The King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  “Once we are free of those who follow, we will allow you to open the window again.” The sailors left the cabin and Arjuna closed the door, leaving the girls alone.

  Abigail said, “What do we do?”

  Margaret inspected the nails and attempted to pull one free with her fingers. She tried to get a hold on the large nailhead, but couldn’t. In exasperation she swore, and then, glancing around the room, she moved to inspect the small table. It was heavy, so it wouldn’t slide around in rough seas, but it was attached to the deck by nothing more than pegs through holes in the base of the legs. Margaret knelt on her bed and motioned for Abigail to pick up the other side and, experimentally, the girls lifted. With reluctance the table rose, and Margaret said, “Put it down.”

  Once the table was back in place, Margaret said, “I think we throw the table into the window.”

  “Will it work?”

  Margaret inspected the window. “If we take off these gowns first, then smash the window with the table, we should break out enough of the glass and wood to crawl through….We may get some cuts and bruises, but we should be able to manage it before they can get in to stop us.”

  Abigail didn’t look convinced, but she nodded.

  “Now we wait until morning.”

  Margaret sat and brooded, trying to ignore the memory of the fin cutting the water behind the ship.

  —

  CALIS STOOD ON the port forechannel, hand gripping a line to the bowsprit, staring ahead. The sun was still below the horizon behind, and before him the night was giving way to murk. His eyes were keenest of all and he had been in the bow when Nicholas arose, seeking signs of the black ship.

  Nicholas said, “Are they still ahead?”

  “They’re still there,” answered the elfling. “They doused all lights at midnight, and changed course to shake us, but Anthony has been giving the captain corrections each hour.”

  Nicholas peered ahead but could see nothing. Minutes dragged past and Nicholas turned to find Marcus beside him. Harry stood off to one side next to Brisa, who hugged herself against the morning chill. Abruptly she leaned against Harry, who put his arm around her, an expression of surprise and pleasure on his face.

  The weather had been growing progressively hotter as they passed southward. Amos had judged that they had passed below the equator and were now sailing into late spring. He had heard of the backward seasons in the distant states of the Keshian Confederacy, but had never been that far south before.

  As the sun brightened the eastern sky, Calis pointed. “There!”

  Nicholas peered and then he could see the ship, black against dark grey, now clearly seen for what she was, a huge thing with high aftercastle, and a rear lateen spanker sail. The ship had all sails out, and heeled over against the wind.

  Amos came to the bow and observed a minute. “She’s a wallowing bucket, isn’t she?”

  Marcus said, “How soon?”

  Amos judged the distance and speed and said, “We’ll be on her before noon.”

  “Land ho!” cried the lookout aloft.

  “Where away?” asked Amos.

  “Dead ahead.”

  As they all stared ahead, the dark gloom behind the ship began to resolve itself. The morning mists burned off as the sun brightened the day, and visibility increased by the minute. As if a veil was lifted, the air cleared, and those on the bow of the ship could see what the lookout had discerned a minute earlier. Amos swore. “Gods! Look at that.”

  A gigantic escarpment rose above a rocky beach. Easily a hundred feet high at the lowest point, possibly three times that at its highest, it reared before them like a distant wall. It shone pink and orange in the sunlight of dawn, yellow at the crest.

  Amos turned and shouted, “Lookouts aloft! We’re shoaling!” Instantly a half-dozen sailors scrambled aloft and began looking for signs of sandbars and other shallow-water hazards.

  Amos said, “Look!” and pointed to rocks to the right of the ship, only a hundred feet off. The faint sound of breakers carried over the water. “Damn. We could have run up on a sandbar a dozen times last night. Ruthia must love us.”

  Nicholas said, “Are they trying to wreck us?”

  “Maybe,” answered Amos. “But they draw far more water than we do, so there must be a safe channel here.” He closed his eyes and said, “I’m trying to remember that damn map your father showed me. If my old mind hasn’t failed me, we’re looking at the continent of Novindus, and that’s the northeast coastline.” Moving his hands as he spoke, he said, “Somewhere to the south of us, a week’s sailing or so, I think, there’s a peninsula, then once around it, it’s northward to some city.”

