The Jewel of Turmish (32 page)

“No,” he answered. “That’s not what I practice.”

A smile, partly coy and partly relieved, played on Druz’s hps and she asked, “Have you ever been with a woman, Haarn?”

Haarn’s face burned and he couldn’t believe his concern for his father and their forced encampment in the lean-to had led them to this subject.

“Now you’re stepping over boundaries.”

A triumphant gleam showed in Druz’s eyes and Haarn couldn’t understand it at all.

“I withdraw the question,” she said, “and offer my apologies.”

Haarn nodded, feeling only a little relieved.

“Love like your father and mother had isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Druz said. “Wolves mate for life.”

“Stonefur mated for life,” Haarn said coldly, “and his mate attacked you. You killed her without a second’s thought.”

His words visibly stung Druz. Her face pinched shut. Glancing down, she pulled her blanket up and turned away from him.

“Since you’re awake,” she said, “I’m going to sleep now.”

Haarn watched her do exactly that, and he was irritated at her for raising so many questions in his mind and leaving him with them. He glanced at his father, knowing Ettrian’s presence had triggered some of those questions as well.

Haarn settled back against the stone wall of the overhang. Never in the past two days had he been so aware of how uncomfortable it was. He gazed at Druz, sleeping so childlike beneath her blanket—except for the naked dagger in her fist—and tried not to think about any of the questions she’d raised within him. It didn’t work, not even when he directed his mind to prayers to Silvanus.

Borran Kiosk stood on Mistress Talia’a flying deck, scanning the dark ruins of the Whamite Isles. Lightning seared the sky as light rain continued to fall. At least the sea had quieted.

The ship had been taken over days before, perhaps even as much as a tenday—Borran Kiosk was not sure. Only corpses revived by the mohrg’s magic crewed the ship.

The change from living to dead had not been without problems. Alive, the crew had been adept at manning Mistress Talia, but rising from the dead had cost them something of their skill. Only every now and again was Borran Kiosk able to raise one of his kills nearly whole in ability.

The five he’d created to carry the pieces of Taraketh’s Hive had been very special. One of them, Borran Kiosk knew, had almost been destroyed by druids. He’d managed the skeleton’s escape only with the help of the league of wizards Allis served.

Lightning burned the heavens again, but nothing disturbed the surface of the sea. Footsteps sounded on the deck behind him. There was only one person who moved freely about the ship.

Without looking around at Allis, Borran Kiosk asked, “Where are the drowned ones?”

“Under the sea,” she replied. “They’re probably on their way here now. They hunt anything. From what I’m told, even the fish no longer come here.”

“We need to go in closer.”

“If we do,” she said, coming up to the railing where he stood, “we run the risk of being overrun by their numbers before you’re able to control them.”

Borran Kiosk raised his arm and regarded the pink and white coral shell that encased his arm. It looked so simple, so powerless. If he hadn’t felt the magic in it, he wouldn’t have believed it could do what she promised. He looked back out to sea, trying to discern some movement in the rolling troughs of water, but there was none.

Allis stared at the rolling sea as well. Her hair lay plastered against her skull and her clothes, like Borran Kiosk’s own cloak, were sodden. Her opal eyes glowed in the darkness.

The gale winds swept Mistress Talia’s decks and yet another bolt of lightning pierced the dark clouds.

“Sails!” a man shouted from above.

Borran Kiosk looked up at the corpse manning the crow’s nest. He had stationed one of the dead men still able to speak up there to act as lookout.

“Where?”

“Off the starboard bow, cap’n,” the dead man cackled gleefully.

Unfortunately, though some of the dead men yet maintained enough experience to do their jobs, not all of them kept their sanity.

Even after days at sea, Borran Kiosk could not keep straight which was port and which was starboard. None of that mattered in his plans. All he wanted was to get the ship back to Alaghôn with his promised undead army in tow.

“Where?” he growled to Allis, who understood such things.

“To the right,” she answered.

Borran Kiosk walked in that direction, crossing the narrow flying bridge. Lightning flared again, and this time it reflected from sails.

“No fishermen come out here,” Allis said, “and they wouldn’t be here at this time of night anyway. They must

be looking for someone. Occasionally, treasure hunters come out here, looking to lay claim to cargo lost by ships that were sunk in these waters, and to raid the drowned city itself.”

