had his armsmen to carry his gold for him. With more boldness than circumstances warranted, he met the Turmishan’s eyes and answered. “Follow me,” he said. “I’m going to make a try for Seadrake. Most of the harmach’s soldiers are searching the keep. With you seven and my armsmen, we’d have about as many crew as they’ve got guarding the ship. I tell you frankly that it’ll be a hard fight at best-but at least it’s a chance. Are you willing to try it?”

The bald Turmishan thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. “Aye, I’m with you. It’s better than anything we had in mind.” The other men looked at each other and then nodded at Sergen or spoke up with an “I, too!” for him.

“Good,” Sergen said. “Leave off there, and come with us, then.” The pirates joined his band, and he set off again, striding along at a quick pace but careful not to run. If he wanted to keep the Black Moon pirates with him, it would be best to affect a calm, deliberate confidence. The last thing he wanted to do was appear desperate, and he did in fact desperately need those pirates. Assuming that he succeeded in taking one of the two ships lying alongside the keep, he’d need at least a few experienced deckhands to help him get home. He knew very little about sailing himself, and his personal armsmen were likely not much better.

They passed through one of the gates-standing open, its guards nowhere in sight-and turned down another passageway. Sergen allowed himself a smile of relief. They’d reached the Erstenwolds without a fight, and that meant he now had hostages he could use if he couldn’t seize the ship he needed by force. He approached the cell where Mirya Erstenwold and her daughter were being held, and his confident footsteps faltered.

The cell was empty. A set of manacles hung around the bars, showing where they’d been pulled apart with a thick wooden lever thrust through the chains.

“The Erstenwolds escaped,” Kerth said-a statement of the obvious if ever Sergen had heard one.

“Clearly,” Sergen snapped. He stared at the empty cell for a long moment, thinking hard. Obviously none of the Black Moon corsairs were responsible. They would have fetched the keys from the master-at-arms in charge of this level instead of bending bars to get her out. Either the Hulburgans had already found her and set the Erstenwolds free, or Mirya had managed her own escape. Either way, he was sorely displeased to discover that he did not have the hostages he feared he might need.

He took a breath and then set aside his frustration. The mark of a man’s ability to deal with a crisis was his willingness to make use of the facts as they were, not as he wished for them to be. “Clearly,” he repeated. “Very well, then. If we run into Mistress Erstenwold and her daughter again, we’ll take them with us, but we don’t have the time to search for them now. To the postern, then.”

Sergen led his band of bodyguards and corsairs down through the deserted hallways toward the keep’s side gate. He managed to pick up two more Black Moons along the way, although both were so badly wounded that he doubted they’d be any use to him. Then they reached the dimly lit halls where the keep’s neogi lurked, and turned toward the gate leading toward the dark forest outside. In the mustering hall just inside the gate, they found five of the spiderlike neogi arguing with each other, accompanied by their umber hulk slaves. Four of the hulks were laden with even more treasure than Sergen had seen fit to carry away, and several others watched over a chain coffle with a dozen vacant-eyed captives waiting to be marched away.

The neogi ended their argument as soon as Sergen and his soldiers appeared. “Lord Sergen, this is a disaster!” one of the creatures hissed at him. “You let your enemies follow you here, and they have ruined us! Your carelessness has cost us a very valuable station!”

“I regret the inconvenience,” Sergen retorted. “If you help me throw back the Hulburgan attack, we won’t have to give the place up.”

“Unthinkable!” The spider-monster recoiled in horror, and Sergen snorted to himself. Neogi were cowardly creatures, unless the hope of a rich prize inflamed their avarice and drew them out of their habitual caution. “That would entail exposing ourselves to physical danger! There is no profit in that!”

“Then what use are you?” Sergen retorted. He didn’t care much for the neogi. They were valuable trading partners, of course, since they eagerly bought up any goods the Black Moon carried off from the seas of Faerun. Years ago they’d sold Kamoth the starry compass that made him the master of Neshuldaar, and they’d reaped the benefits of the Black Moon’s depredations. Their spiderlike ships called at the keep from time to time to deal with the human corsairs, and Kamoth was only too happy to let them use the place as a storehouse and port of call. But they were detestable, untrustworthy creatures, and they had no love or loyalty for anyone but themselves.

“Fighting is for slaves,” another of the neogi answered him. “We will take shelter in the moon’s forest and await our clan’s next tradeship. Deal with your foes yourself.”

Sergen started to retort in anger, but he bit back his words. There was no point in antagonizing the creatures … and it might be that he hadn’t found the right way to ask for their help yet. “Fine,” he said. “You need not fight. However, I would like to hire the services of your umber hulks for the day, and I will pay handsomely for them.”

