Sea of Death

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It shouldn't be long now."

Nathifa stood at the prow of the Zephyr, her bloodless white hands gripping the ice-covered railing. She looked eastward into the darkness, toward Trebaz Sinara. Skarm sat in the pilot's seat behind the glowing containment ring, keeping the air elemental active. The barghest, while possessing more stamina than a mortal creature, was on the brink of exhaustion. The magic that controlled the elemental was contained within the pilot's chair itself, but wielding that magic still required the contribution of the pilot's will. Someone trained in using the seat's magic could do so with minimum effort, but Skarm had no such training. Thus the energy drain on the barghest was significant. Not that Nathifa cared what happened to Skarm. All that concerned her was reaching Trebaz Sinara and obtaining the last object she needed to realize her dark dreams-and those of her mistress, of course.

The lich sorceress sensed more than heard Makala approach her from behind. A moment later, the vampire joined Nathifa at the railing.

"Haaken is still sleeping. And before you ask, I didn't take any of his blood… much as I might have wanted to."

"I would've known if you'd tried. And I would've punished you."

Makala smiled, as if to show that Nathifa's threat didn't impress her. The vampire was becoming far too bold, and the lich was beginning to regret accepting her as a servant. She reminded herself that Vol sent Makala to her, and that meant the vampire had an important role to play in fulfilling the queen's plan. But Nathifa vowed to continue keeping close watch on the woman, for she had no doubt that Makala was going to attempt some manner of treachery, and sooner rather than later.

"Why does the man sleep so much?" Makala asked. "He's no longer human, but he still seems to possess a human's weaknesses."

"He's no longer only human," Nathifa corrected. "He still requires rest, though less than a mortal needs. While you slumbered during the day, Haaken spent several hours practicing his new skills. He's unused to transforming back and forth between his various forms, and he's unaccustomed to the physical exertion of swimming so much."

Letting Haaken swim meant deactivating the air elemental so that he could keep up with the Zephyr. Nathifa didn't like slowing down and adding hours to their journey, but Haaken would be useless to her as a servant if he didn't possess at least a minimal mastery of his lycanthropic skills. Nathifa forced herself to view the delay as an investment, though it wasn't easy. She'd bided her time for a hundred years, but now that the culmination of everything she had worked for was finally at hand, she found herself becoming increasingly impatient, almost as if she were a mortal woman again.

She gazed up at the night sky. The cloud cover was light, and the Ring of Siberys was visible off to the south, a luminescent band of golden dragonshards that encircled the world high above the equator. A number of Eberron's twelve moons could be seen as well, four of them full and bright.

Nathifa frowned. Something tickled at the edges of her memory… something about full moons and sailing on the Lhazaar. It was a memory from her living days, when she and her two brothers had raided throughout the Principalities. But she couldn't quite-

The moons dimmed and winked out, followed closely by the Ring of Siberys. Nathifa was a lich, and thus couldn't know fear, but she felt something distantly akin to that emotion as she looked up at the black sky.

"The sky's gone dark," Makala said. "Is a storm coming?" The vampire didn't sound afraid, merely curious.

Nathifa struggled to call on more memories from her life as a mortal woman. "It doesn't feel like a storm. You can smell a storm coming, even when it's still miles away." Not that she could-her sense of smell had died with her mortal body a century ago. But the vampire's senses were sharp, and Makala should be able to detect a change in the wind's scent.

The wind began to kick up then, almost as if purposefully contradicting Nathifa's words. It gathered strength quickly, and was soon blowing with gale force, the air so cold that even Nathifa's undead flesh could feel it, and for the first time since she'd died, Nathifa shivered.

"It certainly feels like a storm to me!" Makala had to shout to be heard over the roaring of the wind.

"It's worse than that!" Haaken shouted. "It's a Ragestorm!"

The two undead creatures turned to see Haaken approaching. Though the newly reborn lycanthrope wore only the black trunks Nathifa had given him, he appeared unaffected by the wind's icy blast. Nevertheless, the fear he felt was evident in the panicked expression on his face as he gazed up at the blackened sky.

