The crewmen behind him edged closer. Geran tried to keep them at sword point, hoping to keep the dead pirates from attacking. He was in no condition to fight, and he doubted very much whether he could outrun them. Besides, something did not make sense to him. Murkelmor and Skamang had known him as Aram, a rootless brigand. As far as Geran knew, there was no way either of them-or their undead corpses-should know his true identity. Perhaps the dead saw through such things more easily than the living, or perhaps there was more to this meeting in the shadows of Sulasspryn.
“How do you know my name?” he demanded.
The dwarf snarled in anger and gnashed his long, pointed teeth. For a moment he rocked back and forth, moaning, as if he did not want to answer. But then he let out a thick, bubbling breath from his ruined chest and said, “We’ve been given a message for you.”
“A message? What message? From whom?”
“King Aesperus sends his greetings, Geran Hulmaster,” Skamang said, speaking from behind him. “He bade us tell you that the fates of Hulburg and the family Hulmaster now hang upon your choice. Follow your intended course, and the harmach’s enemies will triumph over Hulburg. Return home, and you can prevent the harmach’s defeat for now-but Grigor will be the last of the Hulmasters to rule, and his enemies will lay the city in ruins before he dies.”
Geran shivered. He’d met Aesperus once, on the slopes of a barrow in the Highfells a few miles outside of Hulburg. The mighty lich-king was master of the undead in these lands, and he’d known Geran for a Hulmaster. He didn’t know why the King in Copper had decided to speak to him through the dead of Moonshark… and he didn’t like the message, either. “Which enemies?” he asked Skamang. “What danger in Hulburg can I avert?”
“An adversary you’ve forgotten threatens the harmach’s seat,” Murkelmor said. “But if you defend Hulburg, the Black Moon escapes. The two you seek’ll be lost t’ you forever, and in time the Black Moon’ll work your ruin. If you pursue the High Captain, you may save the two you seek, but Hulburg is doomed t’ fall under the power of your foe. Others dear t’you will suffer in their stead.”
Geran frowned, puzzling over the lich’s rede. How could defeating his enemies lead to Hulburg’s fall? And who was the forgotten enemy-the Vaasans who had aided the Blood Skulls in their war? Some other tribe of Thar? It would seem that defeating his enemies and protecting the city went hand in hand, yet Aesperus said otherwise. And even if Aesperus was being truthful, which choice was the lich trying to lure him into making? To give himself a moment to think, he looked at Murkelmor and asked, “Did Aesperus make you into what you are?”
“There be other powers beside King Aesperus in dead Sulasspryn,” the dwarf answered. “But none return from th’ grave within the bounds o’ his old kingdom without his knowledge.”
“Why does Aesperus want me to know this fate?”
Skamang laughed softly behind him, a horrible sound. “King Aesperus has no more words for you, Geran Hulmaster. And now that we’ve delivered his message, he no longer has any hold on us. We can do with you as we like.” He lurched forward, reaching out with his clawed hands.
“Reith arroch!” Geran shouted, summoning a sword spell. Instantly his elven blade flashed with a brilliant white light, throwing shadows back against the night. The ghouls that had been the crew of Moonshark shrank from the light, which seared their undead flesh. Geran took a half step toward Skamang and slashed the dead Northman across the face before he could recover. Skamang shrieked and collapsed to the ground, blinded by the searing light.
Geran swung wildly, keeping the dead crewmen at bay. Then he used his teleport spell, choosing a spot on the other side of a large building’s crumbling wall. He appeared in a tangle of underbrush, slipped, and then climbed to his feet. Sheathing his sword and cupping his light closely, he scrambled through the ruins at the best speed he could manage, hoping that he’d given himself the head start he needed to escape from the vengeful crew. He could hear them scrabbling over the rubble and moaning in frustration behind him.
Geran pressed on, ducking through ruined doorways and climbing over decaying walls until he could no longer hear Moonshark’s undead crew behind him. He slowed down, moving more cautiously, and found a street leading downhill-toward the harbor, he guessed. He made his way down through an area of dense overgrowth, fighting his way through thorny thickets, and then emerged on the shore. He couldn’t see if Seadrake was still out in the harbor, but Moonshark’s battered hulk creaked in the gusts somewhere not too far away.
