The Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame - Book 1 by Tim Waggoner

truly would still bite now that the vampire had departed or if Onkar had been lying to them, in which case they were letting him get away for nothing.
    “The rats are under evil’s influence, though they are but pawns,” Diran said. “The situation has some distinct parallels to possession, though it isn’t precisely analogous. Even so …”
    Diran raised his hand and this time the Silver Flame instantly blossomed forth from his palm. The power of the SilverFlame blazed outward, casting its bright blue-white light onto the squirming pile of rodents. The rats screeched, squealed and began scuttling frantically over the raiders’ unconscious captives. At first Ghaji feared Diran’s ploy hadn’t worked and the vermin were even now beginning to gnaw hunks of flesh from their victims’ bodies, then the rats’ exertions began to lessen until finally the small beasts stopped moving altogether and became calm.
    Diran closed his hand into a fist and the silvery flame went out. A moment passed, then one by one the rats began jumping down from the cart and fleeing toward whatever shadows they could find. When the last rat was gone, Diran ran forward to examine the people remaining in the cart.
    “It worked,” he said with obvious relief. “Now for Makala!”
    The priest took off running in the direction Onkar had taken, Yvka following. Ghaji paused only to retrieve his axe and then hurried to catch up.

    Diran was standing at the end of the dock when the others got there. The priest was covered with sweat and breathing hard as he stared out to sea, shoulders slumped in defeat. The Black Fleet had set sail, the ships visible only as a trio of shadowy shapes melding with the darkness as they drew away from Port Verge.
    They were too late.
    Of the Diresharks there was no sign. If the Sharks didn’t get on the water soon, they’d never be able to track the raiders. Makala, and everyone else who had been taken, would be lost forever.
    “The question before us now is how best to give chase,” Diran said. “Do we charter a ship, and if so, with what funds?”
    “Maybe we could wrangle a berth aboard one of the Diresharks’ vessels,” Ghaji said. “They’re bound to set sail in pursuit of the Black Fleet, and they might want to have a priest of the Silver Flame along with them when they finally catch up to the raiders, especially once they learn that a vampire commands the raiders.”
    “Perhaps,” Diran said, “but there’s a good chance Kolberkon will prefer to send a priest of his acquaintance along. He’s bound to be distrustful of strangers after tonight’s raid, so it would take some effort to convince him.”
    “I have a ship,” Yvka interrupted.
    Both Diran and Ghaji turned to look at her.
    “She’s not that large,” the elf-woman said, “but she’s fast.”
    “Fast is good,” Ghaji said.

    Waves crashed against the rocks, sending sprays of seawater into the air. The footing was treacherous, and it didn’t help that they were laden down with full traveler’s packs. Ghaji had already fallen a couple of times, once cutting his forearm on a sharp outcropping so badly they’d been forced to pause for Diran to heal the wound. The half-orc was soaked from head to toe, and the wind coming off the Lhazaar Sea made him shiver. Both Diran and Yvka were equally as wet, and presumably equally as miserable, but neither of them showed it. The elf-woman picked her way carefully over the slippery rocks, moving with a steady confidence as if she wasn’t concerned about the possibility offalling. Diran followed right behind her, and though as a human he couldn’t match the elven grace with which Yvka moved, he too seemed confident, as if he scampered over wet jagged rocks every day.
    Diran carried his blow slung over his shoulder, and his quiver of arrows nestled next to his traveler’s pack. Given Diran’s almost complete lack of proficiency with the weapon, Ghaji wouldn’t have been concerned if Diran had