The Swords of Corium by B. V. Larson Read Free Book Online Page A

stowed so the great arks could stand at anchor without heeling over. The hours rolled by, and the lights flashed from the main island. Each time the all-clear signal came, there was a wave of relief and boredom that swept the fleet. Men both wanted to stave off the inevitable, and yet wanted to be done with the waiting, at the same time.
    An hour after dawn the next day, a last signal came. It was forty minutes early. From the blasting of horns and rolling thunder of distant drums, Gruum knew without asking anyone what had happened. The invaders had been sighted.
    The fish were leaping near the prow as they cut through the frigid waters. Gruum looked down at them, seeing occasional chunks of thin ice floating on the surface. He wondered just how cold that water was, and fervently hoped he would never find out. The ship became a frenzy of activity as she set full sails. Therian himself stood upon the rear decks, and Gruum stood nearby.
    “I don’t like this,” Therian said to no one in particular.
    Gruum stood the closest, and looked for something amiss. He saw nothing obvious. “What’s wrong, milord? Can I repair the matter?”
    Therian gave him a faint smile. “Hardly. I don’t like the winds. They are not a direct headwind, but we will have to tack to get back to Corium. Our speed will not be the best. Did you notice the shift in the winds?”
    Gruum shrugged. “Yes, some minutes before the signal came. But what can be done?”
    “Much can be done. But I must question if it is worth doing. There is a hand at work here, other than my own. The shift in the winds was too precisely timed to be a work of nature. The enemy fleet has a perfect wind—one that goes against the grain of the seasons here in Hyborea as well.”
    “You think Vosh summoned this wind? To bring him to Hyborea with speed?”
    “Exactly,” Therian said. “I’m chagrinned not to have predicted it. If we had chosen a different spot to lie in wait, we might have shared his wind and thus sped in behind him. Now, if I wish to increase my speed, I must use my strength and warn the enemy at the same time. But if I do not, the enemy will have all that much more time to unload and begin their assault upon Corium.”
    Gruum nodded slowly. He saw the dilemma clearly. “What will you do, sire?”
    “I will summon the witch winds. For this ship alone.”
    Gruum blinked. “Whatever for, sire?”
    “We will gain less than an hour. When the enemy sees us on the horizon, it will slow their assault. With luck, they will send a group of ships to engage us, but not enough vessels to destroy us. The rest will keep unloading. Then the rest of my ships will arrive.”
    “But what if the winds shift and we are left wallowing and fighting a dozen smaller, faster vessels.”
    “A dozen?” Therian demanded. He laughed aloud. “One war ark has nothing to fear from a dozen barbarian scows. I would worry if they send out fifty—or a hundred—to meet us.”
    Gruum stared ahead, his eyes wide. He strained, but of course he could see nothing of the distant enemy fleet. A hundred ships to spare? Just how many enemy vessels did they face?
    Therian went down to the middeck and called his wind spirits. He spread black wax, splattering it upon the planks in profusion. He summoned a group of women dressed in black to encircle him. Nine of them did so. Gruum watched, realizing they were priestesses of Anduin. They swayed and rippled seductively, with their arms raised up over their heads.
    In time, the wind spirits came with their glowing eyes. These spirits were greater in size and more purposeful than those Gruum had seen before. He reasoned this was as it must be, as the Royal Ark was far more ponderous than the Innsmouth had been, and thus would require much more effort to move at speed.
    The elder wind sylphs each grabbed up one of the swaying priestesses. None of the women screamed or struggled as they were taken—not even when they were dropped onto the decks from