Legacy of Blood

Eight

"Very curious," Captain Jeronnan muttered, peering far ahead. "Seems like a lifeboat in the distance."

Kara squinted, seeing nothing. The captain evidently had miraculous eyesight. "Is there anyone in it?"

"No one visible, but we'll take a closer look. I'll not risk a single sailor's life just to spare a few minutes… hope you understand that, lass."

"Of course!" She felt grateful enough that Jeronnan had arranged this voyage in the first place. He had put his ship and his crew at her disposal, something the necromancer would not have expected from any person. In return, he had accepted such payment as would cover her expenses, but no more. Each time she tried to press, a dark expression would cover his countenance, warning the raven-tressed enchantress that she threatened to tread on the memory of the former naval officer's daughter.

It had taken two days at sea, in fact, before Kara had come to realize that he truly needed this voyage as much as she did. If the tall innkeeper had seemed boisterous before, he now seemed at times ready to burst. Even the constant hint of less than fair weather on the western horizon did nothing to dampen his spirits.

"Mister Drayko!" At Jeronnan's cry, a slim hawkfaced man in perfectly kept officer's garments turned and saluted. Drayko had not acted at all bitter when his master had declared that he would be taking commandof this voyage. Clearly Jeronnan's second had great respect and devotion for the innkeeper. "Lifeboat ahead!"

"Aye, captain!" Drayko immediately gave commands for the sailors to prepare for survivors. The crew of the King's Shield reacted in quick and orderly fashion, something Kara Nightshadow had already come to expect. Those who served Jeronnan served a man who had lived much of his life following the strict dictates of discipline. This did not mean that he ruled with an iron hand. Jeronnan also believed in the humanity of each of his men, a rare quality in any leader in these times.

The King's Shield came up to the lone craft, two sailors immediately preparing lines to draw her in. Jeronnan and Kara stepped down to watch them at work, the necromancer beginning to feel uneasy about this discovery. They followed the same general route that the Hawksfire would have used; could this be a boat from that vessel? Had Kara's quest ended so soon, her quarries at the bottom of the sea?

"There's one aboard her," Captain Jeronnan muttered.

True enough, one sailor did lie in the boat, but even as the crew worked to secure the life craft, Kara already noted telltale signs that, for this man, they had arrived too late.

Mister Drayko sent a pair of men down to investigate. Sliding down the ropes, they gingerly turned over the body, which had been lying face down.

Eyes that no longer saw stared up into the heavens.

"Been dead a day," called up one of the men. He grimaced. "Permission to send him to his rest, sir."

Kara did not have to ask what he meant. Out here, there were limitations to what they could do for a corpse. A ceremony… and then a watery burial.

Jeronnan nodded his permission, but Kara quickly puta hand on his arm. "I need to see the body… it may tell us something."

"You think it's from the Hawksfire?"

"Don't you, captain?"

He frowned. "Aye… but what do you plan to do?"

She dared not explain in full. "Find out what happened… if I can."

"Very well." Jeronnan signaled for the men to bring the body up. "I'll have a cabin set aside for you, milady! I don't want anyone else witnessing what you plan. They wouldn't understand."

It took but a short time to bring the body to the cabin Jeronnan had chosen. Kara had expected to work with the corpse by herself, but the captain refused to leave. Even when she gave him a rather cursory explanation of what she intended, the former innkeeper refused to depart.

"I've watched men torn apart in battle, seen creatures I doubt you've even heard of, viewed death in a thousand forms… and after what happened to my daughter, nothing can ever make me flee again. I'll watch and I'll even help, if it comes to that."

"In that case, please bolt the door. We will not want anyone else seeing this."

After he had obeyed, Kara knelt beside the body. The sailor had been a middle-aged man who had not lived a gentle life. Recalling what little she had learned of the Hawksfire, the dark mage grew more suspicious that the boat had been indeed from that desperate vessel.

The men who had brought the body had quickly closed the eyes, but Kara now opened them up again.

"What in the Sea Witch's name are you doing, lass?"

"What has to be done. You may still leave if you wish, captain. It is not necessary that you subject yourself to any of this."

He steeled himself. "I'll stay… it's just that a dead man's stare is said to be bad luck."

