The Sea Devils Eye (4 page)

Behind the bar, amid the clutter of shelves that held glasses and bottles, was the tavern’s centerpiece. It looked as if the prow of a ship had smashed through the wall, leaving ripped timbers in its wake. The prow held a mermaid whose carved auburn hair flowed back to become part of the ship. Her proud breasts stood out above the narrow waist that turned to scales.

Frennick hesitated for a moment, and Jherek tightened his grip on the man’s arm.

The young sailor kept his prisoner moving, using his body to press the man toward the broad oak door. Jherek and his prisoner were at the door when the girl screamed behind them.

At first Jherek thought it was the woman they’d left in the room above. He turned swiftly, stepping back and away from Frennick so the pirate couldn’t turn on him.

A pair of the pirates caught up the young serving girl. Her long skirt and sleeveless blouse looked incongruous compared to the scanty clothes of the other wenches. Her blond hair fanned out over her shoulders as one of the pirates ripped her scarf from her head. She struggled in the powerful grip of the man who held her.

“Let’s see what you look like when you let your hair down, you little vixen,” the pirate said. “Old Tharyg believes you’re a pretty little peach.”

The girl tried to batter the old pirate with her fists but Tharyg seized them effortlessly. She shrilled in frustration and fear.

The bartender and bodyguards stayed back, thin, wolfish grins on their faces.

“Clear the room,” Tharyg entreated. “Give a sailing man room to work.”

The pirates pushed themselves up and staggered into motion. Bets were placed on Tharyg’s ability after imbibing so much ale. ” ‘E’ll never get the old Jolly Roger unfurled!” one man cried out.

The girl continued to scream and fight, but it was no use. She was outnumbered and overpowered. They held her at wrist and ankle, pinning her to one of the rectangular tables.

Jherek paused, knowing these events weren’t uncommon in such a place as the Bare Bosom.

“No.” Talif came up behind the young sailor and shoved him forward, adding, “Leave her to the jackals.”

“I can’t,” Jherek said.

“You’re a fool,” Talif told him, his eyes hard.

“Get him to Captain Azla.”

“Aye. Good-bye and good riddance,” Talif grumbled as he prodded Frennick through the door.

Coldly calm, Jherek approached the group of pirates. He caught up a chair in his free hand and never broke his purposeful stride.

*****

Laaqueel luxuriated in the swim to the mudship Tarjana. The water off the coast of Turmish was dirtier than she was accustomed to, but the brine was sweet relief after all the hours of overland travel.

She was malenti, a sahuagin trapped by the appearance of a hated sea elf. The dreaded mutation happened to sahuagin born too close to sea elves. Her life had been further cursed by the fact that her skin was the pink of a surface world elf, not the blue or green of a true sea elf.

Somewhat less than six feet tall, slender and supple, she looked weak.

She wore her night-black hair pulled back, bound with fish bones and bits of coral. Her clothing consisted only of the war harness worn by the sahuagin, straps around her waist, thighs, and arms that allowed her to tie weapons and nets so she could keep her hands free.

Iakhovas’s mystical ship lay at anchor half a mile from shore, only a short distance for one born to wander the sea. Tarjana was one hundred thirty feet long and twenty feet wide, and took one hundred forty rowers, seventy to a side. There was enough room aboard to comfortably fit another one hundred fifty men. Huge crossbows with harpoon-sized quarrels lined the port and starboard sides. Purple and yellow sails lay furled around the three tall masts. Sahuagin warriors filled the deck as well as the water around the ship.

Laaqueel swam among the sahuagin without comment. As senior high priestess to the king, she demanded respect. She grabbed the net hung over the vessel’s side and pulled herself up, regretting the need to leave the sea. She crossed to the stern castle and knocked on the door to the captain’s quarters.

“Enter,” Iakhovas’s great voice boomed from inside the room.

The malenti priestess felt a momentary tingle when she touched the door latch and knew that Iakhovas had heavily warded the entrance. She stepped through into the large room and blinked, adjusting her vision against the darkness within.

“Did you find the item I sent you for?” Iakhovas asked.

“Yes, Most Exalted One, but I lost all the warriors under my command.”

Laaqueel stood, waiting to be chastised.

