The dock trembled warningly beneath his feet. Through the screams of people fleeing the collapsing wharf and the war cries of sailors on s.h.i.+ps being attacked, Cobiah heard a charr's enraged bellow of pain.

"Get Macha," Cobiah said determinedly. "Take her to the sh.o.r.e with your crew."

"The asura?" Isaye asked, baffled. "But-"

Cobiah cut her off, pus.h.i.+ng the sword into Isaye's hands. "Take this. Tell Macha that I'm giving her an order to go with you. Take your men and get out of here, Isaye. Sykox and I will meet you afterward."

"Meet-do you even have a plan?" Isaye snorted. "Of course not. You're Cobiah Marriner. Shortsighted as h.e.l.l-and too d.a.m.n brave for your own good." She started to say something else, but instead impulsively leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry about us. Just rescue your Six-cursed charr and get out of here." With that, Isaye turned and ran toward the other gallows, cutting captives free one by one as the guards fled toward the sh.o.r.e.

The sound of clanking chains and another terrible howl broke through the chaos, dragging Cobiah's attention away from the dark-haired woman. "Sykox!" he gasped. With alacrity, Cobiah spun toward the end of the pier and raced toward his engineer.

The guards were scattering, fleeing from the collapsing dock as rotted sailors dropped from the fleet into the sea, making their way toward the town. Some swam above the water; others walked below the waves, leaving a thickening trail of mold and decaying flesh. They carried all manner of weapons, from knives and cutla.s.ses to long shards of broken bone and clubs of shattered coral. Cobiah saw the last guard pulled down into the waves by undead swimming beneath the collapsing boards of the dock. There were battles up and down the sh.o.r.e, undead shuffling on the sand toward those living beings who stayed to fight. If Isaye didn't move it and get to the sh.o.r.eline soon, they'd be trapped on the docks.

He didn't have time to worry about the others. Sykox, still chained, stood with his back to one of the pylons, staring in horror as revenants with pasteboard skin clambered up the shattered planks. Cobiah reached him just as the Indomitable released her third volley. Two of the s.h.i.+ps in the harbor, their crews trying desperately to get them under sail, were destroyed by the battering of the Dead s.h.i.+p's broadside.

Tugging at the manacles that bound his friend, Cobiah struggled to find some way to get them to open. They were solid steel, heavy and sealed with a lock, and the chains that bound them to the set on Sykox's feet were equally stalwart. "Don't panic," Cobiah said, cursing. "I can get a knife, jimmy this lock-" Even as he said it, an explosion rocked one of the s.h.i.+ps in the dock nearby. Their powder room must have caught fire, and the concussion shuddered the dock's already-weak foundation.

In a voice far too soft for their surroundings, Sykox whispered, "There's a spear . . . one of the guards dropped it when the flying creatures took him. Use it to kill me."

"No, Sykox. I can get through these locks."

"Not before the undead get up here. Then what? We outrun those things up there and swim the Sea of Sorrows to get away?" The charr shook his head dejectedly, his rusty mane s.h.a.gging over broad shoulders. "You might make it, but me? But you can give me a better death than to be torn apart with my hands bound."

"You didn't give up on me when you fished me half-dead out of the ocean. Don't give up on me now." Stung, Cobiah tugged at the manacles, trying to find any weakness in the steel. Bony hands scrabbled at the dock as the zombies pulled themselves up, gathering their footing as they hissed through barnacle-encrusted cheeks. Cobiah's stomach turned at the sight of them, and he focused on Sykox's bonds, hoping desperately that he wouldn't see anyone he knew . . . or had known.

"What in the Four Legions are you good for, then, human?" Sykox roared back. "Help me die like a charr, don't let me go out like some kind of . . . uh . . . flopping . . . wet . . . fis.h.!.+ Toughen up! You're nothing but a spineless pudding!"

"A pudding? Really? That's the best insult you've got?"

"I'm under pressure here!" Sykox snapped.

Out of nowhere came the crack of a pistol and the sharp whiz of shot flying past. Cobiah spun, grabbing for the spear, while Sykox roared and instinctively raised his claws. Both stared, awestruck, as the manacles fell away from his wrists. There was a second shot, the ringing of metal on metal, and the shackles on his feet sprang open.

