Corsair (41 page)

“Damn it all!” the pirate lord snarled. “It was you at Moonshark’s helm in Hulburg harbor, wasn’t it? You cost me three ships in a single night!”

Geran replied with a lunge at Kamoth. The pirate lord parried several quick thrusts, and when Geran repeated the same attack, he tried again to catch Geran’s blade with his own weapons. But Geran was waiting for him. The instant the blades caught, Geran snarled the words of a sword spell: “llyeith sannoghan!” Lightning flew from the elven steel, leaped to Kamoth’s cutlass and hatchet, and raced up the pirate lord’s hands. Kamoth howled and dropped his weapons, jolted by the sudden shock. Before he could recover, Geran lashed him across the face with the crackling blade. The pirate lord’s helmet took much of the impact, but the ringing blow sent Kamoth spinning to the wooden boards, streaming blood and wisps of smoke from the rent in the side of his helmet. He stirred feebly and fell still—dead or unconscious, Geran didn’t know.

“The High Captain’s fallen!” one of the pirates nearby cried out. Others took up the cry. Some of the pirates began to retreat; others hurried toward the scene to protect their fallen leader. Several rushed Geran all at once, and for a moment the swordmage was caught up in the middle of the melee again, fighting furiously. The press of the attack carried him back across the wharf again, until Sarth’s sizzling bolts of fire broke the last desperate Black Moon effort to retake their ship. Geran tried to battle his way back to Kamoth again as the Hulburgans rallied and drove the remaining pirates back to the castle gate. He caught a glimpse of several of the corsairs dragging Kamoth back toward the keep as the Black Moon gave up the battle for the dock. The wharf was littered with the dead and dying, most of them Black Moon men; he lowered his sword, panting for breath, and discovered that during the fighting he’d caught a shallow but bloody cut high on his left arm.

Hamil appeared at his side, his daggers bloody and a thin cut across his scalp. Geran hadn’t even realized that his small comrade had returned to the fray. “Mind the sharpshooters!” he said to Geran, pulling him down by a high stack of crates that offered some cover against the fire coming from the ramparts. “Kraken Queen’s compass is locked up in your cabin.

Do we try to take the keep, or do we offer terms? The Black Moon men might not have much more fight left in them.”

Geran thought quickly. Mirya and Selsha were somewhere inside; if he didn’t get into the castle quickly, he’d find it barricaded against him. The Hulburgans had Kraken Queen well in hand, and they had control of the docks as well. The Black Moon leaders inside realized that too, and the gates of the keep were beginning to close against the attackers. He stood again and raised his sword over his head. “To the keep!” he shouted. He spotted Sarth near the pirate ship’s forecastle, and waved his arm at the sorcerer. “Sarth! Secure the gates!”

The tiefling glanced back and gave him a quick nod of understanding. He leaped from Kraken Queen’s deck, taking to the air as he did so. With blasts of fire and snapping arcs of lightning, he scoured the battlements overlooking the keep’s gate clear of foes then hurled a glowing orange bead through one of the arrow slits into the gatehouse. An instant later a tremendous burst of flame shot out from each of the gatehouse’s windows, and the tower shook with the force of the explosion. The gates below stopped moving. The sorcerer’s fireball had wrecked the hidden windlasses, and likely had killed the pirates furiously working them. The gates remained half open, and Shieldsworn began pouring through into the keep.

Geran looked around for any of Seadrake’s officers, and found Andurth Galehand manning one of the arbalests on the warship’s quarter rail. “Master Galehand! Keep half your sailors here and guard the ships!”

Seadrake’s sailing master scowled in disappointment. “I’ll do as ye say, Lord Geran, but only if ye promise me ye’ll save a few for me later!”

“You’re now standing on the Black Moon’s only escape from this place,” Geran called back. “Unless I miss my guess, you’ll see a fight before we’re done inside.”

“Aye, m’lord!” Galehand left his arbalest in the hands of one of the crew and began shouting orders to get his sailors in order.