“They see us, cap’n,” the dead man occupying the crow’s nest said. “They’re turning and coming toward us.”

Borran Kiosk saw that the ship had altered its direction and was now approaching them. Lights moved hurriedly along the ship’s deck, and more of them were lit.

“Someone is looking for us,” Borran Kiosk said.

“No one knows we’re here,” Allis said.

Borran Kiosk fisted the ratline running down to the flying deck and said, “Coming here wasn’t as clever as you thought it was.”

“There’s an army waiting here to be claimed,” Allis said.

T can’t hide as easily on the open sea as I could have in the city,” Borran Kiosk replied. T know the warrens and alleys there. I could have stayed away from them.”

“They would have hunted you down. You didn’t stand a chance … especially not after the way you announced yourself to them.”

Rage filled Borran Kiosk and he almost backhanded the werespider.

T will not be taken again,” he said. “I will not be locked away, nor will I allow myself to be destroyed.”

“We can hold them off,” Allis said.

Borran Kiosk wanted to scream and shout, to rail against Malar who had undoubtedly abandoned him yet again. Lightning flared and thunder pealed, sending highlights and a jagged reflection skittering across the sea’s surface.

The other ship sailed alongside Mistress Talia and matched her speed. Men stood along the other ship’s deck. Many of them held lanterns and the lights showed the bows, javelins, and swords the sailors wielded. Among the crew, though, were a number of men Borran Kiosk recognized from their dress as druids. Some of them had animal companions with them, and an owl skimmed through the sky, shining silver-gray in a lightning flash.

“Ahoy the ship!” someone yelled from the other vessel. “Identify yourselves!”

None of the undead crew aboard Mistress Talia moved. All of them waited for orders from the mohrg. Borran Kiosk flicked his tongue out. Even with the storm continuing unabated around them, he tasted the scent of human flesh and blood staining the winds. It was delicious.

“Ahoy the ship!” the same voice repeated, growing angry this time. “Answer up or you’ll be paying dearly for your reticence!”

The other ship sailed closer, and Borran Kiosk knew that they were well within bowshot. The lanternlight played over Mistress Talia’s deck. His undead crewman stared at the flesh and blood crew of the other ship.

“Blessed Lady,” a man swore aboard the newly arrived ship, “all them there men are dead! That’s a crew of dead men aboard her, it is!”

The owl circled Mistress Talia, coming in closer.

Borran Kiosk pointed at the owl. A green beam lanced from his finger and transfixed the bird. In less than a heartbeat, the owl roiled into a fluff of feathers that blew away on the storm winds.

The crew aboard the second ship drew back. Several holy symbols appeared and as many curses as prayers came from their hps.

The mohrg leaned on the flying deck’s railing and showed the men a confident pose.

“I am Borran Kiosk!” he roared above the keening winds that whipped through the sails and rigging. “You know me.”

Instantly, several beams from bull’s-eye lanterns turned in his direction. They stripped the shadows away from him and revealed him for what he was.

“It is Borran Kiosk!” someone yelled.

“Kill him!” another cried. “Get the wizards out here!”

Immediately afterward, dozens of arrows sprang from the bows of men on the second ship. The missiles leaped across the space between the ships and tore into Mistress Talia’s deck and sailcloth. Several of the arrows found

homes in the undead crew as well. Some of the walking corpses stumbled back a pace or two, but none of them went down.

“Get oil up here!” a big warrior yelled. “Get oil up here and well burn that damned ship to the waterline! Those undead bastards will go down with it!”

Borran Kiosk unleashed a spell, sending an arc of fire streaming from his hand. The fireball deflected off course and shot up into the sky, warring with another brilliant flash of lightning for preeminence in the dark heavens.

A tall, gangly man in elegant robes covered in runes strode onto the second ship’s deck. He thrust out a hand. In response, the winds picked up strength and smashed into Mistress Talia. Several of the undead crew were blown down, and a handful of others were blown off the deck into the ocean. Overhead, a sail ripped free of its moorings and went fluttering away, disappearing into the darkness.

Borran Kiosk clung defiantly to the railing.