It had been many years since Nathifa had sailed the Lhazaar as a living woman, but she was confident she'd never heard of anything called a Ragestorm. She was about to demand Haaken tell them what he knew, but the lycanthrope spun and headed aft.

"We have to deactivate the elemental!" he shouted over his shoulder as he made his way across the ice-covered deck toward the pilot's seat. Skarm still sat, hand pressed palm down on the control arm of the chair, keeping the air elemental active.

Nathifa felt a surge of anger. Haaken was her servant, and she should be giving orders to him, not the other way around. But the man's sailing experience was far more recent than hers, and she decided to trust that he knew what he was doing. She once again looked skyward to see what she might be able to discern about this Ragestorm.

Despite the absence of moon and starlight, Nathifa's undead eyes could see well enough to make out an amorphous, shifting cloud hovering over the Zephyr. Some portions of swirling vapor seemed to form suggestions of eyes and mouths-dozens of them. The gale buffeting the sloop blasted down from the cloud, and Nathifa thought the creature-for she was certain the thing, whatever it was, was alive-resembled an air elemental. Or, more accurately, a number of air elementals that had joined together. She sensed malevolence in the cloud, a deep, fierce anger.

"Perhaps we should consider taking shelter in the cabin!" Makala shouted, her voice edged with terror. "Or better yet, the hold!" The vampire, despite her great strength, was having trouble withstanding the force of the Ragestorm. She held onto the handrail for support, gripping it so tight that her fingernails sank into the wood. No doubt she was terrified of being hurled overboard by the gale-force winds, since vampires were weakened by running water. A fast-flowing river was dangerous enough, but the Lhazaar Sea was another degree of peril entirely.

Still, Nathifa ignored Makala's suggestion. The lich hadn't been one to run away from a fight when she was alive, and death hadn't changed that aspect of her personality.

Haaken came stumbling back toward the Zephyr's prow, a terrified Skarm in tow.

"We deactivated the elemental, but I fear we were too late!" Haakan shouted. "The Ragestorm has our scent now, and it won't let go of us until it gets what it wants!"

"And that is…?" Nathifa asked.

Haaken kept his eyes on the roiling cloud above them as he answered. "A Ragestorm is a group of air elementals that were once bound in containment rings on sailing vessels or airships. During the Last War, when elemental vessels were damaged in battle and their air elementals were released, sometimes they merged into a single creature. I'm not sure why-something to do with the release of the magic within the containment rings themselves. Once a Ragestorm is created, its only purpose is to seek out other bound elementals of its kind, free them, and absorb them into its mass, growing larger and stronger. The Ragestorm sensed our air elemental and was drawn to our ship. But though we shut down our containment ring, the storm knows we have an air elemental onboard, and it won't leave until it's absorbed it!"

Nathifa looked back up at the Ragestorm with renewed interest and pondered what, if anything, her magic might be able to do to drive the creature off, if not destroy it altogether. Elementals of any stripe were notoriously hard to work with, and it required a high degree of mystic finesse and skill to deal with them. Nathifa had no training in the handling of elementals, and very little practical experience to drawn on. She wished she had Espial with her, but the obsidian skull that allowed her to hear her mistress's voice was inside the cabin, and she feared there wasn't time to retrieve it. She would've liked to consult her goddess on the best way to deal with the Ragestorm. But then, Vol preferred to help those who helped themselves.

The wind increased until it felt as if claws of ice raked their flesh. Nathifa could feel a column of air surround her, and a quick glance told her the others were experiencing the same thing. The Ragestorm was reaching out with invisible hands and grabbing hold of each of them. She felt air spinning rapidly around her, pressing inward with each revolution. The Ragestorm was attempting to crush them. Accompanying the sensation of increasing pressure was a feeling of movement, as if Nathifa were being lifted upward by the small whirlwind that had taken hold of her. But her feet remained on the Zephyr's deck, as did the others'. She was puzzled for a moment until she realized that they were being lifted upward because the ship itself was rising. The Ragestorm had grasped the sloop within its winds and was bearing the craft aloft, most likely intending to dash the Zephyr back into the sea, cracking the ship open like an egg, destroying the containment ring, and releasing its trapped brother. Voices shrieked in the wind, screaming rage in a language Nathifa didn't recognize, though she was able to divine the basic meaning from the tone.

