The crewmen stared at the priest as he arrived on deck and drew back nervously. Most of them had seen this before and knew it could be dangerous to be too close when he invoked the power of the Lord of the Winds.

     Bailey climbed to the topmost part of the sterncastle, still scowling unhappily as his robes billowed in the winds. He spread his arms out to the sky and filled his heart with love and devotion for the deity who had summoned him into His service, twenty years before. "Mighty Lord of the Skies!" he called out in his loudest voice. "I know that I am sinful and weak. I know that I fall far short of the standards you demand, that I am undeserving of your benefaction. Nonetheless, I must call upon You, for we have need of Your power!"

     He touched his Holy Symbol, a silver lightning bolt pinned to his shirt, and called out again. "I call upon You, My Lord, to send Your servant, so that he may lend speed to our ship and help us to apprehend those whom we pursue. Please, forgive me my presumption, my Lord, and lend us Your aid!”

     The crewmen, their duties forgotten, watched in awe as there came the sound of rushing wind, and a few moments later the sails billowed forwards as they were filled with sentient, semi-living air. It was an air elemental, one of a race of beings that served the Lord of the Winds and did his bidding. The masts and spars of the ship creaked and groaned as they accepted the strain, and Bailey braced himself as the ship surged forward, suddenly pushing through the water faster than any sailing ship had a right to. Cutting through the waves that crashed across the bow of the ship, soaking the crewmen manning the ton catapult.

     The Captain studied the tradesman ahead of them through a telescope as they started to gain on it. “That ship's rather heavily armed for a merchantman, isn't it?” he said thoughtfully.

     "Yes," said Dannis. "I see three ballistae and a catapult. Most unusual. Pirate activity in this area must be unusually heavy."

     "Unless that is a pirate ship," mused the Captain. "Fast, light, heavily armed. What do you think?"

     "I think you may be right," agreed the first officer. "It would certainly make things a lot simpler if it were."

     "Right," said the Captain, grimacing with determination. "Let's see what happens when we get within attack range. Load all weapons."

     Reaver, the chief weapons officer, waved a glowstick across the protruding ends of the optical fibres arranged across his desk, transmitting the Captain's orders to all the weapons crews along the length of the ship in a series of coded pulses of light. Below, dozens of men scrambled to deploy the ship's armament and load them, ready for the first salvo. In the case of the ton catapult, this involved six men loading a dozen balls of rock, each one weighing nearly a hundred pounds, into the launching cup while the throwing arm gave an alarming creak and sagged noticeably as it accepted the weight. The catapult crew then began winding the rubbers, the incredibly tough elastic material that stored the energy that would launch the weapon when the trigger was released.

     Five minutes later, Temple knew that his guess was correct. A real merchant ship would have simply surrendered when they saw that escape was impossible, but the ship ahead of them just kept on running, and when the distance between them had shrunk to a few hundred yards they shot a volley of ballista bolts wrapped in oil soaked, burning cloth that hit the hull and deck of the warship, where they were extinguished by the crew with buckets of water. The Captain ordered fire to be returned and the ship shuddered as the Prince Fennerel’s ballistae launched their gigantic bolts; shafts twenty feet tong and tipped with hundred pound heads of shaped and polished granite. Gigantic stone fists each capable of delivering a knockout blow if they hit the right place.

     The bolts scarcely slowed as they hit the other ship. Two of them punched through the hull a few feet above the waterline while the third skimmed the deck where it destroyed one of the ballistae and tore the legs from the hapless men manning it. The pirates scattered in panic but the Captain, dressed in a splendid scarlet coat with gold trimming, shouted and threatened his men until they returned to their weapons, reloading them and sending a second volley of bolts to rake the deck.

      The crew of the Prince Fennerel dived for cover behind the ironwood screens that stood at intervals along the railing, returning to their posts when the salvo was over. One of the pirate ballistamen aimed higher, though, and the burning bolt hit the mainsail which, although soaked in fire retarding chemicals, burst into flame. The air elemental gave a cry of pain that sounded like wind howling through a mountain pass and the warship shuddered as the creature convulsed.

     Meanwhile, seeing that the prow of the Prince Fennerel was now pointing directly at the pirate ship, Reaver sent the command to use the ton catapult. The catapult crew made final adjustments to correct for range, and then the trigger man pulled the latch to release the rubbers, allowing them to uncoil and bring the throwing arm flying upward.

     The great balls of rock flew through the air towards the enemy, spreading out as they flew. Most of them fell harmlessly into the sea but a few were on target, tearing through sails and pounding the deck, punching through the thin planks to cause further damage and mayhem inside the ship.

     The Prince Fennerel continued to turn, bringing the three giant ballistae on its starboard side to bear, and their crews turned winch handles to rotate them on their mounts until their great granite heads were pointing at their targets. The officer of the deck gave the order and the gigantic bolts flew, this time punching through the mainmast and destroying the other ship’s remaining weapons. The other ship’s spars and sails fell across the deck and the ship came to a halt in the water.

     The warship drew up alongside, and all six of the ship's wizards lined up on the railing facing it, preparing to cast their spells. The pirates saw them and fired everything they had at them. Arrows, slingstones, darts and crossbow bolts. Two of the wizards were hit, their spells spoiled, but then the crew of the Prince Fennerel laid down a covering fire that forced the pirates into hiding. A second later the pirate ship was racked by two fireballs and two thundering bolts of lightning, putting an end to all effective resistance. Pirates tried desperately to lower lifeboats or just leapt overboard, but a hail of small missiles from the warship's crew and firebolts from the wizards cut them down by the dozen.