The neogi looked at each other and then back to Sergen. “They are very valuable servants, and there is an excellent chance they might be damaged or killed in battle,” the first one answered him. “Moreover, we cannot be certain of your success. We must reserve several for our own protection in case you fail.”

“Then it is simply a matter of determining how many of your hulks I can use, and fixing a fair price for them.”

The neogi grinned at him, showing a mouthful of needle-sharp fangs. Sergen sighed. The one thing for which neogi could be counted on was to try to exact every loose copper piece in your pocket if they thought they could sell something to you. It took several minutes of hard bargaining, but they soon struck a deal that gave Sergen the use of four of the monsters at an exorbitant rate, which Sergen directed his guards to pay from the chest they carried. He would have struck a better deal with more time to negotiate, but he tried not to concern himself with the details; he was quite possibly buying his freedom, after all, and he might even be able to recoup his expenses by selling the neogi passage on whatever ship he managed to capture. The neogi pulled aside the umber hulks in question and spoke to them in their own language for a moment; the monsters looked at Sergen and bowed their huge heads.

“We have instructed these four to obey your orders,” the neogi said. “They will serve you to the best of their ability until sunset, or until we instruct them otherwise.”

“Very good,” Sergen said. He’d delayed here as long as he dared, but consoled himself with the thought that adding the umber hulks to his improvised little army drastically improved his chances of success. He inclined his head to the small creature. “I think I hear the fighting drawing closer. If you mean to depart the keep, now would seem to be a good time.”

“We will wait and watch from the temple ruins,” the neogi said. “Remember, we expect our property to be returned before we part ways.”

“I understand,” Sergen said. The last thing he intended to concern himself with was returning any remaining umber hulks to their neogi masters, but he didn’t see any reason to tell the horrible little creature that. Then a sudden thought struck him. “One more thing before we go. Do you know the two captives I brought back from Hulburg? A tall, black-haired female and a young, dark-haired girl?”

The neogi peered at him. “I know those two. The small one was badly frightened when she saw us. I told her guards that they should cut out her tongue if she kept making sounds like that. What of them?”

“They escaped from their cell. Have you seen them?”

“Yes,” the monster admitted. “We saw them here at the gate an hour ago. They managed to elude us and flee into the jungle.”

Sergen suppressed his irritation. No doubt the neogi hadn’t bothered to tell the Black Moon about their escaped prisoners because they intended to catch the Erstenwolds and sell them back. Still, he might as well see if he could encourage the neogi mercenary instincts. “They are of some value to me. If you recapture them, I will pay you handsomely for them. Two hundred pieces of gold each.” That was several times the value the neogi would expect for routine slaves; perhaps they’d actually make an effort to track Mirya and her daughter.

“Done,” the neogi answered. It hissed to the others, and the five small creatures scuttled out the door, heading for the jungle. Behind them, their umber hulks and slaves followed, leaving behind the four who now served Sergen.

Sergen looked at the monsters. “Stay close to me,” he told them. Then he gathered his bodyguards and the pirates who had joined him, and followed the neogi party out of the keep’s rear gate. He saw the neogi and their slaves disappearing into the jungle ahead, but he turned toward the left and took the path that circled the keep just under its black walls. The situation was not irretrievable. He thought he had enough men-and monsters-to seize one of the ships, if they moved quickly and the Hulburgans were slow to realize their danger. He’d burn whichever ship he didn’t take, which should strand any possible pursuit on Neshuldaar. Within a day and a half he’d be back in Melvaunt, safe in his palace and ready to continue his efforts against the Hulmasters with whatever tools he found ready to his hand. But there was no doubt that the breaking of the Black Moon Brotherhood was a sore setback. It had to be Geran Hulmaster behind it. Who else but his hateful stepcousin could have found a way to overthrow his pirate allies in such a remote and presumably secure anchorage?

Sergen scowled darkly. He would dearly like to make certain that Geran met a lonely death under the walls of the Black Moon keep before he abandoned this place … but stranding Geran and his handpicked crew thousands of miles from home was some consolation. Maybe he’d be stranded in the Tears of Selune for years, hunted by moon-monsters and helpless to thwart Sergen’s plans. It was a pleasing thought.

They came to the corner where the keep’s wall met the dock, and Sergen motioned for his men to halt. He crept forward and risked a quick look. The front gate to the keep stood open, but there were few soldiers on the wharf. A score of sailors busied themselves in and around Kraken Queen and Seadrake. They did not concern him; he was much more worried about the possibility of Shieldsworn and armsmen from the keep hurrying out to join the fighting once they realized the ships were under attack. He’d need to do something to block any reinforcements from coming to the sailors’ aid.