  Nicholas had vague recollections of that map as well, but remembered fewer details than Amos.

  “She’s turning, Captain,” said Calis.

  Anthony had been silent since sighting the ship, but now he said, “And there’s something—”

  A crack of energy exploded above them. A lookout screamed and fell from the yards, to land in the water beside the ship. To Nicholas there was a feeling of being a conduit for lighting, having a nameless power run from his head and down his body into his feet and through them to the ship. Brisa’s high-pitched scream could be heard above the shouts of terror from the men, and when Nicholas looked around he saw Ghuda with his sword drawn and even the taciturn Calis looking for a nameless enemy.

  Then the feeling of energy changed, and Nicholas felt his skin and hair tingle. He saw blue lightning, with a crackling discharge, dancing across the yards and saw his companions’ hair standing on end, spread about like fans around their heads.

  Then silence.

  Amos blinked and said, “What…”

  The ship began to rock slowly from side to side. “Damn me!” said Amos, hurrying to the side of the ship. Glancing over the rail, he said, “We’re becalmed.”

  “But how can we be?” demanded Nicholas. “Look!”

  Amos looked at the black ship, which was moving slowly away, sails full and heeling to port as she proceeded at top speed. “I don’t understand.”

  “Magic,” said Anthony.

  “A trick,” grumbled Nakor. “They sucked the wind out of the air around us. Very nasty trick.”

  Amos felt as if his eyes betrayed him. Around his ship for fifty yards in all directions the water was quiet, while beyond that the fresh breeze whipped whitecaps on the water. Amos struck the rail in frustration. “We were almost upon them.” Taking a breath, he called, “I’ll have a longboat lowered, Mr. Rhodes! Make ready a towline.”

  “You’re going to tow us out of this magic?” asked Marcus.

  “I’ve been becalmed before” was all Amos said. “Sometimes it’s all you can do.”

  Nicholas turned and looked at the others. Ghuda said, “Better get some rest.”

  But Nicholas stayed where he was, watching the fleeing black ship as it grew slowly smaller and smaller.

  —

  “THEY’VE STOPPED,” SAID Margaret.

  “What?” asked Abigail.

  “They’re falling behind.”

  Abigail looked through the small panes of glass and said, “Oh, gods, no!” Her eyes began to brim with tears, but she forced back her urge to cry. “What will we do?”

  “We go now!” said Margaret as she hurried to unfasten her gown. Pulling at the laces up the front, she was about to let it fall from her shoulders when the door opened and Arjuna stepped into the cabin.

  “Ladies, I advise keeping your clothes on. Seeing you naked would distract my men.”

  He signed and two large, black-clad sailors entered. Arjuna said, “They will watch you awhile, until even one as rash as you, Lady Margaret, wouldn’t risk swimming through such a distance of shark-infested water. Then they will remove the nails and you can once again have fresh air in this cabin.”

  He smiled, turned, and left. Abigail sat down and looked at her friend. Margaret gave her a nod and smile, for she knew the girl was forcing herself
to bear up and not give in to the urge to break down in tears. Slowly Margaret relaced the bodice of her gown, staring out the window at the rapidly diminishing ship.

  —

  BRISA LET OUT a groan of aggravation. “Who called it becalmed!” Glancing at her companions, she said, “The noise is making me crazy!”

  Nicholas shared a sympathetic glance with Harry. They understood how the girl felt. Within minutes of the magic that stole their wind, they all became aware of the thousand sounds they’d never noticed before. In a brisk wind, the sound of the bow cutting the water, the hum of ropes, and the noise of men going about their business were the only noticeable sounds.

  Now the ropes hung loosely from the spars and canvas limply from the yards. The ship rocked lazily with the rise and fall of ground swells. The hull groaned as planks and timbers shifted and flexed. A hundred blocks and pulleys swung on loose ropes, cracking into masts or each other, setting up a clatter that was constant. Planks creaked, hinges squealed, and always there was the distant sound of the surf upon the shore.

