The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04 Read Online Free PDF Page B

scent the winds had borne up, I suddenly heard music.
    A delicate strumming of marvelous strings ghosted on the air. They warmed me, beckoned me, reminded me of the hearthfires of home.
    It was suddenly most important to see who was playing so sweetly. I turned to ask Carale to set a course that would carry us closer to the point when I heard him order his men to perform the same actions I was about to utter.
    His cry stirred a warning in my mind, but my heart had assumed the throne, and for a long time I ignored my mind's pleadings that danger lurked ahead.
    It's just music, my heart said, lovely music. Only gentle people could play such music. Civilized people with love in their hearts for all.
    My Evocator's senses pounced scant seconds before I saw the first ship.
    It was a wide, high galleon of archaic design. But there was nothing primitive about its deadly speed. Triple banks of oars plunged into the sea, hauling the big ship out to meet us at an alarming pace. I heard the oarmaster's drums boom over the mysterious strings. I even imagined I could hear the crack of his assistants' whips as they strode along the benches urging still more speed.
    I saw all this as if in a dream. It was a vivid dream, I'll say that. Complete with crouching archers in the galleon's bows and naked swordsmen swarming to the sides.
    An immense banner fluttered over the ship. On a field of black a huge silver bear was rising up, fangs bared, claws outstretched to take its enemy.
    I broke free from the spell just as two other galleons hauled into sight I shouted a warning to Carale. But as I did so I knew the warning would fall on spell-stopped ears.
    I looked wildly about for a means to fight the magical assault. The first galleon was nearly on us, and I could hear my men shout warm greetings, oblivious to the obscene growls from the pirates preparing to board us.
    Battle vision and battle time descended on me, and I saw everything in the most minute detail and all action slowed to a slug's pace. But my mind was racing ahead like a war chariot's desperate drive to force a break in the enemy line.
    A shower of arrows fell, miraculously missing all but a ship's boy standing transfixed with a bucket of slops in his hand. A bolt caught him in the throat and he gasped, crumpling to the deck. By an odd quirk the slop bucket fell upright spilling only a little of its contents.
    In my heightened state of awareness a foul whiff of the offal made my nostrils lift, and a mad solution leaped into my brain.
    I raced toward the boy and the bucket dodging another flight of arrows, sixth sense urging me to suddenly step aside, and just as I did, a spear flashed by so closely it plucked my sleeve.
    I grabbed the bucket by the handle, swiveled like a hammer thrower, and hurled it high into the air toward the enemy galleon.
    As it sailed up and up—pushed higher still by my will—I chanted:
    "Fair be foul. Sweet be cursed. Foul be fouler still. Till all is ... shit!"
    I admit it wasn't a very elegant chant. Sometimes my barracks manners and tongue elbow through my wizard's pose. But it was the best I could come up with under the circumstances.
    More importantly ... it worked.
    A blast of cold damp wind chilled us, and I saw the offal bucket swell up like a boar's bladder. Then it exploded and the wind sheeted brown and purple filth into our enemies' faces.
    We were enveloped in a stench so retching that I nearly fell gagging to my knees. All around me I heard my men coughing and cursing. The pirates suffered the most, and I heard them shrieking in pain and calling on the gods to deliver them from such evil.
    I forced air into my lungs, fighting the poisons I drew in. Then I blew out, sending not a spell, but a prayer to any gods who might be listening to rescue us all from my foolishness. I doubt I shall ever duplicate what came next . My breath huffed out and at the same instant a blast of wind struck my back. The ship heeled over as a sudden squall buffeted