Another—A’stoc! “But we do have another,” Chentelle said. “Well, another wizard, at least. I’m sure A’stoc can summon another sagewind.”

  Captain Rone shook his head uncertainly. “I don’t know, lady. A shipsage is no ordinary wizard. It takes more than raw power to summon a wind. It takes a special feel that grows over years of practice. And if you’ll pardon my saying it, lady, you and Paun struggled for hours to keep that wind alive. If the wizard could have helped, why didn’t he show his face above deck?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Still,” Dacius said, “we don’t have any other options. I will go ask him if he can help.”

  “Wait,” Chentelle said, “I’ll go with you.”

  The wizard had installed himself in a small cabin near the stern. They hurried down the ladder and through the salon. Paun lay stretched on one of the tables, being tended by Father Marcus and his acolyte. The shipsage was still unconscious, and the priests were both deep in prayer. None of them stirred as Dacius and Chentelle sprinted past.

  The wizard’s door was barred. Chentelle called out, and almost immediately the door swung open. A’stoc stood in the opening, glaring at them with wild eyes. His hair was disheveled and several days’ worth of stubble sprouted from his face. In the closed passageway, his body odor was almost overpowering. Lore books and parchments lay scattered about the cabin behind him. “What do you want?”

  Dacius stepped forward to answer him. “We are being pursued by a goblin warship. If you are capable of summoning a sagewind, then we might be able to evade them.”

  “For how long?” A’stoc asked. “Surely, they have their own shipsages. They will catch us eventually. We should turn and fight.”

  Dacius looked stunned. “Wizard A’stoc, it is better if we evade them. They have a superior vessel and a much larger complement of warriors.”

  A’stoc sneered. “Do not be a coward. We will be boarded eventually. Why delay the inevitable?”

  With a visible effort, Dacius held his temper in check. “Wizard A’stoc,” he grated between clenched teeth, “are you able to summon the sagewind?”

  “Yes.”

  The human lord took a deep breath, relaxing slightly. “Thank you. Then, will you please take Paun’s place on the foredeck?”

  “No. Let the goblins come to us.”

  “What!” Dacius shouted. “Are you insane? Are you going to sacrifice us all to—”

  Chentelle put a hand to the human’s lips. “Lord Gemine, Dacius, let me try.”

  She turned back to A’stoc. The wizard was surrounded by his usual wall of anger and bitterness, but there was something else, as well. A new confidence. “A’stoc, we want to understand. Is there a reason that you want to fight the goblins? Are you going to use the Staff?”

  “I have to,” the wizard said. “There is an Ill-creature aboard the goblin vessel.”

  “What?” Dacius cried. “Fires of Hel, why didn’t you say something before?”

  “The knowledge was useless to you. The Ill-creature cannot assault us directly during the Season of Light. It will use its goblin slaves to fight the battle. And I will deal with them.”

  “You knew,” said Chentelle. “You knew all along that the Ill-creature was there. That’s why you didn’t help with the sagewind.”

  A’stoc nodded. “I thought it best to conserve my strength for the battle.”

  “Then follow me,” Dacius said, spinning on his heel. “We wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

  By the time they reached the deck, the warship was only a few hundred cubits off their stern. It loomed above the small whaler, an evil shadow promising only death and destruction. Amazingly, Paun was back in his position at the foredeck. The shipsage looked as if he remained standing by force of will alone, but stand he did.

  Dacius turned to Chentelle. “You should wait in the salon with Gorin and Father Marcus. We do not need anyone else exposed.” He turned away, heading for the bow to take up a position at the ballista with Simon.

  He was right. Chentelle was no warrior. She should go below where it was safe. But the warship’s steady approach kept her mesmerized. She stood in the shadow of the sea door, watching death slide silently closer.

  A flare of light caught her attention. Simon had used his elven Lore to create a small fire on the shaft of one of the harpoons.

  “Stand by sails!” Captain Rone shouted. “Stand by sagewind! Harpoon, stand by to port!”

  The warship bore down on them. A half-dozen ballistae were arranged on her deck, but none were manned. They meant to capture the Treachery, not sink her! Dozens of goblins pressed at the warship’s bow, anxious to board their prey.