  The rowers had pulled the ship nearly five miles, with no relief. Nakor had decided the spell was moving with the ship and was at a loss as to how to counter it. “It’s a very good trick” was all he would say on the matter.

  For the rest of the day they had watched in frustration as the black ship sailed off. Amos had ordered the crews in the longboat relieved, and the ship was now drifting on the current as those in the boat rowed back to the ship to turn it over to their replacements. He swore and paced the quarterdeck, then left to join Nicholas and the others on the bow. “Is there anything you can do?” he asked Nakor.

  The little man shrugged and said, “Maybe, if I think about it long enough. Maybe not. It’s hard to say.”

  Anthony said, “There’s a spell I’ve studied, but never used: a weather control incantation. But it may not work.”

  Amos fixed him with a baleful eye. “And what else?”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  Nakor said, “Doing tricks you don’t know how to do is always dangerous.”

  Amos scratched his beard. “What’s your guess about this spell we’re trapped in?”

  Anthony said, “It’s the same sort of magic—”

  “Trick,” interrupted Nakor.

  “—that I’m proposing to try. If we do nothing, it will linger for at least another day, perhaps longer. If the magician who cast it is especially gifted or learned, it could last as long as a week.”

  Amos swore, then said, “What other choice do we have?”

  Nicholas said, “If we can get to that ship before they dock or not long after, we stand some hope of finding the prisoners. But if they reach port more than a few days ahead of us, it might be impossible to find them.”

  Amos didn’t looked pleased, but he nodded agreement. He said to Anthony, “Do you need anything special?”

  Anthony said, “Just all the luck you can muster.”

  Amos shouted, “I want all hands on deck, Mr. Rhodes.”

  When the crew was mustered, Amos addressed them from the foredeck. “Men, we’re going to try to break this spell that becalms us. We have no notion of the consequences, so I want every man at his station ready to jump to any task needing to be done.” He said nothing more, and Mr. Rhodes gave the order for the men to rig for foul weather.

  Some of the sailors paused a moment to say a silent prayer to this or that deity, but all of them were standing by when Amos nodded to Anthony.

  Anthony said, “Nakor, if you can give me any help, now is the time.”

  Nakor shrugged and said, “I don’t know this trick, so I wouldn’t know if you were doing it right or not. Better just do it and trust the gods are not too angry with us today.”

  Anthony closed his eyes and said, “In my mind I see the matrix, and in the matrix is held the power. The lock to the matrix is my will, and in the matrix my will becomes the power.” He repeated the chant and his voice grew softer, until Nicholas and the others could no longer hear him. His lips continued to move and he swayed rhythmically.

  A faint gust touched Nicholas upon the cheek and he glanced at the others. Marcus and Brisa both looked at the mast above them. Nicholas also looked up and saw canvas beginning to stir.

  With what sounded like a sigh of relief, the wind freshened, and the ship began to turn as the wind filled her sails.

  “Trim your sails, Mr. Rhodes, and set a course after the black ship!”

  The lookout reported that he could still make out the faint form of the large ship on the horizon to the south, and gave a position. Amos bellowed, “All lookouts aloft! Keep a sharp eye for reefs!”

  Anthony continued to chant and Nicholas glanced at Nakor. The little man shrugged. “I said I don’t know this trick.”

  The wind picked up in strength, and Amos shouted, “Keep a watch for weather, Mr. Rhodes!”

  Nicholas glanced behind them and shouted, “Look!”

  To the northeast, a large roiling mass of dark clouds was forming in an otherwise blue sky. As if someone poured them from a bowl, the clouds spilled down and spread out behind the ship, forming a line of dark fury in the air.

  A drop of wetness struck Nicholas’s cheek and he saw rain begin to fall from the clouds, blown toward them by the rising wind. Amos ordered the sails trimmed for a storm and men scrambled about in the rigging, reefing the larger sails, trimming others.