Geran left the sailing master to take charge, and rushed toward the keep. Hamil followed a step behind him, while Sarth hovered in the air, systematically blasting any arrow slit from which a bolt or quarrel flew. Geran could hear the ringing of steel echoing under the walls of the pirate , the furious shouts and roars of men in battle, the screams of the wounded. In midstride he invoked his silversteel veil, the swirling silver aura that might save him from an unexpected thrust or a shot fired at his

back. The air was thick with the reek of smoke and the strange sweet scent of the moonlet’s dark jungle. Overhead the Tears of Selune mounted to the sky like islands of shadow and silver light, drifting across a black sky ablaze with more stars than he’d ever imagined might exist. What a strange place to fight a battle! he thought. He’d fought in skirmishes on the Sea of Fallen Stars, ambushes in the shadows of Cormanthyr, and desperate frays in deep, foul dungeons where monsters lurked, but never had he fought in a battle like this.

“Follow me, warriors of Hulburg!” Geran shouted. He ran through the gates and into the moon-keep’s lower hall. At his back, armsmen and sailors charged in after him. A dozen or so of the Black Moon men tried to hold the hall against the attackers. Several crossbow bolts hissed past Geran, and one grazed his hip, catching in his leather jerkin despite his wardings. A Shieldsworn at his side stumbled and went to the ground, clutching at a quarrel in his belly—but then Geran was in among the keep’s defenders, with the rest of the attackers a step behind him. He cut down one of the crossbowmen and darted past the fellow to engage a burly half-ore mate who seemed to be leading the pirates in the hall. He traded only two passes of steel with the halt-ore before a Seadrake sailor buried a boarding axe between the mate’s shoulder blades. The swordmage searched for another foe, but the keep’s lower hall belonged to the Shieldsworn— the only pirates remaining here were dead on the floor. The Hulburgans raised a ragged cheer.

“Where to now?” Hamil asked. “There must be more of these fellows skulking about in here.”

Geran studied the room for a moment. Several large passageways led away from the room, including a stair that climbed up from the gate. Like the castle of Griffonwatch that Geran had grown up in, the moon-keep was at least in part delved from the rock of its steep hill. Here at its foot, hallways led to subterranean vaults, while the stairs led up to levels and ramparts higher in the hillside. “We’ll split up and search the place,” he decided. “Master Worthel, take your warriors and ransack the lower levels. I’ll take a squad of soldiers upstairs. Look for captives, and take or kill every pirate you catch. Keep your lads together in case you run into opposition. Sergeant Xela, take your Sokols and the Marstels, and go with Sarth. I can still hear him outside. Brother Larken, keep the rest of the soldiers here and hold this gatehouse. You’re our reserve. Guard our retreat, and stand

ready to help in case one of the search parties runs into strong resistance somewhere. Now go!”

The Hulburgans split up as Geran had ordered, some rushing down the passages below, others returning to the fray outside, while still others spread out to take control of the gatehouse and hold their conquest. Geran waved to the armsmen at his back and led them off into the keep. The main passage climbed a broad set of steps to a great hall, festooned with dozens of captured banners and standards. He could hear the distant ring of steel on steel from the other search parties, and shouts echoing through the stone corridors. The armsmen with him spread out to search the room; Geran headed for the first large passage leading out of the hall and peered down it, wondering just how big the keep really was. The portion built atop the hill was not very large, not much bigger than the upper bailey in Griffonwatch, but there was no telling how far the subterranean halls and vaults extended. Depending on just how long the Black Moon Brotherhood had held the keep and how industriously they’d worked, there might even be several escape tunnels hidden below, leading to secret exits in the jungles outside … possibly with smaller skyfaring vessels close by. Even now Kamoth and Sergen might be making their escape.

A call from one of the Shieldsworn interrupted his brooding. “Lord Geran?” he called. “We’ve found several people held captive here.”

“Mirya and her daughter?”

The soldier shook his head. “No, but a woman here says there are other captives in the dungeons.”

Geran hurried over to the fellow and found him standing by the entrance to the kitchens that served the great hall. Seven or eight people in threadbare servants’ garb stood in a confused knot inside, staring at theit unexpected rescuers.

The soldier motioned to one of the freed captives. “Here she is,” he said. “This is Olana. She was taken captive four years ago near Phlan.”

A dour-faced woman of middle years stepped forward. “Long I’ve dreamed of this day, m’lords, but never I thought to see it with mine own eyes. You’re a welcome sight, you are.”

“We’ll take you home as soon as we’ve finished here, Olana,” Geran told her. “But first, is there a woman named Mirya Erstenwold here? She’s tall and slender, with black hair and blue eyes. She might have had her daughter with her, a dark-haired lass of about nine years. Have you seen her?”

