Bruenor saw Catti-brie’s crestfallen look and realized how deeply she desired to join him on his quest. And he knew she was right in coming, for she had as much at stake in the chase across the southland as he. He thought for a moment, suddenly shifting to Catti-brie’s side in the debate. “The lady knows the way,” he said, indicating Alustriel.
Alustriel nodded. “I do,” she replied. “And I would gladly show the armies to the halls. But the chariot will carry only two riders.”
Bruenor’s sigh was as loud as Catti-brie’s. He shrugged helplessly at his daughter. “Better that ye stay,” he said softly. “I’ll bring ‘em back for ye.”
Catti-brie wouldn’t let it go so easily. “When the fighting starts,” she said, “and suren it will, would ye rather ye had Harkle and his spells beside ye, or me and me bow?”
Bruenor glanced casually at Harkle and immediately saw the young woman’s logic. The wizard stood at the reins of the chariot, trying to find some way to keep the visor of his helmet up on his brow. Finally Harkle gave up and just tilted his head back far enough so he could see under the visor.
“Here, ye dropped a piece of it,” Bruenor said to him. “That’s why it won’t stay up!”
Harkle turned and saw Bruenor pointing to the ground off the back of the chariot. He shuffled around beside Bruenor and bent over, trying to see what the dwarf was pointing at.
As Harkle bent to look, the weight of his silver helmet—which actually belonged to a cousin much large than he—toppled him over and left him sprawled face down on the lawn. In the same moment, Bruenor swept Catti-brie into the chariot beside him.
“Oh, drats!” Harkle whined. “I would have so loved to go!”
“The lady’ll make ye another one to fly,” Bruenor said to comfort him. Harkle looked to Alustriel.
“Tomorrow morning,” Alustriel agreed, quite amused by the whole scene. Then to Bruenor she asked, “Can you guide the chariot?”
“As well as he, by me guess!” the dwarf proclaimed, grabbing up the fiery reins. “Hold on, girl. We’ve half a world to cross!” He snapped the reins, and the chariot lifted into the morning sky, cutting a fiery streak across the blue-gray haze of dawn.
The wind rushed past them as they shot into the west, the chariot rocking wildly from side to side, up and down. Bruenor fought frantically to hold his course; Catti-brie fought frantically just to hold on. The sides wobbled, the back dipped and climbed, and once they even spun in a complete vertical circle, though it happened so fast—luckily—that neither of the riders had time to fall out!
A few minutes later, a single thundercloud loomed ahead of them. Bruenor saw it, and Catti-brie yelled a warning, but the dwarf hadn’t mastered the subtleties of driving the chariot well enough to do anything about their course. They blew through the darkness, leaving a hissing steam tail in their wake, and rocketed out above the cloud.
And then Bruenor, his face glistening with wetness, found the measure of the reins. He leveled off the chariot’s course and put the rising sun behind his right shoulder. Catti-brie, too, found her footing, though she still clung tightly to the chariot’s rail with one hand, and to the dwarf’s heavy cloak with the other.
* * *
The silver dragon rolled over onto its back lazily, riding the morning winds with its legs—all four—crossed over it and its sleepy eyes half closed. The good dragon loved its morning glide, leaving the bustle of the world far below and catching the sun’s untainted rays above the cloud level.
But the dragon’s marvelous orbs popped open wide when it saw the fiery streak rushing at it from the east. Thinking the flames to be the forerunning fires of an evil red dragon, the silver swooped around into a high cloud and poised to ambush the thing. But the fury left the dragon’s eyes when it recognized the strange craft, a fiery chariot, with just the helm of the driver, a one-horned contraption, sticking above the front of the carriage and a young human woman standing behind, her auburn locks flying back over her shoulders.
Its huge mouth agape, the silver dragon watched as the chariot sped past. Few things piqued the curiosity of this ancient creature, who had lived so very many years, but it seriously considered following this unlikely scene.
A cool breeze wafted in then and washed all other thoughts from the silver dragon’s mind. “Peoples,” it muttered, rolling again onto its back and shaking its head in disbelief.
