"G.o.ddess Dwayna, forgive whatever I did to deserve this." Cobiah gazed up at the heavens in exasperation. With a sigh, he lowered his eyes and surveyed the sea before them. The Salma's Grace was barely moving, sailors s.h.i.+fting her sails to try to catch the wind once more. Over the waves, he could hear Isaye giving orders, the Pride working valiantly to obey as it engaged the red-sailed Harbinger. Longing struck him, and fear. That was his s.h.i.+p fighting out there.

Without him.

"Just keep her alive," Cobiah whispered, looking down once more.

Fa.s.sur, whose ears were far better than any human's, peeped out through the hole below. "You mean the Pride?"

"Yeah," Cobiah replied, turning away from the rail. "The Pride."

- The Salma's Grace rode low in the water, a wallowing dolyak when compared to the nimble Pride. The rocky lumps of island surrounding them proved a blessing, for the Salma's Grace would never have caught the other two s.h.i.+ps had they been on the open sea. Even with the rocks hemming them in, she had a hard time keeping up with the lighter, more mobile crafts.

The Orrian xebec was nimbler than the Pride, easier to turn, but the pinnace's engine made her faster in the straightaway. Each time the Harbinger tried to close in for an attack, the smaller s.h.i.+p warded her away with volleys of booming cannon fire. Over and over, the two vessels swooped and pa.s.sed one another like bristling fighting fish. Guns roared, and wind and flame struggled over the water, a testament to the magic at work on either side. At one point, the Harbinger expended a full broadside, only to have it blown into empty waters a few yards from the Pride's bow, and Cobiah saw Verahd's willowy form hovering above the pinnace's deck with a pleased little smile.

Despite Verahd's efforts, the Harbinger's fiery s.h.i.+eld maintained a near-constant protection around the xebec. Verahd tried to use the wind to dispel it in pieces, pus.h.i.+ng it aside so volleys from the Pride or the Salma's Grace could make it through to their enemy on the far side of the flame. Cannonb.a.l.l.s tore through the Orrian s.h.i.+p's red sails and impacted the xebec's deck with explosive force, but in return the Harbinger's guns did significant damage of their own, roaring easily out of their fire s.h.i.+eld and impacting on the smaller s.h.i.+p with ma.s.sive concussions. The booming of cannon fire from both s.h.i.+ps shook the tall stones throughout the narrow island straits.

"Captain!" the female first mate, Nicola, shouted as she reloaded one of the deck guns. "We're reaching the last of our powder!"

Moran yelled back, "Ready the guns and hold your fire!" The old captain grimly set his jaw and clenched a hand around his heavy mace. To Cobiah, he said, "Our guns are twice as powerful as those on the Pride; that's why you pirates chose to board us. If we can just get one solid hit on that red-sailed blighter's hull . . ."

Watching avidly, Captain Moran waited for the Pride to swoop past, cutting off the Harbinger's wind so the Orrian s.h.i.+p would be an easy target. Instead, the faster Harbinger turned her scarlet sails to port, staying between the Salma's Grace and her companion. Moran cursed. "Clever b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. They've seen what your elementalist can do, and they don't like it. We need Verahd's gale to get through that flame s.h.i.+eld, but so long as we're on the opposite side of the Harbinger, the wind's always pus.h.i.+ng us away!"

"And stopping our shot from getting anywhere near that Dead s.h.i.+p," Fa.s.sur added, helping Nicola load a heavy cannonball into the muzzle of the gun.

Verahd's wind flared again, pus.h.i.+ng down the flames on the far side of the Harbinger. Waving his arms broadly above his head, Cobiah managed to catch the elementalist's attention. Frowning and pus.h.i.+ng his reddish hair behind his ears, Verahd released the spell, and the Orrian flames roared back to life again. Cobiah could see him speaking to Isaye, pointing curiously across the waves at the Salma's Grace. "All right. The Pride can't bring that s.h.i.+eld down for us, so we'll have to do it ourselves." No longer pushed away by the gale, the Salma's Grace's punctured sail swelled and the galleon began to gain speed. Cobiah leaned over the side once more, shouting belowdecks. "Engineer Sykox!"