  “Sagewind!” Rone yelled. “Hard to port! Draw those lines!”

  The sails angled sharply as the captain spun the wheel. Sagewind filled them in a sudden gust, and the Treachery cut sharply across the warship’s bow. It was a suicidal move. The warship’s ram cleaved through the water, aimed directly at their midships.

  “Fire!”

  As one, the archers loosed their shafts, each finding a target among the massed goblin warriors. Simon whispered to the loaded harpoon, and violent flames burst into life along the entire shaft. Immediately, Dacius fired the ballista. The missile left a trail of smoke as it tore through the warship’s mainsail and lodged in its deck. The goblin crew swarmed in alarm, trying to extinguish the blaze.

  “Paun!” Rone shouted, angling them away from the warship. “I need more wind!”

  Suddenly, the sagewind doubled in force. The sails snapped taut, and the Treachery shot forward. They passed barely in front of the deadly ram. On the foredeck. A’stoc’s gravelly voice sang out in rhythm with Paun’s spell.

  A massed cry of rage erupted from the goblinship, and a hail of spears and crossbow bolts launched toward them. But their sudden move had ruined the goblins’ aim. Most of the missiles fell wide or short of the mark. Those that did find the Treachery landed harmlessly among the fortifications or were caught by Legion shields. But where some of the bolts struck, dark vitriol splashed, burning into the wood with an evil hiss.

  Then the warship was beyond them. Captain Rone adjusted their course, taking them away from the warship. “Ready another harpoon!”

  Dacius loaded another shaft, laughing wildly. “You are a madman, captain, a thrice-blessed madman! Who else would cut across the ram of a ship that size?”

  Rone plucked an arrow casually from the rail beside him and tossed it over the side. “Thank you, Lord Gemine, but we are not yet out of the woods.”

  As if responding to prophecy, the sagewind sputtered and died. Paun collapsed in a heap on the foredeck, exhausted beyond all endurance. The two priests were by his side in an instant, carrying him back to the safety of the salon. The Treachery slowed, winds flapping loose in the sudden calm.

  “Wizard A’stoc!” Rone shouted. “Take his place. Call the sagewind!”

  “No,” A’stoc said, moving back toward the wheeldeck. “I will fight them.”

  “What?” Rone turned to Dacius. “Now we see who is really mad.”

  “Captain Rone,” A’stoc snapped, “evil drives that ship. They are here to bring an end to our quest and to capture the Thunderwood Staff. They will not give up the pursuit. Do you truly believe that we can outrun them?”

  The captain glared in anger, but he had no answer for the wizard’s argument.

  “Good,” A’stoc said. “Then we are in agreement. Now, make no more wild maneuvers. Let them come alongside.” Without waiting for a reply, he wheeled away, tattered robes billowing in the wind. The wizard took a position amidships and planted his Staff against the deck, waiting.

  The Treachery swung back toward the south, moving slowly without the sagewind. The warship had come about, and the two ships sailed toward each other, prow to prow. The distance closed slowly. Apparently the goblins were being cautious, perhaps wary for another surprise maneuver.

  “Mistress?”

  Chentelle started at the sound of Sulmar’s voice.

  “Mistress,” he said again. “Will you go below?”

  “Oh,” Chentelle said. She looked around the deck, then turned back to stare at the warship’s ominous approach. “No, I think I should stay here. I’ll be safe enough in the shelter of the companionway, and A’stoc might need our help.”

  The Tengarian looked at her for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he ran toward the bow, covering the distance in swift, sure steps. He grabbed a spare shield from the defensive barrier and took up a position amidships near A’stoc.

  “What are you doing?” the wizard screamed. “I do not need your protection.”

  “He is protecting me,” Chentelle called, “in the manner he feels is best.”

  A’stoc stared at her in surprise. “What are doing here? You should be below where it is safe.”

  “I am not a child,” she snapped. “I may be able to help. Have you forgotten the battle against the vikhors?”

  “No,” A’stoc growled. “Have you?” He whirled and stabbed a finger at Sulmar’s face. “Do what you must, but stay out of my way.”

  The ships grew steadily closer. “Hold your positions!” Dacius shouted. “Wait for the lull.” He and Simon fired another flaming harpoon, then fell back to provide cover for the archers. The incendiary projectile landed near the warship’s foremast, but did no serious damage.

