Chapter 2

The voyage eastward across the Hurn sea from Tirish Aranth to Sardish Jardan was, as the Archmagus said, a swift and a calm one. The galleon had been favored with a steadily blowing wind, warm weather, and clear skies during the whole of the two-month trip. Whether credit for this was due to Hurishta and Inthaban or to the fact that it was late winter and the storms that swept the ocean early in the year had abated depended entirely upon one’s point of view.

So calm had been the voyage that the sailors—ever superstitious—were relieved when a minor leak was discovered belowdecks, forcing all hands to take a turn manning the pumps. This, the sailors said, cut the luck that had been running too good. Although their work nearly doubled, the sailors’ spirits improved immeasurably after finding the leak. They sang as they cheerfully pumped the seawater out of the ship, and there were only mild grumbles when the dolphins suddenly left them the morning before they were due to arrive in Bastine. The reason for this premature leave—taking of the daughters of Hurishta was undoubtedly the sight of a whale, known to be a son of Inthaban, spouting off the starboard bow. The sailors tossed iron rings in the whale’s direction and gleefully pointed out the route the daughters of Hurishta had taken for the whale’s benefit.

Although not yet within visual contact of land, the sailors and their passengers knew they were close, and this caused a rise of spirits of everyone aboard ship. Palm fronds could be seen floating past, along with trash and other marks of civilization. There was a noticeable change in the smell of the air as well, which the sailors claimed was the “land” smell but which the Abbot thought was probably the increasingly strong stench of the bilge. There were sharks in these waters, too. The captain took grim pleasure in pointing them out, saying that they were the sons of Hurishta keeping watch for Inthaban. Be that as it may, there were no more games for wizards or monks at the ship’s rail.

About midafternoon of the day before they were due to sail into the port city of Bastine on the western coast of Sardish Jardan, the sailors’ songs ceased. Casting grim glances at the priests, the sailors went about their duties in silence or gathered together in knots, talking among themselves. The captain walked the deck, a preoccupied, worried expression on his face.

Catching sight of one of the monks, he motioned. “Call up your masters,” he said.

Within moments the Archmagus and the Abbot were on deck. Looking to the east, they saw the sky turning a most peculiar color—a dreadful greenish black. Banks of heavy gray clouds floated over the water, lightning flickering along the fringes. Thunder could be heard booming sullenly across a sea.

“What is it?” questioned the Abbot.

“Hurricane, most likely,” said the captain.

“But that’s impossible at this time of year!” the Archmagus scoffed.

“You must be mistaken, Captain,” added the Abbot. “Look, the sea is completely calm!” He pointed to the waters, which were smooth and flat.

“Lubbers!” muttered the captain, and proceeded to tell them that the seas were flat because the strong wind was cutting off the tops of the waves.

A sharp command from the captain sent the sailors scrambling aloft to set the storm sails. Catching sight of the other monks and wizards hurrying up on deck to view the ominous-looking clouds, the captain was just about to order everyone below when a tremendous blast of wind hit the ship, laying it over on its side.

Sailors lost their footing and fell from the masts into the sea. The helmsman fought the wheel, the captain shouted orders and cursed the landlubbers, who had scattered all across the deck, getting in the sailors’ way. The Abbot, having tumbled into a pile of ropes, was struggling to regain his feet when he saw the monster.

“Promenthas, have mercy!” the Abbot cried, staring in shock.

A gigantic man rose up from the ocean, rearing up out of the water as though he had been crouched there, waiting for them. When he reached his full height, he was three times taller than the ship, the deep seawater coming to his waist. His skin was the same greenish color as the sky, gray cloud banks formed his hair, seawater streamed from his bare chest in cascades. Lightning flared in his eyes, his thundering voice boomed over the water.

“I am Kaug,” the creature roared. “Who are you who trespass upon my seas without offering the proper sacrifice?”

“Now just a minute!” the captain roared back, glaring at the creature with—to the Abbot—unbelievable courage. “We’ve made the sacrifices! We’ve given gold to Hurishta and iron to Inthaban—”

“What have you given to Quar?” bellowed the creature. The captain turned pale.

“Quar? Who is this Quar?” muttered the Abbot, hurrying to the side of the Archmagus. “Some king?”

“Quar is the God of the infidels of this land,” said the Archmagus.

“What is that. . . that thing?” The Abbot endeavored to control the tremor in his voice.

“Possibly an immortal known among them as an ‘efreet,” returned the Archmagus, regarding the huge creature with an air more scholarly than fearful. “I have read reports of them, but I must say, I never believed that they truly existed. This is indeed a most remarkable occurrence!”

“Nonsense! It is an archfiend of the Demon Prince Astafas!” said the Abbot angrily. “Sent to test our faith!”

