Sea of Death: Blade of the Flame - Book 3 (27 page)

Nathifa had been bobbing on the surface of the Lhazaar for only a short time before she saw a dorsal fin slicing through the water toward her. As it drew close the shark slowed and turned its side to her. The lich took hold of the creature’s dorsal fin, and the shark began swimming with powerful strokes of its tail. Within moments, they were in sight of the
Zephyr
—or at least what was left of her. The vessel was still afloat, but she listed to starboard and a set of runners was missing. The shark brought Nathifa up to the sloop’s hull, and the lich let go of the creature’s fin and, using her own magic, levitated up and over the ship’s railing. Once her feet touched the deck, she took hold of the railing behind her to steady herself. She wasn’t about to waste something as precious as magic energy to help her keep her footing on a canted deck.

A moment later, a humanoid shark climbed over the railing and joined Nathifa. The creature’s facial features began to soften, and its eyes became less cold. Soon, a nearly naked Haaken stood next to the undead sorceress, also gripping the railing to keep from sliding on the slanted deck.

“I thank you for coming to my aid, Haaken.” The words were as sawdust in her mouth. She wasn’t used to needing help, and she was even less used to thanking anyone. She glanced around, searching for Makala and Skarm. She found the latter in his barghest form clinging to the mast, fur soaked and body trembling with fright. As for Makala …

A black-winged bat swooped down from above and circled the lich and the wereshark once before transforming into Makala. The vampire smiled weakly.

“All present and accounted for,” she said, her voice tinged with weariness. It was clear to Nathifa that it had taken a great deal of strength for Makala to resist the energy-draining power of the Lhazaar. But resist she had, if only just.

Nathifa gazed skyward and was pleased to see the moons and stars once more. She didn’t know whether she’d destroyed the Ragestorm or merely driven it off. Either way, she was glad the damned thing was gone.

She turned to Haaken. “How bad is the damage?”

“Bad enough. When I was underwater, I swam around the
Zephyr
to get a good look. We lost the starboard runner, which is why the ship is listing so badly. There are no leaks as yet, but the hull’s been weakened in a number of places. Even if we shore up the weak spots by spreading pitch on them, it’s only a matter of time before we start taking on water. The mast and sails look fine, and the containment ring seems undamaged. We’ll have to check, but I don’t think the Ragestorm was able to absorb the ship’s elemental. Not that it matters. We can’t travel at top speed without both runners, and even if we could somehow fashion a new starboard runner, the hull wouldn’t be able to withstand the stress of traveling that fast. We can remove the port runner so that we can sail by natural wind power alone, but our speed will be greatly diminished.”

“I don’t want to spend any more time at sea than necessary,” Makala growled. “My sarcophagus survived the
Zephyr
’s fall. It slid about and damaged the starboard rail, but at least it didn’t break through and sink to the bottom of Lhazaar. I have a place to rest during the day, but I still don’t have a source of nourishment.” She shot Nathifa a quick glare. “None that I’m permitted to avail myself of, anyway. The sooner we make landfall, the better as far as my thirst is concerned. But my own selfish considerations aside, we aren’t in any hurry, are we? Trebaz Sinara will still be waiting for us whether we arrive in one day or a half dozen.”

“And when we reach the island, we should be able to find the materials needed to repair the
Zephyr,”
Haaken said. “We can’t make her as good as new without a supply of soarwood, but we can get her strong enough to withstand the force of the air elemental again.”

Normally, her servants’ logic would’ve swayed Nathifa. After all, what were a few more days after all the time she’d already waited to see her vengeance finally done? But there was something she hadn’t shared with Makala and Haaken yet—something she had learned earlier when she’d been alone in the cabin listening to the whispers of Espial.

“We cannot afford any delay,” the lich said. “The priest and his companions have learned of our destination, and they have acquired transport upon an elemental galleon. Even now they speed toward us, coming closer with each passing second.”

Makala laughed. “I’m not surprised. Diran may have been foolish enough to ally himself with the so-called Purified, but he’s as much as a hunter as any of us. He’ll never stop, not so long as breath remains in his body.”

Nathifa gave the vampire an appraising look. “You sound as if you still love him.”

Makala opened her mouth and displayed her fangs. “I’d love to sink my teeth into his neck, if that’s what you mean.”

Nathifa wondered if the evil that infested Makala’s soul didn’t have quite the firm foothold that she’d originally thought. If so, it was a useful thing to know. Nathifa might be able to use that against Makala should the need arise.

When
the need arose, the lich amended.

“Unless you know a spell that can repair a damaged sloop, I’m afraid we’re not going anywhere fast anytime soon,” Haaken said.

Nathifa looked up at the sky, noted the four full moons, and remembered at last what they signified.

“I just may,” she said.

Nathifa stood alone at the
Zephyr
’s slanted prow, Espial tucked beneath one arm. Her servants had locked themselves in the cabin as she had ordered. Not only didn’t she wish them to interfere in what was to take place, they would be safer there. She hoped.

She rubbed chalk-white fingers across the smooth surface of the skull’s glossy obsidian pate, her gaze fixed on the eastern horizon. It was well past midnight, but dawn was still some hours away. Nathifa was a creature of darkness, but right now she would’ve preferred to see at least a hint of coming sunlight in the distance.