“You two,” he said to the closest umber hulks. “When the rest of us charge, I want you to go to the front gate of the keep, there. Go inside to the lower hall, and slay any Hulburgans you find there. Hold the lower hall and keep any soldiers inside the keep from using that gate until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?” The monsters stared down at him with their bizarre insectile eyes, but they nodded. Sergen guessed that each was worth at least five soldiers in a fight; with some luck, they might pin the Shieldsworn inside the keep for quite a while before they were overcome.

He studied the two ships locked together at the wharf, and made his decision. “We’ll try for Seadrake,” he told the rest of his band. “Deal with the sailors first, then we’ll cut her free and fire Kraken Queen. Hold nothing back-this is our only chance. Now follow me!”

Drawing his rapier and poniard, he broke cover and ran for the ships. His bodyguards followed after him, striving to get in front and screen him from attack; the umber hulks lumbered out after him, two turning toward the keep’s gate as he’d instructed. So sudden was his appearance that Sergen actually reached the deck of Kraken Queen before the Hulburgan sailors began to shout the alarm. He met a cutlass-armed sailor at the top of the gangplank, parried the fellow’s clumsy attack, and ran him through. The man groaned and started to sag; Sergen unceremoniously kicked him off the point of his blade and stood aside to let his followers swarm up from the dock.

“To Seadrake!” he shouted. “That’s the one we want!”

He crossed Kraken Queen’s deck and leaped over to the warship lying alongside. Here, despite their surprise, the Hulburgans stood their ground and put up a stout defense, fighting furiously to protect their ship. Sailors, pirates, and mailed guards shouted and cursed, tangled together in a furious melee of knife, axe, cutlass, and sword that sprawled over the ships’ decks. For a moment Sergen doubted the outcome, as soldiers fell on both sides of the fight, and the attack seemed to stall, but then the two umber hulks he’d kept with him clambered across the deck and joined the fight. The creatures were horrifically strong and protected by chitinous carapaces thicker than plate armor. Worse yet, anyone who chanced to look one in the eye stood mesmerized by the monster’s maddening gaze. Rooted to the spot, unable to raise a blade in self-defense, they were torn limb from limb by the monsters’ stone-crushing claws or cut down from behind by opportunistic pirates while they stood helpless.

Well worth the money, Sergen decided, watching the monsters rip his foes to pieces. Then a deep-voiced thrum rolled across the deck, and a thick black quarrel as long as his forearm took one of the hulks right between its eyes. The powerful missile split the monster’s chitin with an audible crack. It squealed once and staggered back, before it crashed through the rail and disappeared over the side. The creature sank like a stone in the sapphire waters and did not come up again.

“By all the gods!” Sergen snarled in frustration. He whipped around, searching for the source of the quarrel, and spied an old, weatherbeaten dwarf standing by an arbalest mounted on the quarterdeck rail.

“How’d ye like that, ye great overgrown bug?” the dwarf shouted. He grinned fiercely and began cranking his engine furiously, drawing back the oversized crossbow for another shot as he eyed the second of the hulks.

Sergen dashed up the steps leading to the quarterdeck and charged at the dwarf. The dwarf saw him coming and backed away from the arbalest to meet him with a boarding axe in hand. He managed to bat Sergen’s point aside with the axe haft and lunged out with a vicious counter-but left himself open. Sergen slid back a half step and ran a foot of his steel between the dwarf’s ribs. The dwarf staggered on three more steps, swinging weakly, and then sank to the deck.

“Ye’ll no’ get far, Sergen,” he gasped through blood-flecked lips. “Geran Hulmaster will see t’ ye soon enough.”

Sergen raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps, but I’ll get farther than you, my friend,” he said. He moved back to the rail and took stock of the fighting. Few of the Hulburgans were still on their feet, and several of his personal guards were already setting fire to Kraken Queen. It was a shame to destroy such a fine ship, but Kamoth-if he still lived-would have fired her with his own hand rather than allow her to be captured.

“Cut the grapples! Make ready to sail!” he shouted to the soldiers below. He turned his attention to the lines nearby, yanking the hooks free and throwing them over the side one by one. He paused to peer toward the main gate of the keep, looking for any sign of Hulburgan soldiers. He thought he heard the sounds of fighting from that direction, but it was difficult to be certain. All the umber hulks there had to do was keep the Hulburgans busy for a few minutes more, and that would be enough to satisfy him.

“We’re free, Lord Sergen!” his armsman Kerth called. The big swordsman slashed the last of the lines holding Seadrake to Kraken Queen.

