Sea of Death

CHAPTER EIGHT

Two dagger wounds and an arrow in the back… and not one of the blows came from an enemy." Ghaji shook his head in disgust. "If someone is ever foolish enough to write our adventures, Diran, I hope they leave this chapter out."

"I'm sorry, my friend, but I had no choice."

Ghaji brushed Diran's apology aside with a gesture. "Of course you didn't. I would've been upset if you'd done anything else. I am, however, grateful that you took the time to heal me before I bled to death."

While divine magic could raise the dead, priests of the Silver Flame refused to perform that particular feat and nothing could get them to consider otherwise. The Purified believed that once a spirit departed the world of the living, it joined with the Silver Flame. That joining was, in the view of their religion, the Ultimate Good and much to be desired-though of course one's death should never be intentionally hastened to fulfill this destiny, wondrous and beautiful though it might be. Ghaji knew that as much as Diran cared for him, the priest would never raise him from the dead, and while Ghaji didn't share Diran's religion, he respected the priest's views and accepted them.

Diran, Ghaji, and the rest of their companions stood outside in the inner courtyard of Calida's palace. Though the air was chilly, the sky was clear and the sun bright. Statues of rabbits being chased by a fox encircled a fountain. Clear water burbled from the top of the fountain to splash into the basin below. Despite the temperature, the water remained warm so that it wouldn't freeze. According to Tresslar, this was due to the presence of a minor fire elemental that was contained within the fountain. The animal statues were tall as halflings, and they stood on their hind legs, as if they weren't true representations of a fox and hares, but rather people wearing costumes. Ghaji hadn't seen any books during his time growing up in the Eldeen Reaches-who would waste time trying to teach a dumb half-orc to read? But the statues made him think of the illustrations one might find in tales written to delight children.

The animals certainly seemed to amuse Taran. The boy-dressed in a fur-lined doublet, trousers, boots, and a warm cloak-ran laughing from one statue to the next, climbing this one, pretending that another spoke to him in words only he could hear, running to the edge of the fountain's basin and scooping a handful of water to splash on another. The boy played as if he'd never played before in his life, and Ghaji supposed that he hadn't.

Calida stood watching her son, smiling, her eyes moist with tears. The woman had begun crying when Diran first brought Taran to her, and she hadn't stopped since. Ghaji was surprised that she still had any tears left to shed. But then, Calida had been storing her tears for a long time.

"Words cannot express the depth of my gratitude, Father."

Ghaji was taken aback to hear Calida refer to Diran that way, though as a member of the Order of Friars, the appropriate honorific for Diran was Brother. Sometimes Ghaji forgot that his friend was a priest, and that his position inspired a certain amount of deference from others, even from the non-Purified.

"Words aren't necessary," Diran said gently. "Your tears of joy and your son's laughter speak more eloquently than words ever could."

Calida still appeared tired and weak, but her color had improved, and she was no longer listless. She wore a long fur-trimmed robe, with a hood and large sleeves that, when put together, functioned as a muff. There were no guards within the inner courtyard to keep watch on the Baroness and her son. The courtyard was completely enclosed, and Calida-though she hadn't said so directly-obviously trusted her visitors to ensure the safety of herself and Taran.

Ghaji glanced at the others. They stood a dozen yards from where the half-orc and the priest spoke with the Baroness, watching Taran play and speaking in low tones. Ghaji had been relieved when their companions reached the palace unharmed. According to reports from the city watch, many people hadn't been so fortunate when the full, unfettered force of the Fury had been unleashed on Kolbyr. The watch was still tallying the number of dead. Ghaji had been especially glad to see that Yvka had suffered no injuries, though he'd tried his best not to appear unduly concerned about her when she'd arrived at the palace. Yvka could take care of herself just fine, and she expected Ghaji to respect that-and he did, but he'd still felt like giving her a fierce bear hug when she'd entered the courtyard unharmed.

Tresslar, Hinto, and Solus were also none the worse for wear, though for some reason the artificer seemed distracted, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Probably worrying about his lost wand, Ghaji decided. Ironically, of all the companions, only Ghaji and Asenka had sustained any serious injuries during the Fury. Ghaji had taken dagger blows from Diran, and then an arrow in the back from the priest who'd arrived to help at the last moment. The man sat by himself on the edge of the fountain's basin, looking down into the pool of water within, lost in thoughtful solitude. Ghaji wondered if the priest, who evidently was an old acquaintance of Diran's, was praying. The man, named Leontis, seemed too grim, and somehow too sad to be praying, though.

