Corsair (25 page)

He backtracked through the alleyway south of Cart Street and jogged westward to avoid the Spearmeet company. At the small square by the Council Hall, he found a strong detachment of Double Moon Coster and House Sokol sellswords standing watch, and he swore viciously. There were too many soldiers and militiamen ready to fight in the streets of the town. A few he might have expected, but there seemed to be companies

of Hulburgans and mercenaries all over the town. “By Bane’s black hand, they were ready for us! They knew we were coming!” he snarled.

“Do you think this is a trap, m’lord?” Kerth asked.

“I have no idea, but we’ve got a fight on our hands.” Sergen turned back toward the water, and this time he ran. He shouted for roving gangs of pirates to follow him as he passed by; some did, and others ignored him, but he had no time to argue. He emerged onto Bay Street and hurried back to the corsairs waiting at the pierside where Kraken Queen was tied up. Quickly he detailed off half their number and sent them up Plank Street to scatter the Hulburgan militia there, and dispatched runners to gather in the roving gangs of corsairs. They needed to bring together the strength of the Black Moon, or they’d get cut to pieces in fours and fives as they blundered into the town’s defenders. Then he sent another man to go ring Kraken Queen’s bell to signal a general recall—three sharp strikes, a pause, then three more, repeated several times. Pirates began to straggle back toward the ships.

Resplendent in his scarlet-scale armor, Kamoth jogged into view from an alleyway, with a dozen cutthroats at his back. He strode angrily up to Sergen. “Did you order the ship’s bell struck?” he demanded. “We haven’t been here half an hour yet! What is the matter?”

“Hulburgan companies are sealing off the streets leading to the waterfront!” Sergen said to his father. “They mean to trap us here by the docks. They were ready for us!”

“Then why weren’t they waiting for us on the waterfront? Why isn’t Seadrake here?” Kamoth scowled fiercely, considering the situation. “Didn’t you say that your ally in town would warn you if the harmach caught wind of our plan?”

Sergen stopped and thought about that. “Yes, I did,” he said. Rhovann was well placed in the councils of the town’s leaders. If the harmach had learned of the coming attack, the elf mage would have told him. In fact, they’d made arrangements for just that eventuality. “They were warned, but only a short time before we arrived,” he concluded. “They didn’t have time to summon the Harmach’s Council or make plans for a stronger defense, and my ally here hasn’t had the chance to contact me. This is an improvised defense.”

Kamoth turned on Sergen with a bloodthirsty grin. “Then it doesn’t matter that they were warned. The harmach’s guards are spread out all over

the town trying to pin us down by the harbor. We’ll smash them one street at a time, and the town will be ours by sunrise. Where are they?”

“I saw detachments on High Street, Plank Street, and Fish Street. I just sent fifty corsairs up Plank Street to drive off the Spearmeet gathered there. I imagine there must be a force blocking the Lower Bridge too.”

“Good. You stay here and muster all the pirates who answer your recall. I’ll take what you’ve got here and go deal with the Shieldsworn.” Kamoth stepped close and seized Sergen’s shoulder in one hand. He painfully ground his steel-armored fingers into Sergen’s flesh as he lowered his voice; Sergen flinched away. “Do not ring that damned bell again unless the fleet of Hillsfar is standing into harbor, boy. I’m not to be called away from my business here every time you take a fright.”

Sergen winced, but he did not protest. If he had to guard Kamoth from his own recklessness he would, regardless of his father’s anger. He watched as the High Captain gathered the corsairs standing nearby and led them back into the town at a run. Meanwhile more pirates slowly trickled back to the dockside. Fuming over his father’s insinuation of cowardice, he paced back and forth by the waterside, struggling to master his anger.

“Lord Sergen? There’s someone asking for you—an elf.” A deckhand from Kraken Queen stood with his cap in his hands nearby.

“Rhovann?” Sergen murmured. He wondered what the mage wanted from him. They’d made no plans to meet face-to-face during the raid, but then again, Sergen hadn’t been sure he would accompany the Black Moon against Hulburg. He motioned to the messenger. “Bring him here.”

