Chapter 13: The White Swan
JJournal of Kalen Avanir
TE 6050, Orhan 5, day 64
Aboard the Caravel ‘Naristral’
I now read my earlier entry with a sense of irony: at this moment Jad and I are huddled in our cabin, watching through the aft windows as the pirate ship draws ever closer. My cousin practically begged to be allowed to remain on deck and help to defend the ship, but thankfully the Captain would have none of it. He said passengers would just be in the way, and that the crew would handle any threat. In the highly unlikely event that we could be of help, he said that he would ring the alarm bell. Jad has already unpacked our broadswords.
When asked earlier about the possibility of raiders, Captain N’tanga had not seemed terribly concerned. Indeed, he scoffed when the Navigator had mentioned a threat from Præten and admonished Tar-esiir to not alarm the passengers. In answer the Elf had muttered something about it never hurting to be cautious, and that Præteni ships were not our only concern. He apparently was correct, as the ship is flying a blue flag bearing a white swan emblem: that of some new raiders the crew said were rumored to be based along the southern coast of Urulan.
I only hope that the alarm does not ring. I don’t want Jad going up into a potentially deadly melee.
Patrick O’Kiran felt some admiration for these Kultheans: there had been no panic at the Captain’s dinner table as the call rang out across the ship. Everyone just stopped whatever they were doing and looked to N’tanga, who masked his own apprehension while calmly asking everyone to proceed at once to their cabins and lock themselves inside. This seemed prudent, as it was unlikely that most of them could defend the ship—much less themselves—as well as the crewmen. The only one who protested was the youngest, Jad, who looked to still be in his teens. He was the valet or servant of one of the regional nobles on board, Kalen something. This Jad looked athletic enough, but Patrick doubted that the boy had enough experience to be a very able swordsman.
The Monk smiled grimly to himself then, remembering that, at twenty, he wasn’t much older than Jad when he was sent on his first major mission for the Dia Khovaria. He shivered. Some of the events… people… were still painfully clear memories almost five years later.
Once inside his own cabin, Patrick made sure the door was locked before hauling a large battered trunk out of the closet. He slung it onto the bed, then gingerly ran his fingers along the rows of round-headed rivets that secured the reinforcing straps in place. A touch here, there, and one more, and he heard a click inside the trunk. Next he undid the buckles, then the main lock with a key he wore around his neck, and lifted the lid. He yanked out several articles of clothing and tossed them aside, then carefully pressed on the felt-lined inside bottom of the trunk. Another click as it depressed then swung up and back, revealing a shallow compartment beneath. Inside, nestled into form-fitting niches of a soft, springy material, were several objects made up mostly of a white metal with a dull finish. One was a wide bracelet that Patrick snapped on his wrist, another was a palm-sized ovoid that he clipped onto his leather belt. Another was something that to a Kulthean might resemble one of the Loar spring-powered dart guns. This he tucked inside his tunic out of sight. Last was an odd shaped thing that fit in the palm of his hand but had a number of stubby protrusions and an oval transparent area on the face almost like a lens. With a wary glance at the louvered cabin door, Patrick touched a jewel-like button on the device. Several tiny colored insets lit up and the lens glowed softly. He held the thing close to his face and spoke into it using a controlled tone of voice, carefully modulated to carry only a few feet. He also spoke in a language unknown to any native of Kulthea. “This is Patrick O’Kiran, transmitting to Ceril VII Alpha Base. I am still aboard a native watercraft between Jaiman and Emer. This ship is about to be attacked and boarded by pirates and in my judgment, discreet use of Dia Khovaria technology is an acceptable risk in order to defend the ship and so protect the data I carry, as well as certain passengers here who may be a link to Sianetic Harbinger information or artifacts. Request confirmation.” He paused and stared at the device as if expecting some sort of reply.
The lens was alight with flickering images, and after a few seconds the device spoke, but the words were indistinct and faded intermittently.
Patrick’s brows furrowed as he touched several tiny controls.
Still the voice stuttered and faded.
