by Mel Odom
Kwan Yung was glad Shang-Li was not there to witness his embarrassment. He’d fallen prey to their trap far too easily. You should have stayed in the monastery, Yung, he thought. That is what you’re better suited for these days.
But he hadn’t been able to let Shang-Li step alone into all the danger that now faced him. As a father, Kwan Yung hadn’t been able to keep his son safe all the time, but this assignment was one of those times he’d had to try.
One of the Nine Golden Swords perched on the edge of the bridge and stretched forth his arm. “Give us the book, old man. Hand it over and you won’t get hurt.”
Kwan Yung snorted and took his pole from the water as the boat glided under the bridge. One of the men lifted a crossbow and fired. Moonlight glinted from the steel tip. Twisting, Kwan Yung let the deadly missile pass, then reached down for the curved boat anchor. With one quick flip, he threw the boat anchor and succeeded in wrapping it around the crossbowman’s leg. Then Kwan Yung poled again to gain speed.
The boat glided under the bridge and the anchor line drew taut. As the boat shot out on the other side of the bridge, the anchor hauled the crossbowman off and spilled him into the river. One of the remaining warriors leaped down toward the boat.
Turning, Kwan Yung planted the pole in the center of the boat and caught the man in the chest; then he levered him to one side. The last warrior thudded into the boat and drew two heavy knives, quickly weaving a razored dance before him.
On his toes now, moving smoothly, Kwan Yung batted the knives away as they sought his flesh. The warrior was fast, but movement on the boat required fluid reflexes and uncanny balance. Kwan Yung kicked down on the port side, taking advantage of the drag created by the man captured by the anchor rope. The boat rolled over to the side and came out of the water, throwing the Nine Golden Swords warrior off-balance. Before the man recovered, Kwan Yung swept the pole around and hit him in the head.
As the man flew from the boat, Kwan Yung swung the pole again and knocked one of the knives into the air. Then he stepped toward the boat’s stern to right it before it started taking on water. He plucked the tumbling knife from the air, then dragged the keen blade across the anchor rope and cut loose the tangled warrior.
Returning the pole to the water, Kwan Yung drove himself farther downriver. There was no sight of Shang-Li, but even across the distance, Kwan Yung heard the yells of frightened men.
The chase was not yet finished.
Minutes later and nearly out of breath, Shang-Li reached the harbor. Even though he’d doubled back through alleys, Shang-Li hadn’t managed to lose his pursuer. The golemspider remained tireless. Not only that, but the pirate watch had gone on alert and now patrolled the sleeping city as well.
Shang-Li charged through the knots of frustrated and tired pirates. He leaped over and zigzagged through those in his way, but a handful of guards rushed at him. As soon as the guards spotted the golem-spider lumbering in his wake, they fled too. Screams and yells trailed in his wake, not quite fast enough to get ahead of him and warn the people ahead.
Air tore raggedly through Shang-Li’s throat despite his conditioning. All the climbing and running took its toll. His legs and back ached with the effort he expended.
And he was almost out of room to maneuver. The dock ended less than forty feet ahead. Despite the screams and shouts from the harbor, the men aboard the second ship ahead kept hauling on the block-and-tackle to hoist a net filled with cargo.
Shang-Li leaped for the net as the golem-spider thundered across the crooked wooden dock after him. Pirates dived from the docks as the giant creature knocked crates, barrels, bundles, and urns in all directions during its mad scramble to catch its prey.
The cargo net continued its upward journey, pulled by the cargo handlers. Shang-Li caught his left hand in the strands and made a fist. The rough fiber cut into his flesh but he didn’t release his desperate hold. The load rocked slowly but strongly and carried Shang-Li along with it. Flailing, he latched on with his other hand.
One of the men below him noticed him and let loose a squalling curse. “What do ye think ye’re doin’? Get offa there!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Kellam, get a pole and give that bonehead a knock between his lights.”