"Magic?" Sykox said, mystified.

"Accuracy, you idiot." Standing back at the gallows with Isaye, Macha raised a stolen flintlock pistol to her lips and blew a puff of smoke from the barrels. "Have you ever known me to obey an order?" she asked with a self-satisfied purr of scorn. "Anyway, the sh.o.r.e's covered with zombies. We can't go that way." Aggrieved and annoyed, Macha stuck out her tongue at them both.

Cobiah threw up his hands in exasperation, but there was no time to argue.

The undead were upon them.

"The dock's disintegrating! If we don't stay together, the zombies will tear us into chum!" Isaye yelled to the gathered sailors, trying to herd them into a smaller group at the end of the dock.

Hideous wights scrabbled across the undersides of the boards. They crawled through broken planking to swing at them with vicious, eager swipes. Cobiah blocked with the broken haft of the spear, kicking one undead creature in the belly hard enough to send it tumbling back into the sea. Already, the way back to the sh.o.r.e was blocked by zombies. There was nowhere else to go. "Follow Isaye!" he called to the others. "Gather at the end of the dock!"

Isaye began their retreat, hacking at withered arms reaching up through the boards to foul their feet. Two of the guards who had been cut down at the sh.o.r.e end of the dock shuffled and rose, given hideous unlife by the power of Orr. As Cobiah watched in horror, they turned upon the still-living soldiers in their group-men and women who had been friends and s.h.i.+eld mates only a moment before-and tore out their throats. They, too, were limp for only a few minutes before rising to shamble hungrily with the others. Every person killed by the Dead s.h.i.+ps or their minions became another soldier for their cause. There was no winning this battle. As the number of living grew smaller, the undead force grew larger and larger still.

Cobiah saw townsfolk fighting on the sand, screaming in terror as the undead slouched out of the sea in seemingly never-ending numbers. The survivors rallied, only to be devastated by a fresh volley of cannon fire. As the undead climbed up the sides of the moored s.h.i.+ps or lumbered onto the white-sand beach, the rotting s.h.i.+ps fired round after round of detonations. The harbor's mist had been replaced by the acrid smoke of black powder, and the waves were covered with sludge, tar, and wooden shrapnel from sinking s.h.i.+ps. Villagers ran through the streets of Port Stalwart, some fighting, others grabbing what they could and fleeing for their lives into the Krytan hills.

Cobiah, Isaye, and her sailors stood in a cl.u.s.ter on the docks. Isaye still carried the sword she'd used to cut them free; Cobiah held the broken-hafted spear. Verahd had torn off a narrow length of wood from one of the gallows to use as a makes.h.i.+ft staff. Macha had a pistol, and a few of the others gripped broken bottles or other scavenged weapons. It wasn't much of a defense.

The cannon barrage had destroyed the harbor end of the dock, knocking out pylons and dragging the remnants of the planks into the shallow water. Newly animated creatures shuffled over the damaged dock between them and the sh.o.r.e. There was no way they could swim to safety-not with the dead crawling through the water. Nor could they remain on the crumbling fragments of the wharf. With each pounding wave, the dock wobbled and rotated on its shattered foundations, threatening to collapse.

A few of the scabrous dead pulled themselves from the water onto the timbers and scuttled toward them with greedy, grasping hands. The stench was palpable, a cross between rotted flesh and waterlogged, moldering plant life. Some were dressed in modern clothing. Others wore little more than rags. But a few-notably those debarking from a s.h.i.+p called the Harbinger, a strange-looking pilot clipper with wide, triangular scarlet sails-wore armor made of articulated metal that reminded Cobiah of ornately worked and fitted lobster carapaces. It was damascene, but streaked with red, as if blood itself was worked into the steel. He'd never seen anything like it in all his days traveling the sea.

"We can't fight them!" one of the sailors screamed. "They're already dead; they can't be destroyed! We have to make the hillside-run for your lives!" The guards stumbled back, many of them dropping their weapons as they raced toward the sh.o.r.e, hoping to find a way through the undead gathered there. Cobiah didn't blame them. If you cut off a zombie's head, it still fought. If you chopped away its limbs, it barely slowed them. No one had ever defeated a Dead s.h.i.+p before, nor done anything but flee from their undead crewmen. The only saving grace had been that the Dead s.h.i.+ps stayed in Orrian waters, far out at sea . . . but that, it seemed, was no longer true. He watched those who ran, but they didn't make it very far.