“Whatever he is, he seems capable of doing that,” returned the Archmagus coolly.

“We are a trading vessel on a peaceful mission,” the captain was shouting. “Your God knows us. We carry the required sacrifices with us. Quar may rest assured that we will visit his shrine when we first set foot upon land!”

“Liar!” snarled Kaug, his blasting breath hitting the ship and sending it rolling in the water. “You carry on board priests of Promenthas, who come here to try to turn the people from the worship of their true God.”

“By doing this, do we offend Quar?” the captain inquired meekly, possibly for future reference.

In answer a lightning bolt splintered the mast.

The captain, nodding gravely, turned around. “Throw the priests overboard!” he commanded his crew.

“Touch these holy men at your peril!” snarled the Archmagus, leaping forward to halt the attacking sailors.

At a word from their leader, the four other wizards ranged themselves alongside the Archmagus, including the young wizard Mathew. Although his face was deathly white and he was trembling visibly, he took his place beside his leader on the heaving deck. Hastily gathering his flock around him, the Abbot stood behind the protecting wizards.

“Promenthas, come to our aid! Save us from this archfiend!” prayed the Abbot, and his prayer was fervently repeated by the twelve members of his Order.

“Don’t let that bunch of old women stop you!” howled the captain, raging at his men. “Twenty gold pieces to the first man that sends a priest to the sharks!”

The Archmagus cried out arcane words and lifted in his hand a black obsidian wand that burst into black flame. The other wizards did the same, raising wands of clear quartz or red ruby or green emerald, each flaring with different color of fire. The sailors, who had surged forward again, hesitated.

Laughter thundered over the ocean. Kaug lifted both his arms high over his head. Blue fire leaped from his hands, green fire shot from his eyes. His hair was red flame, whipped about wildly by the storm winds that swirled around him.

Grimly the Archmagus held his ground, although his puny magic appeared like a tiny candle clutched in the hands of a child compared to the blazing flames in the fingers of Kaug. The priests’ prayers grew more fervent, several of the monks falling to their knees to beseech Promenthas’s protection. The other magi flanked their leader, waiting for his signal to hurl their spells, the red-haired young wizard keeping a bit nearer the monks than his fellows, particularly one monk who had not fallen to his knees but remained standing, tense and alert, near his friend.

For an instant it seemed time itself stopped. No one moved. The sailors, caught between the fire of the magi before them and the fire of the ‘efreet behind them, stared at each other uncertainly. The priests continued their prayers, the magi stolidly guarding them.

Then, tiring of the game, Kaug shrugged his massive shoulders and began to wade toward the ship. The waves stirred up by the approach of his gigantic body sent the galleon rolling, hurling sailors and landsmen alike off their feet. Reaching out with his huge hands, Kaug caught hold of the vessel at the prow and the stem and lifted it from the water.

Howling in panic, the captain fell prostrate on his face, promising the God everything from his firstborn child to a share in next year’s profits if Quar would only spare his ship. The priests slid about the deck; they had no breath left for prayers. The Archmagus, eyes closed as he clung to the rigging, appeared to be conjuring some powerful spell to deal with this dread apparition that had sprung from the seas.

Carrying the boat effortlessly, Kaug waded through the ocean. Storm winds blew before him, flattening the waves at his approach. Rain lashed the decks, lightning twined about the masts, thunder boomed incessantly. The men aboard the ship held on to anything they could find, clinging to the deck, the ropes, the wheel, for dear life as the ship rocked and heaved in the ‘efreet’s hands.

“So, Priests, you have come to teach Quar’s people of other Gods!” shouted Kaug as he neared the land. “Quar gives you your chance.”

So saying, the ‘efreet set the ship back into the water. Sucking in a breath so deep that he inhaled clouds and rainwater, Kaug leaned down behind the vessel and blew upon it.

The gusting blast of the ‘efreet’s breath carried the ship skimming over the waves at an incredible rate of speed. Salt spray lashed the decks, the wheel spun out of control, the wind whistled in the rigging. Then came a shattering crash and a sudden jarring jolt. The ship’s forward motion halted abruptly, sending everyone slithering along the wet decks.

“We’ve run aground!” screamed the captain.

Laughter, boomed behind them. A giant wave lifted the ship, slamming it into the rocks.

“She’s breaking up!” the sailors wailed in terror.

“We’ll have to abandon ship,” gasped the Archmagus, helping the Abbot struggle to his feet.

Wood splintered, masts fell, men cried out in agony as they were buried in the debris.

“Keep together, brethren,” ordered the Abbot. “Promenthas, we commend our souls into your care! Jump, my brothers!”

With that, the priests and wizards of Promenthas leaped over the side of the sinking ship and disappeared into the frothing, swirling waters of the Hurn.