"He certainly had enough of that." She reached into her pouch, searching for components. Without the dagger, she could not readily summon a phantasm as she had done in Bartuc's tomb. Besides, attempting to do so might have even made Jeronnan change his mind about letting her continue. No, what she had in mind would work well enough, provided that in the process it did not turn the captain against her.

From one tiny pouch Kara pulled forth a pinch of white powder.

"What's that?"

"Ground bone and a mix of herbs." She reached toward the dead sailor's face.

"Human bone?"

"Yes." Captain Jeronnan made no noise, no protest, which relieved the necromancer. Kara held the powder over the eyes, then sprinkled both sightless orbs with the white substance.

To his credit, Jeronnan kept his tongue still. Only when she next retrieved a tiny black vial, then reached for the corpse's mouth, did he dare interrupt again. "You're not going to pour that down his gullet, are you, lass?"

She peered up at him. "I mean no desecration, captain. What I do, I do to find out why this man perished. He looks dehydrated, starved, almost as if he has had neither food nor water for more than a week. Avery curious state for him to be in if, indeed, he is from the ship we pursue. I would assume the captain there would keep his crew fed, would he not?"

"Casco's a mad, foreign devil, but, aye, he'd still see that his men were fed."

"As I thought. And if this poor soul is not from the Hawksfire, it behooves us to find out exactly which vessel he is from, too. Don't you agree?"

"Your point's made, lass… forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive." With the top of the vial now removed, she used one hand to open the jaws of the sailor. That accomplished, Kara immediately tipped the vial so that half the contents would quickly drain down into the throat. Satisfied with that, she stoppered the bottle again and leaned back.

"Maybe you could at least tell me how you hope to find out anything."

"You'll see." She would have explained, but Jeronnan did not realize how swiftly she now had to work. In conjunction with the powder, the liquid Kara had used would have an effect lasting but a very short time and the necromancer still had the final part of the spell to cast. Any interruption from here on might waste crucial seconds.

With her finger, Kara drew a circle over the sailor's chest, then extended a line from there along the length of the throat, up the jaw, and finally ending at the mouth. At the same time, she whispered the words of the spell. Once that had been done, Kara tapped the corpse on the chest, once, twice, thrice. All the while, the dark mage kept track of each passing second.

The dead mariner let out an audible gasp as his lungs sought to fill with air.

"Gods above!" blurted Jeronnan, taking a step back. "You've brought him back!"

"No," Kara curtly answered. She had known that the captain would mistake this for a resurrection. Outsiders never understood the many facets of a necromancer's work. The faithful of Rathma did not toy with death as some believed; that went against their teachings. "Now, please, Captain Jeronnan, let me proceed."

He grunted, but otherwise remained silent. Kara leaned over the sailor, looking into the dead eyes. A faint hint of gold radiated from them, a good sign.

She leaned back. "Tell me your name."

From the cold lips emerged a single word. "Kalkos."

"From what ship do you hail?"

Another gasp of air, then, "Hawksfirrrre."

"So, he is from the—"

"Please! No speaking!" To the corpse, she asked, "Did the ship sink?"

"Noooo…"

Curious. Then why would this man have abandoned it? "Were there pirates?"

Again a negative response. Kara estimated the time she had remaining and realized that she had better push to the point. "Did everyone abandon ship?"

"Noooo…"

"Who remained behind?" The necromancer tried to keep the anticipation out of her voice.

Once more, the corpse inhaled. "Casco… captain…" The mouth shut, something not at all normal. The mariner's body almost seemed reluctant to add more, but then it finally gasped, "Sssorcererrrr…"

A sorcerer? The answer caught Kara off guard for a moment. She had expected to hear him speak of either the thieves who had stolen the armor or, in view of the crew's desperate act, the two revenants who had attacked her. Certainly their presence would have sent hardened sailors fleeing to the dangers of the sea.

"Describe him!"

The mouth opened, but no words came out. Like the phantasm, this spell allowed only for simple answers. Kara cursed quietly, then altered her question. "What did he wear?"

Inhaling… then, "Armorrrr…"

She stiffened. "Armor? Red armor?"

"Yesss…"

Something she had not expected. So, apparently one of the survivors of the tomb had been a sorcerer after all.Could it be this Norrec Vizharan of which the earlier phantasm had spoken? She repeated the name to the mariner, asking him if he knew it. Unfortunately, that did not prove the case.

Still, Kara had found out much of what she wanted to know. The last time this man Kalkos had seen the Hawksfire, it had not only been afloat, but the armor she sought remained aboard.

