Guild Wars: Sea of Sorrows (21 page)

“There’s no current, and there’s no wind.” Isaye’s voice quavered, but her chin lifted in quiet defiance. “We’re trapped. We’ll die like the rest.”

“Underestimate me all you want, Isaye.” Cobiah took her hand with a teasing grin. “But never underestimate my ship.

“Engineer!”

“Sir!” Sykox’s voice boomed up from below. “Engine’s running full. Ready to bore for the open sea!”

“Engine . . .?” Isaye asked, wide-eyed.

“Give the ship her head, Engineer, and make all the distance you can before nightfall.” Cobiah turned back to Isaye. “We’ll leave the tide to confound the Dead Ships.” And indeed, two of the vessels in the Orrian armada had turned to follow them. One was the great galleon
Indomitable
, her dark bow splitting the water like a blade. The second was the strange scarlet-sailed clipper,
Harbinger
. The
Pride
’s engine beat in steady rhythm, pulling the little pinnace ahead of her pursuers even as a light wind stretched taut her white sails.

Isaye shook her head in wonder, dark hair flying about her shoulders. “I’ll give you this, Captain Marriner. You may be a shortsighted fool, but you know how to throw a party.”

Cobiah looked back at Port Stalwart, watching buildings burn in the wake of the devastating attack. Brilliant flames licked the sails and masts in the harbor; the hulls of the ships at dock were sinking, their smoking, ruined timber filling slowly with the sea.

Isaye frowned. “I wish we could have saved some of the townsfolk,” she lamented.

Cobiah shrugged. “My crew and my ship are safe. The rest isn’t my problem.”

They stood in silence for a while, watching as the Dead Ships fell farther and farther behind. The
Harbinger
was clearly the fastest among them, by far. Something about her odd, triangular sail structure gave the lightweight clipper a significant advantage. Still, of the two, it was the
Indomitable
that Cobiah feared most. If anyone had asked, he’d have said it was because of her mighty guns, but in truth, the ship’s unexpected return had shaken him to the core.

How many of his friends were enslaved in death by foul Orrian magic? Did Sethus still climb in her ruined rigging? Did Vost blow his bosun’s whistle through rotting lips?

On the deck of the
Pride
, the charr and human crew rushed about their work, eager to put danger behind them. Macha came to stand at the stern, staring darkly
at the ocean—and at the two Dead Ships valiantly following them. Her hair back in its binding leather tie, Isaye lowered her hands and slipped her fingers between his. Cobiah smiled.

“You’re sure they won’t catch us?” Isaye asked at last.

“They won’t catch us.” Cobiah turned away from the great black ship in their wake. “But they’ll try.”

She’s a restless sloop with a six-armed maid

A-dancing on her prow, O

Her brassy cannons crease the sea

But the weather’s chased her down

Her compass spins, and her captain screams

And the crew’s all dead and drown’d, O.

—“Weather the Storm”

“W
e’re almost out of coal for the engine, our water supplies are low, and the men are beginning to rumble about pay. We unloaded our cargo at Port Stalwart but never had time to pick up the gold, what with that hanging-gallows-thing going on.” Sykox sat with his back to the
Pride
’s mast, dealing cards from a worn deck. He swept up a share in his paw and laid the deck down between the players. “We also need to do something about . . .” He jerked one clawed thumb toward their passengers. “
Them
.”

Isaye, Verahd, and Henst sat together on the quarterdeck. Throughout the voyage, the three had kept their distance from the men and women working on the
Pride
. They’d pitched in where they could, but without relish,
and several small arguments had cropped up between Isaye’s sword-wielding companion and members of Cobiah’s crew. Although few involved spoke about the reason for such scuffles, Cobiah could guess what was causing them. Henst made no secret of his Ascalonian lineage—or his hatred of the charr.

Cobiah rested in the narrow shade of the
Pride
’s mainsail. They were nearly a week out of Port Stalwart, with no sign of the Dead Ships since the
Harbinger
’s red sails had faded into the distance three days before. “Where do we take them?” Cobiah drew a card from the deck and shuffled it into his hand. “Port Stalwart is gone. Port Noble’s still standing, but King Baede of Kryta closed it off to profiteers and turned it into a military harbor. Lion’s Arch is a ruined lump of waterlogged rocks.

