Читать «THE SEA DEVIL S EYE (зксм-3)» онлайн - страница 85

In Athkatla, he'd given in to that force and to the voice that commanded him and made the trip to Baldur's Gate. After the Ship of the Gods exploded, he gave up. Now, he decided, he would fight that force until he was free of it or it destroyed him.

He surfaced and swam across to Steadfast. When he arrived, he pounded on the hull and called, "I need a ladder."

Captain Tarnar gazed down at him with suspicion. "I don't need to be berthing a curse," he shouted down.

Jherek gazed back up at the man, fanning the hurt and anger inside himself until it glowed white-hot. "If you don't take me aboard," Jherek said, "I'm willing to bet you don't make it out of here."

"We'll see about that."

Before Tarnar's words faded away, the water-figure spun quickly and winds whipped the ship, tearing rigging free.

Jherek pushed away from Steadfast, treading water until the ship settled again. The coiled rope ladder plopped into the water near the young sailor, and he wasted no time clambering up it. He stood on Steadfast deck totally drenched, water cascading around his feet.

"What manner of hell chases you, boy?" Tarnar demanded.

"I don't know," Jherek answered, "but there will be an accounting."

No sooner had the young sailor come aboard than the water-figure sank into the ocean and the wind returned, filling Steadfast's sails and shoving them forward again. Tarnar gazed upward, a wary look on his sun-browned features. "You think you can fight that?"

"Whoever I see at the other end of this trip," Jherek said, "who is in any way responsible for this will regret ever laying eyes on me."

Glawinn and Sabyna stood at the railing, looking out after him. He stared at them even after they were gone from sight, certain he would never see them again.

The wind flowed over him, bringing the sea's chill to his wet clothes. He ignored the cold, focusing on the hate that he'd finally allowed to take root in his heart.

XIV

21 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet

The ixitxachitl swooped through the sea at Laaqueel with a suddenness that belied its great size. It resembled a manta ray, solid black across the top of its thin body and purple-white underneath. The wing membrane was fully eight feet across, not the largest of its kind the malenti priestess had seen, but close.

She kicked her feet, powering through the water and pulling her trident between her breasts. The lateral lines running through her body echoed the disturbance in the ocean around her. Spinning, one hand flaring out and catching the water in the webbing between her fingers, she avoided the demon ray's barbed tail. One of the Serosian ixitxachitls' tactics was to snare an intended victim's neck or torso and hold it captive.

Laaqueel popped her retractable finger claws from hiding, raked them across the ixitxachitl's tail, and lopped off a two-foot section.

Blood streamed from the creature's tail stub as it curled its wing membrane and rolled over with deceptive ease.

"Hateful elf!" it cried in its gravelly voice. It sped at her again.