"Cobiah!" Sykox pointed out into the harbor. "Look!" Out in the fetid water, a living s.h.i.+p darted through the bitter fog of gunfire. Her hull was patched and weathered, but the bow was pristine; her sailors leapt with the fire of life, and her cross-rigged sails were whole and as white as a gull's wings. More important, a low, rhythmic sound resonated from the s.h.i.+p, pulsing beneath the cannon fire like a bravely beating heart. It was the deep-throated pulse of an engine.

"The Pride!" Cobiah cheered, relief was.h.i.+ng over him. "She's still whole!"

"Don't get too excited," Macha grumped. "The s.h.i.+p's out there. We're stuck here."

"It's a chance, Macha. If we can get to the s.h.i.+p, we can sail out of here before the Dead s.h.i.+ps block the harbor. They've cut down the s.h.i.+ps at dock, but the Pride's already mobile. Once we're away, they'll never catch us."

"My poor little pinnace," Sykox moaned as he gauged the waves. "She can't reach the dock without slowing down, and if she slows, their cannons will chew her to pieces. It's too shallow for maneuvers here. She'd be sluggish, unable to tack quickly to avoid their fire, and it'd take time to gather speed again. But she's still a sight to see." Sykox waved toward the s.h.i.+p, and on board, dark-furred Fa.s.sur lifted a cutla.s.s in the air. "At least they've seen us."

"She's close enough." Cobiah turned and grabbed Sykox's arm. "How far can you jump, Sykox?"

"Farther than you, mouse," Sykox bl.u.s.tered. Sobering, he followed up with, "Oh, no. I see where you're going with this." Eyeing the distance to the Pride, Sykox shook his head. "I could get close. Swim the rest of the way, maybe, before they got ahold of me. But there's no way you'd get anywhere near the s.h.i.+p before the ones in the water ate you alive. Your legs are too short."

"Then you'll have to go alone." Firmly, Cobiah pushed the big charr toward the edge of the crumbling dock. "Get aboard and keep those engines running. We'll need them full speed to get away." Before the charr could argue, Cobiah said, "You weigh three times as much as any of us. The dock'll hold longer if it's not bearing your weight."

The dark leopard spots on Sykox's tawny shoulders rippled as he shrugged in resignation. "Fine. But I'm not going alone. A little extra weight won't hurt me." With a smooth motion, Sykox grabbed Macha by the back of her neck, the way a cat would carry a kitten. He lifted the shocked asura and set her on his shoulders, grabbing her legs tight to his chest. Nodding to Cobiah, the charr crouched, lunged forward-and leapt with all his strength. Sykox soared heavily through the air-three times as far as any human could have jumped.

"There's no way I'm doing that," Isaye breathed.

"You're telling me." Cobiah grinned, feeling the faint lift of hope within his chest.

The engineer landed just short of the Pride, cras.h.i.+ng into the waves with a mighty splash. Within moments, pikes and boards pushed out from the s.h.i.+p's deck, offering Sykox something to grab on to. Eager to get out of the sea before the undead swarmed him, the charr sank his claws into the offered leverage and climbed on board. Even from the dock, Cobiah could hear Macha complaining, a sound somewhere between glee and terror, as she pointed back at the dock and took Sykox to task. Cobiah smiled despite the tenseness of his own situation.

"I've got an idea." Turning to her men, Isaye yelled, "We have to chop out the pylons. Use your weapons, cut the stays, and chop through what's left of the main planking. Keep this area of the dock together as long as you can, but cut it free of the foundation."

"What? That'll sink us!" Cobiah grabbed her arm.

"C'mon, you're the brash one. I'd thought you'd love this plan." Isaye winked. "We won't sink right away."

"And in the meantime?"

"The meantime is all we'll need. Trust me, Cobiah!"

Despite himself, he did. The sailors around the dock used their makes.h.i.+ft weapons and knives to cut into the ropes that held the planking to the main dock. They stabbed at grasping hands below, fighting to obey their captain's orders.

Suddenly, Cobiah understood. "Verahd, tell me you can cast a wind spell."