The monk frowned. “We can transmit terabytes of data halfway across the galaxy and I can’t even get one voice message a few hundred kilometers over this dark-age rock!” He seethed between clenched teeth. “I guess it’s true: magic and technology don’t mix.” With a sigh he pressed a button and the device went dark. He clipped it to his belt, then his fingers strayed to the ovoid already resting there. Patrick touched outlined areas on its surface, and as he moved soundlessly to the cabin door, he seemed to waver like a reflection in a rippling pond. The wavering effect increased until, a moment later, he was virtually invisible. The door opened and closed.
A few furlongs behind the Naristral, Ulya Shek once again received the captain of the Silverfish in her chambers aboard that submarine boat; as before she was curled on her divan near the large convex window. But this time squatting next to her on a metal tripod was a deep glass bowl filled with water and stocked with wriggling squid, each about five inches long plus tentacles.
“My Lady, we may have a problem.” Captain Batanas knelt on one knee in deference. “We have detected two ships, one lies five leagues to the northeast and one, somewhat more distant, to the southwest. By their course and speed they clearly intend to intercept the Naristral.”
“Indeed.” The female Dragonlord tapped a fingertip to her pursed lips as she pondered this news. “One such raider they might be able to repel and escape, but two? These pirates must really want whatever is on that ship. I sense some troubling of the Essænce as well; their Navigator will be reluctant to use his magicks to evacuate passengers. Convenient time for a Flow disturbance, wouldn’t you say, Batanas?” She smiled at him, her lips curling into a smirk.
“I wouldn’t know, My Lady.” The captain was nonplussed.
“No, of course not.” She stood then and smoothed the form-fitted black roak-leather tunic over her narrow waist and down to her full hips. The female Dragonlord was nearly as tall as the captain, and he was a large man. “Order combat stations, Captain, and close to within a furlong of the Naristral. We will be disposing of the more southerly pirate ship at least. I will join you on the bridge momentarily.”
“As you command.” Batanas rose, bowed and hurried out.
Ulya Shek jabbed her hand into the bowl with a splash and grabbed a squirming cephalopod. She brought the slimy creature to her lips and popped the entire thing into her mouth with surprising ease. One long tentacle managed to sucker onto her lip as the calamari desperately fought for its life. She plucked it free between her long fingernails and swallowed the squid with an audible gulp and an unnaturally large lump descending her throat. The lady then dabbed delicately at her lips with a silk napkin, tossed the cloth over the bowl and rose to her feet. She pressed a small lever at the end of the divan and a dome of protective metal shielding telescoped over the bubble-shaped window like an eyelid closing. The female Dragonlord then made her way through narrow metal passages towards the bridge of her ship, thinking of ways in which she might at least make this encounter entertaining. Voriig now wants me to protect the passengers of the surface ship, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun along the way.
On the foredeck of the Naristral, Captain N’tanga stood with his first mate and Tar-esiir. The sun dipped below the horizon, abandoning them to swiftly deepening gloom and a chill on the wind. The captain ordered a turn more to the south and unfurled every sail in hopes of shearing away from the White Swan ship, only to spot its twin already lying in wait ahead of them. He turned to the Navigator, who shook his head.
“You know as well as I do that the ship cannot go any faster, Captain. If I increase the wind at all we risk snapping a mast or yard.”
N’tanga slowly beat his fist on the railing. “I know. Here we wallow, fully loaded, trying to outrun not one sloop but two; even tacking they are faster and more maneuverable than my ship. Clearly they were waiting for us. But why? Surely not for our cargo of wine and olive oil. And they must know that if they get too close, you can transport the passengers to safety. You can do that, can’t you?” The captain added his last question when he saw the look on the Navigator’s face.
“Theoretically, yes. I have the capability to do so. I would prefer not to if it could be avoided, however. Conditions are far from ideal…”
“What do you mean, ‘far from ideal’? To ransom the passengers must be the raider’s plan. And if that prize is removed, the Naristral might be allowed to go on its way unscathed. I would be prepared to pay that extra fee to save my ship and crew. That is why you are here, Navigator.” The Captain let anger creep into his voice.