“I hope Hamil and the rest are out there somewhere,” he muttered. He shrugged the satchel off his shoulder, took out the starry compass and tucked it inside his shirt, and put the small stone with its light spell in the satchel. Then he went down to the water’s edge and held the satchel open, facing out toward the harbor. The satchel shielded the stone’s bright glow from anyone in the ruins above and behind him, but allowed the bright blue-white illumination to show toward anyone out at sea.
They might have had to pull off, he told himself. He’d seen a number of gargoyles flying out to attack the ship while the landing party battled the monsters on the shore. For that matter, it was possible that Seadrake’s crew had met the same end as Moonshark’s, torn to pieces to a man. But then, faintly, he saw a yellow light far out on the water shining back at him. It gave two short blinks.
Geran lowered himself to the rocky beach and hunkered under his sodden cloak. He kept a wary eye on the dark bluffs behind him, half expecting the beat of gargoyle wings or a sudden rush from the shadows by his former shipmates. Half an hour later, he heard the muffled clinking of oarlocks and the soft splash of oars in the water.
Geran, is that you? Hamil asked silently.
“I’m here, Hamil!” Geran called. He pushed himself to his feet and limped out to meet Seadrake’s boat. Ten Shieldsworn pulled the oars; Hamil stood in the bow with an arrow on his bowstring, and Sarth scanned the skies nervously from the stern.
The halfling vaulted over the bow and splashed ashore. “Where have you been? What happened? Are you hurt?”
“The curse on these ruins interfered with my divinations,” Sarth added. “In truth, we feared you were dead.”
“Am I hurt? Yes, but nothing fatal. As for the rest, I’ll tell you the tale on the way back to the ship.” Geran could not suppress a shiver. “I found the rest of Moonshark’s crew. They’re all dead … but they don’t rest yet. The King in Copper’s got them.”
“Aesperus?” Hamil frowned and shook his head. “I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, not even Skamang. You’re lucky we didn’t leave you here with them; we intended to sail at first light.”
Geran glanced once more at the ruins of Sulasspryn and shuddered. “The sooner we’re away from this accursed spot, the better.” He and Hamil climbed into the longboat, and they shoved off the shore and rowed through the rain back out to the waiting ship.
TWENTY-THREE
16 Marpenoth, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
When they returned to Seadrake, Geran learned that they’d lost nine men from the landing party and two more aboard Seadrake-a heavy toll, but not as bad as he’d feared in the first chaotic moments of the gargoyle attack. Many more were injured to a greater or lesser extent, but Brother Larken, the young friar who sailed as the ship’s prelate, proved to be an able healer. After the first skirmish with the gargoyles, Larken saved the lives of several severely injured men and repaired injuries that might have crippled others. He looked after Geran as soon as Hamil and his rescue party brought the swordmage back on board, speaking healing prayers over the worst of his injuries. Geran met the morning stiff and sore, but his left wrist was knitting, and he was able to stand up straight on the quarterdeck with only a few aches and pains to remind him of his hours among the ruins.
Behind them, Sulasspryn receded into the morning mists. The rain had finally slowed in the hour before dawn, becoming a steady drizzle instead of a downpour. The first thing Gera
n did as they sailed away from the ruins was to summon Seadrake’s carpenter-one of the sons of old Master Therndon, Hulburg’s master shipwright-to the quarterdeck and start him working on a frame for the starry compass similar to the one that was on Moonshark.
Andurth Galehand watched the carpenter with a disapproving frown. Many dwarves didn’t think much of arcane magic, and seafarers were a superstitious lot in the best of circumstances. After a moment he shook his head and turned to speak to Geran. “We’re standing sou’west because that was the best course to take us away from Sulasspryn,” he said. “But I reckon we’re clear now. What course, m’lord?”
