Kruug glared at him, but finally nodded. "Yes… how long? The skies grow darker. The clouds are gathering and the sea is beginning to stir. It never pays to overtax the good nature of the Sea Queen. She's known to change her mind, prefect."
"It will not be long, captain. My servants do not face the barriers that stop the living. No matter how deeply sunken are the artifacts I seek, the undead will find them in short order. The talisman I gave them will further shorten their search. I, too, am trying to expedite things, you see."
"Good." Kruug straightened to his full height. "I never thought I'd be saying it, but I look forward to dry land this night." He thrust a thumb at Vandor Grizt. "And what about that one?"
Stel's hand stroked the dagger. "He is the last order of business. When we are about to depart, I will sacrifice him to Zeboim as a final gift."
The draconians looked at each other and muttered. Vandor took his cue from them. He did some fast calculating. The nearest Temple of Chemosh had to be at least twenty days' journey from here…
"You give me to Zeboim, Master Stel? Not Chemosh? You should really give this some lengthy consideration 1 If I were the wondrous Chemosh, I would be offended at such shabby treatment!"
"Chemosh will understand. Chemosh is wise. Now cease your prattle; I know what I do." But Stel looked uncertain. "We invade her domain. We must make restitution." Was he trying to convince himself?
The minotaur growled. "It would not be good to retract a promise to the Sea Queen. She would be offended."
"I had no intention of doing so," Stel snapped. He pointed into the dark waters. "There! You see?"
The draconians, curious, dragged their captive to the side with them, enabling Vandor to see much more than he wanted.
First one helmed head, then another appeared from the murky water. Slowly, as if constrained to obey the one who wielded power over them against their wishes, the ragged shapes rose. Each carried within its skeletal arms encrusted artifacts. Stel's reluctant servants bowed before the cleric of Chemosh and piled the various jewels, scroll cases, staves, and weapons on the deck at his feet.
Everyone else backed away from the ghastly minions, but Stel stepped forward eagerly to inspect his treasure. He picked up first one object, then another. His excitement swiftly changed to frustration.
"These are useless! They are dead! There is little or no magic in most of them! Nothing!" The cleric froze. "The Pendant of Chemosh is not here!"
Vandor noticed then that there were only five undead. The last of his unfortunate ancestors had not returned; the one, in fact, who held the skull talisman. Had he somehow broken free?
Clouds were beginning to gather. The wind blew stronger. The Tauron rocked. Prefect Stel glared at his prisoner. "I see that I shall need more than a little blood. I think it is time for you to join your ancestors in my quest, thief!"
"I assure you that I would make a useless corpse, Master Stel!" Vandor blurted, struggling. The draconians dragged him to stand before the cleric. Vandor glanced briefly at his sea-soaked forebears, who remained steadfastly oblivious to all around them. He wondered what it would be like to exist so, figured he didn't have long before he found out.
"Your blood will strengthen my hold, Vandor Grizt, and you shall be my messenger to the Sea Queen. You should consider yourself honored; this will probably be the only thing of significance you've ever done in your paltry life!"
"Hurry! The storm is strengthening," Captain Kruug warned.
The draconians held Vandor over the altar. Recalling how his blood had sizzled upon touching the hot metal, he twisted and turned, trying desperately to avoid it. One of the guards finally used its claw to shove him down. Vandor yelped, then realized that he was not being scalded. His relief was momentary, though; a fate worse than being scalded awaited him.
One of the draconians leaned close and hissed, "If you say one more word, thief, I'll bite off your tongue and eat it! I'm sick of your chatter!"
Vandor clamped his mouth tight. Trapped, he searched frantically for some way out. His gaze lighted upon the eyeless visage of an armored ghost, rising above the rail.
In its brown, skeletal hands it held two chains. One was the skull talisman Stel had given it for the search. The other, much heavier, chain held a black crystal encased in an ivory clasp.
"Master Stel, look!" Vandor cried. "You don't need me. He has returned!"
Thanks to Shinare! Grizt added silently.
The cleric beckoned the ghost to him. His ungodly servant raised the pendants high. Stel snatched his talisman back, but seemed hesitant to touch the darkly glimmering creation in the undead's other hand.
"Magnificent! Perfection!" Stel danced back and forth. Then, recalling where he was and who was watching, the prefect quieted and carefully reached for his prize. All sound silenced, save for the wind and the waves beating against the sides of the minotaur ship.
Vandor Grizt's ancestor did not at first seem inclined to relinquish the prize, but a muttered word of power from the cleric forced it to release its hold. Skull mask eyed skull face for a breath or two, then Prefect Stel forgot the impudence of his unliving slave as he looked down at the pendant.
"The power has leeched away from most of the other prizes, but this still glows with life! It is all I hoped for and more! At last it shall serve its purpose! At last I will take my own rightful place as the greatest of my Lord Chemosh's loyal servants!"
Stel raised the thick chain over his head and lowered the pendant onto his chest. No crack of thunder or blare of horns marked the cleric's triumph, but a horrible, breathless stillness momentarily passed over the region.
Captain Kruug was the first who dared interrupt the cleric's worship. "Is that all, then? Are we soon to leave this place?"
"Leave?" Stel was surprised by the suggestion. "We can't leave now! If this artifact still survives, there MUST be others! I will send them down again! And, with this pendant, I can summon hundreds of blindly obedient searchers!"
"You push our luck, human! There are limits — "
"There are no limits! I will show you!" Raising his hands high, Prefect Stel cried strange words. The black crystal began to shine with an eerie, grayish light.
Now, thunder rolled and lightning crashed. An enormous swell of water shook the TAURON. Rain and hail poured down.
"Come to me!" roared the ghastly priest.
The water began to froth around them, as if the entire sea were coming to life. Captain Kruug was either swearing or praying beneath his breath. He began bellowing orders. The two draconians, absurdly obedient, fought to keep Vandor over the altar.
A huge wave broke over the deck, drenching Vandor and his guards. It became clear to Vandor that he might DROWN before he could be sacrificed.
Stel ignored the tempest, ignored the maddened sea. He stared at the water in expectation.
Up and down the Tauron rocked, tossed about like a toy in a rushing stream. Another wave knocked both Vandor and the draconians away from the altar. His two guards maintained their hold on him and saved him from being washed overboard. One of the draconians grabbed ahold of the rail and pulled Vandor and the other draconian closer. All three held on for their lives.
And then…
"Shinare!" Vandor gasped, spitting sea water from his mouth. "Has he raised ISTAR?"
It seemed so, at first. In the darkness, all Vandor could see was an enormous, irregular landmass rising from the depths. The only feature he could make out for certain was a peculiar ridge of high hills lined up neatly by twos and running the length of the land. Then, as the mass rose still higher, two eyes gleamed bright in the darkness.
This was not an island.
"Shinare!" Vandor Grizt whispered. Beside him, the sivak hissed in fear.