He waited on the pier, listening to the sounds of the fighting that raged throughout Hulburg’s streets. Half a dozen sizeable fires now burned in scattered places throughout the town. If the night hadn’t been so damp, Hulburg might have lost everything west of the Winterspear. As matters stood, he thought the townsfolk would likely save most of the town. Then Rhovann Disarnnyl appeared through the rain and the smoke, dressed in a long hooded cloak. An enormous figure the size of an ogre towered behind him, dressed in a long brown robe with a heavy hood of its own. The creature’s hands were pallid, almost waxy, in complexion. It carried two captives with their hands bound—a young, dark-haired girl not more than nine or ten years of age, and a black-haired woman in a blue dress whom Sergen recognized as Mirya Erstenwold. The girl must be her daughter, he realized. But what is Rhovann doing with Mirya as his prisoner? She

certainly had value as a hostage, but he hadn’t realized that the elf mage even knew of her existence.

“Good evening, Lord Sergen,” Rhovann said. He offered a tight smile. “I see you brought your friends with you.”

“Lord Disarnnyl,” Sergen answered. “I’m surprised to find you out and about. I would have thought that you’d be well away from Hulburg tonight. It’s not safe on the streets, after all.”

“Bastion—my large friend here—deters a good deal of trouble,” Rhovann answered. Sergen looked up at the huge, cowled figure standing behind the elf and glimpsed a pasty face, almost doughy in its complexion, beneath the hood. Dull, lifeless eyes regarded him in return. He realized that the thing was a construct or golem of some sort, likely created through Rhovann’s magic. The elf mage motioned for his huge guardian to set down the Erstenwolds, and continued. “I have a problem—two problems, really—that I hope you can attend for me.”

“So I see.” Both Erstenwolds seemed unconscious, although Mirya’s eyelids fluttered and a frown creased her brow. Gags covered their mouths. “What exactly do you expect me to do with them?”

“Mirya had the poor judgment to spy on me during a sensitive conversation. The little one had the misfortune of being at home when Bastion and I came to collect her mother. They both have seen too much to remain in Hulburg. Since there will doubtless be some number of people carried away by your Black Moon friends in the morning, I thought these two might be added to your catch.”

“There’s a simpler alternative, you know.”

“Of course, but I am no common murderer. These two are not my enemies and are harmless to me once you remove them from Hulburg.” Rhovann glanced at the unconscious Erstenwolds, now lying side by side on the rain-slick wood of the wharf. “Besides, they are dear to Geran Hulmaster. It may prove very useful to keep them alive as long as he is at liberty.”

Sergen pursed his lips. He was not anxious to burden himself with a couple of captives and was not as squeamish about such matters as Rhovann seemed to be, but his elf ally had an excellent point about their potential usefulness. If nothing else, simply selling them into slavery in the Inner Sea lands might make for an even more vicious flavor of revenge against his nemesis than killing them out of hand. Alive, they were far more useful against Geran than they would be dead.

“That’s a fair point,” Sergen conceded to Rhovann. “The day may come when I need to bait a trap, and these two would serve nicely. If you please, have your large friend pick them up and follow me.”

Rhovann gestured, and Bastion silently picked up Mirya and her daughter again. The creature followed Sergen and Rhovann to the pier where Kraken Queen was tied up, and handed them to the corsair crewmen when Rhovann directed it to do so. “Lock them in my cabin for now,” Sergen told the pirates. There would be plenty of other captives for the ship’s hold, and he wasn’t exactly certain what he was going to do with the Erstenwolds yet.

“Is there anything else?” he asked Rhovann.

“No, I must return to my quarters and resume my disguise.” Rhovann’s lip curled contemptuously. “I will report the harmach’s counsels to you as soon as I can. I expect I’ll know something by tomorrow evening.”

“Very good,” Sergen answered. “I will—”

From the deck behind him there came a shout: “A ship’s entering the harbor!”

Sergen and Rhovann turned at the lookout’s cry. “Seadrake or Moonshark?” Sergen wondered aloud. He climbed up to Kraken Queen’s quarterdeck and peered seaward. Rhovann followed just a few steps behind. By the dim glow of the city’s fires, they could make out the long, low, scarlet hull of a half galley standing into harbor, her oars sweeping vigorously.

“It’s Moonshark!”the lookout shouted.

“About time,” Sergen observed. Whether the raid succeeded or failed mattered little to him, but it was very important to preserve the strength of the Black Moon no matter what happened here tonight. Narsk might have been tardy, but his sailors might turn the tide in the battle raging along Hulburg’s waterfront. Better late than never, as they said. “Good. An hour late, but we can certainly use Narsk and his men now!”

