The motions came swiftly and certainly to him as they always did. Malorrie had trained him well, giving him one of the first instances of confidence he'd ever known.

"I know it, swabbie," the dwarf replied, "but we'll hold it long enough mayhap for them what's got heart to set up a skirmish line we can fall back to. Just don't go getting yerself killed afore we've got a chance to make our grand escape."

Jherek gave himself over to the battle, fighting past the homesickness and uncertainty. If the destiny he'd been given was to die here, this night, then he was going to see that it was done rightly and well. Malorrie had trained him to always sell his life dearly.

He batted a trident aside with a deft move of his wrist, setting himself up for a lightning riposte that spilled the sahuagin's life's blood from its throat. When the creature grabbed its throat, suddenly more interested in staying alive than in fighting, Jherek grabbed the dying sea devil and used it as a shield.

"Now, swabbie!" Khlinat yelled.

Taking a step back, getting a brief respite from the other sahuagin by hurling their dead comrade among them, Jherek glanced at the end of the dock where men had shoved cargo crates into a defensive line.

"Quick as you can!" Khlinat turned and followed his own advice, sprinting for the crates.

Jherek didn't hesitate. He deflected a pair of thrusts from two different tridents, took a step to the side, and cut the hamstrings of both legs on a third sea devil as the creature tried to turn and face him. Wheeling, drawing his blade back, he strode forward, putting a shoulder into the sahuagin's midriff and knocking it back into the others.

Slipping in the blood covering the dock for only a moment, Jherek got his feet under him and ran.

A dozen more sahuagin climbed over the railing behind him. Glancing down the quay, he saw the swarm of sea devils pulling up onto the docks. Weapons gleamed in the moonlight and from the fires that were spreading through the warehouses.

Praying to summon the power given her by obedience to Sekolah, Laaqueel held up her palm and thrust it toward the big surface dweller rushing at her with his upraised hammer. She felt the molten heat leave her hand. It only caused a slight visible ripple as it passed.

The spell struck Fyidler Tross with physical impact and dropped the big Flaming Fist mercenary to his knees. He screamed in pain, trying desperately to hang onto his warhammer. Huge blisters covered his flesh, bursting as they filled to capacity, then filling again the way the malenti had seen surface dwellers fry their eggs.

He called on his gods in a faltering voice, then crumpled to the deck, already dead. The other mercenaries gave his death no heed, absolutely fearless in their attack. They engaged the sahuagin with bloodthirsty enthusiasm, yelling curses and impugning their heritage.

Laaqueel set herself, regretting that the battle had to take place on the ship's deck. She was much more at home in the water where she had the opportunity to attack from above or below instead of merely in a horizontal line. Most surface dwellers never knew how truly intricate the act of battle could be.

Holding the trident in both hands, she blocked a swordsman's overhand sweep. The blade struck sparks from her trident haft while another man closed in from her left. He'd intended to take advantage of the diversion his comrade created. Instead, Laaqueel ducked under his sword swipe, tangled his legs with the trident haft, and pulled him from his feet unceremoniously. The first man thrust at her, putting all his weight behind his sword.

The malenti glided to the side, missing the familiar feel of the ocean around her. The sword slid through her hair. Before the man had a chance to protect himself, she spiked him with the trident, twisting viciously to tear the wounds open further.

Other mercenaries trampled over their fallen comrades in their zeal to get to her. Laaqueel retreated before them and reached into her harness pouch. She took out a straight piece of iron she kept there. She prayed over it as the men charged her, then released the energy through it. The iron dissolved, consumed by the spell.

Four of the attacking mercenaries froze in place, becoming a momentary blockade for their comrades. The four affected mercenaries fell like statues, their limbs locked around their weapons. Five mercenaries pushed over the other men, still not losing the courage they displayed.

They weren't like other humans, Laaqueel knew. After seeing the power she wielded, most other surface dwellers would have broken off the attack.

Those men you see before you are Flaming Fists, little malenti, Iakhovas said in her mind. Warriors tried and true. They make up fully a tenth of this city's population, and they'll give their life's blood to see Baldur's Gate stand. They'll gladly spill yours for the same reason.

Laaqueel blocked a sword slash, maneuvering to use the remaining five against each other so they couldn't all attack at once. She kept her trident before her in both hands, blocking rapidly, then burying it in one man's chest. Letting go of the trident, the malenti priestess popped her retractable claws from her fingers and toes. When it came to close-in fighting, few were naturally more dangerous than the sahuagin.

V

4 Kytnorrt, the Year of the Gauntlet

Dodging another sword thrust, a prayer to Sekolah already on her lips, Laaqueel reached into her pouch and removed a small portion of oak bark. As she finished the prayer, the bark was consumed in a small burst of heat. Instantly she felt the effects as her skin tingled. A sword she couldn't stop in time rattled against her side with the dulled thunk of an axe hitting a tree, but it didn't break her skin.

Confident of the new protection she'd summoned, secure in her belief in the Shark God, Laaqueel gave herself over to the blood frenzy that was her heritage as a sahuagin. She dived into the mass of surface dwellers, using their proximity to each other as a weapon. Hand and foot claws slashed at the five men, turning their flesh to ribbons. Daggers found her, and the occasional sword's edge, but none of them did any real damage to her.

In seconds it was over. She stood on the blood-spattered deck above the dead and the dying, her gills flaring as they tried to meet the increased demand of her body. She glanced around the deck, seeing that the other sahuagin had successfully beaten back the Flaming Fist attack. There were already other boats in the water streaking for that ship as well as the other pirate vessels. She saw their standards now, a red fist wreathed in yellow flames emblazoned against a red spearpoint.

The cog sailed on into the harbor, cutting through water filled with sahuagin, sharks, sea snakes, giant water spiders, dragonfish, giant gar, and smaller crustaceans that scurried across the ocean floor at Iakhovas's bidding.

"Where were you while we were fighting these men?" Laaqueel demanded, turning her gaze to the stern castle where the man stood looking out over the carnage spread before him.

Dressed in black and aquamarine, a long sable cloak drifting in the storm winds behind him, Iakhovas appeared pleased. The black sapphire circlet he wore had small shark figures chipped into it twining about each other. She knew it gave him the power he needed to control the sea creatures that had invaded Baldur's Grate.

Iakhovas turned his hard face toward her. A cruel, mirthless smile touched his lips and he said, "Little malenti, do not presume too much. I am and will be your master."

Deep within her, Laaqueel felt the black quill spin and prick her heart. Pain and nausea drove her to her knees and she voided her stomach.