Tar-esiir frowned. “Perhaps I understated the peril; and in fact the situation has deteriorated very rapidly. While the weather may seem fair, I sense a considerable Essænce disturbance building in this area. Even maintaining the Wind Mastery spell is causing me some difficulty. If I were to attempt to Jump the passengers--even the most valuable four or five--there is a significant chance of failure.”
While they had been talking, First Mate Verilas was looking at the ships through a small telescope. “They are indeed both sloops, sir, both are flying the swan flag and are rigged with those sky-blue sails associated with the White Swan. I have to give them credit for their sailing skill and their coordination. If we hold to this course they’re going to pincer us.”
N’tanga gripped the balustrade. “Let’s at least try to keep them from both getting to us at the same time. Change course, ten degrees more to starboard. We could get lucky and spot a Sel-kai patrol ship.”
But they all knew that was a vain hope this far out at sea.
Ulya Shek climbed the iron spiral stair up to her submarine ship’s bridge, a small room already cramped by the presence of Captain Batanas and two other crewmembers. One stood facing forward, hands on a large wheel like that of a sailing ship. Flanking her were several large levers mounted to the floor, a large gimbal-mounted compass and several other instruments affixed to the bulkheads. Ahead of her was a great curving window stretching across nearly half of the oval chamber and from waist height to just below the ceiling. Churning waters outside covered the lower half, but the upper portion allowed a panoramic view of the surrounding sea. The other crewman stood to the side, peering down on a glass-topped pedestal about four feet high and 2 feet in diameter. A greenish glow emanating through the glass painted his face a sickly color. Set in the side of the column was another transparent panel and inside, attached to countless tiny wires, was what looked like a disembodied human brain floating in a bubbling liquid. The pedestal was mounted to the floor and was practically covered by an additional maze of pipes and wires.
As with all other rooms on this submarine boat, this one was lit by small blue hemispheres set along the metal reinforcing ribs that arced across the curving ceiling and walls.
“What is our situation, Captain?” Ulya Shek scanned the horizon, hands on hips.
“Pacing the Naristral at one furlong, as you ordered. The other ships continue to close.”
The Dragon joined the crewman at the luminous pedestal. On its surface three glowing shapes throbbed with light at regular intervals. They were slowly moving closer together with each pulse.
This device, a fusion of mechanical and organic elements, was a gift from her friend the Lady of Essænce Jenkyna. Within this machine was the living brain of a dolphin, which, Jenkyna told her, was able to interpret sounds sent through the ocean waters, and sense distance from other objects on and beneath the sea. Ulya Shek understood this principle on a certain level; in her dragon form she possessed a similar ability, though she had never really bothered to consider exactly how it worked. This device was attached to instruments mounted inside the nose of the Silverfish, and somehow used them to detect the other ships and create images of them on the surface of the glass. The whole idea at once fascinated and repelled the dragon. And this was one of Jenkyna’s less bizarre fusions…
“Very well, Batanas, destroy the southerly ship, then continue around behind the other sloop where we’ll hold and assess the situation.”
“Yes My Lady.” The captain bowed crisply then turned to the woman at the wheel.
“Submerge to ramming depth and increase speed to one-half. Prepare to activate the fins.” He turned to the man at the glowing pillar, “Sounding officer, provide navigation to intercept, and make ready for ramming.”
“Aye, Captain.” They said almost in unison. The woman pulled two levers and a gong sounded somewhere below. As the Silverfish surged ahead, she slowly moved another lever. The level of churning waters rose across the window. Beneath the foam rose the sea itself, until, after the space of a few dozen breaths, the entire view was of murky water.
“Lights!” The captain called. The man reached overhead and pushed a series of levers into connectors, then pulled one out. Suddenly the sea ahead of them was aglow in twin cones of bluish light. The lighting inside the cabin--except for the luminous pedestal—went out, making it easier to see outside.
Haalkitaine was so… big.