"Without a crew," she commented to a silent Captain Jeronnan. "The ship cannot sail far, can it?"

"More than likely to go in circles, if only its master and this spellcaster remain aboard." Jeronnan hesitated, then asked, "Haven't you more questions?"

She did, but none that the corpse could answer. Kara dearly wished that she still had her dagger. Then she could have taken more time and summoned up a true spirit, something that could have answered with longer, more coherent statements. Older, more skilled necromancers could have performed such a fantastic feat without the use of a tool, but Kara knew it would still be a few years before she reached that point.

"What about him?" insisted the former naval officer. "What happened to him… and the rest, for that matter, lass? One day on a rough sea's enough to kill many a man, but there's something unsettling about the look of him…"

Feeling somewhat ashamed that Jeronnan had found the need to remind her, Kara quickly leaned over the corpse again. "Where are your comrades?"

No answer. She quickly touched the chest, felt it sink under the slight pressure of her fingers. The liquid component of her spell had begun to wear off.

The necromancer had one chance. The eyes of a dead man often retained the last few images he had witnessed. If the powder she had placed on them still had some potency, then Kara might be able to see those images for herself.

Without looking back at the captain, she said, "Under no circumstances must I be interrupted for the next step. Is that understood?"

"Aye…" but Jeronnan said it with much reluctance.

Kara positioned her gaze directly over the sightless orbs, then began muttering. The gold tint to his eyes seized her, pulled her in. The necromancer fought back the instinctive desire to flee from the world of the dead, instead throwing herself fully into the spell she now cast.

And suddenly Kara sat in a boat in the midst of a stormy sea, pulling at the oars with all her might as if the three Prime Evils themselves chased the tiny vessel. The necromancer looked down, saw that her hands were thick, rough, seaman's hands-the hands of Kalkos.

"Where's Pietr's boat?" a bearded man called out to her.

"How would I know?" her own mouth snapped back, the voice deep and bitter. "Just row! Got us a chance if we keep headin' east! That hellish storm's got to end somewhere!"

"We shoulda taken the captain with us!"

"He'd never leave her, not even if she sank! He wants to ride with the demon master, let 'im!"

"Watch out for that wave!" someone else shouted.

Her head turned toward that direction, epithets such as Kara had never imagined men using spitting from her lips. In the distance, she saw two other lifeboats, each crammed tight with desperate men.

The bearded man suddenly stood up, not the wisest thing in such conditions. He gaped at something behind her-behind Kalkos-and pointed frantically. "Look out! Look out!"

Kalkos's gaze shifted as best it could. The sailor continued to man the oars.

At the edge of the the mariner's field of vision emerged a vast, serpentine tentacle.

"Turn about! Turn about!" Kalkos called. "Sit down, Bragga!"

The bearded man dropped to his place. Those able to work the oars desperately tried to turn the boat around.

Over the roar of the waves and the crash of thunder, Kara heard the distant screams of men. Kalkos looked that direction, revealing the horrific sight of scores of tentacles overwhelming one of the other boats. Several men were lifted into the air, some by the suction cups of the tentacles, others by macabre, grasping claws-almost hands-that plucked sailors from the boat as if they were flowers.

Kara expected the sailors to be drawn to the cavernous opening that she now witnessed in the center of a massive, monstrous form, a creature much like a gigantic squid, but with only one massive orb and horrid flesh that marked it as no denizen of this mortal plane. Instead, however, the monster simply held them aloft, using its clawed appendages to attach other sailors to various suckers. The victims cried out, pleading to those in the distance to save them.

"Row, damn you!" Kalkos roared. "Row!"

"I told you he wouldn't let us go! I told you!"

"Be quiet, Bragga! Be—"

A vast wave washed over them, throwing one shouting man overboard. Next to the tiny vessel, an array of tentacles rose from the water, surrounding Kalkos's companions on all sides and reaching hungrily for each.

"At 'em with your blades! It's the only—"

Yet although the men managed to parry the assaults of a few of the demonic arms, one by one they were picked off the boat, screaming-until only Kalkos, one oar used as a weapon… remained.

Kara felt a chill as wet tentacles seized her legs, grabbed her arms. She felt the suction cups attach to her body… No! This had all happened in the past! This had happened to Kalkos, not her!