* * *
Catti-brie and Bruenor never even saw the dragon. Their eyes were fixed squarely ahead, where the wide sea was already in sight on the western horizon, blanketed by a heavy morning mist. A half-hour later, they saw the high towers of Waterdeep to the north and moved out from the Sword Coast and over the water. Bruenor, getting a better feel of the reins, swung the chariot to the south and dropped it low.
Too low.
Diving into the gray shroud of mist, they heard the lapping of the waves below them and the hiss of steam as the spray hit their fiery craft.
“Bring her up!” Catti-brie yelled. “Ye’re too low!”
“Need to be low!” Bruenor gasped, fighting the reins. He tried to mask his incompetence, but he fully realized that they were indeed too close to the water. Struggling with all his might, he managed to bring the chariot up a few more feet and level it off. “There,” he boasted. “Got it straight, and got it low.”
He looked over his shoulder at Catti-brie. “Need to be low,” he said again into her doubting expression. “We have to see the durn ship to find it!”
Catti-brie only shook her head.
But then they did see a ship. Not the ship, but a ship nonetheless, looming up in the mist barely thirty yards ahead.
Catti-brie screamed—Bruenor did, too—and the dwarf fell back with the reins, forcing the chariot upward at as steep an angle as possible. The ship’s deck rolled out below them.
And the masts still towered above them!
If all the ghosts of every sailor who had ever died on the sea had risen from their watery graves and sought vengeance on this particular vessel, the lookout’s face would not have held a truer expression of terror. Possibly he leaped from his perch—more likely he toppled in fright—but either way, he missed the deck and dropped safely into the water at the very last second before the chariot streaked past his crow’s nest and nipped the top of the mainmast.
Catti-brie and Bruenor composed themselves and looked back to see the tip of the ship’s mast burning like a single candle in the gray mist.
“Ye’re too low,” Catti-brie reiterated.
11. Hot Winds
The Sea Sprite cruised easily under clear blue skies and the lazy warmth of the southern Realms. A strong trade wind kept its sails filled, and only six days after their departure from Baldur’s Gate, the western tip of the Tethyr Peninsula was already in sight—a journey that normally took more than a week.
But a wizard’s call traveled faster still.
Captain Deudermont took the Sea Sprite down the center of Asavir’s Channel, trying to keep a safe distance from the peninsula’s sheltered bays—bays that often held pirates poised for passing merchant vessels—and also cautious to keep a healthy gap of water between his ship and the islands on his west: the Nelanther, the infamous Pirate Isles. The captain felt safe enough in the crowded sea lane, with the banner of Calimport flying above his craft and the sails of several other merchant ships dotting the horizon every so often both in front of and behind the Sea Sprite.
Using a common merchant’s trick, Deudermont closed in on a vessel and shadowed its course, keeping the Sea Sprite in its wake. Less maneuverable and slower than the Sea Sprite and flying the flag of Murann, a lesser city on the Sword Coast, this second ship would provide a much easier target to any pirates in the area.
Eighty feet above the water, taking a turn in the crow’s nest, Wulfgar had the clearest view of the deck of the ship ahead. With his strength and agility, the barbarian was fast becoming quite a sailor, eagerly taking his turn at every job alongside the rest of
the crew. His favorite duty was the crow’s nest, though it was a tight fit for a man of his size. He was at peace in the warm breeze and solitude. He rested against the mast, using one hand to block out the daytime glare, and studied the crew’s activities on the ship ahead.
He heard the front ship’s lookout call something down, though he couldn’t make out the words, then saw the crew rushing about frantically, most heading for the prow to watch the horizon. Wulfgar jolted upright and leaned over the nest, straining his eyes to the south.
* * *
“How do they feel, having us in tow?” Drizzt, standing beside Deudermont on the bridge, asked the captain. While Wulfgar had been building a rapport working beside the crew, Drizzt had struck a solid friendship with the captain. And realizing the value of the elf’s opinions, Deudermont gladly shared his knowledge of his station, and of the sea, with Drizzt. “Do they understand their role as fodder?”