Asenka had also suffered a number of wounds: the first batch from the palace guards she'd attacked when the Fury had taken hold of her, but the last and most serious injury was delivered by an arrow strike compliments of Leontis. The priest had been forced to disable Asenka to gain entrance into Taran's chamber. Ghaji had expected Leontis to make amends by healing Asenka, but he'd left that task to Diran, who'd also healed the guards that Asenka had come near to slaying. Ghaji had only ever met a few Silver Flame priests besides Diran, but he'd never known any of them to not give aid to others when it was needed. He was puzzled by Leontis's reluctance to heal Asenka, and he intended to ask Diran about it when the two of them were alone.

"If there's anything you need," Calida said, "anything at all…"

"There is something you could do," Diran said. "Not for us, but for your people-and the people of Perhata. The enmity between your two cities originated from the curse, but now that the Fury has been dispelled, there is nothing to prevent you and Baron Mahir from making peace. Together, your two cities could take full advantage of all the Gulf of Ingjald has to offer, and the Gulf could become an economic power to rival any in the Principalities."

"Not to mention the fact that your people wouldn't have to kill each other anymore," Ghaji added. "Unless they felt like it, that is."

Calida smiled at the half-orc's joke. "A hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge. I'll send an envoy to begin talks with Mahir, and we'll see how things go from there." Before she could add anything more, Taran came running up to her and began tugging on her sleeve.

"Mommy, come splash in the fountain with me!" He lowered his voice and cast a sideways glance at Leontis. "The man in the robe scares me a little."

"Of course, sweetheart." She looked back to Diran and Ghaji. "If you'll excuse me?"

Diran and Ghaji nodded and the Baroness allowed her son to lead her to the fountain-on the other side from where Leontis still sat brooding. As mother and son began playing in the mystically heated water, Ghaji turned to Diran.

"What's wrong with your friend? I'm not always the most sociable man myself, but even I find it odd that he's keeping apart from the rest of us like that-especially after making such an effort to help us fight the demon."

"I'm not certain," Diran said. "Leontis and I trained with Tusya, and afterward attended seminary together. Although we were once close as brothers, we drifted apart over the years. I haven't seen him since the day I took my vows. It's obvious that something is troubling him, and I suspect it's no coincidence that he is here in Kolbyr the same time we are. I shall speak with him alone later."

Leontis wasn't the first person from Diran's past to turn up since Ghaji had begun traveling with the priest-there was Makala-but the fact that Diran said the two men had once been like brothers made Ghaji feel a twinge of jealousy. He knew it was ridiculous of him to feel like that, and more than a little embarrassing, but Diran was the only true friend the half-orc had ever had in his life. The priest was the closest thing Ghaji had to family, and childish though it might be, Ghaji didn't like the idea of sharing his friend with someone else. Plus, there was something about Leontis that bothered Ghaji on an instinctive level. Something that told the half-orc that the grim priest was more dangerous than he appeared.

Ghaji wanted to dismiss the idea, to put it down to another manifestation of the jealousy he felt, but he couldn't shake the sense that something was profoundly wrong with Leontis. And from the tone in Diran's voice and the concerned way he looked at Leontis, the priest sensed it too.

"Let's go talk to the others and see how they fared in their separate missions," Diran said.

Ghaji nodded, gave Leontis a final glance, and then the two men walked over to where their companions stood talking. The others turned as Diran and Ghaji approached and made room for the two men to join them.

"So what news do you have for us?" Diran asked.

"Good, I hope," Ghaji added. He smiled at Yvka, but though she returned his smile, there was something hesitant in her gaze, as if she were having a hard time meeting his eyes. She rubbed her left forearm as if she'd sustained an injury there, but when Ghaji raised a questioning eyebrow, she dropped her hand from her arm and looked away, as if he'd caught her doing something she'd preferred he hadn't seen… something almost shameful. Yvka's reaction bothered Ghaji, but now wasn't the time to make an issue of it.

Tresslar shrugged. "I suppose it depends on what you mean by good. We've compared notes, and we've managed to learn a few things, though I'm not certain they'll ultimately be of much help to us. We've confirmed that Makala took the Zephyr, and that my dragonwand is aboard, along with the infernal barghest who stole it."

"We also know that they sailed the Zephyr out of the Gulf," Yvka said. "But beyond that, we have no clue as to their destination-or even why they would want the Zephyr and Tresslar's wand in the first place."

Hinto frowned. "What I can't understand is why Makala would be working with the barghest. I mean, I know she's a vampire and all, but she's still Makala, isn't she? Why would she do these things?"