“The druids are a cunning and vicious lot. Don’t worry, Most Favored One, the Shark God smiles down on you without respite.”

Iakhovas sat in a large whalebone chair that could have doubled as a throne. Though other sahuagin aboard Tarjana only saw him as one of their own, the malenti priestess saw him as human, though she wasn’t sure if even that was his real form.

Iakhovas stood over seven feet tall, an axe handle wide at the shoulders and thick-chested. Black hair spilled over his shoulders, framing a face that would have been handsome if not for the ancient scarring that twisted his features. He wore a short beard and mustache. A black eye patch covered the empty socket. He was dressed in black breeches and a dark green shirt. A flowing black cloak hung over his shoulders.

The table before him was nailed to the ship’s floor so it wouldn’t move in rough seas. Dozens of objects littered the tabletop.

Laaqueel recognized some of them from the hunts Iakhovas had engineered over the years. Others were from recent finds made by Vurgrom and the other Inner Sea pirates. Sea elves and other creatures, as well as many sahuagin warriors, had died in the gathering of those things. Just as the sahuagin warriors that accompanied her that day had died.

Iakhovas worked diligently at his task. He picked up a curved instrument set with five green gems, each of a different hue. In his hands, the instrument grew steadily smaller, until it was a tiny thing almost lost between his thumb and forefinger. Satisfied with his efforts, he fitted the piece into a small golden globe in the palm of his hand. A distinct, high-pitched note sounded when the instrument fit into place.

“Give me the item I sent you for,” he commanded.

The malenti reached into the net at her side and brought forth the slim rod she’d found in the druid’s wooden altar. It was scarcely as long as her forearm and as thin as a finger. Carved runes glowed beneath the surface but none of them were familiar to her.

Iakhovas took the rod from her, running it through his fingers with familiarity. The rod glowed dull orange for a moment, then faded. He closed his hands over it and it shrank. With practiced ease, he slid the small version of the rod into the golden globe. It clicked home.

A thousand questions ran through Laaqueel’s mind, but they were all prompted by her doubts about him. She forced them away as she’d done for months. Even if Iakhovas’s motives and methods were questionable, he still followed the edicts set forth by Sekolah, strengthening and improving the sahuagin condition across the seas of Toril.

Iakhovas finished a final adjustment on the golden globe in his hand, then popped it into the empty socket where his eye had been. The orb gleamed. He stood, and his appearance seemed to shimmer.

A knock sounded on the wall and Laaqueel glanced at the spot. She knew the draft of the mudship put the knock below water but the sharp raps didn’t sound hollowed out the way the sea would make them.

“Follow me,” Iakhovas said, and walked toward the bulkhead without hesitation.

He reached back and captured one of her hands, then stepped through the bulkhead.

III

“Unhand the girl.”

Jherek spoke softly, but his words interrupted the raucous voices of the pirates as they terrorized the frightened young woman. The closest pirates noticed him first. They stepped drunkenly backward, stumbling against chairs and tables. Snarled curses reached Jherek’s ears.

The girl’s rolling eyes met the young sailor’s, and for a moment he felt her fear and weakness.

“Mind your own business,” one of the sailors said. He took a threatening step forward, drawing a short sword from his hip.

Jherek hesitated only a moment. The man before him was drunk, as were most of the men in the room. Still, they remained fully capable of hurting the girl on the table, and they were just as capable of killing him.

“Help me,” she cried softly.

Sparked by his own sense of justice, Jherek spun into battle. He whirled quickly, smashing the flat of his blade into the nearest pirate’s face.

The man’s nose broke in a bloody rush and an audible crack. He stumbled backward, cursing Jherek in Umberlee’s name. His size and the drunkenness of his companions sent a small group of them reeling back for the short bar.

Pressing his advantage as the other pirates fell back and tried to bring their weapons into play, Jherek stepped forward. He swung the chair he’d picked up as he’d approached the group, breaking it across Tharyg’s back.

The big man roared in pain and anger as he dropped to his knees on the floor. He turned his baleful gaze toward Jherek and reached for his sword.

Jherek focused on the two men who lunged at him from the left. He met their swords with his own, slamming the blades aside. He twisted the cutlass, wounding one of the men deeply across the forearm. Blood spurted on the man and his nearest fellows.