T’tania was still not used to it, though she and Sten had been in the city for three days. All towers and walls, narrow roads with buildings looming overhead that shut out what little winter daylight there was. One might think that, living in caves as she did, such enclosed space would be a comfort to her. But the cavern-homes of the Dúranaki were warm and dry, the floors covered with fine carpets and the walls draped in tapestries, and everywhere crystal lanterns cast a comforting glow. The streets of Haalkitaine were cold cobbles, the buildings grey hard stone. Even lamp-lit storefronts seemed uninviting. But perhaps T’tania felt unwelcome there because they had no money. Forced to flee their home with no warning, they had only the clothes on their backs and the weapons they carried with them on patrol.
They stood together now in the colonnade along the façade of a four-storey building called the Palisade Gardens Apartments. It gave only limited shelter from the wind that blew down the Chancellor’s Walk, but at least they were out of the chilling rain.
They had looked for work, but it seemed there was nothing available in this city for a pair of strangers from over the mountains. Nothing except signing on to fight in the war against Frelik the Pretender, and T’tania wasn’t willing to do that yet. The war had made people here even more xenophobic than usual. Unlike a port such as Lethys, Haalkitaine was deep inside Rhakhaan and outsiders were not so common. It was also the capital and so the primary target of this pretender to the throne the king was trying to fight off. So, paranoia ran high in this dark city: the wiry little woman with wild white hair and black leather garments and her hulking companion with his fair skin and short straw-colored hair drew stares wherever they went.
They slept and ate when they could in the shelter run by the Church of Orhan, but in this time of war and uncertainty, that place provided only the most miserly fare. Just as bad, the sanitary facilities were minimal and the couple had no privacy. During the day they were out on their own. This could not go on forever; it was only a matter of time before one of them became ill in this dank, cold weather. Here in the city they could not even forage. The alternative was crime. This didn’t sit well with either of them, but it seemed they had little alternative at least for the present. They agreed that they would take only what they absolutely needed to survive, not even enough to pay for the poorest lodging. They had yet to act on their desperate decision, but time was running out for them.
Sten never once complained, but she knew he was as despondent as she was. And he looked to her for leadership. T’tania needed to think of something soon. She just hoped they wouldn’t get so desperate that they would have to sell her kynacs.
“Can I buy you a glass of wine?” Sten interrupted her unhappy reverie.
“With what? I thought we used our last coppers on bread and cheese this morning.” She answered sourly, staring out at the curtain of rain.
“I think it’s time that I cashed in my lucky silver coin.” Sten fished into a tiny concealed pouch in his belt. Maybe by passing it on, our luck will change.”
“By the Fathers and Mothers, I had forgotten all about that!”
“I did too, until a little while ago when we were talking about selling a kynac. With this at least we can have a nice meal and still have money for rations for a few days. And I for one could use a glass of wine to ward off the chill.”
“I hate for you to give up your lucky coin, but I wouldn’t say no to a drink right now.”
“How about that place, the Foam and Feather? It looks decent but not too pricey.”
Far to the south in Sel-kai City, Kyan Kim sat alone at a small table in the dimmest corner of Divad Taminger’s tavern, nursing a mug of tea. He was to escort Randæ Terisonen to a house in Black Oak at midnight and had some time to kill. The Cold Barley Soup Kitchen was well attended as usual, but he noticed that the crowd was a little less boisterous than on most nights. Maybe resting up for the New Year celebrations in a few days, the Nuyan mused. He was the only one sitting alone; even the patrons at the bar were all engaged in conversation. But this is how he preferred it, he reminded himself sternly. It was better this way, for him and for anyone else. Still, the sense of being alone in a crowd nagged at him. Why did he keep coming down here? The drink wasn’t all that good. He’d be happier in his room reading a book… if a relative lack of sadness could be called ‘happy.’ When had he last been truly happy? His childhood was comfortable if emotionally barren. The time in his early teens when he was a Mataru-khin (“bonded knight”) to Clan Lahryan had been happy, mostly thanks to the friendship of his bond-brother Tyri. But indiscreet liaisons were inevitably exposed; actions not proscribed by the Nuyan god To’tonaur but considered an offense against the local goddess Ophuni, bringing shame upon Clans Lahryan and Kyan. Tyri was severely punished and Kim was sent back to his own house in disgrace. Banished from Clan Kyan and declared Jho-yan (“without clan”) by his own father, Kim fled his homeland. He was lucky enough to be accepted into the Changramai school, and his years there were filled with education and training. The rigorous environment helped to keep him busy mentally and physically, so rarely did he have time for self-indulgent thinking. But now in the outside world again, the melancholy returned.