With a wicked little smile, Verahd murmured, "So long as I have a staff, Cobiah, I can do anything." He tamped the length of wood in his hand onto the dock boards and shook thin lengths of reddish hair out of his eyes. "It may take a moment, though. This weapon isn't exactly what one would call outstanding for the task."

The boards suddenly s.h.i.+fted and began to float away from the closest foundational pylons. Cobiah reached out to steady Isaye. She leaned against him, and he kept his hand on her arm as the elementalist stepped into the center of the group. Black strips dangling from his arms and legs, the madman stretched out his arms and began to chant. Verahd bent forward like a marionette on loose strings, leaning lightly on the thin rail of wood between his hands. He began to whisper, calling forth the magic of air, channeling the elements through his staff and through his spirit. As Verahd chanted, two of the deck boards beneath their feet collapsed, and one of the sailors was grasped by the undead, dragged down screaming into the sea.

"Hurry!" Cobiah urged.

"He can't hurry." Isaye balanced on the edge of the planking. "If the spell misfires, it could kill us." She chopped at a rotting sailor trying to claw their ankles through the floating boards. Cobiah drove the b.u.t.t of the spear against it, trying to shove it away from the plank, hoping to salvage some time. There was a tremendous creak as part of the raft broke away beneath the wight's hand, disintegrating under their feet. Sheepishly, Isaye said, "You heard him, Verahd! Hurry up!"

Verahd's words resonated with power, shuddering through the broken boards and rippling the waves. His long, thin fingers stretched out in strange patterns, moved by the flow of power. He lifted the staff. Black straps fluttered, s.h.i.+ning with eerie green sigils as the wind rose in a whirlwind of force and movement around their shattering raft. The energy stiffened Verahd's body, puppeting his arms up, up, above his shoulders, over his head, lifting him in the wind. Caught in the ecstasy of his spell, the elementalist's voice grew stronger and surer until it resonated with the ring of absolute command.

An uncanny wind swept against the remains of the dock, swirling around them with such force that Cobiah felt himself falling forward into the thrust of it. Like a leaf swirling in the eddies of a fast-moving stream, the raft skittered across the water, pushed by Verahd's magical wind. The small crew grasped the boards, clinging to their tattered island of wood with desperate fingers. Only Verahd, his eyes glowing the same sickly green as the mystic sigils, seemed calm. His thin reddish hair swaying back and forth over his shoulders, he chanted, hovering over the center of the floating boards.

"Wait! Wait for me!" Watch Commander Pierandra raced up the last of the dock, trying to catch the raft before the wind swept it out of reach. She and three of her guards gathered at the edge of the crumpling dock pylons, weapons still clutched in their hands. "You can't leave us to die!" But there was no helping them; the raft was already far beyond their grasp, and there was no way to return to the dock before the boards fell apart completely.

From his place in the center of the floating debris, Verahd fixed the watch commander with a crooked, marionette smile. "All you have to do is jump, Commander," he crooned softly. "Maybe you can swim away."

Unable to aid the soldiers on the dock but unwilling to watch them die, Cobiah turned his face away. He could hear the planks collapsing, exploding under the concussion of another cannon volley from the Dead s.h.i.+ps. Pierandra's scream of terror reverberated across the waves along with the din of shattering lumber. Better that, Cobiah thought, than the sound of zombies rending her flesh from her bones. He struggled not to think about the watch commander's fate as the wind brought them ever closer to the Pride.

Without warning, the wind spell ended. The flurry and giddy whirl of air around Cobiah's body slowed and ended, and water began to splash coldly against his ankles. Something slammed into his shoulder. They'd struck the hull of the Pride.

"Get aboard!" Cobiah knitted his hands and offered them to Isaye. She stepped into his palm and he lifted her up to the s.h.i.+p's rail. Hands reached out from above, grasping the survivors and drawing them aboard even as the little raft gave way for good. The undead beneath the waves closed in upon the debris, ripping it apart in violent frenzy, seeking flesh amid the boards.

"Officer on deck!" the call went out. Cobiah pulled himself over the railing, feeling hands thump his back and shoulders in welcome relief. The sailors parted, and Fa.s.sur stepped forward. "I stand relieved." A knife-edged grin slid across the first mate's muzzle. "Welcome aboard, sir. Care to call all hands to inspection, maybe tour the decks, or are you of a mind to get the h.e.l.l out of here?"