Shang-Li scuttled around the net and felt the swaying load drop another few inches. His stomach flipped and he had to quell the impulse to dive into the water. For all he knew, the wizard’s guardian could swim like a fish.
“By Gruumsh’s diseased nostril!” Another pirate swore and pointed back the way Shang-Li had come. “Look over there!”
As one, the pirates’ heads swung back along the dock. Closing quickly, the golem-spider leaped over a pile of crates and landed amidst a group of pirates drunkenly unaware of the danger among them. Mercilessly, the creature flung the howling men like ragdolls. They fetched up against ships in bone-jarring thumps or splashed into the harbor water. Those fortunate enough to escape the arcane creature’s grasp fled like scalded hounds.
With a lurching creak, the cargo net plummeted almost a foot, leaving it scarcely more than fifteen feet above the deck. Shang-Li was certain the wizard’s sentinel could leap that high without a problem.
“Hold that line, ye melon-headed lummoxes!” The pirate foreman stomped among his men. “Hold it or I swear I’ll gut ye meself an’ save the cap’n the trouble! We ain’t gonna lose the cap’n’s cargo!”
Incredibly, the men held the load in spite of their fear and the swinging mass. The rope that secured the net sang in protest of the ill-treatment.
The golem-spider poised beneath the swinging net and readied itself to pounce. Its four front legs stretched upward. Then its back legs flexed.
Move! Shang-Li told himself. He reached down and slid free the knife strapped to his right leg. It was an elven blade his mother had given him when he’d been just a boy.
The double-edged blade gleamed, straight and true. Elvish language that asked for blessings and guidance from Corellon Larethian scrolled along the spine in copper. Ridges scored the amber grips to provide a surer grip.
The net jerked sideways suddenly. Without looking down, Shang-Li knew the golem-spider had made the leap. In two desperate arm pulls, he reached the top of the cargo net, but one of the creature’s legs curled around his foot. The limb tightened with steely strength and pulled. He thought his leg was going to tear from its socket.
Aboard the pirate ship, the lead pirate fought a losing battle. His shipmates had decided they were much too close to the golem-spider. The line jerked as another man abandoned the effort.
Blocking out the pain of his bruised foot, Shang-Li whipped the knife across the golem-spider’s leg. The mystical power in the blade cracked the clay limb and managed to roughly shear it away. He yanked his foot up while the creature recoiled and rebalanced itself. The stump thumped noisily against a crate.
Turning quickly, Shang-Li grabbed the rope holding the net with his free hand, then sliced the rope beneath his fingers with the blade. The hemp strands parted in a snapping rush.
Relieved of the cargo’s weight, the pirates straining at the other end of the rope fell backward and pulled the line through the block-and-tackle.
Shang-Li swung his body up and threw his knife arm over the top of the boom. He caught hold of it in the crook of his elbow. The bottom pulley pinched his fingers but he yanked them free before they were tugged inside. The rope shot through the assembly fast enough to send up a smoke trail.
Shang-Li held onto the boom arm and struggled to catch his breath.
Beneath the debris and wreckage held together by the cargo net, the golem-spider’s legs twitched feebly. Most of the cargo had landed on the creature. In the next moment, the golem-spider’s legs turned paler, then cracked and turned to dust. A wave of intense cold brushed by Shang-Li as whatever magic had been contained within the thing was released.
Danger!
Moonwhisper’s warning brushed across Shang-Li’s mind. The owl’s thoughts w
eren’t close to anything human, but Shang-Li understood them. When he looked over his shoulder, he spotted Kouldar striding along the docks. A small group of armed thugs surrounded him.
The thugs lifted crossbows and took aim.
Shang-Li sheathed his knife, gripped the boom with both hands, and quickly hauled himself into a squatting position atop it. The first quarrels cut the wind around him as he propelled himself toward the harbor water, but one of the later ones slid along his neck and under his jaw. Pain followed immediately and he hoped the quarrels weren’t poisoned. A fireball impacted the boom and heat washed over his back.
