Direfang looked up through gaps in the sails, spying a thick bank of clouds and smelling a sweetness in the air that hinted at heavy rain. He saw the sails of the other five ships, spread out and drawing close to the Clare. In fact, it appeared that the five were gaining and were going to overtake the lead ship.
“The storms here … on this inland sea … they ain’t so bad as what you’ll come into on open water.” Captain Gerrold forced the wheel to starboard and closed his eyes as another wave washed across the bow. “This is nothing for the Clare…”
“Foreman Direfang,” Horace supplied. “His name is Direfang.”
The captain made a humming sound, as if to say that was an interesting name. “What concerns me is that ship that is following us … Foreman Direfang. That’s why I’m slowing, letting the others catch up and get ahead. We’ve got a wizard with us, I know, and so we’ll need to organize a defense if such is needed.”
Direfang turned, but he couldn’t see anything beyond the masts and lines, and the men moving around on the other ships. The water looked as gray as the sky, broken by only chunks of white foam.
“Oh, she’s back there, Direfang.” The captain paused. “How is it you know Common, may I ask? I’d not think your kind-”
“This ship that follows us,” Direfang said, ignoring the question. “Why is it of concern? Aren’t there many ships that sail this route?”
The captain wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the king spoke. “She’s a sloop with one mast, not close to Clare’s size, not as big as any in your armada. But her bowsprit’s as long as her hull, and I’d wager she could make double our speed in fair weather. She’s built for the shallows, her draft but a whisper. If the wind weren’t against her, she’d easily overtake all of us. But she’s been catching up, and with the freshening, she will.”
“And that is what she intends to do?” That came from Horace. He squinted into the grayness of the sea and sky. “What makes you think that?”
Captain Gerrold gave a clipped laugh. “Her name’s the Blithe Dagger. I saw her in port yesterday. She pulled in for supplies, left a few hours ahead of us. Thought she was gone from these waters, but she must have been waiting for us. Must have caught word that Grallik N’sera bought the Clare, bought five other ships and lots of things with the gemstones he was spending around the docks. Drew quite the interest, all those sparkling blue stones.” Gerrold paused and looked up at a flight of gulls struggling against the wind. “The Blithe Dagger’s full of your kind, Horace, if you don’t mind my saying. Sea barbarians from Ergoth.” He let the silence settle a moment. “Pirates, Direfang. The Blithe Dagger will pose a far greater threat than the storm. Even though we’re five ships, she can come in and pick us off, one at a time.”
Horace’s eyes grew wide.
“They know they’ll get a good haul from us, worth the risks,” Captain Gerrold continued. “Whatever gemstones Grallik has left, the hold full of supplies, goblins that can be sold as slaves.”
“You sound already defeated.” Horace’s face showed a mix of anger and disbelief.
“Oh, I’ll not give up without a fight,” the captain averred. “I’ve ordered all my men armed. But we’re a merchantman, all of these ships Grallik bought are merchantmen, not men-o-war, and the Blithe Dagger’s captain … well, she’s an old Black Robe. Her spells alone could well sink us-that is, if they wanted to sink us.”
“A Black Robe.” The words hissed out between Direfang’s teeth. He spun, nearly losing his footing on the slippery deck. “Skull man, where is the wizard?”
“In the captain’s cabin,” Horace answered quickly. “Sleeping.”
“Well, it’s time to wake him up,” said the hobgoblin as he turned and headed toward the second level, struggling to keep his footing.
The ship pitched with a high wave. Lightning flickered overhead, looking like thin, gold threads against the gray sky. Direfang could barely hear the thunder over the flapping sails, and he worried about the other ships. “Walk, walk, walk,” he remembered Skakee saying. “Indeed,” he said, looking around gloomily. “This army should have walked.”
He approached an ornate door on the second level at the end of a narrow corridor faintly lit by a lantern that constantly wobbled and clanked. Direfang’s shoulders rubbed against the walls, and he turned sideways to avoid knocking the lantern down. He stopped midway as the half-ogre K’lars exited a nearby bunk room and tried to squeeze by. In the end, K’lars stepped back, letting Direfang pass.
“Wizard!” The knob was polished brass and in the shape of a ship, too small for Direfang’s big hand. He fumbled with it then shoved the door open just as the ship’s bow rose so high, it pitched him off his feet. He tumbled forward, into a table that had been bolted to the floor. “Wizard!”
Direfang pulled himself up and leaned against the table. He could barely stand upright in the room, less than an inch separating the top of his head from the ceiling. Everything was polished mahogany, smelling and looking rich-the table, desk, the large bed from which the wizard was rising. At the back of the room, windows looked out onto the sea; the roiling waves setting the hobgoblin’s stomach to spinning.
He stumbled around the table and went to the windows, shouting for Grallik to hurry and get up.
“Foreman, I’ve packages in here for you … and maps. I mentioned them to you last night and-”
Direfang snarled.
“I realized I should have asked permission to sleep here rather than in the hold. I just thought-”
“Wizard, see that ship?” Direfang stabbed a finger at a window pane. The sloop was hard to make out, everything so gray and the Clare pitching and rolling. And the hobgoblin talked so fast, about a pirate wizard and the swift, single-masted ship and Ergothians. He occasionally slipped into the goblin tongue.
But Grallik caught the gist of it and immediately stood and dressed. He followed the hobgoblin back through the narrow hallway. At the stairs, goblins were streaming up, complaining of the rocking ship and cursing Direfang for leading them onto stormy seas.
“Down!” he ordered. “Safer below in the hold. It’s a storm coming. Better to stay below than fall off the ship.”
That last scared them, and those who hadn’t yet climbed up to the top hastily beat a retreat.
“Except Mudwort!” Direfang shouted down the stairs. “Get Mudwort. Be fast!” He repeated the order before shoving Grallik up the stairs. Then he followed, holding onto the top rung as the ship climbed a wave and crashed down. His feet lost their purchase, and his legs banged hard into the stairs. But his fingers gripped the rung tighter and he slowly pulled himself up.
Chaos ruled on the Clare’s deck, and Direfang blinked furiously in an effort to see all that was going on. In the short time he’d been belowdecks, the rain had started to pour. The rain came down hard at an angle, looking like a wall of water and splashing back up from the deck. At the same time, waves were washing over the port rail. Lines were whipping around, and sailors worked to secure them. Sails were being lowered; one of the larger ones had a rent in it. Everywhere men were moving, slipping, sliding, but the grizzled sailors knew their jobs, and none of them fell or were knocked over.
Direfang could vaguely make out his other ships, The Elizabeth and Shinare’s Prayer just passing the Clare. No goblins were on those decks, he noted with a mix of fear and relief. Then he saw those ships lower their sails, and his heart thudded in terror.