Diran let out a weary sigh. "When Makala bit Aldarik Cathmore within Mount Luster, the dark spirit that shared his soul entered her, and she became its new host. The spirit tainted her even further, and I fear she had become a true creature of evil, with little or nothing of the Makala we know remaining."

An uneasy silence fell over the companions after that. It was Asenka who finally broke the silence. "This makes things simpler, doesn't it? The wand and the Zephyr are together: reclaim one, you reclaim the other."

"Simpler, perhaps," Diran allowed, "but not easier. We don't know where the Zephyr is bound, and we have no way of tracking her across the Lhazaar. Unless Tresslar has managed to discover a way…"

The artificer reached around into his backpack and withdrew a small device that resembled a miniature sundial. "I began work on this in Perhata, and I was able to find the parts I needed here in Kolbyr to finish it. It should allow me to detect the dragonwand's thaumaturgical energy signature-but only within a radius of a mile or so."

"Which puts us right back where we started from," Ghaji said. "Without a way to locate the Zephyr."

"I don't believe that's entirely accurate," Solus said softly.

All eyes turned to focus on the psiforged.

"Tresslar has informed me that it isn't good manners to read the thoughts of my friends without their permission."

Yvka's eyes widened for an instant as if she were startled, but her expression quickly returned to one of calm neutrality. The elf-woman's reaction had occurred and passed so swiftly that Ghaji doubted anyone else had noticed it. But then, no one in their group knew Yvka the way he did. What is she worried about? he wondered. Did she fear Solus might ferret out all the Shadow Network secrets she kept locked up in her head? That would make sense, but Ghaji couldn't help thinking that it was something more than that.

"I have taken my new friend's advice," Solus said, "so I do not know for certain, Diran, but I believe the answer to where the Zephyr is headed lies within your mind."

Now it was Diran's turn to look startled. "What makes you think this?"

"The palace was the center of the Fury, and extremely strong psychic turbulence occurred here. Traces of this turbulence yet remain, and I have examined them, primarily out of curiosity."

Ghaji wanted to ask examined how? He hadn't seen the psiforged actually do anything. But then he realized Solus didn't have to take physical action to use his psionic powers. The construct had probably examined the traces-whatever they were-while the others had been talking.

Solus continued. "The strongest psychic residue was left behind by your struggle with the demon, allowing me to piece together what I believe is a fair representation of what occurred during the exorcism. The demon attempted to take possession of your corporeal form, did it not?"

"Yes, but the demon failed," Diran answered.

"No matter. For during the few moments you were joined, the demon tried to coerce you into letting it inhabit your body by showing you visions of past and future events-including the location of the Zephyr."

This revelation was news to Ghaji, but then he and Diran hadn't had much time to discuss how the exorcism went-and the Fury-possessed half-orc had been too busy trying to kill his friend at the time to pay much attention to the actual rite itself.

"It's true," Diran said, "but though I tried to get a sense of what direction the Zephyr was traveling, I failed."

"It doesn't matter, Diran," Tresslar said. "The demon was probably just trying to trick you."

"No," Solus said. "The demon told the truth-at least, it believed it told the truth. If you will grant me permission, Diran, I can attempt to read your mind and see if the answer we seek is buried within."

"I don't know about this," Ghaji said. "Nothing personal, Solus, but you're still learning to use your abilities. If you make a mistake while attempting to read Diran's mind…"

"He won't!" Hinto said. The halfling smiled up at his psiforged friend and patted the construct's stone hand. "Will you?"

"I shall do my very best to ensure your safety, Diran," Solus said.

"It's the very best part that worries me," Ghaji muttered.

Diran considered for a moment. "Even if there is a risk, I believe it is one worth taking. The demon showed me images other than the Zephyr. They made no sense in and of themselves, but I fear they might portend ill for the future. Any information we can learn about the demon's visions might help us prevent them from coming to pass. Go ahead, Solus."

The psiforged nodded once, then lowered his hood and stepped toward Diran. He reached up and gently touched his blunt stone fingers to Diran's temples, and his eyes glowed a brighter green. Diran gritted his teeth and winced a couple times, but otherwise he appeared to be in no discomfort. Within a few moments, it was done, and Solus lowered his hands.

The psiforged then spoke two words. "Trebaz Sinara."

Haaken Sprull drifted in feverish delirium, his dreams filled with sharp teeth and the stink of fetid breath seasoned with rotted flesh. Over and over in his mind he saw cold-black shark eyes roll white, saw a tooth-filled maw clamp down on his legs, felt white-hot pain burn through his nerves as those teeth shredded meat, snapped bone, and spilled his life's blood into the freezing surf…

He screamed and his eyes snapped open.