“No matter what ill fate awaits me,” he told Allis, T will not be taken. I will not be humbled. My vengeance, my bloodlust, will be slaked in the lives of these men and those alive in Alaghôn and all of Turmish. I will survive this.”

“You’ll do more than that,” the werespider said, touching his arm. “Look.”

Borran Kiosk turned and looked in the direction she pointed. At first he saw only a few gleams amid the wall of water approaching them from the ruins of the Whamite Isles, and he assumed they were jellyfishes reflecting the lightning or perhaps debris, wood pieces with nails or other bits of metal driven into them, then he saw them change direction.

“It’s the drowned ones,” Allis said.

Doubt lingered in Borran Kiosk, then he felt a fresh infusion of power through the coral glove.

“This is your moment, Borran Kiosk,” Allis said. “Seize control of the power blessed Malar has put at your disposal.”

“Borran Kiosk,” the wizard aboard the other ship yelled. “Surrender your vessel!”

Ignoring the challenge, Borran Kiosk turned to Allis and asked, “Why did this league of wizards you say you work for choose to give this power to me?”

Allis hesitated. She glanced toward the other ship and the light from the blazing fire arrows reflected in her eyes.

“Kill the monster!” someone from the other ship shouted. “Kill him and be quick about it!”

“Why?” Borran Kiosk asked again, moving closer to the werespider.

She looked back at Borran Kiosk, defeat in her gaze.

“Because they can’t use it,” she said. “The glove was created by their magic, but only an undead can wear it. They chose you because of your hatred for Turmish, and because Malar instructed them to.”

“What is your answer, Borran Kiosk?” the wizard on the other ship demanded.

Allis glanced past the mohrg, toward the prow of the ship.

“You must act quickly, Borran Kiosk,” she said, “else the drowned ones will take us down as well.”

Looking over his shoulder, Borran Kiosk saw the gleam of white bone swimming beneath the black water now. He recognized the bodies of men, women, and children swimming in the sea. They were less than fifty yards from the ships. So intent was the focus of the men aboard the other ship that none of them noticed the arrival of the drowned ones.

Something butted into Mistress Talia.

Borran Kiosk felt the echo of the impact through the ship’s deck. Gazing down into the water, he saw the heads of the drowned ones clustered by the ship. There must have been fifty or sixty of them, with more coming. Lightning seared the sky, and reflections dawned in the dead eyes or in the empty eye holes that gazed up at him. He felt the hunger that drove them, as insistent as his own.

“Borran Kiosk!” the wizard on the other ship called out. “This is your last warning. I won’t hold these men back any longer.”

The drowned ones at the waterline began forming a pyramid of bodies. The ones on the bottom stayed motionless while the others started piling on, floating higher and higher as the waves rocked them. Already they were halfway up the side of the merchanter and no one had noticed them.

Looking across the water, Borran Kiosk discovered that other drowned ones had started their assault on the other ship as well. The mohrg began the incantation as Allis had instructed. Power surged along the coral glove and Borran Kiosk felt it down to the very center of his being.

The drowned ones continued clambering aboard each other, climbing still higher.

Men aboard the other ship began yelling. Someone had spotted the drowned ones. Others took up the hue and cry of warning.

“Hurry,” Allis pleaded.

The other ship tried to get underway, but the drowned ones had somehow trapped their anchor in the shallows. Before the sailors could cut or release the anchor chain, drowned ones formed a web of bodies and started clambering over the sides.

Borran Kiosk listened to the screams and yells of panic and pain from the other ship’s crew as the drowned ones climbed aboard. The sea zombies took incredible punishment at the hands of the crew, but they kept on coming. A number of them advanced on the crew while bearing flaming arrows stuck in their blue-gray torsos.

In the light of the lanterns on the other ships, Borran Kiosk got a better view of his proposed subjects. Most of them had been drowned and underwater for a year. All of them showed the blue-gray pallor of death, wore only tatters of clothing if they wore any at all, and had innumerable bloodless wounds that left craters in their dead flesh.

When he finished the spell, the shrieks aboard the other ship had reached a crescendo. The ship bucked at the end of its anchor chain like a fish at the end of a line. Lightning flashed across the sky, and in the bright light the blood staining the ship’s deck reflected indigo.