“Excuse me, are these see-seats taken?”
Kim blinked and looked up from his tea. Standing over him were a slender young man with curly blond hair and spectacles, and a taller youth with short brown hair: Bryon the wainright and Kerin the metalsmith. Kim knew them slightly: they had shops nearby and were friends of Taminger and the young boatsman Tad Kontran. They were also occasional clients of T’revor’s Tankard where Kim was employed, though the monk thought that tavern on the docks was a bit rowdy for them. It occurred to him with some irony that he thought of them both as youths though they were no younger than he was; possibly even a year or so older. “No, no one is sitting there.” Kim mumbled.
“Well if you don’t mind, I think we will join you. And you loo-look like you could use some come-company.” Bryon, in addition to having poor vision, had a pronounced stutter.
“I don’t know if I’ll be very good company myself.” Kim sighed.
“We’ll have to see about that!” Kerin smiled crookedly as Bryon waved at the barmaid for drinks.
“I’m not drinking tonight; I have an… appointment… later.” Kim shook his head when they looked expectantly at him.
“Ah a mysterious errand. We won’t pry.” Kerin nodded gravely while Bryon paid for their ales. “But you can’t blame us for being curious. Tad told us about your acrobatics on the pier the other day. And we’ve seen you break up fights at the Tankard.”
“You’re am-amazing.” Bryon said, eyes wide behind his glasses. “That time you took out those four Præten sailors all by yourself after they at-attacked the other door-guard.”
“They were drunk. Easy to subdue.” Kim glowered.
Bryon and Kerin glanced at each other. Kerin raised his eyebrows. “Sure, okay, we’re just simple shopkeepers, and Tad is just a canaler and a kid at that. But there’s something about you, something different, we can tell.”
Kim felt himself blushing under his brown skin. Where was this going? Were they mocking him? Worse, was this some sort of trap? He had judged both these young men to be basically honest and completely harmless. Could he have been so wrong? Instinct and training had Kim already considering escape options.
“You’re one of those legendary Changramai Monks, aren’t you?” Bryon whispered with a conspiratorial smile—and without a trace of stutter. They both looked at Kyan Kim like eager boys hoping for a thrill.
Kim sighed. At least they weren’t assassins sent by the Jerak Ahrenreth, just nosey neighbors. He was relieved… but only slightly. There was no point in denying his Changramai training; the triangle tattoo was plain to see on the back of his hand. “I have some training, it’s true.” He said finally. “But I am not an active member of the order.”
“But surely you’re not just a door-guard at a ta-tavern now?” Bryon blurted out, then immediately looked chagrined when he realized that the question was insulting.
But Kim didn’t seem offended. “It’s something to do, and the training comes in handy.” He said with a shrug.
Bryon and Kerin exchanged glances again. Kerin cleared his throat. “Well, we were wondering… we talk to Veriak every once in awhile, you know him?”
“The Linær Elf, the Seer with the pet snake?” Kim raised an eyebrow. He had noticed Veriak on several occasions. The tall blond Elf was a striking sight as he walked the streets of the Old City with the huge snake draped over his shoulders. What was most remarkable was that Veriak was supposedly quite blind. He told fortunes out of his house/studio nearby.
“That’s him.” Bryon nodded. “He’s actually very n-nice, but the way his snake stares at me makes my skin cr-cr-crawl.” He shuddered.
Maybe that’s how the blind Seer sees… Kim wondered. Interesting symbiosis, if true. “So, what about Veriak?”
“We do chores for him, keep up his house, Tad runs errands. In return he does readings for us sometimes, Orhan Tarot mostly, just for fun, or so I used to think…” Kerin’s voice trailed off.