Laughing, Cobiah reached out and grasped Fa.s.sur's arm like a brother. "As you were, Mister Fa.s.sur," he declared. "Full speed ahead."

"Aye, Cap'n." Straightening, Fa.s.sur bellowed to the a.s.sembled sailors of the Pride, "You heard 'im, boys! Set the rudder and make for the open sea. Don't worry about those Dead s.h.i.+ps killing you"-the ma.s.sive charr presented his claws, squaring his shoulders with a roar-"because if they catch us, I'll b.l.o.o.d.y well kill you first!

"Move!"

The sailors rushed to fulfill their orders, scrambling up the rigging and unfurling every square inch of sail. Cobiah looked at Isaye with a wide smile. "We made it."

"We're not out of the roughs yet, Cobiah." Isaye pulled out the strap of leather holding her ponytail, running her hands through the mane of dark hair. Her voice was low and quiet, meant just for him. "I told you. I know the tide . . . and by this time of morning, the current's turned. Whoever's in command of those Dead s.h.i.+ps had a plan. They attacked during the outgoing tide and held the harbor locked down while it changed. Now the tide's drawing in to the sh.o.r.e; s.h.i.+ps can't leave.

"There's no current, and there's no wind." Isaye's voice quavered, but her chin lifted in quiet defiance. "We're trapped. We'll die like the rest."

"Underestimate me all you want, Isaye." Cobiah took her hand with a teasing grin. "But never underestimate my s.h.i.+p.

"Engineer!"

"Sir!" Sykox's voice boomed up from below. "Engine's running full. Ready to bore for the open sea!"

"Engine . . .?" Isaye asked, wide-eyed.

"Give the s.h.i.+p her head, Engineer, and make all the distance you can before nightfall." Cobiah turned back to Isaye. "We'll leave the tide to confound the Dead s.h.i.+ps." And indeed, two of the vessels in the Orrian armada had turned to follow them. One was the great galleon Indomitable, her dark bow splitting the water like a blade. The second was the strange scarlet-sailed clipper, Harbinger. The Pride's engine beat in steady rhythm, pulling the little pinnace ahead of her pursuers even as a light wind stretched taut her white sails.

Isaye shook her head in wonder, dark hair flying about her shoulders. "I'll give you this, Captain Marriner. You may be a shortsighted fool, but you know how to throw a party."

Cobiah looked back at Port Stalwart, watching buildings burn in the wake of the devastating attack. Brilliant flames licked the sails and masts in the harbor; the hulls of the s.h.i.+ps at dock were sinking, their smoking, ruined timber filling slowly with the sea.

Isaye frowned. "I wish we could have saved some of the townsfolk," she lamented.

Cobiah shrugged. "My crew and my s.h.i.+p are safe. The rest isn't my problem."

They stood in silence for a while, watching as the Dead s.h.i.+ps fell farther and farther behind. The Harbinger was clearly the fastest among them, by far. Something about her odd, triangular sail structure gave the lightweight clipper a significant advantage. Still, of the two, it was the Indomitable that Cobiah feared most. If anyone had asked, he'd have said it was because of her mighty guns, but in truth, the s.h.i.+p's unexpected return had shaken him to the core.

How many of his friends were enslaved in death by foul Orrian magic? Did Sethus still climb in her ruined rigging? Did Vost blow his bosun's whistle through rotting lips?

On the deck of the Pride, the charr and human crew rushed about their work, eager to put danger behind them. Macha came to stand at the stern, staring darkly at the ocean-and at the two Dead s.h.i.+ps valiantly following them. Her hair back in its binding leather tie, Isaye lowered her hands and slipped her fingers between his. Cobiah smiled.

"You're sure they won't catch us?" Isaye asked at last.

"They won't catch us." Cobiah turned away from the great black s.h.i.+p in their wake. "But they'll try."

She's a restless sloop with a six-armed maid A-dancing on her prow, O Her bra.s.sy cannons crease the sea But the weather's chased her down Her compa.s.s spins, and her captain screams And the crew's all dead and drown'd, O.