“They know our purpose in shadowing them, and their captain—if he is an experienced sailor—would do the same if our positions were reversed,” Deudermont replied. “Yet we bring them an extra measure of safety as well. Just having a ship from Calimport in sight will deter many of the pirates.”
“And perhaps they feel that we would come to their aid in the face of such an attack?” Drizzt was quick to ask.
Deudermont knew that Drizzt was interested in discovering if the Sea Sprite would indeed go to the other ship’s aid. Drizzt had a strong streak of honor in him, Deudermont understood, and the captain, of similar morals, admired him for it. But Deudermont’s responsibilities as the captain of a vessel were too involved for such a hypothetical situation. “Perhaps,” he replied.
Drizzt let the line of questioning end, satisfied that Deudermont kept the scales of duty and morality in proper balance.
“Sails to the south!” came Wulfgar’s call from above, bringing many of the Sea Sprite’s crew to the forward rail.
Deudermont’s eyes went to the horizon, then to Wulfgar. “How many?”
“Two ships!” Wulfgar called back. “Running north and even, and wide apart!”
“Port and starboard?” Deudermont asked.
Wulfgar took a close measure of the intercepting course then affirmed the captain’s suspicions. “We will pass between them!”
“Pirates?” Drizzt asked, knowing the answer.
“So it would seem,” the captain replied. The distant sails came into view to the men on the deck.
“I see no flag,” one of the sailors near the bridge called to the captain.
Drizzt pointed to the merchant ship ahead. “Are they the target?”
Deudermont nodded grimly. “So it would seem,” he said again.
“Then let us close up with them,” the drow said. “Two against two seems a fairer fight.”
Deudermont stared into Drizzt’s lavender eyes and was almost stunned by their sudden gleam. How could the captain hope to make this honorable warrior understand their place in the scenario? The Sea Sprite flew Calimport’s flag, the other ship, Murann’s. The two were hardly allies.
“The encounter may not come to blows,” he told Drizzt. “The Murann vessel would be wise to surrender peacefully.”
Drizzt began to see the reasoning. “So flying Calimport’s flag holds responsibilities as well as benefits?”
Deudermont shrugged helplessly. “Think of the thieves’ guilds in the cities you have known,” he explained. “Pirates are much the same an unavoidable nuisance. If we sail in to fight, we would dispel any self-restraint the pirates hold upon themselves, most probably bringing more trouble than need be.”
“And we would mark every ship under Calimport’s flag sailing the Channel,” Drizzt added, no longer looking at the captain, but watching the spectacle unfold before him. The light dropped from his eyes.
Deudermont, inspired by Drizzt’s grasp of principles—a grip that would not allow such acceptance of rogues—put a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “If the encounter comes to blows,” the captain said, drawing Drizzt’s gaze back to his own, “the Sea Sprite will join the battle.”
Drizzt turned back to the horizon and clapped Deudermont’s hand with his own. The eager fire returned to his eyes as Deudermont ordered the crew to stand ready.
The captain really didn’t expect a fight. He had seen dozens of engagements such as this, and normally when the pirates outnumbered their intended victim, the looting was accomplished without bloodshed. But Deudermont, with so many years of experience on the sea, soon realized that something was strange this time. The pirate ships kept their course wide, passing too far abreast of the Murann ship to board it. At first, Deudermont thought the pirates meant to launch a distance strike—one of the pirate vessels had a catapult mounted to its afterdeck—to cripple their victim, though the act seemed unnecessary.
Then the captain understood the truth. The pirates had no interest in the Murann ship. The Sea Sprite was their target.
From his high perch, Wulfgar, too, realized that the pirates were sailing right by the lead ship. “Take up arms!” he cried to the crew. “They aim for us!”
“You may indeed get your fight,” Deudermont said to Drizzt. “It seems that Calimport’s flag will not protect us this time.”