“I did see those two, m’lord. I’ve brought them their food and water for a couple of days now, and Lord Kamoth had me bring them new clothes as well. They were held down in the lower dungeon. But—they’re gone now.” Olana fell silent.

“Well, where are they then?” Geran demanded.

“They’ve escaped, m’lord. I went by their cell to bring them their breakfast and discovered the bars bent wide enough for them to slip out.”

“When was this?”

“It was only an hour or two ago, m’lord. I don’t think the Black Moon men know she’s gone yet. I wasn’t about to tell, not until they’d had a good chance to slip away.”

“Good woman,” Hamil said in approval. “But where could they slip away to?”

The woman frowned. “I expect your Mirya and her daughter ran off into the jungle.”

Another of the servants, a stooped old man with a bushy, white beard, spoke up. “Beggin’ your pardon, m’lords, but I think they must have done just that. I was with a party sent to cut firewood this morning. We found the postern gate standing ajar when we came back in. I’d wager that’s the way your friends went.”

“Did the Black Moon pirates go after them?” Hamil asked.

“No, m’lord. They figured one of us had left it open when we went out in the morning. Besides, they only venture into the jungle in large parties, and well-armed at that.”

Geran gripped the hilt of his sword and turned away, teeth bared in pure frustration. If they’d only been an hour or two swifter, they might have found Mirya and Selsha before they slipped out of their cell. Now they might have the whole black isle to search! He took a deep breath to master himself and then looked back to Olana and the older servant. “I’ll need you to show me to the postern, and quickly,” he said.

Olana bowed. “Of course, m’lord.”

“Hamil, you take over here. Make sure we cover every inch of this keep, and keep an eye open for Sergen. He’s still around somewhere, and you know the sort of trouble he can cause.”

“My apologies, Geran, but I can’t do that,” Hamil said. “I’m coming with you. Mirya’s my friend too, and I’d fight a whole moon full of monsters to keep Selsha from harm.”

Geran starred to argue, but thought better of it. He could use Hamil at his back, and things seemed well in hand with the pirate keep. “All right, then. Sergeant Xela, send messengers to find Sarth and Larken. Tell Sarth he’s in charge until we return. I trust you to do what needs to be done here.”

The Shieldsworn soldier nodded. “Aye, we’ll look after things, Lord Geran. As soon as we can, we’ll send some soldiers out after you and Master Alderheart.”

“Good.” Geran clapped a hand to the armsman’s shoulder and then looked back to Olana. “Show us the quickest way to the postern, Olana.”

The woman curtsied. “Of course, m’lord. I hope you find her—the jungle of the black moon’s no place to wander. It’s this way.” She hurried off for one of the servants’ stairs leading off the great hall. Geran and Hamil followed her into the mazelike passageways of the keep.

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

The alien jungle of the black moonlet crowded menacingly against the walls of the pirate keep. Its fronds and grasses, its brush and its trees grew in a riot of fantastic colors unlike anything Geran had ever seen before. A dozen strange, sweet scents hung heavily in the air, and he could hear the chirps and croaks of small creatures—birds, frogs, or something like them—echoing in the dim light. The air was damp and cool, with a faint white mist clinging to the ground. More than a few of the plants had a distinctly unwholesome look to them, and he wondered if any of them were carnivorous.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” Hamil said softly. “I don’t like the looks of this place. I hope Mirya stayed on the trail.”

“So do I. Even Kara couldn’t track her through this.” Geran looked around the stone steps leading down from the keep’s postern gate. There was a small clearing right by the gate, with overgrown paths leading in either direction immediately below the walls. In theory, the postern allowed the keep’s defenders to send out parties of raiders to counterattack an enemy concentrating on the front gate. He saw no sign that Mirya or Selsha had circled the keep at the foot of the wall, though. If they’d fled the keep, they wouldn’t want to skulk around by the base of the wall; they’d want to get as far from the place as they could, and would hope to outrun or evade any pursuers out in the jungle.

Across the clearing, a single footpath led off into the jungle. Geran headed for it while still watching for any tracks along the trail. If he had to guess, he’d say that the path saw infrequent use at best; it was mostly overgrown, but a strip of bare dirt in its center suggested that people came