You hunt us…

… capture us, enslave us…

Now it is we who hunt you…

You shall pay for what you've done to us, what you've done to our brother…

Nathifa knew that she had only seconds to act to prevent the Ragestorm from ruining everything she had worked so long and hard for, had sacrificed so much for…

She knew only a little about elementals, but from what Haaken had said, the release of mystic energy which occurred when the containment rings were destroyed acted as a binding agent of some sort, fusing the elementals and holding them together. But if a different sort of mystic energy were introduced into the mix, perhaps the binding agent could be disrupted.

You shall pay…

… pay, pay, pay!

The column of whirling air that pressed against her like the squeezing hand of an invisible giant prevented her from filling her lungs, and without enough air to speak, she couldn't use any spells that required a spoken component. And since her arms were pinned to her sides by the Ragestorm, the same went for spells that needed mystic gestures. That severely limited her options. If only she held the Amahau… but no, she'd left it back in the cabin. For safekeeping, of all things.

Pay, Pay, Pay!

She felt her ribs beginning to crack under the pressure the Ragestorm applied, and though she experienced no pain, she didn't relish the idea of being an undead ragdoll, her body crushed to the point of uselessness. With no time left, she chose to forego subtlety in favor of sheer power. She concentrated on gathering the necromantic energies at the core of her foul being-the dark power that dwelled where her mortal lifeforce once had-and using only the power of her will, she thrust the energy toward what she sensed was the heart of the elemental conglomerate that held them and their ship in its grasp.

A bolt of crackling ebon energy lanced forth from Nathifa's forehead and streaked into what she judged was the center of the creature-though in truth, she had no idea if this thing even had a center. The voices of the Ragestorm raised in pitched and took on an edge of desperation as the necromantic energy she'd released began to eat away at the ties binding the air elementals to one another.

No, you mustn't!

Stop… please!

We beg you!

"You want me to stop? Fine!" Nathifa shouted into the wind. "Release us and be on your way! Otherwise, I'll keep attacking, and you'll be forced to let us go!"

The shrieking stopped and the wind's anger abated somewhat, though it didn't entirely vanish. The Zephyr remained aloft, though Nathifa had no idea how high above the sea she hovered. Nathifa had the impression the Ragestorm had paused in its attack and was trying to decide its next move.

They didn't have long to wait.

The wind ceased, and the Zephyr-possessing all the aerodynamic properties of a large boulder-plunged to the waiting sea below. The sloop hit the water, sending up great plumes of seaspray. The whirling column of air that had held Nathifa withdrew, and when the Zephyr struck the surface, the lich was knocked off her feet. Before she could stand, a wave washed over the rail, engulfed her, and carried her away.

Nathifa had been bobbing on the surface of the Lhazaar for only a short time before she saw a dorsal fin slicing through the water toward her. As it drew close the shark slowed and turned its side to her. The lich took hold of the creature's dorsal fin, and the shark began swimming with powerful strokes of its tail. Within moments, they were in sight of the Zephyr-or at least what was left of her. The vessel was still afloat, but she listed to starboard and a set of runners was missing. The shark brought Nathifa up to the sloop's hull, and the lich let go of the creature's fin and, using her own magic, levitated up and over the ship's railing. Once her feet touched the deck, she took hold of the railing behind her to steady herself. She wasn't about to waste something as precious as magic energy to help her keep her footing on a canted deck.

A moment later, a humanoid shark climbed over the railing and joined Nathifa. The creature's facial features began to soften, and its eyes became less cold. Soon, a nearly naked Haaken stood next to the undead sorceress, also gripping the railing to keep from sliding on the slanted deck.

