Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

Kester’s domed muzzle appeared over the cockpit. “What’s happening down there?” the tarek demanded.

Agis did not have to answer, for Damras’s lifeless body made the trouble clear.

“From the way the ship lurched, I’d say we’re about to sink,” said Nymos, also appearing at the edge of the pit. “Perhaps we should consider landing on the island.”

“If we were goin’ to sink, we’d be choking on silt by now,” growled the tarek. “Agis’ll keep us afloat.”

The noble shook his head. “I’m a mindbender, not a shipfloater,” he said. “I’ll be lucky to last long enough to reach the nearest shore.”

Kester gnashed her fangs for a moment, then crumpled her heavy brow into a wrathful scowl. “All right, we’ll chance the back side of the island,” she snarled. “And when we get ashore, I’m going to snap Tithian’s neck with me own hands.”

As the tarek had her helmsman swing the ship around, the image of a kes’trekel appeared deep within the dome. The raptor’s ragged wings flapped in great sweeps, lifting it out of the black depths and up toward the noble. At the elbows of its wings it had tiny, three-fingered hands, one clutching a many-stranded scourge and the other a curved scythe. On the bird’s shoulders sat a human skull, a tail of long auburn hair dangling from beneath a battered circlet of gold. The bird continued to rise until its fleshless head filled the entire dome.

Agis! came Tithian’s voice. You can’t float this ship for long, but I can. Let me take over .

I’d sooner trust a scorpion , Agis replied.

This isn’t about trust , replied the king. It’s about practicality. By working together, we’re both more likely to recover the Dark Lens .

So you can murder me and steal it for yourself? the noble asked. I’d be mad to give you that opportunity .

Consider the opportunity you’re giving up , Tithian pressed. Isn’t the possibility of killing Borys worth the risk that I might recover the lens?

Not if it’s a risk I don’t need to take , Agis replied. Now leave me alone-before I slip and let us sink .

The embers in Tithian’s eye sockets flashed in anger. You can’t do this alone , he said, diving back into the dome’s black depths. Before this is over, you will let me out .

Kester appeared at the edge of the cockpit. “Look lively down there!” she barked. “We’re taking silt over both sides!”

Agis put the king out of his thoughts and focused on the sea inside his mind. The water had grown slightly darker and more viscous. The difference was so imperceptible that the noble might not have noticed it on his own, but it was clearly affecting the ship.

Cursing Tithian for making his task more difficult, Agis visualized the sea as the floater had first shown it to him, sparkling and pure. He felt a brief surge in the stream of energy flowing from his nexus, then the water faded to a lighter shade of brown. The Shadow Viper in his mind rose a little higher, slipping through the waves as easily as it had when Damras had been there to help him.

“Better,” commented Kester, nodding her approval. “Are ye sure ye can’t do this for a dozen hours or so? We’d be wise to land almost any place but Mytilene.”

Agis shook his head. “By then, I’ll be as dead as Damras,” he replied in a strained voice. “We have to land soon, so I can stop Tithian’s interference and improve my control over the dome.”

“If ye say so,” sighed Kester. “But it’ll be another ten minutes before we round the point, and who knows how long after that before we find a place to land.”

“There must be someplace on this side of the island,” objected Agis.

“There’s one-where the giants wade ashore on the way up to their village,” allowed Kester. “I’m sure ye don’t want to land there.”

“No!” snapped Nymos. “Our chances are much better on the back side. With the dust curtain hiding us, it could be days before they realize we’ve landed.”

“I’m afraid not. Our masts will give us away,” said Kester, gesturing at the great shafts that towered so high above the decks. “I’m just hopin’ it will take ’em longer to catch us.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Nymos, turning his slender head from side to side in an attempt to gain some sense of Kester’s concern.

“The masts extend above the dust curtain,” Agis explained. “I don’t suppose you could hide them, could you Nymos?”

The jozhal thought for a moment, then said, “I can’t hide the masts.” He pulled a small wand from his stomach pouch.

At the end of the stick was a tiny mask. “But I can disguise them as giants.”

Kester rubbed her lumpy head in thought, then shrugged. “Go ahead and try,” she said. “I don’t see how ye can make matters any worse.”

With that, the tarek returned to her usual station, and Nymos scurried off to work his magic on the masts. The Shadow Viper skirted Mytilene’s shore slowly, steadily riding lower in the dust as Agis grew sicker and more fatigued. Soon, in addition to his nausea, the noble felt feverish and weak, and rivulets of bitter-smelling sweat ran down his brow. He began to think he would have to call for a chaperon to keep him alert, then Kester’s voice boomed across the deck.

“Foredeck squads to their ballistae!” she ordered. “Crew one, raise the keel. All others, furl the sails!”

At the far end of the ship, a dozen sailors worked the ballistae windlasses, cranking back the arms on three separate engines. Within moments, the weapons were loaded with heavy harpoons, the ends tipped with barbed heads as thick as a dwarf’s body.

On the main deck, a group of nervous slaves gathered around the capstan and leaned into the crossbars, winding a thick black rope around a massive wooden drum. As the line was gathered up, it pulled the keel-a mekillot’s shoulder blade-out of the deck’s center slot. The bone had been laboriously carved into a finlike shape, and polished to a smooth sheen to keep silt from clinging to it.

While their comrades struggled to raise the keel, the rest of the slaves crawled up the masts and out onto the yardarms. Slowly, they pulled the heavy sails up to the wooden beams and secured them into place with quick-release knots. By the time they had finished, the Shadow Viper’s progress had slowed to a near standstill.

Agis heard Nymos utter a magical command word, then saw the jozhal standing amidships, gesturing at each mast with his tiny wand. A trio of giants appeared where the masts had been. They were all somewhat smaller and less hairy than Fylo, with lanky builds and rough, sun-bronzed hides. On the shoulders of the first sat a ram’s head, on the second an eagle’s, and on the third a serpent’s.

“Man the plunging poles!” Kester ordered. The tarek was peering through her king’s eye, her gaze fixed far ahead of the ship. “Ahead slow.”

The crew took their positions and began to push. To Agis, this part of the journey seemed to take as long as the trip around the island. Once he almost retched, while another time he found himself gasping for breath as though he had been running. Still, the noble managed to hang on, and soon the craggy silhouette of a shoreline loomed just a few dozen yards off the bow.

“Ready the gangways,” Kester called, still peering through the king’s eye.

The slaves had barely moved to their positions when a lookout’s voice echoed down from the crow’s nest. “Giant to starboard!” There was a short pause, then he added, “Four more to port!”

“So much for disguises,” Kester growled, lowering her king’s eye. “How close?” she yelled, raising her gaze to the top of the mainmast.