To Drizzt’s night-attuned eyes, the distant ships appeared as no more than tiny black dots in the glare of the shining water, but the drow could make out what was happening well enough. He couldn’t understand the logic of the pirates’ choice, though, and he had a strange feeling that he and Wulfgar might be somehow connected to the unfolding events. “Why us?” he asked Deudermont.
The captain shrugged. “Perhaps they have heard a rumor that one of Calimport’s ships will be laden with a valuable cargo.”
The image of the fireballs exploding in the night sky over Baldur’s Gate flashed in Drizzt’s mind. A signal? he wondered again. He couldn’t yet put all of the pieces together, but his suspicions led him invariably to the theory that he and Wulfgar were somehow involved in the pirates’ choice of ships.
“Do we fight?” he started to ask Deudermont, but he saw that the captain was already laying the plans.
“Starboard!” Deudermont told the helmsman. “Put us west to the Pirate Isles. Let us see if these dogs have a belly for the reefs!” He motioned another man to the crow’s nest, wanting Wulfgar’s strength for the more important duties on the deck.
The Sea Sprite bit into the waves and bowed low in a sharp right turn. The pirate vessel on the east, now the farthest away, cut its angle to pursue directly while the other, the bulkier of the two, kept its course straight, each second bringing the Sea Sprite closer for a shot of its catapult.
Deudermont pointed to the largest of the few islands visible in the west. “Skim her close,” he told the helmsman, “but ware the single reef. Tide’s low, and she should be visible.”
Wulfgar dropped to the deck beside the captain.
“On that line,” Deudermont ordered him. “You’ve the mainmast. If I bid you to pull, then heave for all your strength! We shan’t get a second chance.”
Wulfgar took up the heavy rope with a grunt of determination, wrapping it tightly around his wrists and hands.
“Fire in the sky!” one of the crewmen yelled, pointing back to the south, toward the bulky pirate ship. A ball of flaming pitch soared through the air, splashing harmlessly into the ocean with a hiss of protest, many yards short of the Sea Sprite.
“A tracing shot,” Deudermont explained, “to give them our range.”
Deudermont estimated the distance and figured how much closer the pirates would get before the Sea Sprite put the island between them.
“We’ll slip them if we make the channel between the reef and the island,” he told Drizzt, nodding to indicate that he thought the prospects promising.
But even as the drow and the captain began to comfort themselves with thoughts of escape, the masts of a third vessel loomed before them in the west, slipping out of the very channel that D
eudermont had hoped to enter. This ship had its sails furled and was prepared for boarding.
Deudermont’s jaw dropped open. “They were lying for us,” he said to Drizzt. He turned to the elf helplessly. “They were lying for us.
“But we’ve no cargo of particular value,” the captain continued, trying to reason through the unusual turn of events. “Why would pirates run three vessels in a strike against a single ship?”
Drizzt knew the answer.
* * *
The ride was easier for Bruenor and Catti-brie now. The dwarf had settled comfortably at the reins of the fiery chariot, and the morning haze had burned away. They cruised down the Sword Coast, amused by the ships they passed over and the astonished expressions of every sailor who turned his eyes heavenward.
Soon after, they crossed the entrance to the River Chionthar, the gateway to Baldur’s Gate. Bruenor paused a moment to consider a sudden impulse, then veered the chariot away from the coast.
“The lady bid us to stay to the coast,” said Catti-brie as soon as she realized the shift in course.
Bruenor grabbed Alustriel’s magical locket, which he had strung around his neck, and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s tellin’ me different,” he replied.
* * *
A second load of burning pitch hit the water, this time dangerously close to the Sea Sprite.
“We can run by her,” Drizzt said to Deudermont, for the third ship still had not raised its sails.
The experienced captain recognized the flaw in the reasoning. The primary purpose of the ship coming out from the island was to block the channel’s entrance. The Sea Sprite could indeed sail past that ship, but Deudermont would have to take his ship outside the dangerous reef and back into open water. And by then, they would be well within the catapult’s range.
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