"I thank you for coming to my aid, Haaken." The words were as sawdust in her mouth. She wasn't used to needing help, and she was even less used to thanking anyone. She glanced around, searching for Makala and Skarm. She found the latter in his barghest form clinging to the mast, fur soaked and body trembling with fright. As for Makala…

A black-winged bat swooped down from above and circled the lich and the wereshark once before transforming into Makala. The vampire smiled weakly.

"All present and accounted for," she said, her voice tinged with weariness. It was clear to Nathifa that it had taken a great deal of strength for Makala to resist the energy-draining power of the Lhazaar. But resist she had, if only just.

Nathifa gazed skyward and was pleased to see the moons and stars once more. She didn't know whether she'd destroyed the Ragestorm or merely driven it off. Either way, she was glad the damned thing was gone.

She turned to Haaken. "How bad is the damage?"

"Bad enough. When I was underwater, I swam around the Zephyr to get a good look. We lost the starboard runner, which is why the ship is listing so badly. There are no leaks as yet, but the hull's been weakened in a number of places. Even if we shore up the weak spots by spreading pitch on them, it's only a matter of time before we start taking on water. The mast and sails look fine, and the containment ring seems undamaged. We'll have to check, but I don't think the Ragestorm was able to absorb the ship's elemental. Not that it matters. We can't travel at top speed without both runners, and even if we could somehow fashion a new starboard runner, the hull wouldn't be able to withstand the stress of traveling that fast. We can remove the port runner so that we can sail by natural wind power alone, but our speed will be greatly diminished."

"I don't want to spend any more time at sea than necessary," Makala growled. "My sarcophagus survived the Zephyr's fall. It slid about and damaged the starboard rail, but at least it didn't break through and sink to the bottom of Lhazaar. I have a place to rest during the day, but I still don't have a source of nourishment." She shot Nathifa a quick glare. "None that I'm permitted to avail myself of, anyway. The sooner we make landfall, the better as far as my thirst is concerned. But my own selfish considerations aside, we aren't in any hurry, are we? Trebaz Sinara will still be waiting for us whether we arrive in one day or a half dozen."

"And when we reach the island, we should be able to find the materials needed to repair the Zephyr," Haaken said. "We can't make her as good as new without a supply of soarwood, but we can get her strong enough to withstand the force of the air elemental again."

Normally, her servants' logic would've swayed Nathifa. After all, what were a few more days after all the time she'd already waited to see her vengeance finally done? But there was something she hadn't shared with Makala and Haaken yet-something she had learned earlier when she'd been alone in the cabin listening to the whispers of Espial.

"We cannot afford any delay," the lich said. "The priest and his companions have learned of our destination, and they have acquired transport upon an elemental galleon. Even now they speed toward us, coming closer with each passing second."

Makala laughed. "I'm not surprised. Diran may have been foolish enough to ally himself with the so-called Purified, but he's as much as a hunter as any of us. He'll never stop, not so long as breath remains in his body."

Nathifa gave the vampire an appraising look. "You sound as if you still love him."

Makala opened her mouth and displayed her fangs. "I'd love to sink my teeth into his neck, if that's what you mean."

Nathifa wondered if the evil that infested Makala's soul didn't have quite the firm foothold that she'd originally thought. If so, it was a useful thing to know. Nathifa might be able to use that against Makala should the need arise.

When the need arose, the lich amended.

"Unless you know a spell that can repair a damaged sloop, I'm afraid we're not going anywhere fast anytime soon," Haaken said.

Nathifa looked up at the sky, noted the four full moons, and remembered at last what they signified.

"I just may," she said.

Nathifa stood alone at the Zephyr's slanted prow, Espial tucked beneath one arm. Her servants had locked themselves in the cabin as she had ordered. Not only didn't she wish them to interfere in what was to take place, they would be safer there. She hoped.

She rubbed chalk-white fingers across the smooth surface of the skull's glossy obsidian pate, her gaze fixed on the eastern horizon. It was well past midnight, but dawn was still some hours away. Nathifa was a creature of darkness, but right now she would've preferred to see at least a hint of coming sunlight in the distance.