Despite recalling that, however, she still felt the mariner's own horror as a new and terrible thing happened. Even despite his clothing, Kalkos felt weaker, drawn-as if the very life werebeing sucked from his body. His flesh wrinkled, dried despite the wetness all around him. He felt like a water sack whose contents were being swiftly drained…

And then, just as all life seemed stolen from him, when his body felt like no more than a dry husk, the tentacles suddenly dropped Kalkos back into the boat. Too late for the sailor to survive, Kalkos already knew that, but better to spend his last few moments of life back in the boat rather than in the gullet of such a hellish beast.

Only when talons dug into his arms and dragged him to a standing position did he come back from the brink enough to register that someone else had joined him in the lifeboat.

No-not someone-but some thing.

It spoke in a voice reminiscent of a thousand buzzing insects in agony; although Kara strained to make its form out clearly, the eyes of Kalkos no longer saw well. The enchantress could only perceive a terrifying, emerald and red shape looming over the dying sailor, a shape that did not conform to any human standard. Oversized eyes of deep yellow that seemed to have no pupils fixed on the unfortunate Kalkos.

"Death is not your pleasure yet," it chittered. "This one has things it must know! Where is the fool? Where is the armor?"

"I…" the mariner coughed. His body felt so very dry, even to Kara. "What…?"

His inhuman inquisitor shook him. A pair of needle-tipped spears came from nowhere, pressing against Kalkos's chest. "This one has no time, human. Can offer you much pain before life flees. Speak!"

From somewhere within, Kalkos found the strength to obey. "The s-stranger… armored… blood… still on… Hawksfire!"

"Which way?"

The mariner managed to point.

The demon, for Kara knew it to be one, chittered to itself, then demanded, "Why flee? Why run?"

"He-demons on ship."

The murky creature made a sound unlike any Kara would have expected from one of his kind, a sound that she recognized instantly as a sign of consternation. "Impossible! You lie!"

The sailor did not answer. Kara felt him slipping away. His last attempt to respond to the monstrous figure had drained him of what little he had left of life.

The half-seen creature dropped Kalkos, a jolt of pain coursing through the necromancer as the body struck. She heard the demon chitter again, then spout one comprehendible word.

"Impossible!"

Kara had a lone brief glimpse of the inner side of the lifeboat and the sailor's fingers twitching-and with that, the vision faded.

Inhaling, Kara clutched herself tight, eyes still fixed on the corpse's own.

She felt the nearby presence of Captain Jeronnan. The former naval officer put comforting hands on her shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"How long?" the necromancer murmured. "How long?"

"Since you started whatever you've been doing? A minute, two maybe."

So short a time in the real world, but so long and violent in the memories of the dead. The necromancer had performed this spell before, but she had never faced a death time so horrible as what this Kalkos had suffered.

The Hawksfire sailed a day or two ahead of them, no crew left to man the ship save the captain and this sorcerer, Norrec Vizharan. The last name should have warned her: "Servant of the Vizjerei"? More like one of the untrustworthy mages themselves! He had the armor, even had the audacity to wear it! Did he not understand the danger?

Without a crew, even he would have trouble keepingthe ship on course. Kara had a chance to catch him after all, provided that neither the revenants nor the demonic forces she had witnessed in Kalkos's death time had not caught up with the murderer already.

"So," continued Jeronnan, helping her to her feet. "Did you find out anything?"

"Little more," she lied, hoping her eyes would not give her away. "About his death, nothing. However, the Hawksfire is definitely still afloat, both the captain and my quarry aboard."

"Then we should catch up to them soon enough. Two men can't do much to keep a ship like that going."

"I believe it is only two days ahead at most."

He nodded, then glanced down at the corpse. "Are you done with him now, lass?"

She forced herself not to shiver at the memories she had shared with the late Kalkos. "Yes. Give him a proper burial."

"He'll get that… and then we'll be on our way after the Hawksfire."

As he departed the cabin to summon a pair of hands, Kara Nightshadow pulled her cloak about her, her gaze still on the body, but her mind on to what she had just committed herself-herself and every man aboard the King's Shield.

"It must be done," the necromancer muttered. "He must be caught and the armor returned to hiding. No matter what the cost… and no matter how many demons."

"Xazax!"

