01 The Rage by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Realms, Forgotten]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T16:09:43.212000+00:00

Dorn and his companions had rowed most of the way toward the war galley that was their destination before the yellow flame flowered back on shore. The blaze constituted a fairly desperate diversion, the folk of Elmwood sacrificing one of their own houses to draw the Zhents' attention. But at least it was a decrepit, ramshackle structure, unoccupied, Thoyanna said, since the spinster who'd dwelled therein died of old age and influenza two months before. Assuming the fire didn't spread, the loss would be relatively insignificant. Those Zhents who were still awake gathered in the bow of their vessel to gawk at the flickering light in the darkness. They didn't seem particularly alarmed, and that was as Dora had expected. A fire on land didn't look like an attack against a ship floating at anchor in the harbor. Still, with several of the invaders peering out across the black, rippling surface of the inlet, Dorn had to resist at impulse to duck down, even though they weren't actually looking in his direction and probably couldn't make him out in the murk even if they did. Just as importantly, even he couldn't hear his sweeps creaking in the oarlocks or swishing through the water. Pavel's magic muffled any noise that might otherwise have sounded from the rowboat. In theory, the launch should be virtually detectable, but the Zhentarim had spellcasters, too, and it was impossible to be sure. He and his companions guided their craft into proximity with the galley's elevated stern. While the hulls bumped together, Will took a sturdy hemp line tied to a fisherman's heavy lead sinker and tossed the weight upward. It was a deft throw. The sinker looped the rope up over the rail and dropped back down into the halfling's outstretched hand. Will climbed the rope as agilely as a spider ascending a strand of webbing, peeked over the gunwale, then scrambled onto the galley's stern, out of his comrades' view. After a moment, he peered back down at the rowboat and beckoned for the others to ascend. Dorn hauled himself up next. As he clambered aboard the warship, he exited the bubble of silence Pavel had created around the launch. He could hear the faint groan of stressed timber that attended any large, floating vessel, even one at rest, the snoring of the Zhents still wrapped in their blankets on deck, and the conversation of the men at the far end of the craft. One of them expressed the hope that the entire village and all its inhabitants would burn. Then the Black Network could bring in its own folk and build the kind of outpost it truly needed from the ground up. Dorn glanced over the side. Alamarayne appeared to be having trouble scaling the rope, so he pulled it in hand over hand and dragged her up. He hoped the moon priestess fought better than she climbed. He was by no means certain of it. Not every cleric possessed Pavel's courage and combat skills.

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