It's not too late to change your mind, she told herself. But of course it was. She'd sent the summons. The ship would come, and no power on Eberron could stop it now.

Was she really willing to make the terrible bargain she had in mind? Perhaps it would be better to remove the remaining runner and sail without the aid of the Zephyr's bound air elemental. What did it matter that the priest and his companions would catch up to them? Nathifa and her servants were powerful. Diran Bastiaan and the others wouldn't stand a chance against them. There was no need to make the deal she was contemplating.

But of course there was. She'd only faced Bastiaan once, in her lair located in the hills beyond Perhata, but that had been enough for her to take the man's measure. Power ran strong in him-far stronger than anyone Nathifa had ever encountered before. She sensed darkness in the man's soul as well, and she wondered if his knowledge of darkness, instead of weakening the good in him, actually strengthened it. It was a disturbing thought, for if a man like Diran Bastiaan could learn to let go of his past, what did that mean for a creature like her? Could she, like Bastiaan, step off her path and decide to walk another, even after all this time?

She shook her head and cursed herself for a fool. Her brother Kolbyr had wronged her grievously, had wronged her child by not giving him the chance to be Kolbyr's heir. And even though Kolbyr had long ago gone to his grave, she couldn't bear to allow his name to live on through his descendants… descendents who ruled a city bearing her brother's very name! She'd sacrificed so much in the name of vengeance: long years spent studying fell sorcery, pledging herself to the service of the Lich Queen, surrendering her mortal life so that she might become a lich and live long enough to see her vengeance fulfilled at last. If she turned aside from her path now, all her work, all her sacrifices would be wasted.

And her thrice-hated brother would win in the end. That, more than anything else, she simply could not bear. She would walk her chosen path to the bloody end, regardless of the cost. No price was too high to finally see her vengeance done.

And then, as if in response to her thoughts, a wall of greenish mist rolled in from the east, heralding the arrival of the Ship of Bones.

The dread vessel slid forth from the mist in complete silence-no splashing of water against its hull, no flapping of sails or creaking of rigging. In fact, the ship seemed to swallow all sound, for Nathifa could no longer hear the wind or the waves, or even the dry rasp of her hand as she rubbed Espial for whatever cold comfort the mystic object could give. The green mist reached the Zephyr and rolled across the sloop's deck, bringing with it a cold more intense than that of even the most frigid winter nights on the Lhazaar, for this was a cold that affected not the body, but the spirit.

Like all born and raised in the Principalities, Nathifa grew up hearing the legend of Prince Moren and his Ship of Bones. An evil man cursed for his misdeeds in life, Moren was doomed to sail the Lhazaar Sea with a crew of undead pirates in search of living sailors upon which to feed. As the tales would have it, on nights when two or more moons were full, the Ship of Bones silently sailed the dark waters of the night searching for any vessels unfortunate enough to cross its path. Although in this instance, Moren found the Zephyr because Nathifa had summoned him.

Nathifa had always wondered what the Ship of Bones would look like. Was it just a name to inspire fear or was the vessel truly constructed from bone instead of iron and wood? She now knew it was the latter.

The hull was made from the curving rib bones of some enormous creature-a dragon, perhaps, though one larger than any Nathifa had ever heard of. The ship's three masts were formed from massive leg bones that appeared human, save for their great size. Giant bones, Nathifa guessed, but from giants larger than any she'd ever dreamed could exist. The sails were fashioned from sewn-together patches of leathery skin, torn from the bodies of Moren's victims, she wagered, most likely while they were still alive and screaming in agony. At least, that's how she would've done it. The bones were lashed together with strips of flesh, lengths of muscle, strands of sinew, and coils of intestines. It was, in its own dark way, magnificent.

Nathifa could see none of the crew as the Ship of Bones drew alongside the Zephyr, but she knew they were there. She could sense them watching her with curiosity, wondering who this madwoman was who was suicidal enough to summon the Prince of Bones and his deathly crew.