Galeona waited, but the demon did not respond. She looked around, searching for the telltale shadow. Sometimes Xazax played games, games with dark intentions. The sorceress had no time for games, especially ones that occasionally proved fatal for others than her partner.

"Xazax!"

Still no reply. She snapped her fingers and the lamp blazed brighter-yet still the shadow of the demon did not reveal itself.

Galeona did not care for that. Xazax in the tent, she understood. Xazax elsewhere generally spelled trouble. The mantis sometimes forgot who aided him in secretly walking the mortal plane.

No matter. She had far too much to do. The darkskinned sorceress turned her fiery gaze on a massive chest positioned in one corner of the garish tent. Taken as it appeared, the chest, made of iron and good strong oak and standing on four stylized leonine paws, would have required two sturdy soldiers to drag it to her and that with much effort on their part. However, as with the demon, Galeona had no time to go searching for strong arms, especially when the enchantress knew that they were all busy packing up the rest of the camp. No, she could handle her own needs at this juncture.

"Come!"

The lower corners of the great chest shone. The metallic-paws twitched, the leonine toes spreading, stretching.

The chest began walking.

The massive box wended its way toward Galeona, looking almost like a hound summoned by its mistress. It finally paused within a few inches of the witch, awaiting her next command.

"Open!"

With a long, creaking noise, the lid swung up.

Satisfied, Galeona turned and put her hand under one of the many pieces of her hanging collection. The piece unlatched itself, dropping gently into her waiting palm. The sorceress placed it in the chest, then went on with the next.

One after another, she dropped the items inside. Anonlooker who had observed the entire time would have begun to notice that, no matter how many things Galeona put in the chest, it never seemed to completely fill. Always the witch found room for the next and the next…

But as she neared completion of her task, a slight chill went up and down her spine. Galeona turned and, after some searching, found a shadow that had not been present before.

"So! You finally come back! Where've you been?"

The demon did not answer at first, his shadow sinking deeper into the folds of the tent.

"Augustus has commanded that the entire camp be struck down. He desires we leave immediately after, whether preparations are completed in daylight or night."

Still Xazax did not answer. Galeona paused, not liking the silence. The mantis tended to babble, not hold his tongue. "What is it? What's gotten into you?"

"Where does the general seek to go?" the shadow abruptly asked.

"You have to ask? Lut Gholein, of course."

The demon seemed to consider this. "Yes, this one would go to Lut Gholein. Yes… that might be best…"

She took a step toward the shadow. "What's the matter with you? Where've you been?" When he did not answer, the witch walked up to the corner of the tent, growing more furious by the moment. "Either answer me or—"

"Away!"

The demon burst forth from the shadow, his full monstrous form looming over the human. Galeona let out a gasp and stumbled backward, at last falling over the pillows still covering much of the floor.

Death in the form of a hellish insect with burning yelloworbs and rapidly snapping mandibles hovered. Claws and sicklelike appendages came within an inch- no more-of Galeona's face and form.

"Cease your chattering and keep from this one! Lut Gholein is our agreed destination! We will talk no more until I choose!"

With that… Xazax pulled back into the dark corner, his physical form fading, his shadow growing dimmer. In but a few seconds, the only sign of his continued presence remained just the hint of a monstrous shape among the folds of fabric.

Galeona, however, did not move from where she had fallen until absolutely positive that the mantis would not leap out again. When the sorceress did finally rise, Galeona did so making certain that she rolled away from where the shadow lurked. She had come very close to death, very close to a lingering, agonizing death.

Xazax made no more sound, no more movement. Galeona could not recall when she had ever seen the horrific demon act as he had just done. Despite the pact between them, he had been more than willing to slay her if she had not obeyed instantly-something she swore not to forget. The pact should have been impossible for either to break, the only reason they could tolerate one another on such a long-term basis. If Xazax had been willing to risk the consequences of doing away with both that pact and her, then it behooved Galeona more than ever to find a way to rid herself of him… which very well meant either the general or the fool. At least with men, she always knew she had some control.

The sorceress turned back to the task of loading the contents of her tent into the chest, but her mind never left the demon's actions. Besides the danger she now perceived in his willingness to risk the consequences of breaking their covenant, his near attack of her had left aquestion behind to which she dearly desired an answer. It alone would give reason not only for Xazax's unnerving reaction, but also the revelation of an emotion she had never witnessed in him before.

What, Galeona wondered, could possibly have frightened the demon so?