Sergen glanced down at his own armor, a light shirt of black chain mail beneath a tough leather coat. “I hope we don’t miss Moonshark’s complement. Another seventy men would greatly fortify my confidence.”
Kamoth waved one gauntleted hand at the sky. “Perhaps, but the wind and weather favor us too much to wait for that sluggard Narsk, my boy. A swift run from the rendezvous, a dark night to hinder anyone trying to organize a defense of the town, and a quick escape when it’s time to go. The Prince of Demons will drink his fill tonight!”
Sergen nodded but did not answer. Long ago Kamoth had sworn him to the service of the demon lord Demogorgon, but the exiled lordling had never found much use for groveling in front of bloodstained altars. He was content to allow his father to glorify Demogorgon in any way he wished, so long as Kamoth didn’t expect him to do the same. “Any sign of Seadrake?” he called to the lookouts.
“No, Lord Sergen! She’s not in port!” the man aloft called back down.
Sergen relaxed a little. Outnumbered four to one, Seadrake wouldn’t have lasted long against the Black Moon flotilla, but he knew better than to underestimate his stepsister, Kara, or his stepcousin, Geran. He’d done so only a few short months ago, and it had cost him the lordship of Hulburg, the friendship of Mulmaster, a great amount of wealth and power, and very nearly his life. Somehow they would have found a way to cause him more trouble with their one warship than they should have been able to in any reasonable world. “But if she’s not here, then where is she?” he wondered aloud and began to worry all over again.
“Likely sniffing after our trail in the waters of the west end,” Kamoth answered. He finished donning his armor. The pirate lord checked the fit with several hard slaps to his shoulders and chest. Then he moved over to the rail and looked at the other vessels following Kraken Queen into the harbor. “Give the signal!” he told the deckhand standing there.
The fellow lifted above the ship’s sternrail a bullseye lantern that held a red-tinted piece of glass. He opened and closed its shutter three times. From the quarterdecks of the other ships, red lights winked back at Kraken Queen in answer. The flotilla split up as each ship began to steer toward its own assigned landing point. “Damn Moonshark, and damn that fool Narsk,” Kamoth muttered. “I hope for his sake that I don’t find reason to wish I’d waited for the fifth ship.”
“The weather might’ve delayed him, High Captain,” Kraken Queen’s first mate said. “He might be only an hour behind us.”
“He’d better be, or the next time I see him, I swear I’ll strap him to the foretop with his own guts and leave him there for the gulls!” Kamoth went back to the ship’s wheel and peered ahead over the rowers. “Easy right rudder now, helm! There, steady as she goes. All right … all right … avast rowing! Raise and ship oars!”
Kraken Queen glided ahead on momentum, coasting closer to the town’s wharves. The abandoned Veruna pier was Kamoth’s target, and the old pirate expertly guided his ship alongside. It seemed too fast to Sergen, and he surreptitiously braced himself against the rail. But then gangs of deckhands leaped to the pier with mooring lines, checking the large galley with the heavy creaking of taut lines and timber pilings. The whole wharf trembled as Kraken Queen came to a stop.
“Well done!” Kamoth called. “Now go! The town’s yours for the taking!”
With a wild chorus of shouts, laughter, and battle cries, Kraken Queen’s crew swarmed over the side and ran into the town. Kamoth himself grinned once at Sergen and followed after his crew, a wicked cutlass gleaming in his hand.
Sergen summoned Kerth and the rest of his magically bound bodyguards and followed more purposefully to the streets of town. He didn’t see any particular need to murder, loot, or rape anyone; he was a very wealthy man, and he could afford all the women he cared for. His task for the night was to watch for resistance and direct the Black Moon corsairs against any trouble spots. If his father wanted to lead from the front and set an example of bloodthirst for the men, that was Kamoth’s concern. Sergen wanted to make sure the raid would have the effect on Hulburg that he desired-no more, and no less.
The first screams rang out in the night, followed by the clash of steel on steel. Shouts of alarm arose from the sleeping town. It was not exactly the triumphant return to Hulburg Sergen had envisioned for himself during the long months of exile in Melvaunt, but he couldn’t suppress a predatory grin. He was likely the single most dangerous enemy of the Hulmasters, the man who’d come closer to unseating the harmachs than anyone in a hundred years, and for tonight at least he roamed the streets with impunity. Geran or Kara would have a fit if they knew I was standing here watching the sacking of the harbor, he thought. The smell of smoke drifted to his nostrils, and the ruddy red glare of fires began to grow in the shadowed alleyways and winding streets. “This might turn out even better than I’d intended,” he said.
“Not for the Hulburgans,” his armsman Kerth answered with a hungry grin.
“It’s the cost I must pay to unseat the harmach, Kerth. The Hulmasters brought this on themselves when Geran and Kara thwarted me before.” Sergen studied the scene for a moment longer and then walked back to the base of the wharf where Kraken Queen was tied up. Dozens of corsairs waited there anxiously, whooping with delight when another building caught fire and shouting encouragement at those of their fellows who remained in view. One man in five from all four ships had been ordered to assemble here, forming a strong reserve of manpower in case the Hulburgans managed to mount some unexpectedly determined defense of their town or tried to retaliate against the pirates’ ships. That, of course, was Sergen’s addition to Kamoth’s plan of attack. None of the fellows assigned this duty were happy about it, since they wanted to be released to participate in the sack. But Sergen was pleased to see at a quick count that most of the men promised had actually reported for this duty.
“Can’t we just have a look in some of those storehouses over there?” one of the corsairs waiting in the reserve asked. He pointed across the street. “We won’t be far off, Lord Sergen.”
“And what would the High Captain say if he called for you to help him, but you’d run off to start stuffing your pockets?” Sergen answered. “I think I’d mind my orders, if I were you. If all goes well, you’ll be relieved in an hour, and it’ll be your turn to enjoy the town.”
The fellow looked glum, but he gave up the argument. Sergen decided to have a look around to see if there was someplace he could put the reserve to work, and led his small knot of bodyguards along Bay Street, searching for any signs of trouble. Gangs of pirates ran from building to building, some already burdened by armfuls of loot. First he checked on the Marstel merchant compound and was relieved to see that the Black Moon corsairs were avoiding it as they were supposed to. Then he headed inland a block and walked eastward along Cart Street, passing more pirates at their work. It might defeat my purpose if the Black Moon actually razes the town, he thought with a grimace. He wanted something left of the place, after all.
The clash of arms grew heavier ahead-much heavier. Sergen frowned and hurried forward to take a look. He reached the corner of Cart Street and High Street, the heart of the town’s commerce district, and saw ahead of him a solid phalanx of the harmach’s own Shieldsworn. The Hulburgan soldiers, a small company of perhaps thirty or forty, fought their way down the street, driving the pirate gangs ahead of them. Sergen scowled at the show of early resistance. The Shieldsworn company was interfering with his long-laid plans to humble Hulburg, and he didn’t care for it in the least. They needed to be broken, and the sooner the better. “Damn them!” Sergen snarled. “Where did they come from?”