"Aye, six," Za'hure said. "They must think that cargo of yours be worth a good spot of coin."
"But it's nothing but campaign supplies!" Vambran said. "Blankets, extra weapons, and provisions for my men!"
The captain grimaced. "Be telling that to them," Za'hure replied. "But I don't think they be listening, so I aim to outrun them."
"Can you?" Vambran asked, eyeing the pursuers worriedly.
Za'hure shook his head. "Nay, Lady's Favor isn't meant for running, Lieutenant. But hopefully, with the wind behind us, those dogs'll lose interest and hunt for easier prey."
The captain opened his mouth to add something, but a shout from the crow's nest cut him off. "Three more ships, two off the port bow, one off the starboard bow!"
"Blast!" Captain Za'hure roared, stomping up the steps to the quarterdeck. Once at the top, the man turned and peered ahead, bringing his own spyglass up to one eye. "They seem hell-bent for boarding us, don't they?"
Vambran didn't bother to answer. He spun away, running for the companionway and calling for his men to roust themselves. "Adyan! Horial! Assemble the Crescents! We've got trouble coming! Sound the call! 'Green Grow the Fields!'" As he reached the stairs leading down into the bowels of the ship, the lieutenant could hear Horial sounding his horn, beginning the notes of a signal song, the particular tune ordering his men to assemble on deck and quaff a particular potion included among their equipment.
Trusting that the members of the Order of the Sapphire Crescent would respond quickly and efficiently, Vambran darted down the steps into the lower deck of Lady's Favor, headed toward the cabin he and Kovrim had been sharing during the voyage. The lieutenant reached the narrow door and swung it open, stepping inside the tiny room.
"Uncle Kovrim," Vambran said, moving toward the lower bunk and kneeling down beside it. "There's trouble."
The man lying on the thin mattress groaned and rolled over in the dim light of the single lantern, which hung from a hook in the wooden beam overhead. The glow had been reduced to a tiny flame, and it took a moment for Vambran's eyes to adjust sufficiently to the darkness.
"What is it?" Kovrim Lazelle asked. "What's going on?"
"Pirates," Vambran replied, reaching down to try and help his mother's brother sit up. "Nine ships of them, trying to surround us."
"Nine!" Kovrim exclaimed, starting upright. Then the man groaned and sank back down again. "Waukeen, I hate the sea." The older priest swallowed loudly a couple of times then took a slow, deep breath. "What does Za'hure say about it?"
As if in answer to Kovrim's question, the ship shifted to one side, its timbers groaning, and Vambran could feel himself listing against a tight turn. The motion made Kovrim gasp.
"I wish he wouldn't do that," the man said.
"When we thought there were only six, he was going to try to outrun them by turning with the wind, but three more are ahead of us, now. I didn't wait around to see what he would do next, but I guess he's trying to slip past a couple of them. I ordered the company to assemble on deck. Horial's sounding 'Green Grow the Fields.'"
"Probably wise, considering there are nine," Kovrim said. "Don't forget to drink up, yourself."
Suddenly, a horrendous roar deafened the two men, and Lady's Favor lurched to one side, as though she were trying to leap out of the water.
"Gods, what was that?" Kovrim muttered, trying to rise to his feet.
Vambran could barely hear his uncle for the ringing in his ears. He staggered against one wall of the tiny room, nearly bumping his head on the wildly swinging lantern. "Up top! Now!" he shouted, spun about, and scooted out through the door again as best as he could with the ship listing so sharply to one side.
Back topside, there was a mad scramble in full force. Men were shouting at everyone and no one, and Vambran could see several of the mainsails scorched and dangling free in the wind, with a number of their ropes flapping in the breeze, burning or smoking. Already the ship was slowing, losing its motivation as the sails were consumed. The Crescents seemed to be gathering in a general group, though there was no space or means for them to assemble into any sort of proper order.
In the next instant, Vambran felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, and the next thing he knew, he was facedown on the steps leading to the forecastle as a thunderous crack snapped through the air over his head. He didn't need to see the flash of brilliance to know that it was a lightning bolt. With his hands clamped over his ears, Vambran rose to one knee in time to see one of Lady's Favor's three masts listing awkwardly to one side, tipping over toward the sea. Only the tangle of rigging kept it from going all the way over, but already, several ropes had snapped, and the others were unraveling.
Why in the Nine Hells are they attacking the ship? Vambran wondered. It's as if they cared not a wit for what we might be carrying.
Another horrendous blast boomed overhead, and Vambran felt the waves of heat wash over him as the fiery ball of magic burst among the sails. Two men who had been high among the ropes screamed and fell, their bodies singed and black. One hit the deck and bounced along its sloped surface, and the other fell directly into the sea.
At that moment, the lieutenant wished that his newfound sorcerous talents had manifested themselves a bit more strongly, for he would have liked to have slung a magical salvo or two back toward the nearest ship. But his skills were still fledgling in many ways, and he knew that no arcane force he could conjure up would have an appreciable effect against the massed strength of nine pirate ships.
Better to save them for the close-in fighting, he thought.
Lady's Favor pitched sideways with an even more horrendous shudder, knocking Vambran from his feet, and it was followed by two more. When the lieutenant managed to regain his balance and look up, several dark, slimy tentacles, as thick as trees, had snaked up over the side of the ship's rails, holding fast to the doomed craft.
CHAPTER 4
Xaphira watched in horror as a dire-jaguar, half hidden in the limbs of a stout flaming crown tree, leaped from its perch. The woman's warning shout had come too late, and Emriana, oblivious to the danger she was in, barreled directly into the creature's path. Xaphira was certain the girl would be ripped to shreds, but at the last moment, in an awkward tumble, her niece bounced free of Honey's saddle and flipped backward over the horse's rump. The dire-jaguar sailed over her, slashing out with its claws but catching only air.
Xaphira did not waste time watching to see if the girl had intended to dismount in such an undignified manner or not. Digging her heels hard into Dancer's flanks, she pulled her crossbow free of its saddle ties as the horse lunged ahead. The dire-jaguar was already on its feet as Honey whinnied in sudden fright and kicked out before bounding away to the other side of the dry streambed. For her part, Emriana was still half upended, though the speed with which she scrambled to right herself led Xaphira to believe that the girl was aware of her predicament.
Xaphira sighted down the length of the bolt on her crossbow, trying to take true aim despite the jostling of Dancer's gait, but before she could fire at the beast, another blur of motion caught her eye. A second creature had appeared on the scene, slinking through the underbrush. It dashed from its cover, leaping across open ground in great, fluid strides, rushing toward Emriana, who was on her knees, trying to get her bearings. A third one appeared as well, not too far behind. Xaphira jerked the crossbow in that direction and squeezed the trigger in one swift motion.