Mirya turned her face away and refused to reply. The pirate snorted. “As you wish, then, but soon enough you’ll wish you had a friend or two here.” He and his companion dragged her out of the cabin and down the passageway to a ladder leading up to the deck. A third man brought Selsha, who sobbed in fear but managed to stay on her feet and keep up with Mirya despite her terror.
Bright lanterns illuminated the ship’s decks. It was dark outside, but Mirya caught a glimpse of a starry sky outside the warm, yellow halo of light cocooning the pirate ship. The air was cool and damp, with a strange, sickly sweet odor like rotting flowers hanging thickly in the air. The jagged silhouettes of treetops moved softly against the background of stars overhead. There’s no land nearby Hulburg with trees such as that, she thought. They must have passed down the River Lis to some port on the Sea of Fallen Stars, but where? Turmish or Akanul, perhaps? Chessenta? Or even farther?
The pirates hustled her across a wooden wharf to an iron-barred gate at the foot of a stone tower and then swept her inside before she could make out anything more of their surroundings. They descended through wide, low hallways made of a series of intersecting vaults. Each barrel vault was divided from the main passage by a row of iron bars and could evidently serve as storage space or a prison cell as the pirates needed. Most of the vaults were full of supplies and cargo, the same sort of clutter of barrels and crates that filled the Erstenwold storehouses back in Hulburg. Others held richer loot-clay amphoras of olive oil and wine, fine carpets, large bolts of good cloth, arms and armor. Clearly the stone keep, wherever it was, held the plunder of dozens of prizes taken by the Black Moon pirates.
They came to a large hall, where several corridors like the one they’d been following met. The pirates marched Mirya and Selsha toward the passage immediately to their left, barred by another gate of iron bars, and started to unlock the door.
Behind her, Selsha screamed in pure terror. “Mama!”
Mirya’s heart leaped in her chest. She wrenched herself around in pure, automatic reaction to her daughter’s fright, expecting that the man dragging her along had done something terrible. But the corsair gripping Selsha looked just as startled as Mirya felt. He fumbled to secure the flailing girl, swearing to himself, while the pirates beside Mirya quickly stepped in to grab her again.
“Monsters! Monsters!” Selsha shrieked.
Mirya looked past her daughter and saw them. Two creatures had just emerged from one of the intersecting corridors in the hall. The first was a fat, little spiderlike creature about the size of a human child or a largish dog. Its head rode atop a long, eellike neck, and two dark eyes glittered in the lanternlight. A short cape was clasped around its neck, and strange greenish white runes and whorls were marked on its dark, stiff-haired limbs. It glared at Selsha and hissed in annoyance. Behind the small spider-monster stood a hulking, bipedal thing that looked like some bizarre cross between a powerful ape and a gigantic beetle. Its massive forelimbs ended in mighty claws, and large, insectile eyes stared blankly ahead. It carried a large coffer marked in the same whorls and runes that decorated the smaller creature.
“Silence that noisy thing!” the small spider-monster said in a chittering voice.
Selsha screamed all over again as she realized that the little monster was talking about her, but then the pirate holding her managed to clap one of his hands over her mouth. “The girl just took a fright,” he said to the spider-monster. “It’s our business, not yours.”
“Bah! You should cut the speech out of it if it carries on like that-or eat it. It’s better to eat the noisy ones first.” The spidermonster spun around and scrambled deftly up the torso of the bigger monster, perching on its broad shoulder. Then the big monster shambled off, carrying both its smaller master and the heavy chest with no apparent difficulty.
Selsha still screamed into her captor’s hand and struggled. Mirya tried to get closer to her. “Selsha! Selsha, my darling! They’re gone. You must be quiet, please! The monsters are gone now!”
“You heard your mum,” the pirate holding Selsha said. “There’s no need for all this, girl.”
Selsha looked up to Mirya, her dark eyes wide with fright. Then she stopped fighting against her captor’s grip and gave in with a weak nod. The pirate carefully released his hand, and Selsha took a gulp of air. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “They frightened me!”
“They frightened me too,” Mirya said. She thought of the spider-monster and its ugly threat and shuddered. “But you mustn’t scream like that again if you can help it at all.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good girl,” Mirya breathed. She looked at the two pirates holding her arms. “What kind of place is this?”