“We can’t exactly ask them to swim to shore. And anyway, they could be useful.”

“Useful?” Sykox snorted rudely. An ocean wind ruffled his tawny fur about his shoulders. “She’s pretty, more like.”

Stung, Cobiah flattened a card into the pile with a snap. “Considering our engine’s near dead, having a wind elementalist on board is
useful
. And I certainly wouldn’t say Verahd is ‘pretty.’ ”

“Did you mean to play that one?” Macha asked curiously, reaching to snatch Cobiah’s discard into her own hand. The captain stared down at the pile, then at his hand, and blanched as Macha laid out a full set of cards one by one with a smirk. “Ha! I’ve got an ackle. That’s fifteen points!” She tittered in delight, rainbow braids flicking back and forth like striking serpents. Sykox and Cobiah groaned.

“Again,” Cobiah muttered. “You make up the rules as we go along, don’t you, Macha?”

“I’ll have you know that Ackle-Denth is an old and established asuran diversion played by my people for more than seven hundred years. Just because you don’t understand the rules doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Now, mark down my score.” She poked Sykox in the ribs. The engineer sighed and wrote the number on the deck with a bit of charcoal.

“We need provisions. Supplies. Fuel for the engine. We used most of our coal getting out of Port Stalwart. If they catch up to us now, we’re at the mercy of the wind.” The charr shuddered as if this were a nearly unthinkable prospect.

“Yeah, but to get any of that, we need gold. We can’t just send lifeboats to the shore and tell the men to chop up some wood.” Cobiah made a sweeping gesture toward the distant shore. “That’s the Maguuma Jungle out there. It’d eat them alive! It’s full of skale. Harpies, too.”

“You’re being unimaginative, Coby.” Macha’s black eyes glittered. “My people live in that jungle. It’s got mantid, trolls, giant spiders, wild devourers, and worst of all, skritt. I hope anyone who goes ashore knows which plants are flesh eaters.”

“Flesh-eating plants?” Sykox stared at Macha with new respect. “That sounds like a good fight.”

Cobiah elbowed the charr. “Stop thinking about how much fun it would be and play a card already.” Sykox did, with a grumble, and the captain continued. “We can’t send the crew into the Maguuma. So what are our other options?”

“Well,” Macha said thoughtfully, “we could go to Rata Sum and buy what we need. Might be able to put the passengers ashore there, too . . .”

“But?” Cobiah could hear the hesitation in her voice.

“Nothing in Rata Sum is free. If you don’t have silver
and gold, you might as well not even bother docking. You’ll find yourself in debt up to your eyeballs faster than you can say ‘wharfmaster.’ But if you’ve got money . . .” She peered at him thoughtfully, and he found himself covering his cards. “You could use the asura gates to go anywhere in the world. Anywhere there’s a gate, of course. But the gates go to the Black Citadel—not that Henst would go to the charr capital—and even Divinity’s Reach, so I’ve heard.”

“Divinity’s Reach?” Sykox cocked his head. “Where’s that?”

“It’s a new human city.” Isaye’s voice startled them. She had approached from the other side of the mast. As she spoke, she leaned against it and watched their game progress. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of it, little one. The project’s only a few years old, and still only half-built. King Baede moved to Shaemoor after Lion’s Arch was lost, and now they’re designing a city on the cliffs near Lake Regent. When they finish, it’ll be the new capital of Kryta.”

Macha’s ears twitched warningly, but amazingly, the asura kept a civil tongue. “Baede commissioned an asura gate for his city, which is how I know. He’s planning to make it a hub of trade. Makes sense. The sea’s crawling with undead, and Lion’s Arch is full of water—how else are you going to get trade through? But anyway, if we can get you three to Rata Sum . . . we can get you home.” She squinted up at Isaye and gave a little smile. “If that is your home?”

“It’s not,” the human woman replied tersely. “But until I have a ship of my own, it’ll do.”

Sykox played a card, exchanging it for another. Cobiah’s turn was next, and he carefully placed a card on the pile, setting four more in front of him in a duplication of Macha’s play. “I have an ackle, right?”

