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Callan would not go after him if he went swimming. There was the rest of the crew to consider, and his own hide besides.
    “There’s another from the east, Captain!”
    “What?” Surely he’d misheard.
    “Another of the damn ships comes from the east!” The clouds impaired easy viewing of anything, but he looked where Thimms pointed and cursed. There was, indeed another ship. It matched the scope of the one already chasing them.
    A moment later there was a sign of hope, a faint light of potential safety.
    The ship to the east was not alone. Several smaller vessels were running around it, moving like cats surrounding a massive bear, but they were there just the same.
    The Brellar had arrived.
    “Might have a chance at that.” He whispered the words like a secret prayer and watched as the smaller ships moved around their prey.
    The Brellar were terrors. They owned the Corinta Ocean and the seas beyond as well, near as he could tell, and they owned them because they were the fiercest warriors on water.
    They had also been paid very handsomely to be here and to fight the Sa’ba Taalor. Because they were honorable enough in their way, they had even shown themselves as the enemy approached.
    The ship to the east shifted itself. The great black hulking shape took a turn that should have been precarious and in the doing crashed its prow into the closest of the Brellar vessels with an impact that could be heard even over the wind and the storm.
    The Brellar was not fast enough and in seconds the greater ship shattered the lesser on impact. Wood and bodies flew away from the crashing ships; both looked exclusively to be Brellar.
    Whatever was in the way of the turning ship was ruined or dragged under the keel. Callan looked away, not in horror but out of necessity. The other black ship was gaining on them.
    The waves surged, the ship under him shuddered but it rode another crowning wall of water to the crest and dropped down on the other side. Callan held onto the rail and felt the muscles in his hands screaming at him as his body rose and fell at the whims of the water.
    The black ship was closer still and he saw one of the forms on that ship holding what might be the longest bow he had ever seen.
    A moment later an arm was drawn back and a missile released. He did his best to watch the shaft move through the air. He missed most of the journey but saw it land in the back of Vondum’s skull.
    Vondum dropped to the deck. He didn’t need to guess. He knew the man, his friend, was dead.
    He also knew they were all dead if he didn’t get to the wheel soon enough to stop the ship from foundering. Wind and rain and waves were his enemy right then, and Callan crouched low and ran along the deck as quickly as he could.
    He did not run far before the arrow punched into the meat of his calf. Did he scream? Gods, yes. Did he fall? No. It wasn’t choice. He hopped on one leg and made it to the helm, grabbing at the wheel and missing the first time.
    Vondum’s body was in the way. Thimms was there an instant later rolling the corpse to the side. He stayed, too, holding an arm around Callan’s waist and bracing his captain as best he could. Thimms was a smart one. He was carrying a shield.
    This was a simple affair. They lived or died together.
    The black ship came closer, and Callan turned away from it, intent on riding through the storm and outracing the bastards coming up behind them.

THREE
    The veils became a necessity. The winds were gone but the dust and grit of the Blasted Lands remained, and wherever the waters had receded, the dust lifted with each step they took and grew in clouds that surrounded them.
    They had no food and very little water, but for the mounts that seemed not to matter.
    Andover stared at the Edge as it grew closer. When he had entered the Blasted Lands, an eternity or so earlier, the storms had kept him from seeing anything at all. He had no real scope for how vast the barrier was. It was not as towering