“But he’s always right. Always.” Bryon said gravely. “And I’ve been having these dreams lately. Veriak sort of translates them.”
“That’s very interesting, but I’m not sure what that has to do with me.” Kim swirled his tea in the mug, watching the bits of leaf dance in the liquid.
“He told us to come and see you. He said that you would need our help soon.”
Kim tried very hard not to laugh. “Is that so? And what did he say you could help me with?”
The young men leaned in together in a conspiratorial gesture that just added to the comedy for the monk. Though it was strange that this Seer somehow suspected that Kim was more than a door-guard.
Kerin spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Veriak says that a Loremaster named Randae Terisonen is here in Sel-kai and you are going to meet him. He gave us this note to take to him. Veriak also says that something is happening to the Flows.” Kerin produced a small sealed packet from inside his tunic.
This time Kim had to fight to control his surprise. What did the Seer know, and why was he recruiting these boys?”
“A-and another thing.” Bryon looked around. “I’ve been dreaming about a bird with red and gold feathers so bright that seems to be on fire. It is flying, and this dark thing is behind it, as if chasing it. And a great hall with some sort of huge glowing crimson gem…”
“That’s enough for now.” Kim cut him off abruptly.
“You-you know what I am talking about?” Bryon asked with hope in his voice.
“I am not at liberty to speak about such things… yet. But I will take your message. In the meantime discuss this with no one else. I have to go.” Kim rose and gathered his wool robe.
“I think Tad has his skiff tied up by the back jetty.” Kerin volunteered with a little smile.
It was nearly full dark by the time the more southerly ship had closed to within several hundred feet of the Naristral. The First Mate reported dozens of men on deck, some manning ballistas and small catapults. The ship to the north was still a few miles back but closing. Captain N’tanga looked to the Navigator, but Tar-esiir just shrugged helplessly.
“I’m sorry captain, but I dare not try anything as delicate as a Jump. My Weather Mastery falters as I speak. I’ll help with other spells if I can, but it may be that all I can lend is my sword. As you know, there are no guarantees.”
N’tanga scowled before turning back to the Mate. “All men at stations, prepare to repel boarders.”
“What if they just want the passengers to ransom them, Captain?”
“You know the answer to that, Verilas. The Navigators may not guarantee safety, but when we take on passengers, we have a duty to protect them.”
“Captain!” Tar-esiir called out. “Look there!”
When N’tanga turned back, he saw the Navigator pointing out over the water to the south. At first he couldn’t see anything, but then he noticed a bluish glow under the surface, and a disturbance in the waves. At first glance he thought it was a luminous sea creature such as a giant jellyfish, but soon realized that it was moving much too fast. It appeared to be headed for the oncoming pirate ship. “What manner of beast is that?” He asked in a low voice.
The Navigator’s voice held a tone of wonder. “That, Captain, is no beast, but a machine.”
Jad slammed his fist on the port sill with such force that Kalen jumped in his chair. “Sorry!” He said contritely, “But it is so frustrating to be cooped up in here and having no idea what is happening! The ships are out of my line of sight.”
“I know.” Kalen sighed. “But the captain ordered us to stay here.”
“And wait until the pirates take out the crew then come for us? It would be more effective if were all able to help defend the ship at once on deck rather than be trapped in this hole!” The Squire leapt to his feet and crossed the small cabin to Kalen. His hand closed on the Marquess’ shoulder in an almost painful grip, making Kalen twist around from the desk to face him. “Don’t you want to fight them!?” Jad demanded.
But Kalen did not want to fight. Jad at once saw the fear—and the shame--in his cousin’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” Kalen looked down at the deck, unable to bear the disappointment he saw dawning on Jad’s face. “I’m not a warrior. I’m not very good; you know that. And if we went up there you would worry about protecting me. If something happened to you because of me…” He stopped, unable to speak. His vision was blurring.
Jad knelt down in front of his cousin. “I’m sorry! I was being rash, as usual.” He gingerly reached out and put his hands on Kalen’s forearms. “Maybe the gods gave me the better sword-arm between us, but I didn’t get the brains. But I can’t bear the thought of the pirates coming for us like this. We don’t know what they want. At least on deck we might have more… options. And because of our Elf-eyes, we can see better in this night than any of the crew, and most likely than the pirates as well.”
