Thunder crashed. A series of heavy thuds continued on after; the noise caused Vandor to look up to the heavens to see what could create such a phenomenon. A massive form came up beside him and Vandor immediately realized that what he had taken for part of the storm had actually been footfalls.
"Prefect," the newcomer rumbled, his voice louder than the thunder.
"Yes, Captain Kruug?"
Kruug appeared ill-at-ease before the cleric. Odd, since the minotaur was over seven feet tall and likely weighed three times more than Prefect Stel. Vandor had no idea how long the beastman lived, but Captain Kruug looked to have been sailing the seas for all of Vandor's thirty years and more. Such experience made Vandor's chances of surviving the rough waters and threatening storm much better, but that didn't hearten the captive. It only meant that he would live long enough to confront whatever fate the cleric of Chemosh had in mind for him.
"Prefect," Kruug repeated. The minotaur's very stance expressed his dislike for the necromancer. "My ship is here only because you and your Highlord ordered my cooperation."
Vandor's hopes rose. Perhaps the minotaurs would refuse to sail on, destroy whatever dread plan the necromancer had in mind.
"My crew is growing anxious, cleric," the captain said. Minotaurs did not like to admit anxiety. To them, it was a sign of weakness. "The storm is bad enough and sailing through it at night is only that much worse. Those two things, though, I could handle at any other time, PREFECT." Kruug hesitated, unable to stare directly at the mask for more than a few moments.
"And so?" Stel prompted irritably.
"It's time you tell us why we are sailing to this location in the middle of the deepest part of the Blood Sea. There are rumors circulating among the crew and as each rumor grows, they, in turn, become more uneasy." Kruug snorted, wiping sea spray from his massive jaw. "We find it most interesting that a priest of Chemosh has spent so much time paying homage to the Sea Queen that it seems he has forgotten his own god!"
The dreadwolf snarled, its pupil-less eyes narrowed. Stel petted it.
"You are being paid well, captain. Too well for you to ask questions. And I would think that you would approve of my efforts to appease the Sea Queen. Is she not deserving of respect, especially now? We are in her domain. I give her tribute as she deserves."
Vandor Grizt's heart sank. My luck has become like a pouch filled with coin… all lead!
Kruug apparently did not trust Stel's smooth words. He snorted his disdain, but glanced around uneasily. A creature of the sea, the captain had to be more careful than most in maintaining a respectful relationship with the tempestuous Sea Queen.
The storm worsened. The sea mist that drenched all save the cleric was accompanied by a light sprinkle, a harbinger of the torrential downpour to come. Lightning and thunder broke overhead.
"You had better pray that Zeboim has listened to you, prefect," the minotaur retorted. "Else I shall appease her by throwing you and your stinking mutt over the side. My ship and my crew come first." He grumbled at no one in particular. "It's easy for the Highlord to agree to mad plots when he's safe in his chambers back on shore! He isn't the one who'll suffer, just the one who'll reap the benefits!"
Stel smiled unpleasantly. "You were given a choice, Kruug. Sail with me or surrender the TAURON to a BRAVER captain who would."
Kruug growled, but he backed down.
For one of Kruug's race, the choice was no choice at all. No minotaur dared let himself be thought a coward.
Stel looked past the captain, who turned to see what had the cleric's attention. Vandor — tied to one of the masts — was unable to turn around, but he knew from the clanking sounds that the draconians must be returning from their excursion below deck. The two draconians dragged forward a peculiar metal bowl on three legs. Captain Kruug glared at the kapak.
"And I'll throw those lizards over, too, especially the one who can't keep his mouth shut!" Kruug added. "If he burns one more hole through the deck…" But the minotaur was being ignored. Seeking a target on which to vent his frustration, Kruug glanced down at Vandor, who suddenly sought a way to shrink into the mast. The minotaur's smile vied with that of the dreadwolf for number of huge, sharp teeth. "And maybe I'll throw this piece of offal over right now!"
"Touch him, my homed friend, and your first mate finds himself promoted." Stel was deadly, coldly serious.
Kruug was taken aback. "What's so special about this thieving little fox?"
"Him?" Stel glanced at Vandor. "By himself, he is worthless."
Despite his predicament, Vandor was offended.
"It is his blood I find invaluable," Stel continued.
Vandor was no longer offended… he was too busy trying to recall the proper prayers for Shinare. If he'd had any doubt before as to his fate, that doubt was gone now.
"I do not understand," replied the captain.
Stel looked down at the skull on the chain. "In a few minutes, Captain Kruug, you AND Vandor Grizt will understand. We are nearing our destination. Please have your crew prepare to stop this vessel."
"In this deep water, our anchor won't hold!" Kruug protested.
"We do not need to be completely still. Just make certain we stay within the region. I think you can manage that, captain. I was TOLD that you are an expert at your craft."
Kruug bridled. "I've been sailing these waters — "
A crackle of thunder drowned out whatever the minotaur said after that, but the fury on his face and the speed with which he departed the vicinity of Prefect Stel spoke plainly. Vandor Grizt was sorry to see the captain leave. Of all Vandor's unsavory companions, the minotaur captain was the only one who seemed to share his fear. Kruug was merely carrying out orders and with a lack of enthusiasm that Vandor dismally appreciated.
The draconians set up the altar quickly despite the constant rocking of the ship. They lashed the legs of the metal monstrosity to various areas of the deck, assuring that the huge bowl would remain in place regardless of how rough the sea. When the draconians were finished, the two stumbled back to Stel, who seemed to have no trouble moving about, unlike everyone else.
"The sea grows no calmer, prefect!" hissed the sivak. "Despite your prayers to the Sea Queen, the ropes may not hold!"
"She will listen!" Stel declared. "I have sought her good will for three days now. We dare not attempt this without the Sea Queen's favor. We dare not steal from her domain!" Stel paused, considering. He glanced at Vandor Grizt, then again at the draconians. "I will have to give an offering of greater value than I had supposed. Something that will prove to Zeboim my respect for her majesty! Something that will acknowledge her precedence over all else in this endeavor! It will have to be now!"
"Now?" snarled the kapak, surprised. "But now is the time for your evening devotions to Chemosh, prefect!"
"Chemosh will understand." Stel turned again to Vandor and pointed. "Unbind him!"
As the draconians undid his bonds, Vandor tried to slip free of them. For a brief moment, he escaped, but then the dreadwolf was in front of him, ready to spring. Vandor's terrified moment of hesitation was sufficient time to permit the draconians to reestablish their hold on him.
"Bring him to the altar!" Stel commanded.
The draconians dragged Vandor Grizt across the wet deck to the odd-looking bowl that Stel had identified as an altar.
"Master Stel, surely I am not a proper sacrifice!" Vandor protested. "Have you considered that I am hardly a worthwhile present to be given to one so illustrious as beautiful, wondrous Zeboim!"
"Silence the buffoon," the cleric muttered in a voice much less commanding than normal. Stel's dark eyes turned on the dreadwolf that had been guarding Vandor. At the silent command, the undead animal joined its master. Prefect Stel returned his attention to the prisoner.