Under Fallen Stars (33 page)

A dozen men sat around tables inside the large room that ran the length of the building’s harbor side. Pitchers of ale sat on tables burdened with platters of food. Jherek recognized Vurgrom at one end of the center table.

Confusion spread throughout the room as the pirates stood, each gesturing widely and trying to clear their throats. Jherek understood that Glawinn’s spell of silence was affecting the pirates as well, and he knew he had to act swiftly while surprise remained a possible weapon.

The young sailor glanced over his shoulder at Glawinn, finding the paladin in the process of knotting a climbing rope around the chimney sticking up from the center of the peaked roof. The knight gave it a final pull, then stood and nodded.

Without another word, Jherek flipped lithely over the roofs edge, holding the rope in one hand, and grabbing on with the other as he dropped. He turned his downward momentum into an arc, holding tight with his hands, and drove his boots through the window in front of him. He followed the broken glass inward, releasing his hold and throwing himself forward to regain his balance.

There was no sound of the shattering glass, only the sight of it spinning away in shards. Jherek landed on one knee, drawing attention only from the men who were looking in his direction. They opened their mouths, probably shouting warnings, but no sound came forth.

Jherek pushed himself to his feet and filled his hands with the cutlass and hook at the same time Glawinn broke through another window and landed only a few feet away. The paladin swept the broadsword from its scabbard, and the room became a battlefield.

Jherek blocked a long sword with the cutlass, feeling the shock of the blades meeting but hearing none of the usual clangor. The pirate drew back quickly, seeking to draw the young sailor after him so one of his companions could slip behind him.

Instead, the young sailor swung his hook toward the floor, biting into the stained rug across the wooden floor but not the floor itself. He yanked hard, pulling the rug from under the other man and sending him tumbling back.

Sliding to the side, Jherek dodged a cutlass blow that would have taken his head from his shoulders. He set himself and turned again, cutting forward with his own cutlass and splitting the pirate’s chest open.

The mortally wounded man’s face writhed in a scream, but Glawinn’s spell blanked out the sound. The pirate dropped to his knees, trying to hold himself together.

Across the room, Vurgrom moved his huge bulk toward the only exit.

Already in motion again, Jherek sprinted to the nearest table. He blocked a sword thrust with the cutlass, turning it aside only inches from his leg. The young sailor threw himself into the air, skidding feet first across a buffet table and knocking dishes, food, and candelabras from it. He caught the table’s edge with the hook, tipping it over after him.

The table was big and heavy, a thick oaken slab that had been crafted well but not treated with respect. Still, it held up.

Sliding the hook around the side, Jherek caught the end of the table, then put all of his weight into the pull-then-push that sent it skidding across the floor toward the exit. Uninterrupted, the table slid in front of the door, blocking Vurgrom’s departure.

The pirate captain pulled the battle-axe from over his shoulder and slammed the bit into the table. The force split the table asunder and he kicked his way through the two halves. He yanked the door open and hurried out, obviously working on the theory that discretion was the better part of valor.

Jherek stood, glancing back at his companions. Glawinn, broadsword in one hand and shield in the other, held his own, staking out a whole corner of the room. One of the pirates rushed him, battle-axe held high. The paladin dropped slightly and stepped forward into the charging man. Catching him on his shield and avoiding the axe head as it came across with the intention of hooking onto the shield and pulling it away, Glawinn twisted and stood. The motion hurled the pirate through the smashed windows high over the harbor.

Sabyna’s knife flashed out, driving an opponent back. Her lack of formal training in swordplay held her back some, but her skill with her throwing knives was deadly. She blocked another sword slash and stepped inside the blow, then raked her blade across the man’s face. Blood flew as the pirate threw himself backward. At her side, the raggamoffyn swirled into a sudden mass of whirling cloth fragments and sped at another pirate.

Parrying a sword thrust, Glawinn screamed soundlessly at Jherek, yelling at him to go.

Hesitation held the young sailor only for a moment. He didn’t want to desert his friends, and didn’t like the idea of leaving Sabyna to fend for herself at all, but in the end if he didn’t reach his objective, he’d risked their lives for nothing.

