The Black Throne

I waited, hands low. He was unarmed and I let him swing at me without interference, stepping back, leaning a bit. His fist shot by me and I clubbed his elbow. He howled and I stepped in immediately, swinging toward his temple, missing and clipping the hinge of his jaw. He was pushed aside by a large, black-bearded individual who swung a dagger at my stomach. I dodged the stroke, struck at his arm and missed. His left hand caught me beside the head then, knocking me against a tree. I saw his teeth and two gaps through his beard as he slid forward, the knife beside his hip, left hand extended to clear the way.

Too stu

I shook my head, clearing it somewhat as I beheld what I knew, from pictures, to be an ape; as to what sort, though, I was ignorant. It was difficult to tell its true size because of its slouch and its shambling gait. Its advent and action produced considerable consternation among my pursuers, however. Two of them had been knocked down by the hurled man. At that moment a brace of pistols was fired from behind me, to the left. One man fell, another clutched at a suddenly incarnadined arm.

"This way, mate!" came a raspy voice from the rear and my arm was seized in a powerful grip. "C'mon, Emerson! Move it!" he cried, and the ape turned toward us and followed.

I allowed myself to be led, through the brush to a cleared area which took us to the beach. We commenced ru

He ran, I jogged, the ape lurched and sprang along the shore. At length, we halted beside a pile of brush which the man immediately attacked. I gave him a hand as soon as I realized that a small skiff was concealed beneath it. Before we had done with it, however, one of our pursuing sailors stumbled toward us out of the fog. He held a cutlass in his right hand and he raised it high when he beheld us.

"Damn!" he cried, rushing forward.

The small man stood between us. His left arm went up as the blade was swung toward his head. He caught the wrist of the man's swordarm, halting its descent entirely. Then, without particular haste, he reached forward with his right hand, catching hold of the fellow's belt around its buckle. At that moment, I heard a crunching sound, as of grating bones, from the vicinity of the wrist he was still squeezing. The swordsman repeated his earlier observation, but he was already off his feet by then, raised into the air by the small man, who turned and cast him out over the waters. Immediately, the short man caught hold of the skiff, which he pushed, effortlessly, seaward, having paused only to give me a wink and an evil grin.

"All aboard, Mr. Perry! Emerson—you, too! Come on!" he said. Then, in afterthought as we boarded, "It is Perry, ain't it?" he asked.

"It is indeed," I said, taking up one of the oars. "I never saw any of those men before. I've no idea why they attacked me." As we commenced rowing I added, "I must thank you for your intervention. It was most timely."

He snorted something resembling a laugh.

"Aye. It were most necessary," he said. "And almost too late."

We drew heavily upon the oars, and after several minutes I could discern nothing but fog in every direction. The ape pushed its way between us, moved forward into the prow and crouched there. Every now and then it made a gesture which seemed to mean something to my rescuer, and he corrected our course slightly on these occasions.

"Peters," he said suddenly. "Dirk Peters, at your service. We can shake hands another time."

I grunted. Then, "You already know my name," I said.

"True," he acknowledged. I waited for several strokes, but he did not elaborate. The fog remained heavy.

The ape gestured again.

"Hard to port. A pair should do it. I'll ease up and you pull," Dirk said then.

I complied, and when course was corrected, we resumed our normal rowing, I asked, "Where are we headed?"

Following a two-stroke pause, he replied, "There's a gentleman aboard a certain ship as has expressed a devout wish to see you. The same gentleman as sent me and Emerson ashore to look after your interests."

"It seems an awful lot of people know who I am, knew where I was going to be and knew when I'd be there."

He nodded slowly.

"So it seems," he said.

A little later, the ape uttered a low sound and bounced several times in place.

"What's that, Emerson?" Dirk asked. Then, "Oh. Oh-oh," he uttered and suddenly we were backing water.

There followed some eerie echoes, and then a great dark shape loomed ahead and sliding to starboard. It was the ship from which my pursuers had come. Even as we turned we drew nearer, and I was able to make out her name. She was the Evening Star.

Nearer still. Then through a lighted port above the poop deck, I saw a dear, familiar form: A

slowness of movement, an air of detachment—

A hand fell upon her shoulder and she was jerked away from the glass. Immediately, a heavy drape was drawn and the light was gone. And A

I uttered some sound, released my oar, and began to rise.

"Don't even think of it!" Peters snarled. "Yer a dead man if you set foot on her! Emerson, hold 'im if he tries to go overboard!"

And the creature actually did take hold of my collar. It could have weighed no more than I did, but having seen what it could do to a man I knew I should have no chance of escaping.

In a moment I realized that Peters must be right. Dead, I would be of no use to A

We rowed on, for some considerable distance. The fog broke and re-knit itself several times, though there was nothing to see but water and a few stars on those occasions when it opened. For a time I wondered whether we might have become lost, rowing in a great circle, or out to sea, or about to run aground. Then the shape of another vessel came into view—as mysterious and formidable-appearing as the first.

"Ahoy!" Peters shouted.

"That you, Peters?" came the response.

"It is, and I've brought company."

"Come alongside," called the other.

We did, and shortly thereafter a rope ladder was cast down near us. Emerson snagged it immediately.

Before we climbed to its deck, I caught sight of the vessel's name: Eidolon.

The man looked frighteningly distinguished, with his dark hair light at the sides, gray mustache neatly trimmed, impressive brow, jawline rugged as he clenched a delicately carved pipe between perfect teeth.

His well-tailored uniform was impeccable. He was tall and slender within it and his smile inspired confidence.

"This is Captain Guy," Peters said.

The man removed his pipe and smiled.

"Edgar Perry ... ?" he said.

"Yes."

He extended his hand. I took it.

"Welcome aboard the Eidolon," he told me.

"Thank you. Glad to meet you," I said. "Everybody seems to know who I am."