“Very good. Now get us aloft!” he shouted at the Black Moon corsairs still on their feet. “Hurry, now!”

“Aye, Lord Sergen!” the bald Turmishan pirate answered. “But we’re sorely shorthanded for this ship.”

Sergen looked at the main deck and realized that he’d lost several pirates in the desperate fight on the deck, along with one of his bodyguards. He bared his teeth in frustration. The Hulburgans had put up a better showing in the brief, violent fray than he’d hoped. “We don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “Just get us into the air and do your best! They can’t follow us!”

The Turmishan pirate grimaced, but he climbed the steps leading to the quarterdeck and took the helm. “Raise the foresail!” he called to his fellows. “It’ll give us a little steerageway! Lord Sergen, tell your lads to lend a hand!”

Kerth looked questioningly at Sergen. “Do as he says!” Sergen told him. The bodyguards knew little more about sailing than he did, but they ran forward to help the Black Moon sailors as best they could. Seadrake drifted slowly away from Kraken Queen; Sergen could feel the heat of the flames that were beginning to consume the pirate flagship beating against his face and hands. For a moment he feared that they wouldn’t get clear of the burning ship before catching fire themselves, but then he heard the ruffle of canvas flapping in the wind. Inch by inch, the foresail was rising into place … and as the wind began to catch the sail, the warship’s hull slowly began to lift clear of the water.

“The mainsail now!” the Turmishan mate at the helm shouted. Side by side the Black Moon sailors and Sergen’s guards lashed down their lines for the foresail and then hurried to the mainmast to begin the work of raising the mainsail.

Sergen looked back toward the wharf, slowly drawing away from them. Shieldsworn soldiers spilled out of the front gate and ran along the dock, with shouts of alarm. Some leveled crossbows or longbows at Seadrake, firing in futility at the warship as it began to climb away from the keep. Others raced to battle the flames spreading across Kraken Queen in a desperate effort to save her. He smiled in cold satisfaction. “I have your ship, Geran!” he shouted toward the wharf. “Enjoy your stay here, Cousin!”

A small figure in scarlet robes appeared on the battlements above the gatehouse. Sergen frowned as he recognized the sorcerer Sarth. The tiefling gestured, his mouth moving as he snarled the words of a spell Sergen could not hear. Golden fire gathered around his rune-carved scepter, taking on an arrowlike shape-and then with a flick of his hand, Sarth sent the quarrel hurling up at him. Sergen swore and threw himself flat as the fiery bolt blasted through the spot at the rail where he’d been standing.

The Turmishan pirate at the helm gave a strangled cry, and suddenly the bow of the ship began to droop. Sergen glanced back to the wheel and saw the man standing there with a charred, smoking hole burned through the base of his throat. He looked at Sergen, his eyes startlingly wide and white in his dark face, and tried to say something, but blood pooled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. He leaned on the wheel, his hands knotted on the spokes, and as he slumped to the deck, the helm spun wildly in his dying grip. Seadrake lurched to the side, and one of Sergen’s bodyguards scrambling aloft in the mainmast lost his grip. The man tumbled from his precarious perch and fell past the rolling deck, splashing into the lake below.

Sergen realized he was the only person anywhere near the wheel. He threw himself forward and seized the helm, trying to right the ship’s careening course. The ship was heavy beneath the wheel, and he struggled to steady her. The vessel picked up speed on the fresh breeze as Sergen fought with the helm. He finally managed to level the deck again, just in time to see the scarlet foliage of a forested hillside looming just ahead. “Up! Up!” he screamed at the helm … but it was too late. Even as the bow began to rise sharply, the wind carried Seadrake into the great trees mantling the hillside. Branches cracked or whipped across the deck like scythes, hurling loose gear into the jungle below, and the ship came to a halt canted steeply to one side, snagged among the branches.

“Damn it all!” Sergen snarled. He clawed his way to the rail and looked back at the keep. They’d come a mile or more in their brief flight, and it was clear that Kraken Queen wouldn’t be coming after them any time soon … but Seadrake was snagged in plain sight on the hillside. The Hulburgans could give chase on foot. Maybe it would take them half an hour to get to Seadrake in its precarious perch, or maybe it would take them less than that.

He hurried down from the quarterdeck to his sadly diminished crew, most of whom were picking themselves up off the deck or looking around with stunned expressions on their faces. “Don’t just stand there!” he shouted. “Cut us free! Cut us free!”

I can still escape, Sergen told himself. A few minutes’ hard work with axe and knife, and Seadrake would be free to carry him to safety. He hurried to the rail and looked back toward the keep, where smoke billowed from the burning ship, and watched anxiously for any signs of pursuit.