Before the sun had completely emerged from beneath the horizon and begun its ascent into the sky, Ilyatha briefly joined Maq on the upper aft deck. Though the light was still dim, he wore his hood pulled far forward, to shield his face. Away from Attat's palace and the massive minotaurs, the shadowperson seemed larger. He was several inches taller than Maquesta, and the cloak billowed about him in the breeze, making him seem wraithlike. And for the first time since making his acquaintance, Maq saw his lips move and audible words came out.
"I must remain below during daylight hours, but if you need me, just think my name. I will know immediately, and I will help as I am able." His voice was mellow and sonorous, pleasing to Maquesta's ears.
Maq smiled her thanks, comforted by his offer. Before she could speak to him further, he was gone.
Depending on the weather, Maq expected to approach the Outer Reach early the following day. She scanned the skies. A pearl-gray sea gull circled far above her head, following the Perechon out of the harbor.
After an uneventful day and an awkward dinner hour during which strange faces and grim memories squelched the usual camaraderie, Maquesta retired to her cabin. Fully clothed, she lay down on her bunk and immediately slipped into a deep sleep. However, the Perechon's intensified motion, combined with pounding on her cabin door, awakened her during the night.
"Maquesta! You'd better get up!" Fritzen bellowed. "Koraf wants you on deck!" Even before she was fully awake, Maq realized by the way the Perechon pitched and rolled that a storm had hit. Rain pelted her portholes and the wind keened like something alive. Glancing out a porthole, Maq saw it was still dark. They couldn't have reached the edge of the Maelstrom yet. She rubbed her eyes and gathered her wits for an instant before going to answer the door, annoyed at Fritzen's insistent summons. What was wrong with him, anyway? He and Koraf could handle the ship in a storm.
"Coming, Fritzen, com-" A high-pitched screaming and cackling cut through the shrieking of the wind. Alarmed, Maq yanked open her cabin door. She joined Fritzen on the main deck in time to see a macabre scene illuminated by a flash of lightening. The eerie light revealed a red mist seeping up over the deck on all sides. The red cloud carried with it the almost unbearable sound of screeching and wailing. As Maq watched, the mist covered the deck and began swirling up the masts. When it reached her feet, a clammy chill crept up her spine.
Then, before her eyes, the mist took on solid form-dozens of solid forms-small red figures with horns, clawed hands, long, sharp tails, and tiny, pointed teeth. "Blood Sea imps," Maq murmured, despairing. When the imps attacked, their aim was to disable a ship and murder the crew, dragging the bodies to the depths. She had heard the tales-but they didn't come from survivors. She hadn't ever heard of anyone surviving an encounter with the malicious little things.
The creatures raced about frantically and began pulling at the rigging. One floated up the mainmast and began clawing at the furled sail, rending it with his sharp nails. Two had climbed to the top of the mizzenmast and were jerking it back and forth in an effort to snap off the tip. Above the unnatural storm, the timber groaned in protest. A clatter of pots and pans sounded from the galley, where the imps must have been pulling down Lendle's hanging contraption.
Maquesta yelled in rage and darted back to her cabin to retrieve her sword. She heard the yells of her crew and the chattering of the imps behind her. Then she heard Koraf ordering the men to concentrate on one group of imps at a time. "Protect the sails first!" he hollered. As Maq raced from her cabin, short sword drawn, she saw that the men were complying with Koraf's command.
She watched in horror as Fritzen thrust a dagger in his teeth and started up the mizzenmast. Three imps grabbed hold of his legs and tugged him free, dragging him across the polished wood on his stomach. As she dashed toward them, the trio glared at her and attempted to carry him over the side of the deck. They nearly succeeded, as his legs were dangling over the side, but with a menacing growl, the half-ogre grabbed the railing and kicked out, sending one of the imps flying into the mist. He pulled himself forward until he was completely on the ship again, then he jumped to his feet and faced the remaining two. He balled his fist and brought it down hard on one of them. Maquesta saw the little creature's head cave in, but it just as quickly reformed to its original shape. Then she spotted its companion backing away from Fritzen and heading toward Vartan, an evil gleam its little eyes.
Individually, none of the imps could pose a serious threat to anyone. But in mass, like the wave of red that flowed outward from the galley, they presented a considerable challenge. Maq's legs pumped to carry her to the half-ogre's side. Coming at them were more than a dozen of the evil creatures-armed with butcher knives, iron pots, skewers, and all manner of other things Lendle used in his kitchen. Vaulting into a triple somersault, Fritzen scattered half of them easily. He swore loudly, however, as his blows and kicks passed through them without doing any damage. Maquesta was suddenly swarmed by the remainder, and she swung her sword in a wide arc. The blade passed through the torsos of the chattering creatures, but did not even serve to slow them down. Realizing she could do nothing to hurt them, but they could most certainly hurt her, Maq sheathed her short sword, crouched, then jumped straight up, grasping one of the sail's lines. Hand over hand, she hauled herself higher, and from her vantage point, she was greeted by the shocking scene below.
Members of the crew rushed on deck after being wakened by the storm and the noise. Their efforts to fend off the imps' assaults were likewise meeting with no success. Five of the creatures set upon Hvel and succeeded in dragging him to the armory hold and locking him inside. Another group tugged Vartan over to the wheel, where they tied him to it with excess line.
"The only way to attack a Blood Sea imp is with magic!" Maq shouted to Fritzen as he futilely continued his attempts to drive off the imps. "So the stories say!"
Casting about for a course of action, Maq thought of Ilyatha's offer. She concentrated, and a few moments later the shadowperson appeared on deck. Maquesta started to climb down, but he shook his head at her. "Stay where you are." His words sounded inside her head as he took in the scene. "I fear I can do nothing to get rid of these scourges. Among my people I am a warrior." Here Ilyatha held up the staff that ended in a sharp hook, a weapon he seemed never without. "Not a counselor. What charms I know have to do with healing, nothing else. And I ›see no other ships about, though I will try telepathically calling for aid."
A paralyzing panic began taking hold of Maq. A small group of imps was now attempting to pound holes in the longboat. Fritzen ran at them, waving his arms and shouting, all to no effect. Near the bow Maq spotted Koraf. With a belaying pin in one hand and a sword in the other, he was swinging savagely at a pair of imps that were trying to break off the bowsprit. Two more imps crept up on Maq, climbing the line she was holding on to, and each attached itself to one of her legs. Their shrieks and cackles in such proximity made it difficult for her to concentrate. She began dragging herself higher on the line as they nibbled at her calves.