Cale looked the two sailors in the eyes and said, "That is all you are going to get. But now you know us as well as most. Well enough?"
Gorse cursed, but to his credit, also smiled.
"I'm just a fisherman's son out of Arabel," the mate said.
The captain, too, grinned through his beard.
"Talos take me, Erevis Cale, but if you can make this ship fly, I swear that you will always have a welcome berth on any vessel I command."
Cale wondered if the captain would feel the same after he learned what Cale intended. Cale would not make the ship fly. He would surround it in darkness and move it and the whole crew from where they were to the shadow of the cliffs of Traitor's Isle.
CHAPTER 9
"Get your men ready," Cale said to Evrel.
In no time, word went from the mate and captain to the crew. So, too, did the description of who and what Cale, Magadon, and Jak were, or once were. Few of the crew made eye contact after that. All muttered, but all obeyed the captain's orders. They seemed both fascinated and fearful.
Cale took a position in the bow, standing just over the leering wooden demon's face that decorated Demon Binder's prow. Jak and Magadon stood beside him. Behind them on the deck and above them in the rigging, the crew waited in pensive silence. The calm sea, as black as jet under the starlight, seemed also to be waiting.
Cale imagined in his mind's eye the towering cliffsides of Traitor's Isle, the long shadow cast over the water by its tower, even by starlight. He started to draw the night around him, around Magadon, around Jak. He spread it out to the rest of the ship like a dire fog. A rustle went through the crew but they held their ground.
Cale waited until pitch cloaked the entire vessel. He alone could see within the darkness. He reached out with his mind, found the correspondence between the darkness that shrouded him and the darkness near Traitor's Isle. He tried to take the entire ship in his mental grasp. It defied an easy grip. He struggled, sweating, praying, asking Mask for aid. Finally he mastered the darkness and took it.
Somewhere, he knew, Mask was pleased.
Cale felt the flutter in his gut that bespoke instantaneous transport. He let the darkness subside. It flowed off the ship's decks like mist to reveal. . water the color of pitch, a sky as dark as a demon's heart. A sourceless ochre light backlit clouds shaped like the faces of screaming men. Green lightning ripped the sky to pieces.
The Plane of Shadow.
"Trickster's toes," Jak muttered.
The crew echoed Jak's sentiment. A chorus of oaths ran from bow to stern, a fearful chorus.
"Erevis…." Magadon began.
The feat had left Cale drained, wrung out. His body felt worn; his breath came hard. He sagged, leaned on Magadon for support.
Magadon took his weight. The guide stared at him, studied him.
"You look different, Erevis," Magadon said. "The shadows around you.. they're darker."
Cale nodded. He had taxed himself, sunk deeper into the shadows, and even still he had not quite accomplished what he wished. He saw Mask's hand in it.
Evrel climbed the forecastle, eyes hard, brow furrowed. When he saw Cale, he stopped in his tracks.
"Talos, man! Your eyes."
Cale looked away. He knew his eyes glowed yellow on the Plane of Shadow.
"What do you want, Evrel?" Magadon asked, his voice stern.
"What do I-? Look around. Where are we? This is no sea that I know."
The crew nearby murmured agreement.
Magadon started to speak but Cale held up a hand to cut him off.
"We are on the Plane of Shadow, Evrel," Cale said, his voice heavy with fatigue. "Do not be concerned. I'll be taking us back to Faerun soon. This is just a waystop."
"Soon?" Evrel asked, and rubbed his chin.
"Soon," Cale answered. The shadows nourished him and his strength already was returning. He patted Magadon on the shoulder and stood on his own feet.
A cry from up the mast drew their eyes.
"There, look there!" called a crewman, and pointed to the sky.
High above them, a swirling mass of black forms like a flock of giant bats detached from a cloud and wheeled downward.
Thunder boomed in the distance.
The forms circled and wheeled, finally headed for the ship. They became distinguishable as they got closer. Pinpoints of red light dotted the mass.
"Shadows," Jak said, and pulled out his jeweled pendant holy symbol. "Trickster's hairy toes."
Hundreds of undead shadows were streaking for the ship.
"Arms, men," Evrel ordered, and the crew started snapping up weapons. Those in the rigging and nests rapidly descended toward the deck to stand with their fellows.
Cale saw Mask's purpose then, understood why the Shadowlord had brought him back to the Plane of Shadow. He put his hand on Evrel's shoulder and shook his head.
"Unnecessary, captain. They will not harm you. They're coming for me."
"What in the twelve seas does that mean?" Evrel asked.
"Cale?" Jak asked.
Cale stared into the sky, watching the horde approach. The Shadowlord had put a weapon in his hand. He had only to use it.
"Put away your symbol, little man," Cale said, and donned his mask.
"Stay your hands!" Evrel ordered his crew.
The sailors looked at each other nervously but let their weapons hang loosely at their sides.
The shadows circled downward until they swarmed the air near the masts. Several creatures broke off and wheeled over the deck. They were humanoid in shape, but amorphous, trailing streamers of shadow as they flew.
Cale waited. Several descended to the deck, floated in front of him, and stared into his face. He let shadows leak from his flesh. Red eyes flared in response and the creatures flew back up to join the black mass over the mast. From there, hundreds of pairs of red eyes fixed on Cale, watched him, measured him. The sky was blanketed with a cloud of the unliving. The creatures radiated cold and the entire crew shivered under their gaze. Not Cale.
The shadows hovered there, waiting. Cale knew they were his to command. He held up his hands and let Mask's power run through him and reach into the sky. The cloud of shadows swirled in answer, excited, eager. Cale gave them only a single command, and his voice carried clearly into the sky. "Come when I call."
The shadows churned around the masts, around the sails, and their red eyes flared. Cale took it as an acknowledgement. With that, the cloud dispersed and the shadows vanished into the darkness of the plane.
The crew stood silent. Cale felt Jak and Magadon's eyes on him. He thought of Sephris's words to him: The darkness has soaked you. But there is more to come.
Cale knew it to be true. Mask had only some of what he wanted. The Shadowlord always wanted more.
But so did Cale. And while serving Mask had its price, it also brought power. The darkness answered to Cale more than it did to anyone. And now it had given him the means to catch and kill the slaadi.
Lightning lined the sky. Thunder boomed its approval.
"What in the Trickster's name just happened?" Jak asked.
"Nothing," Cale said. "It's time to return to Faerun."
Magadon said, "Are you.. able?"
Cale nodded. The energies of the Plane of Shadow had restored his energy quickly.
"Not nearly soon enough," Evrel said, and did not make eye contact with Cale.
"Ready your crew," Cale said to him.
In moments, Cale drew the darkness around the ship once more. When the pitch engulfed Demon Binder, Cale again pictured Traitor's Isle, seized the ship in his grasp, and moved it through the planes. The effort did not tire him this time; his power had grown.
He let the darkness fade away to reveal the sheer, rocky sides of Traitor's Isle. Demon Binder floated in the waters a bowshot away from the island's cliffs.