Kalen managed a little smile then gently cuffed Jad across the head. “Who says you didn’t get brains, cousin? Your argument makes sense. All right, let’s go up and have a look.” Jad grinned from ear to ear and practically dove for their baldrics; Kalen took the opportunity to wipe his eyes. “But promise me that we hang back and stay out of the way until it is clear that our help is needed and warranted. I don’t want to have to be bandaging you up.”
“Agreed.” Jad said a little too quickly as he buckled on his sword. He knocked on the door to their adjoining cabin. Taluk answered a little too quickly but Kalen didn’t comment on his suspicion that they had been eavesdropping. In moments the other two young men were also ready to go on deck.
They crept out of their cabin and eased open the door to the main deck. It was dark and quiet, though they could see the entire crew arrayed about the perimeter of the ship, some with bows, others with just swords or knives. Up on the foredeck were the captain and Navigator. Tar-esiir was pointing to something off the starboard bow, but it wasn’t the pirate ship looming just a few hundred feet away.
“What is that!?” Jad gasped, spotting a bright blue glow in the water at the same moment as Kalen.
“I don’t know! What can move that fast?”
No one had noticed the boys yet; driven by curiosity, they edged forward almost to the rail. Even in that short period of time the blue light in the water accelerated on an angle that was bringing it closer to them, though its target appeared to be the approaching pirate ship. A surge of foam swelled around the light now, and Kalen thought he could see a jagged fin rising out of the waves. He realized then that this was the thing that had been following them the last several days. The Navigator had been right: this was no normal sea creature. Whatever it was, it looked like it clearly meant to ram the pirate. And would the Naristral be next?
The crew of the raider had seen the glow as well. Even from the Naristral they could hear shouts and cries. Small lamps bobbed about on deck, and there were the sounds of machines: The ballistas that had been trained on the merchant ship were being hurriedly redirected at this new threat. She was swinging around, trying to face the thing head-on rather than present the larger and more vulnerable target of her flank.
Captain N’tanga called to the steersman, directing the ship to move as far away as possible from what looked like an inevitable encounter. No longer caring about being seen on deck, the cousins went to the balustrade to better watch this spectacle unfold.
The thing in the water was moving several times the speed any surface ship could as it closed with the pirate sloop. An eerie whine filled the air, climbing in pitch. Kalen saw three or four bolts fire from the raider, and he was sure he even heard a metallic ‘clang’ as one struck home. But the thing in the water was undeterred. There were many shouts as men ran from the center of the ship, but their cries were drowned out by the keening of the thing as it drove towards them.
Kalen could see it then in the water, lit by its own glow in the foam: it was like a huge barracuda, longer than the sloop but narrower, with jagged fin-like protrusions that actually seemed to slide along the body. But it didn’t move like a fish: the tail didn’t swing back and forth. Instead there was a great churning of water at the rear; something there propelled it.
The shriek rose even higher in pitch, combined with a deep roar; Kalen winced at the painful sound. Jad covered his even more sensitive ears. The thing slammed into the side of the pirate with a loud crack followed by the sound of splintering wood. Without even slowing, the machine passed through the ship and vanished from sight.
They had but an instant to marvel at the thing’s power when a cry went up behind them. “Ware! Intruders!”
Kalen and Jad turned with the others. Right in the center of the main deck, bathed in a rainbow glow as they materialized, were a dozen men—Erlin Elves actually—in a circle facing outward. All were armed with swords and small crossbows. In the center of this ring stood two others: a raven-haired Dyar Elf in silvery chain armor and blue surcoat with the white swan emblem on the chest, and another with golden hair and shimmering black garments. The latter held his right arm up and on his forearm was a wide metal bracer that shone brightly with a prismatic light—the source of the radiance surrounding the group. Even as the radiance faded, the man in armor spoke in a clear calm voice “I am the White Swan; you will surrender to me now.”
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