"Aye, sir?"

"I need you to turn on every bilge pump we have. Work them as hard as you can down there; I want 'em pumping full bore."

"But, Cap'n, the deck's near dry down here," Sykox said.

"Then put the ends into the sea!" Before the charr could ask any other questions, Cobiah yelled, "Just do it!"

Sykox relayed the order to the crew in the s.h.i.+p's hold. Long rubber hoses slid out the holes in the deck, sinking into the ocean at the s.h.i.+p's side. Within minutes, the sound of chugging water redoubled itself as more sailors grabbed the pumps and labored to move the levers that worked the bilge. Seawater flowed up from the ocean, through the hoses, and out the other end-back into the sea. "Water's flowing, sir," the tawny charr a.s.sured him confusedly. "I don't know what your plan is, but I don't think we're going to drain the sea out from under them."

"We won't have to." Cobiah waved to Nicola and Fa.s.sur and pointed toward the Harbinger. "Ready the cannons, and send a team of sailors down to hold the bilge hoses. We're going to need them." They quickly did as they were told, and soon the crew on the guns were awaiting the order to fire. Leaning on the gunwale, Cobiah waited with bated breath until the Salma's Grace was within forty yards of her enemy. Thirty . . . twenty . . . He could feel the heat of the Harbinger's flame s.h.i.+eld scorching the galleon's hull. "Now, Sykox! Point the bilges to our starboard side and spray for your lives!"

Up went the hoses, and the pounding bilge pumps shot ma.s.sive arcs of water toward the Harbinger. The shower struck the fire s.h.i.+eld, hissing and steaming as the flame was doused.

"Give 'em h.e.l.l!" Cobiah commanded.

The galleon's cannons thundered a full broadside, pounding out their ammo so violently that the great s.h.i.+p shuddered with animosity. Cobiah saw more than half of their shot make it through the superheated steam, cras.h.i.+ng heavily into the Harbinger. At this close range, and without a magical s.h.i.+eld to protect them, the Orrian vessel was brutally damaged.

The crew of the Salma's Grace let out a great cheer as they saw the red-sailed clipper twist and shudder. The Harbinger's protective flame shriveled away, and on the far side of the Orrian s.h.i.+p, the Pride unleashed another blast of cannon intended to seal their enemy's fate. Their a.s.sault crashed through the xebec's hull, magnifying the damage done by the Salma's Grace, and a great flood of water rushed into the Harbinger's shattering hulk. The volley had gone through the s.h.i.+p's boards and destroyed the mast step. The foremast tipped forward with a mighty crack of timber. As it fell, the keel of the xebec splintered beneath the twisting weight, and the s.h.i.+p's deck split open like rotten fruit.

"We did it!" Captain Moran said disbelievingly. "We sank them! It's over!"

Cheers rose from the sailors aboard both living vessels. Cobiah stared grimly, saying nothing as the Harbinger's red sails stained the water like pools of blood. While the others celebrated, he watched a shadow spread beneath the Dead s.h.i.+p's decayed and shattered husk, moving toward the other vessels with malicious purpose.

"We may have sunk them," Cobiah said, staring intently at the waves, "but it's not over." Raising his voice, he yelled loudly enough to be heard even aboard the Pride. "The undead are moving under the waves. Make sail before they board us!"

A bitter wind swept fiercely over the open sea, driving the waves beneath it. The gale chased them through the broken shards of islands, over washed-thin beaches and high coral reefs, giving the tide no quarter. Between the rocky fragments, two s.h.i.+ps hove into view. One was small, a lightweight pinnace with rippling, strangely rigged sails. The other was larger, damaged, lumbering like an old and weary man.