In the next instant, the cool dark sea took him into its embrace and he dived deeply. The bright flash of the fireball briefly illuminated the depths. He swam with powerful strokes almost within arm’s reach of the bottom.
Find safety, he told Moonwhisper. Stay away from the ship. They might follow you. I will send for you when it is safe. Be safe until we meet again.
The owl reluctantly headed back to shore.
As the remnants of the fireball flash faded, Shang-Li fixed his bearings in mind and swam toward Swallow. When he surfaced for air, he did it next to a ship. Safe in the shadows, he regained his breath and plunged under again.
Lungs near bursting, Shang-Li surfaced at Swallow’s stern and gripped the anchor rope. He shook water from his eyes and a voice called down to him.
“Shang-Li?”
His father stood in the stern. Beside him, three archers held nocked arrows aimed at Shang-Li.
“Don’t loose.” Shang-Li held his hands above his head and spoke only loud enough to be heard aboard ship. “It’s me.” The salt of the harbor burned the wound on his neck and jaw.
With a wave, his father dismissed the archers. Then he frowned down in displeasure. “I would have thought you could have made a much quieter departure.”
“No,” Shang-Li said, “I couldn’t. Else I wouldn’t have gotten away at all.” He took hold of the anchor rope in both hands and climbed up while bracing his feet against the ship’s side.
One of the sailors extended a hand and caught Shang-Li’s when he was close enough. Taking advantage of the sailor’s strength, Shang-Li allowed himself to be hoisted aboard. His sodden clothing dripped water onto the deck.
His father stepped away and sniffed disdainfully. “The pirates obviously don’t care where their filth runs. I’m surprised the sea elves haven’t put up a protest.”
“The alu Tel’Quessir don’t enter these waters by choice, nor to they get invited to voice their complaints.” Shang-Li accepted a towel from one of the sailors and began drying off. His father was right, though. He did smell foul.
The ship he’d dived from blazed merrily. Evidently the wizard’s fireball had spread too quickly for the pirates to put it out. More like, though, they’d abandoned their posts out of fear for their lives.
“Where is Kouldar?” Shang-Li mopped at his face, hoping to rid himself of the stench.
His father stood with a spyglass to his eye. “The wizard was there? Did he get a look at you?”
“Not a good one. Not enough to know me personally.”
“But enough to guess who sent you. Enough to guess we were involved.”
“He already knew that we would be there. The journal was a trap. He knew someone from the monastery would come for it. He’ll be looking for Shou ships.” Cold soaked into Shang-Li as the wind picked up and rattled the rigging. Fatigue ached his bones but his mind remained as sharp as his elven blade.
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” His father’s calm was surprising. “There are plenty of Shou pirates in these waters as well.”
The spyglass joints snicked in quick succession as his father collapsed the instrument and put it inside one of his voluminous sleeves. Now that he was aboard Swallow, he wore a more traditional robe, though without Standing Tree Monastery markings.
“You left a trail through the water.” His father’s words were thick with accusation.
Shang-Li returned his father’s steady gaze. “I left no trail.”
His father stepped forward and touched Shang-Li’s neck with a finger. “So you say.” He held up the finger. It was stained crimson.
Shang-Li cursed silently. There were things that could track a man’s blood through water with the unerring accuracy of a shark.
His father wiped his finger on the towel. “Let us hope that it is not enough of a trail for the Nine Golden Swords warriors to pick up.”
Dead men rained from the black water into the blue. Droust watched as he had so many times before, and the grisly nature of their deaths was not lost on him. Most of the men had drowned when the Blue Lady had taken their ship down. A merciful few of them died by Caelynna’s hand when they stood against her. Even if they tried to escape, she killed them. They had no choice but to fight or die like sheep.
Droust didn’t know if that lethal side of the Blue Lady’s nature came from anger she felt at being marooned to a land unknown to her and abandoned at the bottom of the Sea of Fallen Stars, or if she had always been that vindictive. He suspected the latter.
