“When did you go back to Vanam?” Naldeth’s question held the faintest hint of accusation.
Parrail dragged his wits back to the present. “For-Autumn last year, not long after you sailed. We reached Zyoutessela for Equinox and I was back in Vanam by the middle of For-Winter. I swore I’d never set foot on a ship again.” He shuddered before his expression brightened. “But Mentor Tonin persuaded me. I take it you’re on your way to consult with Demoiselle Guinalle as well? I heard Usara went looking for aetheric lore with that woman with the Forest blood, Livak? Did he truly bring one of the Mountain Artificers to Hadrumal?”
“Yes, a woman called Aritane but I’ve nothing to do with that.” Naldeth looked surprised. “I’m just lending a hand to keep this ship on course. I’ll want to see what’s to do in Kellarin. My affinity’s with fire and I hear the Edisgesset miners are planning on refining ore this year.” He grinned. “But you’re welcome to woo the demoiselle if you want.”
“I’ve no notion of wooing anyone.” Parrail tried to cover his chagrin with firm dignity. “I thought you worked at the Archmage’s orders.”
“When I’m one of three mages standing and Elietimm enchanters are knocking everyone else out of the game. Back in Hadrumal, I’m just a middling fish in a busy pond.” Disappointment lent a strained note to Naldeth’s offhand answer.
Parrail nodded. “I know what you mean.”
“I thought I could make more of a splash in Kellarin.” Naldeth’s talkative nature won out over any impulse to discretion. “It’s all very well endlessly debating theory and speculation but it’s nice to have ordinary folk glad of your help, not looking as if you’ve got two heads, if you offer to light wet firewood.”
He would have said more but the sailors’ calls rose to a new urgency. Master Gede bellowed a sudden command and the Tang heeled round on sweeping canvas wings to dart into the sound. The rolling swell of the open ocean gave way to calmer waters between the two islands, glassy smooth where they reflected the bright sun, crystal clear in the shallows of a frowning cliff, dark skerries visible just beneath the surface.
Naldeth spared a wary glance for passing sailors before urging Parrail to the side rail. “Let’s get a look at this place.”
The ship followed the curve of the shore past a precipitous cliff. Below a hollow in the hills some way ahead, a shingle spit offered a gently shelving anchorage. The shore of the lesser island broke into shallow promontories hiding little bays, with folds of land beyond rising in green swells.
Parrail sniffed. “Is that meat smoking?”
“They did it!” Amazed, Naldeth pointed to a vessel beached on the strand, masts lopsided as the retreating tide left it unsupported. It had the same long hull as the Tang, suited for open or inshore waters, square rigged on fore and main masts, shallow fore- and aftcastles in the most recent style and rails guarding the waist of the ship, low to ease the loading and unloading of cargo carried in the capacious hold.
“Den Harkeil’s ship?” Parrail squinted but no flags flew.
“I can’t tell.” Naldeth shook his head, visibly annoyed. “Just because this lot got lucky, that doesn’t mean anyone else will.”
Parrail sought a better view. “Perhaps it’s a Kellarin ship?”
“Sail ho!” Looking up at the shout, both saw the lookout in the crow’s-nest was pointing astern.
“Another ship?” Naldeth wondered aloud.
“Master Mage, Master Scholar!” The captain’s harsh summons set them hurrying for the sterncastle.
“Have either of you had word of other ships?” demanded Master Gede as Naldeth reached the top of the stairs.
“No one’s bespoken me.” Naldeth shook his head.
“Nothing from Bremilayne?” Gede peered aft, trying to identify the newcomer. About a quarter as long again as the Tang with the same long lines, it carried a formidable weight of sail rigged for speed and attack. Fore- and aftmasts carried three courses of canvas compared to the Tang’s two and that wasn’t counting the square-rigged bowsprit and two lateen-rigged mizzens on the aftdeck. Fancy carving adorned rails and the wales and the beakhead at the bow was carved into a threatening shark. As it closed, the boldly painted name below was plain: Spurdog. “Master Parrail?”
“I’ve heard nothing but Artifice isn’t always effective worked over the ocean,” Parrail hastily qualified his reply.
“Ware sail forrard!”
Gede gauged the speed of the rapidly approaching vessel behind before looking to the front where a second ship emerged from concealment behind a curve of the shore. The newcomer could have been built from the same plans as the Spurdog but a sterner shipwright had fashioned the plain rails ringing the crow’s-nests and deck castles. The bow was unadorned but for a brass spike and the name Thornray carved and painted black beneath.
“Dast’s teeth, it’s a god-cursed trap!” spat Gede.
“We’ve barely steerage, this slow,” the helmsman hissed, testing his whipstaff with a leathery hand.
“All sail!” Gede bellowed. “Wizard, raise us a wind!”
“Flag astern!” The lookout clung to the rope stays at a perilous angle.
As the Spurdog ran a vivid scarlet pennant up its mainmast, the Thornray answered with its own.
“That’s no Tormalin insignia,” said Parrail dubiously. “Who raises snake flags?”
“Pirates,” said the captain with loathing. He narrowed his eyes to judge the course of the Thornray now intent on blocking their path. Naldeth didn’t look up from a spark of blue light he was cherishing between his hands. He drew his palms a little wider and the light grew into an iridescent sphere, azure threaded through with brightness painful to the eye.
“Quick as you like, wizard.” The helmsman glanced over his shoulder as the Spurdog’s sails stole what little breeze the Tang could hope for between the confining islands.
The lookout yelled with fear and fury as a shower of arrows rattled among the Tang’s sails. Several sailors cried out, arms or legs bloodied. One unfortunate thudded heavily to the deck; screaming and clawing at a vicious shaft piercing his belly.
Parrail knocked Naldeth clean off his feet. The mage’s curse went unspoken as he saw bright arrowheads biting deep into the planking where he’d stood. Master Gede was dragging the helmsman beneath the inadequate shelter of the stern rail, the man choking on his own blood, an arrow deep in his chest. Shocked, Naldeth’s magic scattered in a haphazard flurry of feeble gusts.
Master Gede knelt on one knee by the whipstaff, the other booted foot braced and his hand steady. “We need wind, Master Mage.”
“Can you use the water to slow them?” Parrail’s voice shook.
“It’s too antithetical.” Naldeth fought to steady his hands as a faint sapphire glow suffused the empty air between them. He’d done this before, he reminded himself. If he was ever going to be the equal of Kalion or Otrick, he had to meet challenges like this. If he lived that long.
A second deadly wave of arrows came from the rigging of the pursuing ship. “They’re looking for magelight.” Parrail cowered by the stern rail trying to help the helmsman.
“Curse it!” Raw power burst from Naldeth’s hands. At the last moment, he managed to fling it up at the main mast and the Tang lurched as the sails suddenly filled, dragging the vessel bodily through the water.
“Ware rocks!” A sailor high on the foremast pointed urgently off to one side.
“Ware boats!” The cry came up from the waist of the ship, frantic sailors gesturing ahead and astern. A flotilla of long boats was darting out from the lesser island’s hidden bays where they’d been lurking for the Thornray’s signal. Parrail risked a glance over the stern rail and saw a second hungry pack come fanning out on either side of the Spurdog. Sweating rowers leaned into their oars, each boat full of raiders, swords in hand. In every prow, a man swung a menacing grappling iron.