Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [57]
Suddenly her eyes focused on a familiar object. Inspiration sparked, then caught flame. She let out a single whoop of excitement and then got down to the serious business of spellcasting. A spell similar to the one she'd used on the throwing spiders-one that would animate an object and subject it to her will-was stored in the Windwalker. She had never tested it, but there was no time for such precautions now.
Liriel raced over to the figurehead and placed one hand on the ten-foot statue. With her free hand, she clasped the Windwalker and began to chant.
Stored magic poured through her body and into the carved image of the elven maid. The garish paint under Liriel's hand took on more realistic hues; then the lifelike colors spread out in all directions until the entire statue took on a semblance of life.
A shudder rippled through the giant elven female, and the figurehead stirred. Wood cracked like thunder as the elf maid tore herself away from the ship that bore her name. At Liriel's bidding, the wooden warrior strode toward the rail and dove into the sea.
Massive wooden hands broke the surface with a force like that of a breaching whale. The elf maid gripped the rail of the warship and hauled herself aboard, setting the ship rocking crazily; Northmen and pirates alike lost their footing and tumbled to the deck. The fighters quickly scrambled to their feet, but the sight of the approaching statue sent them reeling back. For a moment the din of battle gave way to stunned and profound silence, broken only by the heavy tread of the elf maid's wooden slippers upon the deck.
The animated figurehead advanced steadily, weaponless but without fear. She plucked up a Northman fighter and hurled him into the sea, then backhanded another and sent him flying into the ready sword of a waiting pirate. On and on she went, a fearful killing apparition.
Hrolf was the first to recover from the shock. A grin of sheer, boyish delight split his face, like that of a child whose favorite toy had been brought inexplicably to life. He called out a fond greeting to the thing and bade her tend the troublesome axemen massed on the port side. The elf maid turned at once to do his bidding.
Liriel noted this with a surge of relief, and she gladly relinquished her creation to Hrolf's command. The powerful magic she had cast, the terrifying plunge into the sea, had drained her strength. She felt the pull of exhaustion and slid slowly to the deck, giving herself at last to sweet, deep darkness.
Chapter 8
Seafolk
The sky was still dark when High Captain Rethnor emerged from his pain-racked slumber. His cabin boy darted forward with a flask of water and held it while the captain took a few tentative sips. As soon as he could summon breath and voice, Rethnor immediately demanded that the war chieftain be brought to him. He was not at all happy to learn the man was dead. Rethnor asked for the first mate, then the boatswain, and received the same answer.
"Well, damn and blast it, bring me the highest-ranking man still standing!" he roared. The cabin boy scurried off at once to do his bidding.
To Rethnor's extreme dismay, the highest rank belonged to that of the ship's physician-not a normal mixture aboard Northmen ships but one that, given their mission, Rethnor had considered a wise precaution. It seemed his instincts had been sound, for the physician had obviously found work to occupy himself: The healer was spattered with blood, and he looked unspeakably weary, much older than his fifty-odd winters. And the tale he told was grim indeed. Two of the mighty warships had been lost, one to fire, the other inexplicably scuttled. All of the warriors-all!-had been slain or badly wounded. Only a few of the crew, barely enough to sail the ship, had escaped the Elfmaid's wrath. The pirates had proven to be fearsome and inventive fighters. Their captain's blade alone had claimed at least a score of the Northmen. But it was the berserker, and then the magically animated figurehead, that had utterly