Iakhovas led the way out to the terrace overlooking the amphitheater. He took his seat and the Royal Black Tridents spread out around him. Laaqueel stood at his side.
Below, on the swirl pattern of the amphitheater floor, nine captured surface dwellers fought an afanc. The blue-gray beast had a vicious wedge-shaped head and a mouthful of teeth, made even more distinctive by the long whiskers. Resembling a fish in structure, it was nearly fifty feet long and often was mistaken for a whale because of its size.
Laaqueel knew Iakhovas had chosen nine humans on purpose. The number meant much among the sahuagin culture. There were nine barons, and power was assumed to come from that number.
The humans fought because they had no choice. Armed with tridents, they tried to stay low to the ground. If they'd tried to swim up, the afanc would have easily picked them off.
Finning itself into a frenzy, the afanc began swimming in circles above the group. Faster and faster it sped, until a whirlpool took shape in the water. The funnel danced across the checkerboard amphitheater floor, twisting with quick, darting leaps that scoured the tiles. Debris formed bands inside the whirlpool.
The humans tried to flee, seeing the danger too late, but the whirlpool caught them. The suction ripped them from the floor, pulling them up into the open. As the humans whipped around the outer edges of the dancing whirlpool, the afanc swam in quick lunges and ripped them free in its jaws. When the creature crunched its prey, blood flowed into the water. In less than a minute, all nine surface dwellers were gone.
The sahuagin in the stands shouted out in savage glee.
Iakhovas let them have their moment, then he stood and held his hands out for attention. He waited until every eye was on him, then said, "My people, long have I prayed over our future. I have asked not for mercy from Sekolah for We Who Eat, for that would be foolish. I have asked for strength. We need to be strong, stronger than we have ever been before. Our destiny lies before us, shrouded in human flesh and human death. It is from them that we must rip what is our due according to the will of the mighty Shark God."
His words carried powerfully over the amphitheater. Laa-queel felt moved by them, and was certain that no matter what Iakhovas thought he was doing, Sekolah was working through him.
"Our losses were great at Baldur's Gate," Iakhovas said. "Many of our warriors fell in battle, but that, too, is the way Sekolah wills. Our path cannot be easy, not if we are to remain worthy of our heritage. Sekolah found us and shaped us into warriors." He paused. "No, he molded us in his wisdom into the best warriors."
A resounding cheer went up in the amphitheater. Laa-queel watched her people, knowing Iakhovas had them in the palm of his hand.
"We strike fear into the hearts of any who dare stand in the way of We Who Eat," Iakhovas continued. "As we should for now and for always. We took their lives that night, just as we did in Waterdeep, and we've become stronger because of our losses."
Out in the amphitheater, the afanc finished chasing down the stray bits of bodies left floating in the water. None of the sahuagin guards ventured forth for any of the choice morsels so tantalizingly close.
"Some of you may think we should halt for a time in our war against the surface dwellers," Iakhovas said, "but that would only be giving in to weakness."
Silence reigned in the amphitheater, and Laaqueel knew no one dared dispute Iakhovas's words.
"We were born to fight and die." Iakhovas looked out over the gathered sahuagin. "To do any less would be forsaking all that we know. So now I tell you that I've been told to guide you to a new battleground, a place where we can strike even more terror into the hearts of the accursed surface dwellers."
Laaqueel listened, trying to guess where Iakhovas would next send them. There were always the lands of the Shining South and the Empires of the Sands. Both of those regions conducted a lot of sea trade.
"I was given a dream," Iakhovas went on, "of a sea far from here. An inland sea held hostage by the hated humans."
Consternation spread throughout the ranks of the sahuagin. Laaqueel felt her heart slow, but the quill pricked it and it resumed its normal rhythm.
Be at ease, little malenti. I know what I'm doing.
"And in this inland sea, called Seros by those who live there, I have seen thousands of our people held captive in subjugation. It falls to us to find them and free them from the trap the humans laid for them."
More noise erupted through the ranks, and Laaqueel knew Iakhovas was dangerously close to losing the crowd. Hardly any of the sahuagin had ever heard of an inland sea. To hold the very sea itself captive was unthinkable, an aberration they would struggle to even understand or believe.
"It's true!" Iakhovas roared. "No one may doubt my word, the word of your king!"
Instantly, most of the noise died away, but Laaqueel knew the implied threat didn't quell the confusion within her people.
"I will lead you there," Iakhovas said, "and we will find our people. A way will be made for us to achieve this, our greatest of destinies. Once again, our people will be made whole, no longer separated by the ignorance the hated surface dwellers would wish on us. I give you this, my promise, and I stand on it in the blood of combat to prove to you that Sekolah watches over our actions."
Before anyone knew what was going on, Iakhovas leaped from the terrace and swam out into the amphitheater. The afanc noticed him at once and began finning toward him.
The royal guards mustered quickly to go to his aid. Laaqueel reached for the gifts Sekolah had bestowed upon her, wondering if any of them would truly be enough to stand against the monster even now gliding toward Iakhovas.
"No!" Iakhovas shouted. "Do not interfere. Trust in the will of Sekolah."
Laaqueel rushed forward to the terrace railing. Fear pounded through her as she wondered what would happen to her when Iakhovas was killed by the afanc.
Iakhovas hung motionless in the water, floating well above the tiled courtyard. He spread his arms out, claws wide on his hands and feet.
The afanc streaked straight for him. It opened its mouth, knowing its prey couldn't escape.
Jherek woke from a troubled slumber, never free of the nightmarish shark that pursued him. Pale moonlight streamed through the iron bars of the hold overhead, letting him know it was still in the dark hours of the night. The familiar creak of Breezerunner's rigging and planks sounded around him. Two men's voices talking casually to each other came from above.
Nearly all of Breezerunner's crew were asleep around him, rolled tightly into themselves against the chill of the night that filled the hold. Only Tynnel was awake, sitting across the hold and staring up at the iron bars overhead. Jherek made brief, uncomfortable eye contact with the man, glancing quickly away. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bulwark. Since their confrontation a few days ago, they'd had little to say to each other.
Slight fever still coursed through Jherek, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. At least now it burned and kept his sleep erratic, but it didn't leave him shaking all the time. The chill bit into him with jagged fangs, though, and he wished he had a blanket so he wouldn't wake up feeling stiff all the time.
Breezerunner still sailed through the River Chionthar as it had every night that Jherek had been aware of. Old Captain Finaren, who'd never liked even the idea of river travel, told him that normally a ship tied up at night on a river. There were too many dangers, unseen shoals that could rip a keel out from under a ship, or twists that could be missed in the night that would leave the ship run ashore, to risk sailing in the dark. Even the merchantman's necessary four-foot draft could prove challenging for the ship's pilot. The young sailor knew there must have been some reason for Vurgrom's haste, and he wished he had some clue as to what it was.