It’s not too late to change your mind, she told herself. But of course it was. She’d sent the summons. The ship would come, and no power on Eberron could stop it now.

Was she really willing to make the terrible bargain she had in mind? Perhaps it would be better to remove the remaining runner and sail without the aid of the
Zephyr
’s bound air elemental. What did it matter that the priest and his companions would catch up to them? Nathifa and her servants were powerful. Diran Bastiaan and the others wouldn’t stand a chance against them. There was no need to make the deal she was contemplating.

But of course there was. She’d only faced Bastiaan once, in her lair located in the hills beyond Perhata, but that had been enough for her to take the man’s measure. Power ran strong in him—far stronger than anyone Nathifa had ever encountered before. She sensed darkness in the man’s soul as well, and she wondered if his knowledge of darkness, instead of weakening the good in him, actually strengthened it. It was a disturbing thought, for if a man like Diran Bastiaan could learn to let go of his past, what did that mean for a creature like her? Could she, like Bastiaan, step off her path and
decide to walk another, even after all this time?

She shook her head and cursed herself for a fool. Her brother Kolbyr had wronged her grievously, had wronged her child by not giving him the chance to be Kolbyr’s heir. And even though Kolbyr had long ago gone to his grave, she couldn’t bear to allow his name to live on through his descendants … descendents who ruled a city bearing her brother’s very name! She’d sacrificed so much in the name of vengeance: long years spent studying fell sorcery, pledging herself to the service of the Lich Queen, surrendering her mortal life so that she might become a lich and live long enough to see her vengeance fulfilled at last. If she turned aside from her path now, all her work, all her sacrifices would be wasted.

And her thrice-hated brother would win in the end. That, more than anything else, she simply could not bear. She would walk her chosen path to the bloody end, regardless of the cost. No price was too high to finally see her vengeance done.

And then, as if in response to her thoughts, a wall of greenish mist rolled in from the east, heralding the arrival of the
Ship of Bones
.

The dread vessel slid forth from the mist in complete silence—no splashing of water against its hull, no flapping of sails or creaking of rigging. In fact, the ship seemed to swallow all sound, for Nathifa could no longer hear the wind or the waves, or even the dry rasp of her hand as she rubbed Espial for whatever cold comfort the mystic object could give. The green mist reached the
Zephyr
and rolled across the sloop’s deck, bringing with it a cold more intense than that of even the most frigid winter nights on the Lhazaar, for this was a cold that affected not the body, but the spirit.

Like all born and raised in the Principalities, Nathifa grew up hearing the legend of Prince Moren and his
Ship of Bones
. An evil man cursed for his misdeeds in life, Moren was doomed to sail the Lhazaar Sea with a crew of undead pirates in search of living sailors upon which to feed. As the tales would have it, on nights when two or more moons were full, the
Ship of Bones
silently sailed the dark waters of the night searching for any vessels unfortunate enough to cross its path. Although in this instance, Moren found the
Zephyr
because
Nathifa had summoned him.

Nathifa had always wondered what the
Ship of Bones
would look like. Was it just a name to inspire fear or was the vessel truly constructed from bone instead of iron and wood? She now knew it was the latter.

The hull was made from the curving rib bones of some enormous creature—a dragon, perhaps, though one larger than any Nathifa had ever heard of. The ship’s three masts were formed from massive leg bones that appeared human, save for their great size. Giant bones, Nathifa guessed, but from giants larger than any she’d ever dreamed could exist. The sails were fashioned from sewn-together patches of leathery skin, torn from the bodies of Moren’s victims, she wagered, most likely while they were still alive and screaming in agony. At least, that’s how she would’ve done it. The bones were lashed together with strips of flesh, lengths of muscle, strands of sinew, and coils of intestines. It was, in its own dark way, magnificent.

Nathifa could see none of the crew as the
Ship of Bones
drew alongside the
Zephyr
, but she knew they were there. She could sense them watching her with curiosity, wondering who this madwoman was who was suicidal enough to summon the Prince of Bones and his deathly crew.

A gangplank made from interlocking arm and hand bones was lowered over the side, and a pair of skeletal hands on the end grabbed hold of the
Zephyr
’s railing. Nathifa waited to see if any of Moren’s crew would disembark, but when none did, she knew they were waiting for her to board their ship. After all, hadn’t
she
summoned
them?

Rubbing the top of Espial’s head once more for luck, Nathifa stepped up onto the skeletal ramp and began walking upward.

“How long has she been over there?” Haaken asked.

Makala peered through the porthole of the
Zephyr
’s cabin. She could see no sign of activity aboard the
Ship of Bones
. It was as if the vessel was deserted, a thing possessed of its own unearthly life that
plied the waters of the Lhazaar without need of a crew. But she knew Nathifa was aboard, had seen the lich embark.

“The better part of an hour, I’d say. Whatever they’re talking about, they’re evidently in no hurry.”

“Time doesn’t mean the same thing to the dead as it does to the living,” Skarm said. Then, realizing who he was talking to, he added, “No offense.”

Makala considered backhanding the barghest, but she restrained herself. Depending on how Nathifa’s meeting with Prince Moren turned out, they might well end up having to fight for their lives. If so, she wanted Skarm uninjured and ready for battle.

Haaken sat cross-legged on the sleeping pallet, face pale, eyes haunted. “Do you think they’re … going to
eat
us?”