The Black Throne

It was fortunate that traffic was very light. We halted near to a stack of crates, piers to our left, gray gulls swooping and calling. Peters released his grip by degrees, raised his arm slowly then and pointed.

"There be the Eidolon, Eddie. The beasty did a good job o' gettin' us where we was goin'."

As we were climbing to the ground, I overheard Ligeia mutter, "Pax vobiscum, Metzengerstein."

Later, as Peters and I were unloading Valdemar and a few other items, and crewmen were coming in our direction from the ship to assist in their transport, I happened to glance skyward. My gaze was taken by a cloud formed in the distinct colossal figure of a horse, of an u

I told Captain Guy to set sail immediately for England, and that I would brief him as soon as we were underway as to the exact state of our affairs. The three of us ate a quick light meal while we were casting off, and I quaffed a brandy afterwards which caused everyone who passed to stare as if waiting for me to fall over. Then I headed back to my cabin where I washed the dust of the road from me. Afterward, I made the mistake of stretching out on the bed for a moment.

I was awakened by a terrible pitching and rolling of the vessel. I finally stirred myself, drew on my garments and went topside briefly. I watched the storm and the flow of shipped waves but a few moments. Then I returned below and managed to locate Peters. I had slept for over twelve hours, he told me, though the storm had begun but recently.

Bad weather dogged us out of the Mediterranean, and when we attempted a northward course to England a fresh storm descended upon us, of greater ferocity than anything encountered earlier. Since no headway could be made we simply prepared to ride it out. We were blown far out to sea, however, and it was three days before the storm let up. When it did, considerable pumping and repair was in order.

Whatever evil genius might rule this section of the sea, it seemed to have taken a particular dislike to ourselves. For no sooner had the Eidolon been restored to full serviceability than another storm broke upon us, driving us farther south. And this was the worst, by far, of them all, to that point. It bore us without letup into the Tropic of Cancer, equator-wards.

"This storm ..." Ligeia said to me on the morning of the seventh day.

"Yes?" I said.

"It seems to be ending now."

I reached out to knock on a wooden railing. "Thank God!" I added. "Sailors really do have it worse than soldiers. I'm ready to believe it now."

"Don't. Not yet," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure this storm was natural."

"Oh?"

"Just at the end here, just for a moment, I thought I felt her fatigue, allowing a slight slippage of control where personality might show through."

"Go slow," I said. "I'm not at my best."

"I believe they have A

"Are you sure of this?" I asked.

"No, I'm not," she replied. "Even under the influence her mind is a subtle thing."

There was a lull with a clearing that afternoon. The crew actually cheered on seeing a blue sky for the first time in what seemed ages. More pumping and patching were undertaken. Fortunately, the masts had remained intact.

In a way, I guess, it was good that a lot of work was going on, as the sails had not been run up again when the next storm broke, when they simply would have had to come down again.

And so we rode for a day, and Ligeia assured me that it was a natural storm and not one of A

Finally, it broke, and the skies stayed clear that day, that night, and on into the next day. All refurbishings were effected, a propitious breeze came upon us. We ran up sail and turned our nose north.

The crew cheered again. The demons had departed. The hour was ours and it was golden. People sang and whistled at their tasks. Hernandez was instructed to produce an extra-fine di

The good wind held, and the sky was clear as the sun went down. What more could we ask that night when we crawled into bed, more content perhaps than in an age of days?

The next tempest struck like an angel with a fiery sword, and this by far was the worst of them all. I was up, dressed and out on the deck in a trice, for it might well be that every hand were needed, to struggle yet another time against the weather's perversity. This time, several crew members were lost overboard, as well as sail and rigging. Even one mast splintered and went by the board, leaving the Eidolon halfcrippled, though still in no immediate danger of sinking or capsizing. It was fortunate we had been able to complete our latest round of repairs before this one broke.

For many days it persisted. We could no more guess at our position on the sea. But this time there was a different feeling to it. On several occasions I experienced the same sense of communication and division as I had back on the coach during our flight: It was as if Poe were somehow near again—somehow.

And then Ligeia told me, "She walks the night like some dark goddess of old. This is A

Directed at us."

"Not of her own volition surely!"

"She is not their creature out of choice," she replied. "They have succeeded in gaining control of her again."

"Is there nothing you can do? Or Valdemar?"

"Valdemar still suffers his psychic blindness wherever A

"Is there nothing that can be done?"

She shook her head.

"We must wait for her to tire again. I ca

And so it went, Ligeia shielding us as best she could. The following day I was in the rigging trying to cut loose some tangled lines and shrouds which threatened to take down another mast. Oddly, the altitude bothered me less during the storm than it had on a fine, clear day.

I doubt I could have heard a shout from below, against the awesome scream of the wind. For some reason I glanced downward, however, and I saw a pair of crewmen needlessly exposing themselves to the elements, holding tightly to a stanchion, one of them pointing to starboard. I shifted my gaze in that direction to find myself completely confounded by the vision presented there.

A ghostly vessel came on, plowing through the heavy seas like some sailing juggernaut. St. Elmo's fire danced upon its spars, pale green luminescence against the blackness of cloud, lightning flashes granting its deck occasional fleeting shadows. The craft gave the impression of enormous age, and was built in a style of centuries ago. But it was larger than any ship so designed had a right to be. Most frightening of all was the fact that it bore full sail, in the very teeth of the storm.

Again, I had the momentary impression that Poe was somehow near. And then it seemed that A

I knew this because I heard her call my name, sounding as if she had just come out of a deep slumber.