The Pride, and the Salma's Grace.

They left behind the waterways that threaded amid towering lumps of stone, sailing with desperate speed through narrow straits. A shadow spread through the wreckage in their wake, but too slowly to catch the s.h.i.+ps once they reached the open sea. Some of the wights made it aboard, but between the eager norn and the vicious charr, none survived long enough to impede the s.h.i.+ps' escape.

"Too bad we didn't get to go aboard," Bronn grumped to his brother as he cleaned rotten flesh from the edge of his sword. Grymm nodded in agreement, and the bearded norn continued. "Could've learned a lot from poking about on that Orrian tub."

"Learned . . .?" Old Grist c.o.c.ked his head, his yellowy eyes glittering with suspicion. "What are you, some kind of scholars or somethin'?"

"You could say that," Grymm answered the gray-furred charr. "My name's Grymm Svaard. This is my brother, Bronn. We're explorers for the Priory. We wanted pa.s.sage on the Sea of Sorrows, and King Baede offered to pay if we'd keep an eye on his gold. Learning all we can about these Orrians-that's our real mission."

"The Durmand Priory?" grumped Grist. "I've heard of you lot. Refugees from Lion's Arch, hiding up there in the mountains with salvaged books and things. Odds and ends. What are you out here to learn?"

Bronn sheathed his greatsword in a scabbard across his back. "How to kill them all."

"That's one thing we can agree on," said the rugged old charr with a smile.

Both s.h.i.+ps remained under full sail as anxious sailors watched the Ring of Fire Islands fall back against the horizon-and, long before nightfall, vanish from view. Once the s.h.i.+ps were out of danger, they slowed and pulled side by side. Sails were furled, ropes were thrown between them, and the planks were placed to allow free pa.s.sage from one s.h.i.+p to the other. Sailors shook hands and congratulated one another on their victory, relis.h.i.+ng the fact that they'd lived through a hard-won battle. Cobiah paused once again to touch the little doll in his pocket, thanking the G.o.ds-and his watchful angel-that his life had once again been spared. Through all the horrors he had witnessed and all the dangers he had faced, it was more than his crew that stood with him. He could feel Biviane's presence as well.

"So, Cobiah." Captain Moran interrupted his reverie, reaching to shake his hand. "I suppose this is goodbye."

"Good-bye to you, sir." Cobiah winked and clasped the old captain's hand. "But not to that Krytan gold."

The grizzled old captain grimaced stubbornly, but after a moment, the frown faded, and he sighed. "You're right. We made a deal, and I won't s.h.i.+ne you out of it after you and yours saved our lives. You could have left us for dead, and fighting with us is more than most would have done in your place." He ran a hand through his short gray hair and sighed again. "I'll tell King Baede you held me at swordpoint and spirited away the fortune. He's already got his asura gate. It's the Colleges of Rata Sum who are out a pretty penny."

"Don't underestimate the asuran capacity to pa.s.s the buck, Captain," Macha said. She stood on the board between the s.h.i.+ps, waiting to greet Cobiah. "Your king's in for an earful."

Moran laughed. "I suppose you're right, little one."

"'Little'?" she huffed. "I may be little, but I'll have you know I'm the one who tracked your s.h.i.+p. I conjectured the mathematics of your speed and the lat.i.tude of Rata Sum versus the longitude of your port of origin at Port n.o.ble. If it hadn't been for me-"

"Ah, so we can blame the asura!" Moran interrupted, eyes twinkling.

Her eyes bulging with annoyance, Macha protested, "That's not what I said!" But her words were drowned out by the laughter of the crew. "Fine." She put her hands on her hips in defiant pride. "But if you pa.s.s that on, be sure to tell them that my invention will revolutionize-sailing-forever!" She hopped up and down on the board for emphasis, and it creaked dangerously. Sykox quickly scooped the asura up and hoisted her aboard the galleon before the plank could break and dump her into the sea.

