“True,” Ghaji said, “but then again, Onkar isn’t all that uncommon a name. Our Onkar doesn’t have to be the Onkar, if you know what I mean.”
“It could be coincidence,” Diran allowed, “or a simple mistake on the part of the survivors. Terrified people don’t always make the best witnesses.”
“I cannot dispute your words,” Flotsam said. “I can only pass along what I have learned.”
“Let’s assume for a moment that Erdis Cai is behind the Black Fleet raiders,” Diran said, “perhaps as the master vampire with Onkar as his disciple?”
Ghaji shrugged. “I suppose Erdis Cai and his crew wouldn’t be the first adventurers to stumble upon a nest of vampires.” The half-orc let out a snorting laugh. “Look how often it happens to us.”
“Except when they stumbled out again, they were transformed,” Diran said, “and not for the better.”
“So Erdis Cai and his crew are vampires and the other raiders are their human servants?” Ghaji asked.
“I believe so,” Diran said. “Perhaps Erdis Cai has promised to reward them with immortality if they serve him well.”
“If all this is true,” Ghaji said, “why go about raiding as the Black Fleet? Why draw attention to yourself at all? If the Lhazaar Princes were to pool their resources and go after the Fleet, which they will likely soon do if the raids keep up, the Fleet would be crushed. There has to be an easier, less risky way for Cai to obtain their food.”
Diran thought for a moment. “Perhaps they aren’t abducting people for their blood, or at least, not only for it. Perhaps they have another reason, one that’s worth the risks they take.”
A dark scowl came over Diran’s face, and Ghaji knew he was thinking about Makala and wondering if she was still alive. Ghaji wished he could say something to reassure his friend, but he could think of nothing.
“That makes sense,” Yvka said. “Over the months the Black Fleet has been striking at increasingly larger targets. Port Verge was the largest so far.”
“Maybe the raiders are simply getting more confident,” Ghaji said.
“Perhaps they’re working to some manner of timetable,” Diran said, “and they need to abduct as many people as they can as swiftly as possible.”
“This talk is all well and good,” Ghaji said, “and who knows? Some of it might even be true, but what use is it to us? If Erdis Cai is the vampire lord of the Black Fleet, how does knowing this held us find him?”
“It doesn’t,” Yvka said.
Flotsam cocked his head in a way that made him seem as if he were thinking. “I believe I might know of someone who might be able to lead you to Erdis Cai. He is a human named Tresslar, an elderly artificer who serves on Dreadhold. According to rumor, as a young man he sailed with Erdis Cai. If anyone could tell you more about Cai, it would Tresslar. Assuming the rumors are true, of course.”
“Very well,” Diran said. “Then we shall set sail for Dread-hold at once. Thank you, Flotsam, for…” The priest broke off, his eyes widening. “The shifter is trying to steal the Zephyr!”
Ghaji, Yvka, and Flotsam turned to look seaward. Sure enough, the shifter who had taken the shark from Flotsam was now aboard the Zephyr, swiftly hauling up the anchor. Two others stood on the deck of the sloop: A bare-chested, dark-skinned man covered with brightly colored concentric tattoos and a half-elven female with long blond hair who wore a green skirt and a top that left her midriff bare. They were all dripping wet, and it was no great leap of logic to guess that the shifter and his compatriots had swam silently from their ship to the Zephyr and stealthily climbed aboard. As the shifter worked to bring up the anchor, his two companions, both armed with bows, kept watch. The message was clear: if anyone tried to stop the thieves, they’d make the sudden acquaintance of the business end of an arrow.
Flotsam started to rise, but Yvka grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
“Why did you do that?” the warforged asked, sounding mote puzzled than angry. “Arrows can’t harm me.”
“True,” Yvka said, “but you’d never reach the Zephyr in time. They can’t activate and control the air elemental, but they can use the oars to row the boat far away enough that you won’t be able to get to it.”
Ghaji figured the thieves would tie the Zephyr to their two-master then tow the elemental sloop someplace where they could sell it for a handsome price.
“They can’t have it,” Diran said. “I need that craft if I’m to have any hope of finding Makala.” A wild gleam came into Diran’s eyes then, and Ghaji groaned, for he knew his friend had just had an idea.
Without taking his gaze from the thieves, Diran said, “Ghaji, your axe is still aboard the Zephyr, isn’t it?”
“Under one of the seats,” the half-orc confirmed.
“Get ready to grab it as soon as you’re back aboard.”
Before Ghaji could ask his friend just what he was talking about, Diran spoke to Flotsam. “When I give you the signal, I want you to pick Ghaji up and hurl him onto the Zephyr. Are you strong enough to do that?”
“Yes,” Flotsam said, without any hint of ego or boasting, merely stating a fact.
“Well then,” Diran said, “get ready.”
Ghaji wished they had time to discuss alternative plans, especially ones that didn’t involve him being thrown like a ball by a barnacle-encrusted warforged, but there was no time. A quick glance showed Ghaji that the crew of the two-master was already frantically scurrying about, preparing to set sail and leave Nowhere, and the rightful owner of the Zephyr, far behind.
“Now!”
Diran stood, drawing a pair of daggers from the leather strap around his chest as he did. As he straightened to his full height, he hurled the daggers toward the Zephyr and the thieves who now trod her decks. Ghaji presumed the blades streaked toward their targets, but he didn’t see if they did, for Flotsam scooped him up with his thick metal and stone arms as if the half-orc were but an infant. The huge warforged spun around twice to build up momentum, then he released Ghaji into the air.
The world became a rushing blur as Ghaji ascended, and it felt as if his stomach sank to the bottoms of his feet. He straightened his arms out before him, his legs behind, as if he were preparing to dive into water. Though there was plenty of the wet stuff for leagues in all directions, he was hoping to land on a soarwood deck. He reached the apex of his flight and began to plunge downward. Now his stomach felt as if it were pressing against the back of his throat, perhaps in a desperate attempt to escape before the fool who controlled their mutual body managed to get both of them killed.
Ghaji saw the deck of the Zephyr rapidly approaching. The tattooed man clutched the hilt of a dagger protruding from his left shoulder, blood streaming from the wound and pouring over his fingers. The half-elf had crouched down to make herself a smaller target and was swiftly drawing arrows from her quiver, nocking and loosing them with speed and grace. If she’d been wounded by one of Diran’s daggers, she showed no sign of it. The shifter had gotten the anchor up and was now fitting the oars to the oarlocks. Of the three thieves, Ghaji would’ve liked to take out the half-elven archer first, but his trajectory wasn’t carrying him toward her. It was, however, taking him straight toward the wounded man.
Flying half-orcs can’t be choosers, I guess, Ghaji thought, then he balled his hands into fists and slammed into the tattooed man.
The dark-skinned thief howled in pain and fury as he and Ghaji crumpled to a heap on the deck. Ghaji heard the harsh, brittle sound of snapping bones, and he hoped they weren’t his. The impact had, however, knocked the wind out of Ghaji, and gasping for breath, he rolled off the tattooed man and reached for the compartment where he’d stowed his axe. He managed to close his fingers around the haft just as he heard the twang of a released bowstring. He rolled to the side as an arrow sank into the wooden deck after passing through the space where his throat had been an instant before. As he came up onto his feet, he brought the flat of his axe head up and deflected another arrow.