Moonshark raced toward the wharves at a full battle pace, straining at her oars as if eager to join the fray. “He is certainly making up for lost time,” Rhovann remarked. “You seem to have matters well in hand here, and I must return to my place before I am missed. Make sure you keep your men under control; we don’t want the city razed.”

“I will,” Sergen murmured, but his eyes were still fixed on the approaching Moonshark. Narsk didn’t bother to veer off to his left and

make for the empty dock by the Sokol merchant yard; he simply came straight in, aiming at the center wharf where Seawolfand Daringwere tied up. Sergen frowned and peered closer, his hands gripping the tail. The confident grin on his face faded, and he gaped at the approaching warship. With a ragged motion she raised her oars into the air and began to fold them inboard. “It can’t be,” he said. “Narsk’s gone mad!”

Rhovann paused at the ladder and looked back at him. “What is it?”

Sergen threw out his arm and pointed. “He’s not going alongside Daring. He’s going to ram!”

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

Rain and wind lashed Geran’s face as he steered Moonshark into Hulburg’s harbor. Firelight painted the whole harbor a ruddy red, and threw garish shadows against the streaming pillars of smoke rising above the town’s burning buildings. His heart sank at the sight, but then he realized that the whole town wasn’t aflame—five or six different fires were scattered across the harbor district, and the wet weather was doing its part to keep the flames in check. In the murk and firelight he could see bands of warriors fighting furiously on the streets leading up from the harbor. Whether Sarth’s warning had reached the harmach in time, he couldn’t say, but the fact that someone was still fighting by the docks was a good sign. If the Black Moon had surprised the town completely, there would have been very little fighting at all.

“It seems the issue is still in doubt,” Hamil murmured beside him. The two of them were the only ones on the quarterdeck. Moonsharkwas somewhat shorthanded now, and Geran had ordered every man to the rowers’ benches in order to make the best time he could to Hulburg. “Now what do we do? If we land, our crew’s going to join the melee ashore. If we don’t land, they’ll likely throw us over the side and land anyway.”

“I can see it,” Geran answered under his breath. Then he lifted his voice and called out to the crew, “Well done! It’s been a hard run, but we’re not too late!”

The crewmen raised a ragged cheer as the ship slid past Hulburg’s Arches, and bent themselves to the oars with renewed vigor. At the foredeck, Tao Zhe beat the time with a baton and a small drum. Geran gave the helm an easy turn to the right, angling around the last plunging

column of the Arches. After hours of furious tacking and crowding on reckless amounts of sail for the strong winds, he’d finally reached Hulburg, only to find that he was not exactly certain what to do now.

“Somehow we need to throw the attack into confusion,” he said quietly to Hamil. “We’ve got to do what we can to limit the damage to the town and catch Kamoth in a snare. I don’t want him to get away again.”

“Run Moonshark aground. That should keep us out of the fight.”

“A good idea, but not enough,” Geran said. The town—parts of it, anyway—was burning in front of his eyes, and as they drew closer he could see hundreds of people barrling on Bay Street. Shouts, screams, and the shrill sound of steel on steel rang across the harbor. Those were his neighbors and friends fighting to protect life and property, fighting because of the greed and murderous designs of Sergen and his black-hearted father. Geran’s eyes narrowed and a dark tide of anger surged up from the soles of his feet to his hands on the ship’s wheel. “That’s not enough by half,” he continued. “I mean to hurt these bastards. They’ll think twice before they attack my city again.”

He quickly scanned the waterfront, searching for an opportunity to strike some telling blow. Four pirate galleys lay alongside the city’s wharves, along with the usual handful of merchant ships and small craft. On the east side of the harbor, he could see Kraken Queen by the old Veruna wharves; straight ahead of him two more galleys lay side by side at the wharf in front of the Marstel storehouses; to the west one more galley was tied up near the Jannarsk docks. Geran wanted Kraken Queen most of all, but the Black Moon flagship was protected by a wharf that was in Moonshark’s way. Instead he pointed the bow at the two corsair ships in the middle. “Increase your tempo!” he shouted at Tao Zhe. “Battle speed!”

The Shou looked startled, but he began to strike his drum more swiftly. In the rowers’ benches, the rest of the crew could not easily see where Moonshark was headed; they sat with their backs to the bow, and the covered bench galleries were low along the sides of the ship anyway. But the crewmen looked at each other, and many tried to catch glimpses forward between oarbeats. “Are you sure of your speed, Captain?” Murkelmor called from his place between the rowing benches. “It’s no’ so big a harbor!”