An elven battle vessel? Welstiel had never heard of such, and the idea of something beneath the water that could sink its enemies sounded like nonsense.

"Load your ballistae with burning quarrels," he said. "Set fire to the sails, and its crew will abandon ship. But you must come about. If we charge, we have the element of surprise."

Klatas shifted anxious eyes toward his captain. The fact that he was even trying to convince his superior-on the word of a foreigner-meant he feared they could not escape. The captain snarled back, grabbed Klatas by the hair, and shoved him away.

"He say we run," Klatas answered. "Even under full moon, we maybe lose them in dark."

Persuasion was not working. Welstiel spoke calmly to Chane in Belaskian but kept his eyes on the helmsman.

"Kill the captain… and show them what you are."

The captain barked a question at Klatas, stepping toward the smaller man.

In the same instant, Chane thrust out with his longsword.

The startled captain tried to raise his shortsword in defense, but Chane's sword was already embedded through the side of his leather armor. The shortsword clanged against Chane's steel anyway. The impact jarred the longsword, twisting it in the captain's ribs. He buckled to his knees.

The fight should have been over, but Klatas reached for his saber. Welstiel pulled his sword before the helmsman could draw his and grabbed Klatas by the throat. He heard Chane's hiss grating like some enraged reptile.

The captain wrapped his thick hand around Chane's embedded blade.

The crewman at the helm abandoned his post to rush in.

"Move and you die," Welstiel growled in Klatas's ear, and lashed out his sword.

The tip clipped the rushing crewman and tore through the side of his face. The man twisted away, screaming as he tumbled to the deck.

Chane opened his mouth, exposing jagged, elongated teeth.

The captain tried to raise his shortsword again. Blood ran along Chane's blade in his side, either from the wound or from his free hand gripping the sharp steel. Chane lifted one booted foot.

He stomped down on the captain's forearm, just above the man's grip.

The captain's fingers sheared off on the longsword's edge. He dropped his shortsword with a guttural cry.

Klatas bucked in Welstiel's grip.

"Tell your men to stay back or they die!" Welstiel shouted. He dropped his sword to grip Klatas's hair. "Tell them now… or I save you for last."

Chane slammed his jaws closed on the captain's throat. He thrashed his head like a wild dog ripping prey in its teeth. Dark blood splattered across the deck, and flecks of it struck Klatas's face and chest.

Cries of hunger and desperation rose from somewhere in the belly of the ship.

Chane dropped the captain's limp body in the red pool spreading on the deck. He spit out torn flesh and turned glittering eyes upon the closing crew.

Welstiel focused his mind on his ferals below.

"Come!" he shouted. "Come to me now!"

Screams of release filled the ship's hull as Klatas cried out to his men.

Wynn spotted a point of light on the sea as the elven steersman called for his hkomas. But she could not see a ship. The light vanished as the hkomas came at a jog. He glanced at Wynn standing on deck in her shift-without Osha or Sgaile-and stopped below the aftcastle.

"I have lost sight of it," the steersman called, releasing the wheel to a crew member beside him. He came down to the deck and pointed. "It was there, ahead of us."

Chap began to growl.

"What is it?" Wynn asked.

He only huffed and rumbled.

"Go below!" the hkomas shouted at her.

"I will not! Look at him." She gestured to Chap. "Something is very wrong."

"Wynn-where are you?" Osha emerged below the forecastle, holding his gray-green cloak closed against the wind.

"Here," she answered, then turned quickly back to Chap. "Tell me what you see!"

Chap's growl deepened, but he would not look away from the ocean.

The steersman grabbed the back of Wynn's cloak. "Do as you're ordered!"

Osha reached Wynn's side and snatched the man's wrist. He shook his head slowly until the steersman released his grip.

"What is wrong?" Osha asked.

"An unknown ship ahead," Wynn answered, "and it is making Chap uneasy."

Osha leaned over the rail-wall, following Chap's gaze. "I see nothing."

"It vanished in the dark, but it must be there."

"Ship ahead!" someone called from up the front mast. "Human sails in moonlight, turning seaward."

"Human?" the hkomas repeated.

"Could it be the one?" the steersman asked.

"Ylladon!" the voice above cried out. "It is Ylladon!"

Osha glanced upward once, his expression confused. "You are seeking a ship?" he demanded.

"At our last stop, we heard of a raid on a lower coastal enclave," the hkomas answered, and the steersman rushed for the aftcastle as the hkomas called out, "All crew on deck! Full sail-and tell alhkasge to rouse the ship!"

Wynn turned to Osha at this new name. "Who is… Closing-Stone… and why must he wake up the ship?"

"He is our vessel's hkoeda," Osha said quickly. "Even asleep the ship keeps swimming, but the hkomas now wishes for more haste. You should go below."

"Chap, come on," Wynn said.

The dog remained poised. Wynn grasped Chap's shoulders, and he growled at her without turning.

The stairwell's hatch shattered outward, and feral monks poured onto the deck.

Chane knew he was trapped.

Somewhere behind them, Wynn was on that other ship.

He had followed Welstiel's every demand. If not, Welstiel would have been overrun by the crew, leaving Chane alone amid marauders and a pack of ferals with no master. And killing the Ylladon captain had made his head swim with euphoria.

He tried to clear his mind as scattered sailors grabbed for weapons to fend off the monks. Welstiel still gripped the helmsman, but his face…

His colorless eyes glowed in his pale white features. His lips pushed apart around elongating teeth.

Chane had never seen Welstiel in full vampiric state. Perhaps the man had fallen so far over sanity's edge that his aristocratic veneer had cracked completely. The sight ate at Chane, until all he wanted was another warm body to tear apart. And someone kept squealing behind him.

He snapped his head to the side, glaring over his shoulder.

The sailor Welstiel had slashed rolled on the deck, clutching his face with blood dripping between his fingers. Chane jerked his sword from the captain's corpse and skewered the crewman through the heart. The man fell silent and limp.

Half of the crew had recovered from their initial horror and were now facing down the monks. Ferals worked their way around the sailors to cluster near Welstiel.

Sabel looked to Chane, sniffing the air, and then her gaze found the pool of blood around the captain's corpse. Chane backed against the starboard rail.

Could Welstiel control his children cut loose among the living?

"Tell your men to get back into the rigging!" Welstiel hissed into Klatas's ear. "You turn this ship back… or you'll be bloodless before your body hits the deck."

"They not do this," the helmsman choked, "not charge elven ship!"

"Look around! Who do they fear more… the elves or us?"

Welstiel felt the helmsman's pulse under his hand and heard its pounding rhythm in his own ears. The hunger it brought made him sick inside- because he wanted to feed.

The crew stayed beyond the reach of the hissing, sniffing ferals, but their faces were tense as they clenched their weapons. Klatas finally shouted at them.

Two shook their heads, and one lost all color in his face.

Welstiel shoved the helmsman into the wheel.

Klatas caught himself on a spindled handle, but he glanced down in horror at his captain's body. He began shouting again at the crew, but not one of them moved.