The asura inspected his sequence. “No, you have a half ackle. It’s only worth six. See how two of your cards are red, and all of mine are black? That’s the difference between a full ackle and a half. Still, it’s not a bad play for a beginner. Six points for you.” She tapped Sykox’s arm. “Write it down.”

The charr scribbled on the deck again, looking pleased with himself. “So, we need to find gold and silver. We don’t have the money to dock, much less to send Isaye and her men anywhere. Where are we going to get that kind of coin?”

“Well . . .” Macha paused, twirling her next card in her hand thoughtfully. “King Baede could give it to us.”

Isaye laughed out loud. “The king of Kryta? Pay for my passage? Either you underestimate the size of the human race, Macha, or you overestimate my political clout. I’m loyal to the Krytan throne, but the king doesn’t know me from a stone in his shoe.”

“Baede doesn’t have to know you, and we don’t have to know him. The only thing we have to know is the shipping route he’s using.”

Cobiah raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting at something, Macha. Out with it.”

“Remember how I said he commissioned a magical gate for that new city?” Macha looked smug. As she talked, Verahd and Henst approached from the bow of the ship, curious as to the nature of the conversation. “My brother’s wife’s old college friend’s roommate was on the krewe that built the gate in Divinity’s Reach, and I saw him while we were in Port Stalwart. He said that the gate won’t be ready for a few months yet, but the asura wanted a down payment. King Baede’s sending a hunk of gold to the Colleges of Rata Sum via a ship out of Port Noble.”

“Out of Port Noble?” Cobiah did some quick figuring
in his head. “That means they’ll be traveling down the Maguuma shore.”

“Right past where we’re sailing now.” Isaye looked skeptical, but Henst brightened.

“Sack the king’s ship?” he said, rolling his shoulders as if in anticipation of a fight. “I’m all for that.”

“At last,” Sykox rumbled grumpily. “Something we agree on.”

Isaye fixed her gaze on Henst with a chuckle. “I’d thought you’d refuse, since you’re such a stalwart ‘son of Ascalon.’ ”

Henst chuckled smugly. “I’m of the noble lineage of Ascalon, not Kryta, Cap’n. You folk may consider them the same, but I certainly do not. Kryta refused to send troops to help King Adelbern when the charr beasts attacked my homeland. I’ve nothing against taking gold from Kryta. Unless he’s helping me retake my country, the king of Kryta can kiss Grenth’s boots for all I care.
To the fore, O sons of As-ca-lon,
” he sang patriotically.

Isaye looked thoughtful, but Sykox refused to be silent. “ ‘Beasts’?” he growled, all four ears flicking back behind his curled horns. “Watch your words, Ascalonian, or you’ll be eating them with a spoon.”

With a dark chuckle, Henst crossed his arms and leaned against the mast. “It’s not my words you should be watchful of, charr.” One hand fell casually to the hilt of the sword at his waist.

Before the argument could escalate, Cobiah broke in. “This ship bearing the king’s gold. Do we know anything about it?”

“I bet she does,” Macha said, gesturing at Isaye with a handful of cards.

“I can make an educated guess,” Isaye said with a frown. “King Baede would use the
Salma’s Grace.
It’s his
largest and most well-armed ship of the line. Not to disparage your pinnace, but I doubt the
Pride
could match her in a fight, even if we had the speed to overtake her.”

“Won’t even be able to do that without the engine.” Sykox drew a card from the deck, grumbling under his breath before he played another on the discard pile. Macha squealed happily, snatching it up, and the tawny charr sighed. “We’d have to be in the ship’s path before she saw us, and even then we’d only catch her if we could cut off her wind.”

“I can bring the wind . . . or take it away.” Verahd tilted his head thoughtfully. “But I am no oracle. I cannot predict where the
Salma’s Grace
will be.”

“That’s how Baede protects his vessels.” Isaye looked frustrated. “This is a terrible idea. The king’s ships don’t sail along the coastline. They sail to the wreckage of the Ring of Fire Islands and use an astrolabe to make their way north from there. We’d never find them.”