-"Weather the Storm"

"We're almost out of coal for the engine, our water supplies are low, and the men are beginning to rumble about pay. We unloaded our cargo at Port Stalwart but never had time to pick up the gold, what with that hanging-gallows-thing going on." Sykox sat with his back to the Pride's mast, dealing cards from a worn deck. He swept up a share in his paw and laid the deck down between the players. "We also need to do something about . . ." He jerked one clawed thumb toward their pa.s.sengers. "Them."

Isaye, Verahd, and Henst sat together on the quarterdeck. Throughout the voyage, the three had kept their distance from the men and women working on the Pride. They'd pitched in where they could, but without relish, and several small arguments had cropped up between Isaye's sword-wielding companion and members of Cobiah's crew. Although few involved spoke about the reason for such scuffles, Cobiah could guess what was causing them. Henst made no secret of his Ascalonian lineage-or his hatred of the charr.

Cobiah rested in the narrow shade of the Pride's mainsail. They were nearly a week out of Port Stalwart, with no sign of the Dead s.h.i.+ps since the Harbinger's red sails had faded into the distance three days before. "Where do we take them?" Cobiah drew a card from the deck and shuffled it into his hand. "Port Stalwart is gone. Port n.o.ble's still standing, but King Baede of Kryta closed it off to profiteers and turned it into a military harbor. Lion's Arch is a ruined lump of waterlogged rocks.

"We can't exactly ask them to swim to sh.o.r.e. And anyway, they could be useful."

"Useful?" Sykox snorted rudely. An ocean wind ruffled his tawny fur about his shoulders. "She's pretty, more like."

Stung, Cobiah flattened a card into the pile with a snap. "Considering our engine's near dead, having a wind elementalist on board is useful. And I certainly wouldn't say Verahd is 'pretty.'"

"Did you mean to play that one?" Macha asked curiously, reaching to s.n.a.t.c.h Cobiah's discard into her own hand. The captain stared down at the pile, then at his hand, and blanched as Macha laid out a full set of cards one by one with a smirk. "Ha! I've got an ackle. That's fifteen points!" She t.i.ttered in delight, rainbow braids flicking back and forth like striking serpents. Sykox and Cobiah groaned.

"Again," Cobiah muttered. "You make up the rules as we go along, don't you, Macha?"

"I'll have you know that Ackle-Denth is an old and established asuran diversion played by my people for more than seven hundred years. Just because you don't understand the rules doesn't mean they don't exist. Now, mark down my score." She poked Sykox in the ribs. The engineer sighed and wrote the number on the deck with a bit of charcoal.

"We need provisions. Supplies. Fuel for the engine. We used most of our coal getting out of Port Stalwart. If they catch up to us now, we're at the mercy of the wind." The charr shuddered as if this were a nearly unthinkable prospect.

"Yeah, but to get any of that, we need gold. We can't just send lifeboats to the sh.o.r.e and tell the men to chop up some wood." Cobiah made a sweeping gesture toward the distant sh.o.r.e. "That's the Maguuma Jungle out there. It'd eat them alive! It's full of skale. Harpies, too."

"You're being unimaginative, Coby." Macha's black eyes glittered. "My people live in that jungle. It's got mantid, trolls, giant spiders, wild devourers, and worst of all, skritt. I hope anyone who goes ash.o.r.e knows which plants are flesh eaters."

"Flesh-eating plants?" Sykox stared at Macha with new respect. "That sounds like a good fight."

Cobiah elbowed the charr. "Stop thinking about how much fun it would be and play a card already." Sykox did, with a grumble, and the captain continued. "We can't send the crew into the Maguuma. So what are our other options?"

"Well," Macha said thoughtfully, "we could go to Rata Sum and buy what we need. Might be able to put the pa.s.sengers ash.o.r.e there, too . . ."

"But?" Cobiah could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Nothing in Rata Sum is free. If you don't have silver and gold, you might as well not even bother docking. You'll find yourself in debt up to your eyeb.a.l.l.s faster than you can say 'wharfmaster.' But if you've got money . . ." She peered at him thoughtfully, and he found himself covering his cards. "You could use the asura gates to go anywhere in the world. Anywhere there's a gate, of course. But the gates go to the Black Citadel-not that Henst would go to the charr capital-and even Divinity's Reach, so I've heard."

"Divinity's Reach?" Sykox c.o.c.ked his head. "Where's that?"