“Make way, you damned sot-heads!” one of the bouncers standing watch at the tavern called.

Turning to the right, Jherek overturned a table, then kicked it at the three armed men coming at him. The table skidded across the sawdust-covered floor and slammed into their legs. If they hadn’t been so impaired by their drinking, maybe they’d have remained standing. As it was all three of them tumbled across the table.

Still in motion, Jherek set himself and met the blade of the man who came at him from the front. The young sailor was already aware that pirates were circling behind him, closing off his escape route to the front door.

“Kill him!” Tharyg ordered. “A gold piece to the man who takes that bastard’s head!”

Jherek hardened himself, driving out all merciful feelings that remained within him. Despite their drunkenness, the men were all killers, skilled and experienced at their profession.

His cutlass leaped out like a thing alive, sliding along the man’s sword and opening his throat in a tight riposte. Gurgling, dying, the man fell backward, clawing at his mates to help him.

Two men rushed at Jherek with long knives. The young sailor dropped almost to his knees and caught himself on his empty hand. He pushed forward, catching the man on the right just above the knees with his shoulder. Jherek drove the man backward, Lifting him off his feet

A and hurling him into the pirates behind him. They collapsed in a staggering melee.

Recovering, Jherek ripped his cutlass up in time to block the overhand blow Tharyg directed at his head. The young sailor shifted his footing, parrying two more blows from the bigger man, then pushing the cutlass’s point through the pirate’s heart.

“Bloody hell!” Tharyg gasped, staring down at the steel blade thrust into his chest. “You’ve done killed me!”

Jherek pulled his sword free, feeling the steel grate along bone. The young sailor gave himself over to his training and to the blade. The cutlass whirled before him, striking sparks from the other blades that reached out for him, creating a rhythm of metal rasping against metal.

He sliced a man across the stomach, spilling the pirate’s entrails onto the floor. The other pirates shouted in horror and disgust while the wounded man screamed in fear and struggled to hold himself together. Jherek whirled again, bringing the cutlass around in a flat arc that all but decapitated another pirate.

Seizing the moment when the area briefly cleared around him, Jherek reached the side of the young woman. He sliced the hand from a man who’d been slow in releasing his grip on the girl. With his free hand, the young sailor grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her from the table. The floor around them was slippery with blood in spite of the sawdust. The girl remained wild-eyed, trying desperately to hold onto the young sailor.

“No, lady,” Jherek told her in a calm voice as his eyes raked the hellish destruction he’d wrought. “I need my arm.”

He had to force her from him, hoping he didn’t hurt her or accidentally steer her into an opponent’s blade.

A pirate came up behind Jherek, blindsiding him by standing behind the young girl. He didn’t see the pirate until the man almost ran him through, but a preternatural sense warned him. Unable to bring the cutlass into play, Jherek let the short sword skim past him when he took a step back. He locked his free hand in the pirate’s blouse, then stepped in and pulled as hard as he could.

The pirate spun over Jherek’s shoulder and crashed into another group of men, bowling them all down.

Jherek gazed around the tavern room, unwilling to believe he was somehow still alive. Over a dozen sailors were down, most of them never to rise again.

A blade drew in close before he could dodge. The edge kissed the flesh of his upper left arm, ripping through easily. Hot blood spilled down his arm and drenched his blouse and cloak. He managed to keep the few sword thrusts at the girl turned aside.

Whirling again, aware that the drunken pirates were starting to get organized, Jherek glanced up at the heavy wooden wheel depending from the ceiling. Glass-encased candles, most of them still lit, stood proudly around the wheel.

Tracking the line of rope that held the wheel in place near the ceiling, Jherek spied the support post the rope was tied to near the front windows of the tavern. He planted a hand in the girl’s back, helping steady her over a broken table and scattered chairs.

“Run,” he told her. “Don’t look back.”

The girl ran, staying low, both hands wrapped protectively over her head.

Jherek picked up a chair and hurled it at a pirate who moved after the girl. The chair smacked into the pirate from behind, two of the legs shooting by his side while the other two slammed into his back. Chair and pirate plummeted toward the floor.