  In response, the goblin marines let loose with a mass volley. A volley of shafts rained down upon the Treachery, splashing acid across the deck. Wood hissed as the defenders absorbed the attack with shields and barriers. Sulmar darted in front of A’stoc, intercepting a shaft just before it pierced the wizard’s chest.

  A flicker of doubt flashed on the mage’s face, but it vanished almost immediately, replaced by a glare of cold determination. Suddenly, the Staff blazed into life. With a roar of thunder, green flames engulfed the wizard. “Get out of my way!” he shouted.

  “Now!” Dacius cried. The Legion bowmen jumped to their feet, firing into the lull as the goblins reloaded. They moved with uncanny precision—nocking, aiming, and loosing their shafts in a steady blur of motion. Flight after flight of elven wood sailed into the air, trying to counter numbers with speed and accuracy.

  The goblins responded in kind, launching rotating volleys of crossbow fire toward the Treachery. Much of the first volley was directed at A’stoc, but the bolts disintegrated harmlessly against his fiery green aura. Sulmar dropped back to shield Chentelle from stray shots, and Thildemar performed the same service for Captain Rone. But the bulk of the remaining volleys fell against the forward position. Dacius and Simon worked furiously to ward off the attack while their fellows continued to return fire. The elf danced back and forth with a shield in each hand, trying to provide cover for as large an area as possible, and the human lord’s armor smoked and sizzled in a dozen places.

  The inferno around A’stoc grew larger and larger. His face contorted in rage and exultation as he gathered the Staff’s power. He raised the Staff overhead, and a whirlwind of flame twisted into life above the Treachery.

  But focusing the power took time, and the goblin barrage continued. A bolt struck the barricade next to Alve’s face, splashing his eyes with acid. The young Legionnaire screamed and went down. Instantly, Simon was there. He pulled Alve into cover and flushed the wound with water from one of the barrels. It took only seconds for Simon to insure his comrade’s safety, but for those seconds he was exposed. A goblin shaft found the hole in the defenses and lodged in Simon’s back. He screamed and fell to the deck. His body spasmed violently as the dark fluid ate into his spine. Then he lay still.

  “No!” Father Marcus burst through the sea door and rushed forward, Gorin following close at his heels. The priests began their healing chant as soon as they reached the fallen Legionnaire, but it was too late. Simon was dead. Marcus hung his head and mouthed a quiet prayer over the body while Gorin attended to Alve.

  “Enough!” A’stoc shouted. Roaring incoherently he thrust the Thunderwood Staff toward the goblins’ ship. The cyclone of power leaped into action, swirling over the distance between the two ships in the space of a heartbeat. It seethed above the deck of the warship, then descended to swallow soldiers and crew alike in a holocaust of death.

  Only it never reached its goal. In the instant before the flames touched the first goblin, the whirlwind reversed itself. It shot back toward A’stoc and funneled back into the Staff. The wizard screamed in agony as magic coursed through his body. Power flared out of control, finding release in the nearest outlet available—the deck beneath his feet. The planks shattered, exploding downward in a shower of splinters. A’stoc was thrown a dozen feet into the air and slammed to the deck with bone-jarring force. He moaned softly as the Thunderwood Staff slipped from his numb fingers.

  The Treachery lurched as if struck by a giant fist. The hull groaned in protest as it was wrenched tortuously and then snapped back into shape. A spar snapped under the strain, and the foresail flapped uselessly in the wind.

  As the little whaler drifted helplessly, a strong wind suddenly rose—a sagewind. The warship shot toward them, sails full.

  “Hard starboard!” Rone shouted. “Zubec, cut down that sail; it’s only dragging, now.”

  The Treachery pulled sideways, turning sluggishly. Desperately, they tried to outreach the goblins, but the whaler was too slow. The warship bore down on them. At the last instant, she turned aside. The sagewind died, and the ships slammed into each other, hull to hull.

  Both decks rocked under the impact, but the warship had the advantage of much greater mass. Grapples snaked out, binding the vessels together. Goblins swarmed over the rails, falling upon the still reeling defenders.