  Men hurried below and returned and began rigging storm lines across the deck, while others handed out oiled-canvas coats. Moment by moment, the sky darkened as the black clouds spread from above, and through the entire process, Anthony stood motionless, his eyes closed, his lips moving.

  Nicholas shouted over the rising wind, “Nakor! Should we stop him?”

  “How?” said the little man. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”

  Ghuda said, “Sometimes the direct approach is best.” He gripped Anthony by the shoulder and shouted his name. The magician failed to respond. Ghuda shook harder and still was unable to get through to the blond mage, who now stood drenched to the skin. “If the storm’s not distracting him, my shouting won’t.”

  “Do something else!” demanded Brisa, who now looked thoroughly terrified. The wind was doubling in fury and large waves were picking up the Raptor as easily as a child moves a toy, and the lurch of the deck as it seemed to fall out from under her feet was more than she could endure. “Do anything!”

  Sailors aloft hurried frantically to reef sails, for they were carrying too much canvas for a wind that blew stronger with each second. Spars and yards groaned in protest at the strain as winds began to howl through the rigging.

  Nicholas joined Ghuda and shook Anthony, calling his name. A cry from the stern caused them all to turn, and Amos’s voice cut the fury of the wind like a knife. “Banath, preserve us!”

  A wave larger than any before was building off to the northeast. “Hard aport, Mr. Rhodes. Put her into the wind!” To those nearby he shouted, “Grab something and hold fast! If that wave hits us broadside, we’re going to lose a mast or worse.”

  Nicholas gripped the rail nearby and watched in terrified fascination as the water rose up higher and higher as it bore down upon them. Like a black wall, the water advanced while the crew fought to turn the ship bow-first to face it.

  When the ship was not quite turned, the water struck. The ship seemed to try to climb the water, its bow lifting high into the air as it heeled far over to starboard. Brisa screamed as she hung desperately to a rope that had come free of a davit. Marcus reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him as he clung to a deck line.

  The ship kept trying to climb the water, and Nicholas watched in amazement as it seemed the world tilted. He nearly lay on his back, or so it felt, as the ship climbed still higher up the wave, then suddenly everything pitched forward.

  Men screamed as they were thrown from the rigging, while others cursed as they clung to anything nearby for their lives. Now Nich
olas saw the ship heading downward into the trough, at as steep an angle as they had climbed, and knew that magic was changing the laws of the sea: this wave was nearly as steep behind the crest as before. Then he saw water swamp the bow of the ship.

  Down into the water the ship plunged, and Nicholas knew in that moment they were doomed. He closed his eyes as water washed over him, hitting him like a solid wall, threatening to tear his arms out of his shoulders as he clung to the rail, and then he felt himself get suddenly heavy as the deck lifted up under him.

  He lost his footing and fell, but still he clung to the rail as he thrashed about underwater, then abruptly he was again in the open air. Water streamed away in all directions as the bow of the ship burst upward out of the brine.

  Gasping for air, Nicholas blinked salt water out of his eyes and looked around. Everyone was still in sight, clinging to some part of the ship. Ghuda stood like a rock against the tide, clutching Anthony around the waist with one arm, and clinging to a line with the other hand. The ship continued to roll to starboard, then when it almost seemed about to lie over on its side, it rocked back to port, and they all clung desperately to stay aboard. Then it righted itself and for a moment seemed to be on an even keel.

  “Look!” shouted a nearby sailor.

  Nicholas turned to see another wave, larger than the last, bearing down on them. As the bow began to lift again, he shouted to Ghuda, “Do something!”

  Ghuda nodded and let go of Anthony. Before the magician could move a foot away, the big mercenary struck him hard across the jaw with his clenched fist. Anthony slumped unconscious to the deck.

  Instantly the sky was again clear, but to Nicholas’s horror the wall of water bore down upon them still as the Raptor’s bow rose to meet it. “Hang on” was all he could shout as the ship once more began its impossible climb.