     The six travelers, in their staterooms, watched in fascination as the battle reached a swift and bloody conclusion. The pirate ship was now a living mass of flames and anyone still aboard must surely have perished. Only those thrashing about in the water remained to watch the warship as it pulled away under full sail, and Thomas turned away in horror, unable to bear the sight of their terrified pleas for mercy. The law of the sea was strict, though. Piracy was a capital offence, and the sharks were to be the executioners.

     The Captain watched in grim satisfaction and wished all his problems were as easily solved. "Casualties?" he asked.

     "Two wizards hit by arrows and three able seamen suffering from light burns," answered Dannis, watching lights flickering in the protruding ends of the optical fibres in his desk. "The clerics are attending to them now."

     "Good," said the Captain. "Tell Karrinas to meet me in my cabin. I've got to report this incident to the Admiralty."

     Dannis nodded and waved his glowpen over the optical fibre that led to the senior wizard's office, which would currently be manned by an aide while all the wizards were up on deck. A moment later it flashed back to tell him his message had been received and understood. "He's on his way."

     The Captain nodded and left the bridge. The wizard Karrinas was waiting outside his cabin and the Captain invited him in, leading him to the scrying mirror that hung behind a velvet curtain above his writing desk. Opening the curtain, he stood back to let the wizard cast the spell that activated the mirror, and soon the reflection of the other side of the room was replaced by the image of the scrying room in Admiralty House in Seaton, thousands of miles north. The wizard then left the room without having to be asked, and the Captain waited until he heard the door closing behind him.

     The Captain spoke to the aide permanently on duty in the scrying room, who went off to fetch Admiral Malgaard, the officer in charge of operations in the Western Sea. "Good morning, Captain," said the Admiral when he arrived, a few minutes later. "Something wrong?"

     The Captain quickly described their encounter with the merchant ship. How its behaviour had left no doubt that it had been up to no good of some kind, which had turned out to be a stroke of luck, and how they had dealt with it. He described the battle briefly and accurately and gave a quick account of their casualties. "There were no survivors?" asked the Admiral when he'd finished.

     "A few in the water," said the Captain, "but the sharks will make short work of them."

     "Good. Well, let's hope this is the most serious complication you run up against. Good work, Captain, and fair weather." He began to make the hand gesture that would break the magical connection, but stopped at the expression on Temple's face. "There's something else?" he asked.

     "Just a minor problem," said the Captain. "We've managed to pick up a few passengers."

     He described how the six travelers had come to be aboard the ship and that they seemed to know about the imminent invasion. He had expected the Admiral to be angry, but instead he seemed to be puzzled and surprised. "Six young people?" he asked. "Would they by any chance be three wizards, two woodsmen and an extremely persistent cleric of Caroli?"

     "One of them may be a wizard, he has the look about him. Two of the others are woodsmen, yes, and the third is a cleric of Caroli, and ‘persistent' doesn't come close to describing her. How did you know?"

     "Because, Captain, those are the very same people who originally brought the warning to Fort Battleaxe and persuaded Resalintas, Resalintas himself, to send a few spies into the Shadow to see for themselves what the situation was. It's because of them that you're on your present mission."

     The Captain was stunned. "Then she was telling the truth," he muttered to himself.

     "Telling the truth about what?"

     "She said they were on some kind of holy mission, to rescue some kind of religious artifact from somewhere. I thought she was just crazy."

     "She is, but she's telling the truth. How long have they been aboard?"

     "Three weeks."

     "Three weeks!" exclaimed the Admiral. "Well, set them ashore and let them get on with their holy mission, and pray to the Gods that the delay you caused them doesn't prove fatal. You are to give them every assistance possible. Understood?"

     "But what about the security implications?"

     "Just tell them to keep their mouths shut. Tell them to stop telling everyone about the imminent invasion because it isn't necessary any more. We'll just have to take the chance of them being picked up by the enemy and interrogated."

     "Yes sir. There's just one thing more, sir. One of them, one of the woodsmen, claimed to know the exact size and composition of the Shadowarmies. I thought he was mad, but he made me write it down anyway."

     The Admiral looked amazed. "Let's hear it," he said.

     The Captain found the bit of paper and read out the numbers that Shaun had given him. As he read, the Admiral copied them down, his face growing grave and old as he did so. "By the Gods!" he said when he'd finished. "If these figures are accurate..."

     "Do you believe them?" asked the Captain. "I mean, how could he possibly have come by this information?"

     "I don't want to, but..." He looked older now than the Captain had ever seen him. "Have you ever heard of the Emerald Oracle?"

     "No sir. What is it?"

     The Admiral ignored the question. "You said you picked them up in the Lonely Isles, didn't you?"

     "Yes sir. Why?"

     "I believe the figures." said the Admiral flatly. He remained silent for a long time, staring into the distance.

     "Will that be all, sir?" asked the Captain after a minute or two, watching him in concern.

     "Eh? Oh yes, yes. Keep up the good work and let me know if any more problems develop."

     He made the hand gesture then and his image vanished, the mirror becoming just an ordinary mirror again. The Captain stared at his reflection in it for a long time before getting up and leaving.