“Ah, so now she’s not too good to speak to us!” the pirate steering her along laughed. “You’re in the Keep of the Black Moon, love. Don’t worry; you’ll soon grow used to the sight of neogi and their big pets!”
Neogi? Mirya wondered. The spiderlike creature, she supposed. But she had no more chance to ask about it. The pirates took Mirya and Selsha down the new passage for a long distance and then came to a vacant cell. This one was fitted with bedding of old straw and dirty blankets. They took the keys to the door down from a hook nearby and opened up the cell. Mirya decided to try one more time before their captors left them.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“You mean you don’t know?” The man laughed harshly. “Above the sea, behind the moon, beneath the sun, and among the stars, that’s where you are! You’re on an island in the Sea of Night, and here you’ll stay until the High Captain says otherwise.”
“Above the sea-?” Mirya asked. But the pirate wasn’t listening to her any longer. He shoved her into the cell so forcefully she stumbled to her hands and knees. The other pirate flung Selsha into the cell after her. Then they pulled the heavy door of iron bars closed and left the two Erstenwolds alone in the shadows of their cell.
NINETEEN
10 Marpenoth, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
They lost sight of Kraken Queen an hour after moonrise, when not even the keen-eyed Hamil could make out the tiny, dark hull any longer. Geran stared up into the starry night for a long time after that, hoping against hope for some glimpse of Kamoth’s flagship, but finally he had to admit that the pirates had escaped him. Tales of flying ships, stories of brave seafarers who dared to sail the starry waters of the Sea of Night above the skies-Geran had heard such things all his life, but he’d always dismissed them as fanciful nonsense. He’d seen the battle spells of mighty wizards, the eldritch glades of elven Myth Drannor, the strange wonders of soaring earthmotes and magical changelands that dotted the world in places where the Spellplague had touched it so long ago, but he’d never imagined that a bloodthirsty band of marauders such as the Black Moon corsairs might command the arcane learning to sail the skies. Red Wizards he might have thought capable of such a thing, or perhaps the legendary High Mages of distant Evermeet. But simple pirates?
He sighed and returned his attention to the moonlit quarterdeck. “Andurth, you’ve got the ship,” he said. “I’m going below.”
“What course?” the sailing master asked.
“Keep on this way until you hit the coast. After that … east toward Mulmaster, I guess. Maybe that’s where Kamoth’s headed.” Geran didn’t really believe so, but it was the only thing he could think of. He looked over to Hamil and Sarth. “Would you join me in my cabin? We’re in need of a new plan, and I’m in need of some drink.”
He led the way down to Seadrake’s master cabin, a comfortable room beneath the quarterdeck. Unlike Narsk’s quarters on Moonshark, Geran’s cabin was neat and uncluttered. He hadn’t been aboard long enough to make a mess of it, and Kara hadn’t really settled in during the time she’d used it. Geran asked the steward to fetch a flagon of wine and several cups then took a seat at one end of the cabin’s table. The steward returned with their wine, and Geran poured himself some and took a deep swallow. Hami
l and Sarth followed his example.
“So what do we do now?” Hamil asked. “We can’t follow Kraken Queen into the sky!”
“No, we can’t, but I refuse to abandon Mirya to Kamoth and Sergen,” Geran replied. “Sooner or later, Kamoth’s got to bring his ship to port. Wherever that is, we’ll find him again.” If nothing else, he might be able to find an archmage to teleport him there. Perhaps Hamil was right, and she was relatively safe so long as she had value as a hostage. But if Kamoth and Sergen decided they no longer feared pursuit, they might not see any reason to continue to spare Mirya and her daughter.
He stared into his cup, absently rolling the dry red wine across his tongue as he considered the puzzle before them. There had to be a way to follow her! “Sarth, what do you know about flying ships?” he finally asked.
“Little, I fear,” Sarth said. “I have heard it said that great ports such as Waterdeep or Westgate sometimes see ships that call from far places indeed-cities in different planes or lands beyond the Sea of Night. And I have read accounts of some such visits in old tomes. For instance, there was a wizard named Gamelon Idogyr who visited Waterdeep a few times in the years before the Spellplague. He called on the Blackstaff on occasion, and one of the Blackstaff’s apprentices recorded Gamelon’s accounts of his voyages in the Sea of Night. Gamelon was said to arrive and depart aboard a mysterious ship of strange design that no seafarer had ever encountered elsewhere.”