A pirate came at him, sword splintering the afternoon light. Jherek parried with the hook, then brought the cutlass down onto the man’s head, splitting his skull. He kicked the dead man backward into another pirate, knocking them both clear of the door. At a dead run, the young sailor caught the doorway’s edge with the hook and pulled himself around it.

On the landing outside, Jherek peered over the railing and watched as Vurgrom bounded around the second story landing where the steps switched back the other direction. With the surefooted grace of a man used to navigating rigging in hostile winds and blinding, storm-driven rain, Jherek leaped over the edge and landed on the railing slanting down toward the second story.

When he hit, the wood cracked ominously and he knew it wasn’t going to hold him even as he realized he was past Glawinn’s arcane silence. He fell forward, caroming off the second story landing wall only a few feet behind Vurgrom. He heard voices then, people calling out to one another from the tavern proper downstairs.

A bare-breasted serving wench carrying a platter of food and a pitcher of ale cursed at Vurgrom as he went by, then she turned into Jherek. Already a victim of his downward momentum caused by the treacherous railing, Jherek couldn’t stop. He thought quickly enough to throw the cutlass and hook out to the sides so he didn’t endanger her, which left him going face first into her.

There was a moment of confusion as they fell in a tangle at the foot of the landing. The platter of food went flying while the ale pitcher shattered against the wall. Jherek ended up face first against the serving wench’s well-cushioned charms. He managed to prevent his full weight from falling on her by catching himself on his knees and the fist around the hook handle.

He pulled his head up from her breasts, the fragrant rose scent of them filling his nose. His face flamed in embarrassment.

“Lady,” he apologized as he pushed himself up, “I’m truly sorry.” Awkwardly, knowing there wasn’t any time for anything else, he pushed up and resumed his chase, drumming his boots against the steps.

At the base of the stairs, Jherek ran through the coral shell stringers that made a partition from the steps leading into the main tavern. Vurgrom stood near the entrance, his face showing agitation and the fact that he recognized Jherek. The pirate captain leveled a thick forefinger in the young sailor’s direction and shouted, “A hundred gold to the man who guts that bastard!”

Instantly, nearly every man in the tavern surged to their feet and drew weapons. Vurgrom grinned, the effort like a rictus in his round moon face.

“Been nice knowing you, boy, but you signed your own death papers coming here after me.” He made an obscene gesture, then pushed through the door out onto the street.

Nearly half the tavern got up and followed Vurgrom, letting Jherek know the pirate captain had stationed men downstairs as well as upstairs. At least forty men came at Jherek with drawn swords, eager to cash in on the pirate captain’s offered bounty.

Jherek watched helplessly through the paned windows as Vurgrom disappeared, heading down the incline toward the harbor. Stubbornly, the young sailor held his ground with the beaded strings covering the doorway at his back.

A woman to his left cursed and stood suddenly, sweeping back the hooded cloak that had covered her face. Tall and slender, her silky black hair hacked off evenly just below her shoulders, her pointed ears visible, she wore a rough green shirt that was loose enough to disguise her sex, and scarred leather breeches tucked into high-topped boots.

She grabbed the chair she’d been sitting in and hurled it toward the front of the crowd gathered in front of Jherek. The chair hit two men and knocked them backward into the others.

“Back, you damn slime-sucking bottom-feeders, or I’ll fillet you myself!” she cursed as she drew a scimitar and dirk, then rushed toward Jherek.

The young sailor turned to face her, lifting his cutlass.

“Not me, you brain-dead ninny,” she told him sharply. “I’ve come to take a stand with you, though by Fenmarel Mestarine’s kindness, I don’t know why. You’ve cut yourself enough trouble for a small army, much less one sailor boy.”

Jherek kept his blade up, wary that she could be attempting to trick him to get close enough to put a blade between his ribs.” Ware now, lady,” he warned. “I don’t trust so easily.”

“Azla!” someone in the crowd shouted. “Azla of Black Champion is here!”

“Kill her,” another man roared. “Vurgrom’s bounty on her head is a thousand gold pieces!”

The half-elven woman’s brows arched in anger. “You’d better pick sides quickly, boy.” A half-grin played on her face, but it was cold as a moneylender’s heart. “I’m worth more dead than you are and I don’t intend to die without trying to escape. You’re standing in the way.”