Geran glanced up at the sky. The overcast seemed like it would be with them for a while yet, and the gusty winds of the previous night had settled into another steady blow from the northwest. He didn’t think it would matter much where they were when they used the starry compass, but it couldn’t hurt to steer toward Umberlee’s Talons. That was where Kraken Queen had left the Moonsea, after all. On the other hand, if Aesperus had been speaking truthfully through Murkelmor and Skamang, then he ought to consider turning toward Hulburg instead. “Keep her on this heading for a while,” he finally told the sailing master. “I’m not sure where we’re bound, but we might as well work westward while I’m thinking about it. We might return to Hulburg before we do anything else.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Galehand answered. “Steady as she goes.”
Geran decided that it wouldn’t help the carpenter finish any faster if he stood and watched the fellow work, and went below to his cabin. He sent his steward to ask Hamil and Sarth to join him then sent the young fellow off to fetch a hearty breakfast from the galley. When his friends arrived, he motioned for them to join him at the table.
“I told you that I met Murkelmor and some of Moonshark’s crew during the night,” he began. “I didn’t want to say more around the crew or the armsmen, but here’s the rest of the tale: They carried a message from the King in Copper. Aesperus said that if I continued after Mirya, Hulburg would fall into the power of a forgotten enemy … whatever that means. But if I abandon Mirya to protect the harmach, both she and Selsha would be lost. The Black Moon would escape us, and a different disaster would befall Hulburg in years to come.”
“A grim prophecy,” Sarth observed. “Doom awaits on either hand.”
“So it would seem,” Geran said. He leaned back in his chair, gazing out the stern windows at the shore behind them, now a dim gray line along the horizon. He could see nothing more of Sulasspryn.
“Do you have any reason to believe that the King in Copper is telling the truth?” Hamil asked.
“I have no reason to think that he isn’t. I only met the King in Copper once, but I came away with the impression that he’s not the sort to waste words. In his eyes, the living aren’t worth lying to.”
Hamil nodded slowly. “I had a similar impression,” he admitted.
“Aesperus is certainly capable of lying,” Sarth said. “While I have not met him as you have, I studied him through historical accounts and his own correspondence for many months. He probably would not break his word once he gives it, but he has a way of honoring his bargains with unfortunate consequences.” The tiefling stood and paced, his slender tail swishing behind him. “The question that interests me is why Aesperus would choose to give you this warning. He would not do it for your benefit. He hopes to influence your decision to his own advantage.”
“Assume that Aesperus is right, then,” Hamil said. “Something bad will befall Hulburg if Geran keeps after the Black Moon now. But he also said that abandoning the effort to chase down the Black Moon would bring ruin too. Both options would seem to be disastrous. How is that supposed to influence Geran’s decision?”
“Aesperus wants me to seek some third option?” Geran mused aloud. “I suppose it’s possible to abandon both causes, although I hardly see how that could help.”
“Or perhaps he suggests that you should return to Hulburg, leaving Seadrake to pursue the Black Moon pirates,” said Sarth.
“Which might in fact bring down both dooms that Aesperus warned you against,” Hamil answered. “That might be the point of his warning, in fact-choose one or the other so you don’t stumble into both.”
“This is maddening,” Geran muttered. “It might be that his only purpose was to see if he could get me to second-guess everything I do and jump at my own shadow, in which case, he’s well on his way to succeeding. It would have been better if he hadn’t said anything at all.” He shook his head. “In every tale I’ve ever heard told about an omen, prophecy, or prediction, efforts to cheat fate invariably fail. Why try to avoid it?”
“You do not strike me as a fatalist,” Sarth said.
“I don’t intend to surrender meekly to whatever doom is approaching.” Geran sighed and looked away from the window. He couldn’t imagine why Aesperus had deigned to warn him about the dangers ahead. In truth, he wished the King in Copper had no idea who he was. But the lich had taken an interest in him, whatever the reasons, and somehow Geran doubted that Aesperus would bother with any petty falsehoods or misdirections. That meant he had to choose. On the one hand, his family and his home stood in jeopardy. On the other, a woman he cared for deeply, even loved, and her innocent daughter faced a terrible fate … and his traitorous cousin seemed all too likely to escape him again.