“A flying ship?” Hamil asked. Sarth nodded in reply, and Hamil continued. “Then all we have to do is find one of those mysterious ships, so that we can follow Sergen and Kamoth to their lair. How hard can it be?”
“Most such vessels hide their origin. They shift planes or take to the skies a few miles away from their destination and simply sail into harbor like any seagoing ship would.” Sarth smiled bitterly. “And I’ve heard nothing of any visits in a very long time. I suspect that the masters of sky-sailing ships-if any still visit Faerun-keep their secrets to themselves in these darker and more dangerous times.”
“Well, we know of at least one that is still around,” Hamil observed. “How did a pirate like Kamoth come by a ship like that? Is he a wizard of some kind?”
“Kamoth is no wizard,” Geran answered. “And I can’t believe that he has any powerful mages at his command, or we would have seen their magic at work in Hulburg.”
“In that case, how does one make a ship fly? Or shift planes? Or otherwise behave in a manner that ships shouldn’t?”
“According to the account of Gamelon, skyfaring or plane-sailing vessels are powered by some sort of magical device, such as a helm or a keel carved with potent runes,” the sorcerer answered Hamil. “Creating such a device requires a powerful and knowledgeable wizard, but controlling one that has already been installed on a ship is much easier. Kamoth might not need a mighty wizard. He would only need a little training in the arcane arts and the knowledge of how to steer.”
“In which case, why did he wait so long before taking to the air?” Geran mused. “Was he simply toying with us? Did he hope to avoid us without giving away his secret? Or was there some other reason?”
“Could it be something about the Talons?” Sarth asked. “Or sunset? Perhaps to sail the Sea of Night he must wait until the skies grow dark?”
They fell silent, nursing their goblets of wine. The ship rode lightly over the swells, stretching out her legs with a full spread of sail and a following sea. Geran finished his cup and began to pour himself another. He realized that he was exhausted. Between the last desperate days on Moonshark and the hurried pursuit of the fleeing pirates, he’d hardly slept in three or four days.
Hamil cleared his throat. “You mentioned a magical device, Sarth,” he said. “For example, a compass?”
Geran and Sarth stared at the halfling. “The starry compass,” Geran breathed. “That’s why Kamoth sent Narsk to Mulmaster. He wanted Moonshark fitted with one too. And we left it on Moonshark’s quarterdeck!”
“We had more pressing matters to deal with at the time,” Hamil reminded him. “However, if it’s something that you have to know how to use, I don’t think we need to worry about Murkelmor or anyone else left on Moonshark taking to the skies. Whatever the Red Wizards taught Narsk about using the device died with him.”
Geran stood and paced toward the stern end of the cabin. A wide row of windows provided a fine view of the darkened Moonsea and the stars low in the sky. Kraken Queen sailed somewhere in that sky, even as he stood gazing out at the night. Wherever she was going now, Seadrake could not follow without a starry compass of her own. It was possible they could obtain one from the Red Wizards in Mulmaster … if the arcane merchants had another one they would be willing to part with, and if their price was something he’d be able to meet. On the other hand, he knew there was a starry compass aboard Moonshark. The pirate galley was damaged and shorthanded; she’d be easy prey for Seadrake.
“We need Moonshark’s compass,” he said over his shoulder. Maybe he could persuade Murkelmor to part with it peacefully and leave the Moonsea; he didn’t relish the thought of crossing blades with his former shipmates. “Sarth, can you divine her location?”
“I will attempt it immediately,” Sarth answered. He stood up and left the cabin.
“The last I saw, Moonshark was headed southeast past Hulburg’s Arches,” Hamil said. “Where do you think Murkelmor would have taken her?”
Geran thought about it. The gale blowing from west-northwest would have made it nearly impossible to make any progress toward the west, so Moonshark would have stood south-straight out to sea and ultimately to Mulmaster on the opposite coast-or turned east to hug the shore and flee into the uninhabited coastlands of the Galennar. Mulmaster probably offered the best haven available in the eastern half of the Moonsea for a pirate ship on the run, but he doubted that Murkelmor would have wanted to chance stormy, open water with a damaged bow. No, it was more likely that the dwarfhad steered eastward, searching for some deserted cove or sheltered bay in the desolate Galennar where he could make repairs and reorganize the ship’s crew.
