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CHAPTER 37
Jarin and Drue pulled the rigging.
Soon, the cutter sped through the water in pursuit of the other ship.
“Arm yourselves!” he commanded as they steadily gained on the other vessel.
Berolt found a weapons chest on the stolen cutter and he distributed crossbows, daggers, and swords.
“You can stay on board,” said Jarin to Neve. “This’ll be dangerous.”
She selected a sleek silver sword, moonlight sliding over the blade. “No, thank you.”
The acolyte uttered an incantation and the sword glowed red, illuminating her pale face.
Jarin shrugged, and armed himself with a dagger and sword of his own. “The more the merrier.”
The four of them gathered at the bow, watching the other ship grow clearer.
“The element of surprise is probably too much to hope for,” said Jarin. “They’ll see us coming long before we can draw level.”
“I could try a Cloaking spell,” said Neve. “Mine don’t last for long, and I’ve never tried to Cloak anything as big as a boat, but I can try.”
He nodded. “Do it.”
She recited a spell, her fingertips resting on the cutter railing. When she drew her hand away, a translucent, shimmering bubble encased the ship.
“Wow,” said Drue, staring around.
“It’s not very steady,” said Neve. “I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
Berolt took charge of the rigging and Jarin steered. They drew close enough to discern movement on deck, at both the stern and the bow. From a distance, the moonlight made the figures look two-dimensional, like silver-and-black shadow puppets.
Jarin pressed steadily onward until nearly upon the ship. Disembodied voices traveled from its far side. When close enough, Jarin and Berolt lashed ropes between the railings of both vessels. As the hulls bumped together, he winced. Even with a Cloaking spell, Polinth and Artus would feel and hear the vessels colliding. They had to move fast.
“Come on,” he said, sword in hand, leaping to the other ship’s deck.
He landed on his feet, then moved aside for his collaborators.
Neve arced through the air, her flying robe like a specter. The moment she landed, the Cloaking spell failed, the translucent bubble disappearing.
“Dammit,” hissed Neve. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Jarin, looking back and forward, trying to discern Riella’s location. “I want Artus and Polinth to know I’m here now.”
He sprinted along the deck toward the stern, only to round a bend and crash headlong into a man. Jarin grasped the man by the throat and threw him against the wall.
“Lovel,” he spat.
“Artus!” yelled Lovel. “Artus, he’s?—”
Jarin head-butted him, blood exploding from Lovel’s nose. Two pairs of hands grabbed Jarin from behind, hauling him off Lovel. Artus was in his face, snarling at him with bared teeth, his eyes hard and cold. They shoved Jarin against the railing near the stern.
“You best hush,” said Terrick, his bald head shining in the strident moonlight. “We’re tryin’ to keep a low profile. Gots a nasty sorcerer on board, and he doesn’t know we’re here yet. We’re gonna relieve him of the amulet, once your girlfriend collects it. Nice and easy.”
Another three of Artus’s men emerged from the shadows, swords drawn and faces ugly with hate.
Lovel staggered on the spot, holding his nose. “We’re gonna cut your girlfriend wide open. Hope you know that.”