“Aye,” Jherek replied, watching as the crowd regrouped, “but there was a mess left upstairs as well.”

Azla glanced back at the tavern crowd and knocked a thrown dagger from the air with the flat of her scimitar. “Our chances of escape have got to be better there than here.”

Jherek nodded, hating to lose Vurgrom and not certain what they were going to do even if they made it back up the stairs. He pulled the beaded strands to one side.

“No,” Azla said. “You first.” She spoke like one used to command.

“Aye.” Jherek turned and raced back to the steps, waiting for her.

Azla reached for the pouch at her side and stuck enough of her arm inside it that Jherek knew it was a bag of holding. She removed a small flask, handling it carefully.

“Keep moving,” she ordered, then flung the flask at the doorway as two men shoved their heads through.

The flask tumbled end over end and struck the floor, shattering and spreading slow moving oil in spots and a pool. Immediately, the oil caught fire. The flames spiraled up at once, and the spots that had landed on the two men charred holes in their clothes. They yelled in terror and pain and began beating at their clothing, but it only served to spread the flames. The fire in the doorway rose up four feet high.

“Run,” Azla directed. “I don’t have any more of that ensorcelled oil with me.”

She sprinted after him as they ran up the first set of stairs. Three pirates were coming down, fleeing from Glawinn. The lead pirate raised his sword, yelling hoarsely to warn his mates of the danger.

Jherek reached the corner of the landing first and blocked the man’s sword with his cutlass. The other two men ran into the first, and all of them struggled to keep their balance. The young sailor kicked the first man in the chest, pressing his own back against the wall to get everything into the effort he could.

All three pirates slammed against the railing, snapping the supports off and tumbling amid screams to the floor below. They’d only just landed when the first of the pirates from the tavern area burst through the oil, stopping only long enough to slap the few flames from his clothing. Now that the oil had nearly exhausted itself, other pirates followed.

Glawinn gazed down through the maze of switchback staircases. “Company?” the paladin asked calmly.

“Aye,” Jherek answered, breathing hard from his exertions, “and plenty of it.”

“Who’s she?” Glawinn asked.

“A friend,” the young sailor said, glancing at Azla again. Despite her unexpected appearance, he got a good feeling about her. “For now, at any rate.”

The half-elf smiled and shook her head. “From the looks of things,” she said, “I may be the only friend you people have in Westgate.”

“Not the only,” Glawinn snapped. “Begging your pardon for my abruptness, lady.”

“That’s Captain Azla,” she growled.

“I stand corrected.”

Jherek glanced back down the stairs and watched the pirates getting themselves organized. “Maybe we should sort that out later.”

“The boy’s right,” Glawinn said. “What’s your plan?”

“The harbor,” Azla answered. “We jump.”

“I’ve been pursuing Vurgrom for years,” Azla told them.

Jherek sat in Black Champion’s galley nursing a cup of hot tea. For the moment, Glawinn, Sabyna, and he were guests of Azla. After jumping from the third floor of the tavern, they’d been pulled from the water by some of Azla’s crew, who had been waiting in a small skiff for just such an eventuality. They sat at one of the long, rectangular tables where her crew messed. All of them had dry clothes from supplies the ship’s captain had on hand.

Glawinn sat at one end of the table working on his armor. It was a job he’d told them couldn’t be put off, and a job he didn’t want anyone else doing. Jherek didn’t blame him. A knight lived and died by the care he showed his weapons and armor. Having to pull it off quickly to keep from drowning after jumping into the water, made Glawinn even more thankful it wasn’t lost to the harbor bottom.

“Why?” the young sailor asked. He’d been impressed by the caravel. Black Champion was a tight-run ship, and one of the cleanest he’d ever seen. That effort was reflected in the galley’s spotless floors and cooking area. Three cooks were already at work on the next meal and the smells made his stomach rumble in anticipation.

Azla sat across from him, dressed in a somber black that seemed to fit her mood. “Vurgrom and I have been at odds with each other for years,” she explained. “He’s declared himself king of Immurk’s Hold, while there are no few who think I should hold that office.”