She floated in the still blue sea and watched the dead men fall around her. One started to fall across her and she caught the body by one leg and threw the corpse away without a second thought.
The shambling monstrosities that lived in the brush darted out from their hiding places and took what the sharks didn’t catch. Carnivorous vines slid slowly across the sea floor, but they still managed to reach their prey. Everything that lived within the underwater forest lived to eat other things. Droust often wondered if the forest had been like that before it had been pushed through whatever gate had brought the land to the Inner Sea.
“What do you want, manling?” The Blue Lady spoke without turning around to acknowledge him.
“I have bad news, lady.”
She turned to face him then, and Droust though his heart would burst with dread. “What?”
“The monk escaped with the journal.”
“Escaped Kouldar?”
“Him. And the Nine Golden Swords.” Droust spread his hands. “Lady, if there was any way I could have known-”
“Silence!”
Droust closed his mouth and sat waiting. He had failed her all these years, and now his inability to capture the journal possibly endangered her. He didn’t regret the last, but he feared her wrath. The Blue Lady was not one to live with failures or disappointments.
“There is nothing in that journal that can hurt us.” She locked eyes with Droust.
“The location of where Grayling went down will be in that book. Farsiak would have taken note of that. And there will be mention of you.”
“True, but you fools had no idea of who I was or what I desired.” The Blue Lady tapped her chin in thought as she watched the stricken ship’s debris fall into the canyon in front of her. “For all they knew, I was Umberlee herself risen from the depths to assert my ferocity for some inevitable transgression. Have you ever seen this book, manling?”
Droust thought but it was so hard to get to those memories so many years removed. “I don’t think so, lady.”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t.” The Blue Lady crooked her finger. “Approach me.”
On shaking legs and feeling very fearful, Droust got to his feet and went forward. He hoped he didn’t throw up or foul himself as he had in the past. She always punished him for those instances. When she shoved a hand toward his face, he flinched.
“Stand still.”
This time Droust did as she bade, but it was a near thing because he didn’t know if his heart or his knees would give out first. Then her hand, like a thing of ice, closed over his face. He closed his eyes, and screamed silently in pain as it felt as though she reached into his brain.
Images flipped through his mind. Then he saw Farsiak, very quick memories of the man on deck and down in the galley. The multitude of remembrances stopped when Droust saw the man sitting in the sterncastle wor
king on a journal.
“Is this the book, manling?”
“Lady, I don’t know.” Droust’s voice was an almost unrecognizable croak and a rasping pain through his throat. “This is a book I saw Farsiak with.”
The pain inside Droust’s head increased and he felt certain his skull would explode at any moment from the pressure of the Blue Lady’s grip. He prayed for unconsciousness or death. Either was preferable to his current agony.
“The book still exists.” Enthusiasm echoed in the Blue Lady’s declaration. “I can feel it. But there is something more. Something that connects you to it.”
“I don’t know what that would be, lady.”
“Did you ever touch it?”
“No. I swear to you.”
The Blue Lady was silent for a time and Droust could feel her raking talons through his thoughts. “You’re telling the truth, manling. I would know if you were lying.”
Droust doubted he had the strength to lie.
“But there is something of you within that book.”
Droust gasped as he tried to collect his thoughts and answer her unasked question. Anything to make the savage pain desist. “Perhaps it is only the fact that Farsiak mentioned my name in the book. That can sometimes tie a person to another thing.” Names had always held power.
Finally, the Blue Lady withdrew her hand and most of the pain ended.
Reeling on his feet, Droust slumped bonelessly to the ground.
The Blue Lady grinned. “There is more than just your name within that book, manling. There is yet another trap I can set. One that won’t be so easily escaped as Kouldar’s.”
Droust doubted that the wizard’s defenses and guardians had been easy to escape. Shang-Li the monk had to either be very good or very lucky. Droust didn’t know which to wish for.
The sea continued to rain the dead, some of them in pieces that fell close to the scribe.