Cobiah's eyes were irresistibly drawn to the figure standing at the rear of his cheering crew. Isaye. The wind blew her dark hair in loose strands about her face and shoulders as her hazel eyes found his. Before Cobiah could call out to her, Henst thumped his way across the planks and strode to Isaye's side. The Ascalonian hugged Isaye closely, thumping her back in relief and telling her of their side of the battle in loud, too-eager tones. Cobiah was relieved to see that her greeting in return was significantly less enthusiastic. They were friends, then. Not . . .

Cobiah suddenly noted a dried stain of blood on Isaye's s.h.i.+rt. "You're injured?" Cobiah strode across the planks to her side.

"One of the Harbinger's deck guns. .h.i.t our rear quarter. It splintered the wood, and a piece of flying board caught my side." Stepping closer to Cobiah, Isaye lifted the edge of her s.h.i.+rt to show him the wound. It had already been wrapped in a thin bandage of canvas and showed no sign of seepage. Lowering her s.h.i.+rt, Isaye reached out and put her arms around Cobiah's neck and hugged him in a gesture much warmer than the one she'd given Henst. Cobiah grinned smugly at the Ascalonian's surly glare.

"I'm glad you're all right, Coby," Isaye said quietly. "I tried not to let them shoot up your s.h.i.+p. We just weren't fast enough."

Cobiah breathed in the scent of her hair and felt her warmth against him. "It's all right. The Pride will manage. Scars give her character." He looked down and placed his forehead against hers in a gentle gesture. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." Isaye gave him a smile of relief. When she slid out of his arms, she kept her hand on his, twining Cobiah's fingers with her own.

Laughter bellowed among the burly charr transferring four chests of coin from one s.h.i.+p to the other. Cobiah saw Aysom and Fa.s.sur struggling to carry one across the planking, arguing about how much weight the board would bear. Fa.s.sur had taken the Krytan flag from the Salma's Grace, draping it over his shoulders like a king's cloak. "Look at all this gold!" he announced, thumping the side of the chest. They set it down on the Pride's deck and pulled open the lid to show a wealth of s.h.i.+ning gold. Fa.s.sur raked his claw through the coins covetously. "How do we split it up, Cap'n?"

"That's Krytan gold." Isaye sobered, staring darkly at the four iron-banded chests.

"First," Cobiah said, "a share to Isaye and her crew. Enough that they can buy a s.h.i.+p of their own-and get the heck off ours." He chuckled lightheartedly. Verahd studied his staff as if it contained something more interesting than gold. Henst frowned and looked toward Isaye.

"No, I can't," Isaye protested. "I won't make a profit on Krytan gold."

"Isaye," Cobiah said to her before she could go on. "When the Harbinger attacked, you and your friends risked their lives to save ours. You could have left us on the Grace, but you stayed to fight. I know you weren't in favor of robbing King Baede's vessel, but I want to reward you for that courage, at least. Take a share of the money and give it to the people of Kryta. That way, if the king taxes them again, they'll have plenty of extra to give him without hurting themselves."

Isaye brightened, her eyes widening. "You mean it?" He nodded, and she hugged him again in grat.i.tude. "I'll do just that."

"If you're headed to Kryta, we can take you there, miss." Captain Moran gave her a stiff sort of bow, prompting Isaye to manage an awkward curtsey in return. "a.s.suming Captain Cobiah permits the Grace to sail home after he's finished looting our hold." Moran's tone was sober, but his gray eyes twinkled with mild amus.e.m.e.nt. "If . . ."

"I'm keeping the flag, snub nose." Fa.s.sur's tone seethed with suspicion.

"Wasn't the flag I was after," Moran said evenly. "Marriner, I'm looking to allow any sailors who want to, to disembark from the Grace and sail to another port with you. Once the tale gets out in Divinity's Reach that we've been fighting beside pirates and charr, some of them won't be welcome home again, no matter what the reasons. Me, I'm a mad old coot; I can get away with anything. But some of these boys are mighty young to have the stain of it on their reputations."