A gangplank made from interlocking arm and hand bones was lowered over the side, and a pair of skeletal hands on the end grabbed hold of the Zephyr's railing. Nathifa waited to see if any of Moren's crew would disembark, but when none did, she knew they were waiting for her to board their ship. After all, hadn't she summoned them?

Rubbing the top of Espial's head once more for luck, Nathifa stepped up onto the skeletal ramp and began walking upward.

"How long has she been over there?" Haaken asked.

Makala peered through the porthole of the Zephyr's cabin. She could see no sign of activity aboard the Ship of Bones. It was as if the vessel was deserted, a thing possessed of its own unearthly life that plied the waters of the Lhazaar without need of a crew. But she knew Nathifa was aboard, had seen the lich embark.

"The better part of an hour, I'd say. Whatever they're talking about, they're evidently in no hurry."

"Time doesn't mean the same thing to the dead as it does to the living," Skarm said. Then, realizing who he was talking to, he added, "No offense."

Makala considered backhanding the barghest, but she restrained herself. Depending on how Nathifa's meeting with Prince Moren turned out, they might well end up having to fight for their lives. If so, she wanted Skarm uninjured and ready for battle.

Haaken sat cross-legged on the sleeping pallet, face pale, eyes haunted. "Do you think they're… going to eat us?"

Makala turned to the lycanthropic sea raider and sneered. "Depends on whether or not they like the taste of fish."

Any reply Haaken might have made was cut off by a knock on the cabin hatch. Both Haaken and Skarm jumped, but Makala just looked at the hatch for a moment with a narrow-eyed gaze before starting toward it.

Haaken leaped off the pallet, rushed to Makala, and grabbed hold of her arm to stop her. "Are you mad? If you let them in they'll devour us!"

Makala bared her fangs, hissed, and slashed Haaken's face with claw-like fingernails. Haaken released her arm and staggered backward, blood pouring from wounds that were already beginning to heal. Makala inhaled, savoring the scent of fresh blood, and it took every bit of self-control she possessed not to fall upon the man, tear out his throat, and gorge herself on his life's fluid.

"Don't be an idiot," she snarled. "If Prince Moren and his crew had come for us, do you really think they would bother to knock?"

Makala continued to the hatch and opened it. She stepped back as Nathifa glided into the cabin. The lich's face-normally bleached of all color-looked even whiter than usual, and the crimson fire that burned in her eyes had dimmed to the point where it seemed as if it might go out altogether.

"It's done. We have what we need to repair the ship. Begin working. I… need to rest for a bit."

Without another word, the lich crossed over to the sleeping pallet and lay down with her back to her three servants.

Makala looked at Skarm and Haaken with a raised eyebrow before walking out of the cabin and onto the deck of the Zephyr. The Ship of Bones was gone, and there was no sign of her in any direction, even though the ghostly craft couldn't have sailed very far away in the time since Nathifa had disembarked. It was as if the ship had simply vanished. A pile of lumber lay on the deck, along with a new runner… no, it was the Zephyr's runner, recovered and returned to them. The planking was mismatched-the boards different types of wood, along with varying widths, and lengths-and the lumber was wet, covered with moss and barnacles.

"They salvaged the wood from shipwrecks," Haaken said softly.

Makala hadn't noticed the man's approach. Skarm stood next to him, and all three of them stared at the lumber left by Prince Moren.

"What price do you think Nathifa had to pay to get that wood?" Skarm asked.

"I don't know," Makala said. "But I can tell you one thing: when she went aboard the Ship of Bones she had Espial with her, but she returned empty-handed." She glanced up at the night sky to gauge the time, though she had no real need to do so since her vampiric instincts told her how long it would be until sunrise. "We still have a few hours of darkness left to us. Let's get to work."

As Haaken and Skarm started toward the lumber, Makala glanced back at the Zephyr's cabin.

What price indeed? she thought, and wondered how she might be able to turn this most recent development to her advantage. Then she joined the others to begin the repairs to the Zephyr.