The Coldheart commander lay on a pallet in a darkened cabin, the sheet beneath him soaked with sour sweat. Haaken sensed motion and thought he might be at sea, but if so, the water must have been especially calm today, because the ship's passage was smoother than any he'd ever experienced before. At first he thought he was aboard the Maelstom, the Coldhearts' vessel, but this cabin was more cramped than his: the walls closer together, the ceiling lower, and the pallet softer than he preferred. Then he remembered-the Maelstrom had run aground on Demothi Island when he'd attempted to strand the priest and his half-orc friend there. Not one of his more brilliant schemes, he had to admit, considering how it had turned out. His crew dead, his ship destroyed, his legs…

He sat up in sudden panic. He remembered everything: hiding out on the island when the undead rose from the waters surrounding Demothi, seeing Diran Bastiaan and the half-orc defeat the zombies, witnessing the arrival of the elemental sloop and the dark creatures that sailed upon it…

He remembered the lich summoning a huge shark from the sea, remembered the foul beast biting off his legs. But he felt no pain… true, his legs felt odd in a way that was hard to define, but they didn't hurt. The light in the cabin was too dim to see by, so-hands trembling-Haaken reached down slowly to feel his legs.

They were still there, but that came as little relief to him. For what he felt protruding from below his knees were small, stumpy limbs, hardly longer than a child's legs. What's more, the skin felt smooth when he ran fingers down it, but rough when he slid his fingers back upward. Each foot had only three stubby toes, all with sharp claws. There was something familiar about this strange new flesh he possessed, but his mind refused to supply the answer to the mystery, almost as if Haaken was too terrified by the truth to allow himself to recognize it.

"You're awake. Good."

The voice sounded cold and hollow, like winter wind blowing between ice-coated gravestones. Haaken remembered that voice. It belonged to the lich.

He turned toward the direction the voice came from, and in the darkness he saw two small pinpoints of crimson light. The lich's burning eyes.

A cold chill gripped his heart, and it was all he could do to force words out. "What… happened to me?"

The lich made no noise as she moved, but her crimson-fire eyes grew larger as she came closer. Haaken wanted to flee, but he was too paralyzed with fear to do more than sit and watch as the undead sorceress approached his pallet.

"You've been granted a great honor, Haaken Sprull," the lich said in her whispery graveyard voice. "My mistress has chosen to include you as part of her glorious plan."

"Uh, and that mistress would be…"

"Vol," the lich said. "I am her most devoted servant. You also serve her… now."

Haaken couldn't see in the dark, but he could hear the lich's smile in her voice. He tried to put up a brave front as he responded. "I serve no one but Baroness Calida!" But despite his intention, his words came out sounding timorous and weak.

The lich released a hissing laugh that sounded like a nest of venomous snakes had taken up lodging within her throat. "You have no choice but to serve Vol, Haaken. She's in your blood."

The Coldheart commander thought of the loss of his legs and the strange limbs that had replaced them. "That shark you summoned…"

"You are doubtless aware of what those who worship the Silver Flame call the Purge, when the so-called Purified caused the near extinction of Khorvaire's lycanthropes. But even warrior-priests as mighty as those of the Silver Flame have their limits, and while the Purified carried out their Purge on land, they were unable to do anything about the lycanthropes that inhabit the seas. The creature that attacked you was a wereshark, Haaken. A very old and powerful one. It passed its curse on to you through its bite. Your new lycanthropic healing abilities are already in the process of regenerating your lost legs, and you should be completely healed well before midnight. At that time you will be able to begin your new life as a servant of our most dread mistress."

If Haaken hadn't seen the ancient wereshark with his own eyes, he would've thought the lich was insane. But more than the evidence of his eyes, he could sense that the lich's words were true. He could feel it in his blood.

A wereshark… Haaken had heard of them, of course. Every sailor had. He'd never seen one before, but then again, maybe he had and just hadn't realized it. He'd seen hundreds of sharks over the years, and any one of them might have been a lycanthrope. The thought that he was now such a creature should've filled him with loathing, but it didn't. Instead, he felt curiously good, even excited. Like all Lhazaarites, Haaken was more at home on the water than off. Now he would know what it was like to be able to breathe underwater, to swim free and strong, to hunt prey, capture it, and devour it whole.

Without realizing it, he smiled, revealing two rows of sharp white teeth.

"What must I do?"

And there in the dark, while Haaken's new legs continued to grow, Nathifa told him.