"It's more of a stain to fight beside charr than it is to be sunk by a Dead s.h.i.+p?" Grist shook his grizzled head. Scornfully, he snorted, "Ridiculous humans."

"I'm sure Captain Marriner will make them welcome on the Pride." Isaye smiled, ignoring the charr's jibe. Cobiah gave the gray-haired Krytan a solemn nod. "As for your other offer," she said, "thank you, Captain Moran, but no. Henst and the others might take you up on the ride, but as for me . . ." She looked up at Cobiah. "Once I've finished distributing the gold, I'd like to remain aboard the Pride . . . if they'll have me. This s.h.i.+p could use a good pilot."

"Indeed, we could." Joy swelled Cobiah's heart. "You're welcome to stay among us, Isaye." In the background, Cobiah heard Macha's snort of derision and Fa.s.sur's sly snicker, and ignored them both.

"I'll stay as well," Verahd murmured, pus.h.i.+ng a curtain of reddish hair out of his eyes. "Isaye's been a good friend to me. I prefer to work in her company."

Cobiah met the elementalist's eyes and nodded gratefully.

"Me too, I guess," Henst added with a surly grimace. Although Cobiah knew the man was nothing but trouble, Henst had pulled his weight aboard the Grace when he was needed most. Cobiah nodded again . . . perhaps a bit less gratefully.

"So what about the gold?" Fa.s.sur belligerently crossed his arms. "That still doesn't tell us what the split's going to be. There's enough money here to pay for five vessels the size of the Pride-or to carve your grinning face on a mountain if you wanted."

"We could buy an asura gate," Aysom teased.

"Or acquire a laboratory the size of a palace and build a gate of our own." Macha managed a grumpy smile, and Sykox thumped her shoulder, nearly knocking the little asura over in amus.e.m.e.nt.

"We could buy gold-plated pistols and swords with diamond-studded hilts!" Fa.s.sur guffawed. Old Grist whistled at the thought.

"Or we could build a city," Cobiah added.

"Exactly! Well, a town, maybe. We could call it 'Port Cobiah'!" Sykox's laughter died as he noticed the solemn look on his captain's face. "You're not kidding."

"No. I'm not."

Cobiah leapt onto the high step of the quarterdeck and called the crew to attention. "Sailors of the Pride!" he shouted over their enthusiastic banter. "Today you not only bested King Baede's finest s.h.i.+p of the line, you also made history. Together with the fine men and women of the Salma's Grace, we achieved something never done before. We sank an Orrian s.h.i.+p." The celebration shouts from the crew drowned out his voice as they roared in approval.

Cobiah raised his hands, calming them again. "Everyone said it was impossible. They said the Dead s.h.i.+ps are unbeatable, that the plague of undead a.s.saulting us was as unstoppable as the tsunami that brought them to our sh.o.r.es. That the only thing we could do was run away.

"Well, no more." He looked down at his crew proudly. Eager faces shouted and called his name, but he felt the most pride simply looking into a single pair of hazel eyes. "Our s.h.i.+p stood against every one of the Harbinger's weapons-guns, magic, and more-and we didn't just survive. We won." A great cheer went up among the a.s.sembled crew. Some of the charr shot their pistols into the air, roaring their approval, and even Macha smiled. "Settle down, settle down." Cobiah chuckled. "It's a victory-and a big one. But it's not enough.

"They call the beast in Orr a 'dragon.' A big one, like the tales of Primordus from my grandfather's time. When that monster rose from the sea, it took Lion's Arch from us. Since then it's ravaged a dozen other towns along the sh.o.r.e. What's next? Rata Sum? Port n.o.ble? The Tarnished Coast or the eastern sh.o.r.es? Well, I say Orr's tyranny stops today. We draw the line with the fall of Port Stalwart.