“My coin’s on the Galennar,” he told Hamil. “It’s a hard and dangerous coast, but there are places where a ship can lie hidden. And it’s uninhabited, so Murkelmor won’t have to worry about the rest of the crew deserting the ship-or some local lord seizing it.” Of course, they’d been much closer to the Galennar two days ago when they had sailed from Hulburg. “On the other hand, I’ve already guessed wrong in chasing Kraken Queen. If Sarth’s divinations can tell me something about which way to set my course, I’d feel much better about sailing to the far end of the Moonsea.”
Sarth rapped on the door and then came in with a heavy leather satchel. “My cabin’s too small for this,” the sorcerer explained. Geran and Hamil retreated, giving him space to work. Sarth opened the satchel and took out a stub of charcoal, drawing a circle about ten feet across behind the table and marking it with runes. He arranged candles at several points around the circle, lighting them with a wave of his hand. Then he removed a plain iron nail from his satchel-a fitting from Moonshark, or so Geran guessed. The swordmage watched as Sarth repeated the ritual he’d performed in the conjury of his small tower, reading from an old tome and flinging pinches of mysterious powders into a small brazier he set up beside his reading stand. Sarth inhaled the fragrant smoke rising from the brazier and stared blankly into space.
Hamil glanced at Geran, but Geran motioned for him to wait. Thirty heartbeats passed, and then the sorcerer exhaled and shook his head. “Moonshark lies in that direction,” he said, pointing toward somewhere that would have been off the port bow had they all been standing on the quarterdeck. “She is perhaps two hundred miles distant, drawn up on the beach in a cove surrounded by steep bluffs. There are ruins above. I see a bonfire on the beach, and many of our former shipmates. They are all armed. They fear the night.”
“Does that seem familiar to you, Geran?” Hamil asked.
“Ruins …
it might be Sulasspryn, but they’d be fools to put in there. In any event, the direction and distance confirm my guess. They’re hiding out somewhere in the Galennar, all the way at the far end of the Moonsea.” Geran sighed. The winds favored them, but it would be a day and a half to cross the Moonsea again … assuming Moonshark stayed where it was and didn’t sail off somewhere new in the meantime. At least they’d have a good night’s sleep. “I’ll tell Andurth to change his course. I doubt that we can crowd on any more sail, but he might find a way.”
Sarth and Hamil returned to their own cabins. Geran went back on deck and told the sailing master to steer for the eastern end of the Moonsea at the best speed Seadrake could manage. Then he came back to his cabin and fell into his bunk. He lay awake for a time, desperately hoping that Hamil was right and that Mirya was unharmed. He couldn’t bear the thought of harm coming to her, not on his account. Yet that seemed to be exactly what had happened. Five months ago House Veruna’s sellswords had tried to deflect him from uncovering their crypt-breaking and their extortion of Hulburg’s folk by striking at Mirya. Now a new enemy had chosen the same course-likely at his treacherous cousin Sergen’s urging, he reminded himself. He didn’t think he loved Mirya, not in the way he once had; a foolish, wishful part of his heart still clung to the memory of Alliere and the leaves of Myth Drannor, and at other times his arms remembered the slender waist of Nimessa Sokol before him as they rode across the moonlit hills of the Highfells. But he would rather have stabbed himself with his own sword than see Mirya Erstenwold hurt on his account. After much tossing and turning, he finally fell into a discontented sleep.
The morning broke gray and dreary. Geran awoke to find that the wind remained cold and blustery, a restless autumn gale that veered wildly throughout the day but stayed more or less west and north despite its sudden changes. Whitecaps danced across the Moonsea, and Seadrake’s bow kicked hissing sheets of cold spray over the foredeck as she flew over the swells. Late in the afternoon they struck the Moonsea’s northern shore about twenty miles west of Hulburg, not far from the ruins of Seawave, and here Geran reluctantly decided to anchor for the night. The waters at the eastern end of the Moonsea were poorly charted, and more to the point, it would be all too easy to sail past Moonshark in the dark. He felt reasonably confident that Murkelmor wouldn’t have sought shelter so close to a city the Black Moon had just attacked, but he didn’t care to run too much farther to the east without carefully checking the bays and coves of the steep coast as they passed by. If Moonshark’s damage was severe enough, Murkelmor might not have had much of a choice about putting in to begin repairs.
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