  Captain Rone shouted orders to his crew. The Treachery turned, catching what she could of the natural wind in her mainsail. She struggled to separate from the warship, but it was no use; the grapples held them tight. More goblins poured onto the deck. The Legionnaires fought valiantly, but their line was too thin. The goblins forced them back from the barricade and rushed through the breach.

  Father Marcus and Gorin saw the goblins break through and immediately started to chant. They picked up Simon’s body and summoned the power of the Holy Order, surrounding themselves with a shimmering aura of sanctuary.

  The goblins sped by them as if they were invisible. Three of them headed for the wheeldeck. The rest oriented on Sulmar, who stood guard over the fallen form of A’stoc.

  HA HA HA HA HA. Mocking laughter echoed through the skulls of the defenders. ARE YOU THERE, LITTLE HUMAN? ARE YOU ENJOYING WATCHING MORE OF YOUR FRIENDS DIE? DO NOT. WORRY, YOU WILL JOIN THEM SOON, THOUGH YOU WILL BEG FOR IT TO BE SOONER.

  “Monster!” Dacius shouted. “Come fight me! Come and die on my sword!” He hurled himself at the charging goblins, ignoring the rain of blows that fell against his armor. He slammed into their ranks, forcing them backward by sheer mass and momentum. The human lord planted himself firmly in the breach, roaring madly and swinging his vorpal sword in heavy, vicious arcs. Leth, Gerruth, and Drup leaped forward to close ranks with their commander. The gap was sealed.

  But for how long? Already, more goblins were forcing their way over the rail, pressing their brothers forward against the thin barricade. Nearly a score of the creatures seethed at the bow, and even more waited at the rails for their chance to cross. The Legionnaires were sure to be overrun.

  Somehow, Chentelle had to stop more goblins from boarding. But how? There were too many of them for her to pacify with her Gift, even if she could reach them through the rage and chaos of combat. And as long as the ships were joined by the grapples, more goblins would cross.

  That was it! She had to loose the grapples. But again, how? Even if she could get to them, she had no way to cut those cables. They were strong enough to hold the Treachery despite her full sail. Well, if she couldn’t sever the cables, maybe she could loosen the claws.

  Smiling, Chentelle sang out with her Gift. She reached out not to the goblins, not to the claws or the cables, but to the wooden rails and deck of the Treachery. The wood was in such pain. Not only had it suffered the agony of being butchered alive, it had been abused repeatedly during the battle. The uncontrolled fury of A’stoc’s Staff, the force of the collision with the warship, the cruel tearing of the grapples’ claws, and the strain of holding the whaler against the wind’s pull, all combined to stress the wood nearly to the point of breaking. It took only a slight push from her Gift to push it past that point.

  The tortured wood let go. Wherever the grapples touched, joints of wood ceased to hold. Pieces of railing flew from their neighbors. Planks pulled free of the deck. The metal claws held fast, but the wood to which they were joined did not. The grapples fell uselessly into the sea. The Treachery shot forward, pulling away from the warship.

  Chentelle let her song end and turned back to see how the battle was going.

  Thildemar moved to block the three goblins charging the wheeldeck. He waited calmly while his opponents approached, standing in a relaxed crouch, one ironwood baton raised in front of his chest and the other held tucked behind his ear. The goblins spread out in an arc, trying to surround him. The creature in front attacked, leaping forward and stabbing with a saw-edged dagger. A half beat later, the two on the flanks charged, slashing at the elf’s legs with gleaming claws.

  Calmly, Thildemar moved forward to meet the lead attack. He deflected the dagger with one baton. The second lashed out in a blur, striking the goblin twice, once on each temple. As the lead attacker crumpled, Thildemar jumped past him. The flank attackers clawed futilely at the air where he had been. As the elf spun to face the goblins again, one of them screamed and dropped to the ground.

  “Who gave you permission to board?” Rone shouted, tossing aside his crossbow.

  The last goblin turned to see where the new attack came from, and fell in a heap as Thildemar’s batons struck him in the kidney and skull.

  Near the mainmast, Sulmar and A’stoc were faced by a half-dozen goblins. The wizard was conscious, but too dazed to stand. The Tengarian stood in front of him, black sword and borrowed shield raised in readiness. On the deck, between Sulmar and the goblins, lay the Thunderwood Staff.