"First Mate Fa.s.sur's right. We could use this money to live comfortable lives for a year or more. Maybe even longer. But I have a better idea. I say . . ." Cobiah took a deep breath and plunged onward. "I say we build a port of our own. We build it, and we defend it against Orr. We make it a free port, not beholden to any nation, open to anyone who sails the sea. We'll teach others how to fight against the Dead s.h.i.+ps, using charr weaponry, asuran innovation, and human courage."

"All that, eh?" someone bellowed from the crowd. "What about the norn?" Bronn stepped forward with a teasing grin. "Sounds like you're building a place of adventure. Is there some reason you'd keep our people out of this mercenary utopia you're proposing?"

"Not at all," Cobiah laughed. "The norn would be welcome. You," he said, "would be welcome."

"We promised King Baede that we'd stick close to his gold. You won it from Moran fair and square, but that doesn't release us from our promise." Grymm shook his armored fist at Cobiah. "You'd not be asking us to break an oath, now, would you?"

"No, no!" Cobiah pretended to fend him off as the gathered sailors laughed uproariously. "The port would be open to any and all, so long as they'll fight against Orr and help to keep our waters clear." Bronn and Grymm smiled, nodding to each other in satisfaction.

When the cheering died down a bit, a surly voice shouted, "Where will you build this mythical 'free city,' Cobiah? On the king's land? Or are you planning to conquer part of the asuran coast?"

"No, Henst." Cobiah guessed the speaker without seeing him. "We'll build it in a place n.o.body else wanted. A site that's been abandoned, left as wreckage; a place that's just waiting for us to return and give it life again." Enjoying the drama of the moment, Cobiah pointed to the northeast. "We'll build our port on the ruins of Lion's Arch."

"Lion's Arch?" Fa.s.sur blinked. "That city's drowned. Covered in water!"

"As Isaye can tell you, the tide's been going down over the last few years," Cobiah explained. "If we built farther back and used the cliffs as protection for the town, the ruins in the harbor could even be part of our defense against the Dead s.h.i.+ps."

Isaye considered Cobiah's words seriously, running a hand through her dark hair as she spoke. "The tides in that harbor are still unpredictable. s.h.i.+ps would have to go very slowly sailing in and out, or they'd break their keels on the stone remains below the waterline."

"That's exactly what I mean," he agreed. "That would slow down any Orrian vessel that tried to sail there, just like the corridors of the Ring of Fire Islands gave us an advantage here. That slow approach would be to our favor. We could put bulwark guns back on the cliffside, maybe even outfit the island at the harbor mouth with a defensive barricade of some sort. The port could employ tugboats to guide bigger vessels through the ruins. It's the perfect place to make a stand against the s.h.i.+ps of Orr-and most of all, it would give people hope. Not just the hope that we can survive the Dead s.h.i.+ps, but that we can come back from all this destruction and thrive."

Cobiah called to them, "I know it sounds like a lot of work. I know it'd be easier to just take the money and enjoy ourselves. But that's short-term thinking. We can defeat the Dead s.h.i.+ps, and we can show the horrors of Orr that we're done hiding from them. But to do that, we need a safe harbor. We need Lion's Arch. Tyria," he said more quietly, "needs Lion's Arch."

Isaye beamed up at him with pride. "I'm with you," she said firmly. He smiled and pulled her close, looking toward the gathered crew.

"Me too," Sykox said brightly. "It sounds fun." One by one, the other charr of the warband nodded, adding their voices to the throng.

"I guess we can't be pirates forever," Fa.s.sur sighed.

"Even if we want to be?" grumped Macha in return. But underneath her knitted brows, the corners of her lips twisted into a smile.

Cobiah breathed a sigh of relief. "So . . . are we agreed? All those in favor of rebuilding Lion's Arch?"

The cheers erupting from the crew were all the answer he required.

ACT THREE.

1237 AE.