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With a flourish he produced another blue globe of light, which he hung upon the horn that Gruum had so recently clung to.
    Gruum’s jaw sagged down in amazement as he realized the rounded thing he had clung to, assuming it to be the great horn of some fantastic beast, was in truth the broken mast of a ship. Indeed, he gazed around and realized he stood upon the deck of a lost vessel, sunken eons ago to the bottom of the sea and now raised from the depths to do Therian’s bidding.
    There were no sails, nor was there a rudder. There were holes in the ships gunwales, but the seawater stayed outside the vessel, as if afraid to enter. Therian stood tall at the prow of the ship with his arms outstretched. The derelict swung around to face away from the wind, to face in the direction the pirate ship had vanished over the horizon.
    “My blade!” said Gruum, scrambling over the deck. In the prow, stuck down deeply into the rotted timbers, was his saber. It had sunk to the bottom and stuck here in the ancient deck boards. Gruum could scarcely believe the providence.
    “What are the odd, milord?” he asked.
    “The odds of what?”
    “My retrieval of this blade.”
    Therian shrugged. “Quite high, I should think. There were many ships down there. We floated over the site of an ancient sea battle. I chose to call upon the one that bore your blade stuck in its back. It seemed an expedient way of rearming us.”
    Gruum looked at his master with wide eyes. Sorcerers were indeed difficult to get used to.
    Therian directed the vessel to pursue the Innsmouth . Gruum knew that his mind burned with the desire to retrieve his own ancient blades, which in his view her crew had stolen from him. The derelict vessel they rode upon followed his silent bidding as if the ship were fully-fit and well-manned.
    Gruum tried to relax, but instead shivered and dripped seawater. He was unsure that he preferred the ghost ship’s deck to floating in the clean sea. He thought of going below to get out of the wind, but rejected the idea. He feared he may meet up with the horrors he suspected may well lurk beneath the rotted, barnacle-encrusted timbers.

-6-

    They headed southward on their enchanted ship. After the breezes dried Gruum’s clothing, he was able to think more clearly. He sat huddled at the stern, where scraps of rickety railing still stood and felt reasonably secure. When the dawn tinged the skies pink, he found himself nodding off. It had been an exhausting night.
    He dreamt strange dreams. In them, the things beneath the ocean moved. The mountains that lurked there in the silent dark shifted and glided about quietly. They made waves that ruffled the surface. They made the storms rise up, as a boiling pot made steam rise into a smoky kitchen.
    He awoke with a start to the welcome heat of the sun in the sky. It warmed his bones, and for the first time he truly appreciated the warmer clime of the southern seas. Therian still stood in the prow of the vessel, his black cloak and equally black hair fluttering in the winds.
    “Master?” croaked Gruum. He rubbed salt from his bleary eyes. “Where are we?”
    Therian treated him with a cool glance. “We have paused in our journey. Our quarry is nearby.”
    Therian pointed to the starboard. Gruum followed his gesture and squinted. He shielded his eyes with his hand. Before he saw the ship, he noticed an island of fairly large size dead ahead of them. The island was covered in rocky hills and thick green vegetation. Looking along the shoreline, Gruum spotted what must be the Innsmouth . The ship had an odd appearance to it. He had to stare for a few moments before he understood what he was gazing at.
    “The sails are in tatters and the ship lists to one side. They have anchored at that island?”
    “They’ve run aground, more likely,” said Therian. He produced a small spyglass from his pouch and handed it to Gruum. The lens had cracked at some point, and the metal shaft of it had some