Hamil watched him struggle with his thoughts. “So what will you do, then?” he asked.
Geran weighed his words before he answered. “I’ll do my best to forget what Aesperus had to say, and carry on as I intended,” he finally said. “I don’t know what threatens Hulburg, but I certainly know the peril Mirya and Selsha are in. I simply can’t leave them to their fate. And if Hulburg is doomed no matter what I do, then I might as well see to it that Kamoth and Sergen aren’t the ones who bring it about. What happens after that, happens. I have to believe that even Aesperus can’t foresee every outcome.”
The steward returned with their breakfast then, and Geran was surprised to discover how famished he was. Of course, he’d been outdoors in cold, damp weather for most of the last day, and that always left him starving afterward. When they finished, the three comrades went back up on deck and found that young Therndon’s frame was ready for the starry compass. With care Geran, Sarth, and the carpenter installed the dark orb in its new place just ahead of the helm.
When they finished, Geran waited for the pinpricks of starlight he’d noticed the previous evening to appear, but nothing more happened. He looked to Sarth. “I think that’s exactly the way it was fixed to Moonshark. Have we missed something?”
Sarth shook his head. “No, I do not think so,” he said slowly. “The device is enchanted to carry the ship to the Sea of Night, but it’s the middle of the day now. I think we’ll need to wait for the sun to set.”
“Just as Kamoth did the other day with Kraken Queen,”Geran said. He looked up at the sky and frowned. That would explain why the corsair ship hadn’t fled into the skies at the first sight of the Hulburgan warship. “All right, we’ll try again at dusk.” He mastered his disappointment and went back down to his cabin to get a few hours’ rest. He’d been awake for the better part of three nights running, and the time he’d spent unconscious in the cellar in Sulasspryn hardly counted as sleep.
A little before sunset, he roused himself and went back up on deck. Gray ramparts of cloud scudded along the horizon to the north, and the wind was growing stronger again. Geran had Galehand order all hands on deck, since he didn’t know what would happen if the compass worked, and he waited for the last orange gleam of daylight to fade in the south. Then he turned to Sarth. “Let’s try it now,” he said.
“You should remember, this is not my field of expertise,” the sorcerer replied. Sarth murmured arcane words and laid his hand on the surface of the compass. The pinpricks of starlight embedded in the crystal orb began to glow brighter and swirl slowly under his touch. Geran held his breath, watching intensely. Nothing el
se happened. Sarth frowned and tried a different incantation. That failed as well. Then he attempted a third, with a similar lack of effect. “I am sorry,” Sarth said. “There must be a specific incantation to address the device.”
Geran turned away and slammed one fist against the ship’s rail. “Damnation!” he snarled. Now what were they supposed to do? He’d assumed that the operation of the starry compass would be no obstacle, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.
“Wait!” said Hamil. “I forgot that I had this. Try the incantation from Narsk’s letter!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “It’s a little sodden from that swim in the harbor the other night, but you can still make out the words.”
Sarth took the paper and looked at the words. “Very well,” he said. “Perhaps the Red Wizards who gave Narsk the compass gave him this incantation to awaken it.” He laid his hand atop the compass again and read aloud from the damp paper. “Jhel ssar khimungon, jhel nurkhme thuul yasst ne mnor!”
Around the circumference of the device, ghostly white runes became visible. A tiny dot of white light appeared near the top of the compass. Geran could sense the arcane power of the device at work. A faint silvery sheen appeared around Seadrake’s deck and masts, like moonlight caught in mist, and the ship leaped swiftly over the wavetops. “I think it’s working this time!” he called to Sarth.
“You have the helm, Geran,” Sarth answered. “The compass should be answering to you.”
Geran nodded. He wondered how he was supposed to steer up. After all, there was no set of sail or rudder he knew of that would carry a ship aloft. But he hadn’t seen any special gear on Kraken Queen in the brief time he’d been alongside the Black Moon flagship, so he didn’t think he needed any. The device was magical; perhaps it answered to the helmsman’s voice or will.
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