Standing again, he stared our through the ice wall at the ship of chaos, locking the position of its upper deck in his mind.
"Faer z'hind!" he cried.
As his spell took effect, the stone floor vanished from under his feet. An instant later he, Quenthel, and Jeggred were falling through the air toward the deck of the rapidly moving ship. The wizard checked his descent by levitating, but the water stinging his eyes made it difficult to see. He'd aimed for a pace or two above the deck?the only sane option, with the ship rising and falling so violently and listing at such a sharp angle?but without anything solid under his feet he was in danger of being hurled into the eye of the storm. He floundered about, trying to find the deck with his feet as sprays of water lashed him and the wind tore at the hood of his piwafwi, nearly strangling him. A gust of wind caught him, slamming him into the main mast and knocking the air from his lungs, Desperately, Pharaun grabbed at the closest thing to hand: one of the lines that formed the ship's rigging.
The line compressed as his hands tightened around it. Inside the line was something soft and wet?and warm. An instant later, as something pulsed through it, Pharaun realized that the line was made not of rope but of a strand of intestine. He curled his lip, hoping the line wouldn't rupture. Pharaun didn't relish the thought of being spattered by its contents.
He wedged one foot against the base of the mast, the other against the tilted deck, and he glanced up. Jeggred and Quenthel had halted their fall a pace or two above him. The draegloth had grabbed the mast and was hugging it with his fighting arms. Rigid as a statue, muscles bulging, he easily held himself in place against the wind that tore at his mane. Quenthel clung to his back, supported by the draegloth's smaller arms.
Quenthel stared down at Pharaun, her hair writhing in the wind like the vipers that thrashed furiously in her whip. She shouted something, jerking her head up at the demon that floated at the eye of the storm, far above the mast to which they clung.
Pharaun had no idea what Quenthel was saying, but the need for urgency was certainly clear.
With his feet securely braced, he released the line with his left hand and reached into his pocket for the twig he'd used to collect a spiderweb, so many days before. Pointing it at the deck of the ship, he chanted a spell.
A spray of web filaments erupted from the twig and struck the deck. Several twisted away in the howling wind, but the majority of them stuck. They formed a sticky smear across the bone-white deck?a smear that gradually built in thickness as yet more web pulsed out of the twig. By the time the spell was spent, the mass of spiderweb was nearly half a pace deep, mounded in an oval that resembled a cocoon.
Letting the twig go?it was instantly snatched away by the wind?Pharaun fished a wad of bitumen out of a pocket and popped it into his mouth. He swallowed the gummy mass down, gagging slightly as the spider hairs embedded in the bitumen scratched the back of his throat, then he curled his fingers into the shape of a spider and tapped fingertips lightly against his chest. Immediately his hand grew sticky?gummy enough to pluck at his sodden piwafwi when he pulled it away.
Tentatively, still holding the line of intestine, Pharaun moved one foot away from the mast and felt his boot stick to the deck. Then, walking slowly and with one hand touching the tilting deck, he worked his way over to the patch of web.
Standing erect was impossible?the ship was canted at an acute angle, sailing in crazy circles around the inside of the whirlpool with its hull half in and half out of the water and its masts pointing at the eye of the storm. The deck shuddered under Pharaun's feet like a live thing as the ship twisted around and around in the whirlpool, its planks groaning like a chorus of undead. The wizard heard what sounded like a weight shifting in a space under his feet, but there was something more to the sound that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Forced to stand at an angle that made his knees and ankles ache, Pharaun fought to keep his balance. To fall then would ruin everything. Meanwhile, the wind howling through the lines above added a ghastly harmony, and the flap-flap. .flap-flap. .flap-flap of the tattered sails pounded like an off-kilter heartbeat.
Pharaun opened the pouch he'd hung around his neck. The statuette inside it had held up well under the buffeting the storm had given the pouch. The only damage was that its tail had been bent slightly. The length of chain Valas had provided was still fastened securely around one ankle, and the pin was still in place at the end of the chain.
Working quickly, Pharaun reached down?nearly falling into the web as the ship bucked on a wave and only recovering his balance at the last moment?and mired the statue's feet in the outer edge of the web, sticking it to the deck, Then, carefully, he pushed the pin into the deck. It slid home into the bone-white boards as easily as if it was piercing a stick of wet chalk.
Pharaun began the binding. Staring up at the demon that hung far above the mast, he chanted the words of his spell, hands raised above his head with thumbs and forefingers forming interlocking circles. Slowly, he drew his hands down toward the deck?and chuckled with delight as he saw the demon begin to descend toward the ship. Compelled by the spell, it was pulled down past the top of the mast, down past where Quenthel and Jeggred clung, down toward the spot where Pharaun stood. Still twisting in the fierce wind, the demon seemed to grow larger and more fearsome as it descended, but that was just a product of the unholy aura that surrounded it. In fact the demon was only a little larger than Pharaun himself. It was, however, powerfully muscled, with claws like yellowed daggers on hands and feet and a tail that looked powerful enough to smash a stalagmite in two. Its face resembled a rat's, and its skin was a mottled, dead-looking gray. As it descended to Pharaun's eye level, guided by his hands toward the statue on the deck, Pharaun noted that one of the demon's ears had a half-circle bitten out of it. The wound had festered, and a maggot protruded, unmoving, from the rotten flesh?another victim of the spell that had frozen the demon in time.
Squatting, Pharaun touched the statuette, then ripped the finger-and-thumb links apart. As the symbolic chain parted, a flash of multicolored magical energy exploded from the opal, melting the statuette.
For a moment Pharaun was blinded?but the sweet tang of melted beeswax told him his spell had succeeded. Blinking away the spots of light that dazzled his vision, he peered at the demon that stood before him, its ankle secured to the deck by a thin length of lead chain. The demon was still frozen in time, but its red eyes blazed with fury. Despite the stasis spell that held it, the demon seemed to know it had been bound.
Pharaun waved at Jeggred and Quenthel to join him on the deck. At a nod from Quenthel, who was still clinging to his back, the draegloth obeyed. He leaped down from the mast and anchored himself on the steeply sloping deck by thrusting his hands into the sticky mass of web. Pharaun immediately cast another spell, tossing a pinch of ground diamond into the air. A dome of force shut out the storm, enclosing the three of them, together with the demon, in welcome silence. Sprays of water crashed onto the invisible barrier and ran down it in streams, but inside, all was quiet.
Quenthel clambered off Jeggred's back, but she continued to hold onto his mane, steadying herself against the rise and fall of the deck. She stared at the demon, the serpents in her whip tasting the air next to it with flickering tongues, and she wrinkled her nose. Even with its body held in stasis, the demon stank of sulfur and rot.
"It's small," she noted derisively. "Not even a match for Jeggred."
The draegloth, mired in the web up to his elbows, grunted his agreement.