"Ready?" said Kitiara. She threw the bolt back, and they plunged out onto the storm-swept deck.
They were soaked with sea water before they took two steps. The heel of the ship with the waves was more notice able on deck. Mountains of green water rose and fell and the horizon swung from below eye level to nearly the masthead.
Holding hands, Sturm and Kitiara staggered to the main mast. The hatch cover was not just thrown open; gaping rents were torn in it. Sturm lost his footing twice as foaming sea swept over him. Finally, on their knees, they managed to get the hatch back over its coaming.
High above the rumble of the churning sea, a shrill cackle reached them. Sturm looked left and right for the source of the sound; Kitiara looked up and down. She spied the thing clinging to the rigging high over their heads.
— s' It was a horrid-looking thing, ghastly white and gaunt.
Except for its abnormal size, it might have been a man, starved and sallow. But this creature was seven feet tall. Its protruding eyes were like red burning coals, and its hands were clawed with silver nails two inches long. The head was round and hairless, the ears tall and pointed. The creature threw back its head and howled, showing long yellow fangs and a pointed black tongue.
"Suffering gods! What is it?"
"I don't know. Look out!" The creature sprang from the rigging to the stays hanging from the foremast. It swung under the spar and flipped over until its feet were on top of the yard. There it howled at them again.
They backed cautiously across the wet deck, ignoring the lashing rain and pounding sea. Once inside the cabin, they slammed the door and bolted it.
Kitiara turned. A strange white glow filled the rear of the cabin. They were no longer alone there, either.
Chappter 34
Pyrthis's Tale
The cold white light collected into a human form six feet tall. Kitiara pointed her sadly bent dagger at the appari tion, but Sturm pushed the weapon down.
"In the name of Paladine and all the Gods of Good, depart in peace, spirit," he said.
The cabin filled with a deep, long sigh. "Would that I could depart," said a low voice. "For I am tired beyond mea sure and desire rest."
"Who are you?" asked Kitiara.
"In life I was master of this vessel. My name is Pyrthis."
"He doesn't seem dangerous," Kitiara muttered to Sturm,
"but let's find a safer spot from that creature outside."
"The Gharm will not enter this cabin," the ghost said, "as long as I am here." Outside, the hellish thing shrieked, acknowledging the truth of the dead captain's words.
"What is the Gharm?" asked Sturm.
The indistinct figure drew closer and became more defined. Its legs did not move, and its arms stayed firmly by its sides. The ghost glided forward until Sturm and Kit could see deep, hollow eyes and a jaw that hung open, as slack as the face of a corpse. The voice issued from the mouth with out the lips moving at all.
"Once he was my friend, and then a curse laid us all low.
He became the Gharm, I, a walking spirit, and the crew of the Werival died in torment."
"Spirits walk for two reasons: to right an unavenged wrong, and to give warning to the living. Which is it, Cap tain? Why do you remain on this mortal plane?" asked
Sturm.
Another mournful sigh. "Know, my friends, that I bar gained with the forces of evil and lost." The ghost came clos er still, enough for Kitiara to see its dead white eyes and corpse pallor.
"I was a merchant captain, bold and enterprising, who never turned down a cargo for money. I plied the Sirrion Sea and traded north and east to the Blood Sea maelstrom. In my time, I carried all goods — from spices to slaves."
Sturm frowned. "You trafficked in misery," he said flatly.
"Aye, I did. Thank your gods that you still live and can make amends for any evil deeds you have committed! I am past saving now."
The poop deck overhead resounded with the tramp of feet. Kitiara listened nervously as the Gharm stamped on the boards. "What is that thing?" she demanded.
"Once my first mate and friend, Drott, who I trained in all the wily ways I knew. Our coffers grew fat and heavy with gold, and I grew satisfied, as men in their waning years are wont to do. But Drott was young and keen and always searching for the richest commission to be made. It was a fateful day when he fell in with the scaled warriors."
Sturm had a glimmer of recognition. "Do you mean dra conians'?" he asked.
"Aye, some have called them thus." Pyrthis's ghost loomed over Sturm. Though seemingly benign, its presence was oppressive, and Sturm began to sweat.
"The dragonmen had a rich proposition: that we carry a shipment of weapons and money for them from Nordmaar to Coastlund, there to rendezvous with other dragonmen arriving from the northern seas. Drott accepted their com mission and their money, thus damning us all." The ghost made a horrible rasping sound. "I am so weary…" The dead man's left arm came loose from his shoulder and fell silently to the floor. Kitiara flinched at the sight, more from surprise than disgust. She bent to pick up the gently glowing limb, but her hand passed right through it.
"We loaded sixty hundredweight of arms, and weighed anchor for Coastlund. We had a fair wind and made a swift passage. On the way, Drott schemed and plotted. He drew me into his plan, which was this: Since the dragonmen were barbarians and invaders, why should we not hold them up for as much gold as we could? They would pay doubly or triply for their swords, and we would have nothing to fear.
Who could they complain to? Their purpose was even more illicit than ours.
"I fell in with Drott's scheme. In truth, I despised the scaly killers and feared them greatly. To cheat them seemed both just and profitable."
The ghost paused and the silence grew long. Sturm finally said, "What happened when you reached Coastlund?"
Rasp. "A dragonship was there, waiting. The leader of the dragonmen came aboard to accept transfer of the weap ons. Drott laid out his demand for more money. The leader must have expected such a ploy, for he readily offered to pay half again the original price. Drott insisted on double the amount. The lizard resisted for a time, then conceded.
He departed for his ship and returned with a second chest of treasure. This time a human came with him, a dark cleric wearing a metal mask that mimicked a dragon's face. This one frightened me very much. He stood by, watching and saying nothing. Drott laughed and joked as the second box of money came on board. He was drunk with success, and when I ordered the crew to begin transferring the cargo to the dragonship, he drew me aside and whispered another wicked design in my ear. 'Shall we not keep some part of the cargo ourselves?' he said. 'Could we not wring a bit more sil ver from these flush pigeons?"'
"That was pretty stupid," Kitiara said, "with a boatload of draconians alongside."
"We did not fear their force, for our crew was numerous and skilled in the use of saber and pike. We did not sail the pirate-infested seas unprepared."
"But the dark cleric — that was someone you weren't able to counter," said Sturm.
"Indeed, mortal man." The ghost's right arm dropped off.
Part of the unreal flesh touched Sturm's booted foot. He withdrew it hastily and shivered. The ghost's touch was more frigid than the wind off the Ice Wall.
"We held back five hundredweight of arms. The dragon men's leader discovered the shortage and complained. Drott jeered at him from the rail, saying there was a tax on illegal weapons and the dragonfolk had yet to pay. The dragon man threatened to storm the Werival and slaughter us all.
The crew manned the rail with bare blades and taunted them to try. The dragonmen, less than a third our number, began to arm. I wanted to weigh anchor and be off, but