Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles (10 page)

 
          
The
dragon’s snout snapped the top off the main mast as Tempest crashed down on the
bow of the ship.
Kingfisher
heaved
forward, and Mik lost his grip on the tiller. He tumbled down the stairs onto
the water-drenched quarterdeck, smashing into Trip. The kender lost his grip on
Karista. She tried to grab them again, but they skidded out of her reach and
crashed into the base of the shattered mast

 
          
The
captain and the kender barely had time to look up before an avalanche of
rigging and tangled sails buried them.

 
          
* * *

           
The dragon whipped her head toward
the bridge. Karista, soaked and shivering, clung to the stairs just below where
Ula held fast to the tiller.

           
The sea elf shouted a defiant curse.
She let go of the steering pole and seized a boathook from a rack near the
rail. With all her strength, she threw the iron-tipped spear at the dragon.

 
          
The
weapon’s forward lance pierced the dragon’s cheek, and the trailing hook caught
in her lower eyelid. Tempest roared in pain and surprise. She reared back her
head and belched scalding steam over the deck of the kingfisher.

 
          
Karista
ducked as the boiling cloud thundered over her head. Ula screamed as the
blistering steam hit her. She turned and dived over the side, disappearing into
the swirling deep.

 
          
Tempest
reared up, raising nearly all of her massive form out of the surging seas. Then
she crashed back into the ocean, head first, smashing into
Kingfisher
as she came.

 
          
Kingfisher's
spine broke in half as the
dragon surged into the depths. In an instant the hold filled with water,
smothering the cries of the crew still struggling below deck.

 
          
The
center of the ship sank first, and with it the broken mast, the rigging, and
the shroud-like sails that had smothered Mik and Trip.

 
          
Karista
screamed until there was no air left in her lungs. She scrambled up the stairs
to the bridge, knowing that doing so would only buy her a few more moments of
life.

 
          
Thunder
boomed in her ears. Sharks, Turbidus leeches, and razorfish swam through the
heaving waves, picking through the bodies of
Kingfisher's
crew. The wails of the dying mingled with the howl of
the wind, the echoes of the thunder, and the deafening crash of the waves.

 
          
Wreckage
from the ship dotted the ocean all around. Some pieces of
Kingfisher
were burning, though Karista couldn’t imagine how they’d
caught fire. The aristocrat scrambled to the aft end of the bridge, near the
tiller, as waves greedily devoured the rest of the ship.

 
          
Terror
threatened to overwhelm her mind, but her body remained determined to stay
alive as long as possible. She had to try, had to fight! Then she remembered:
Her magical seaweed! She always carried some in the pouch at her waistband.

 
          
Chewing
on the seaweed allowed her to
breath
underwater—when
the magic worked, which wasn’t always. Underwater, perhaps she could avoid the
dragon and the frenzied predators. She could hide beneath the waves until the
danger had passed. It was a slender chance, but far better than she had on the
surface.

 
          
The
water to starboard began to bubble and roil, the waves crashing higher every moment.

 
          
The
dragon!

 
          
The
dragon was coming back!

 
          
Karista’s
hands fumbled across her waistband, faying to find the needed pouch. Her nails
caught in the water-soaked crevices of the sash at her waist. Her fingers got
knotted in the fabric.

 
          
Nearby,
the long fins atop the dragon’s head broke through the surf. Tempest’s yellow
eyes lit the waves, like huge lanterns lurking just below the chaotic surface
of the sea.

 
          
Sweat
poured from Karista’s brow. Her body shook and shivered in the driving rain.
The surging waves lapped over her feet as the last of
Kingfisher
's deck submerged. She lurched forward, pulling her
fingers free and grabbing onto the rail just in time. She stabbed her right
hand toward her pouches, all the while clinging to the wreckage with her left.

 
          
She
found the pouch and tore it open, thrusting her hand inside. Frantically, she
pulled out the contents.

 
          
A
sudden flash of lightning lit the crumpled-up handkerchief in her palm.

 
          
Not
the magical seaweed, just a ratty
handkerchief— like nothing Karista Meinor had ever owned.

 
          
The
dragon rose from the raging deep.

 
          
The
aristocrat gazed at the handkerchief, horror overwhelming her heart
Two
whispered words escaped her lips.

 
          
“The kender!”

Perils of tbe Deep

 
         
Mik
Vardan knew he was about to die. Wet ropes and canvas knotted themselves around
his body, chaining him to the iron-shod mast of the doomed
Kingfisher.
He’d seen the rigging falling, but he and Trip couldn’t
get out of the way in time.

 
          
They’d
struggled for a moment, then something big hit the ship and the water surged up
around them. They were sinking now, and Mik was about to drown.

 
          
In
his mind’s eye, he saw his enchanted fish necklace. He saw himself in his
cabin, putting the necklace in his sea chest, next to his copy of the Prophecy.
The Prophecy had never mentioned
this
.

 
          
Mik
pulled hard and ripped the canvas away from his face. In the glow from the
lightning above, he saw
Kingfisher
sinking
around him. The mast had splintered from the deck and sank by itself in the
middle of the wreckage.

 
          
Through
the gloomy water, at the edge of his vision, he could barely make out the shape
of the captain’s cabin and the bridge. His possible salvation—the fish
necklace—lay within, but he would never reach it. The cabin was too far away,
even if he weren’t ensnared in the rigging.

 
          
He
looked up and saw Trip, tangled in ropes and canvas, further up the mast,
struggling to free himself.

 
          
Something
slammed into the mast just above his head. He saw the tail fin of a shark slice
away into the darkness. Struggling, he managed to pull his dagger from the
sheath at his belt,
then
wondered if it was worth the
effort.

 
          
Mikal
Vardan could hold his breath a long time. He was an excellent diver—one of the
best—and he’d gotten a good lungful of air before he went down, but he couldn’t
last forever. He didn’t think he could hold his breath long enough to cut away
all the canvas and rigging binding him. Pamak’s last reading said the water was
forty fathoms deep—a difficult dive for anyone, even a pearl diver, without
magical aid. If he sank all the way to the bottom, he would likely never
resurface anyway. Was it worth fighting sharks just to drown?

 
          
His
boat was dead. His crew was dead. Perhaps he should die as well.

 
          
As
the shark bore in again, Mik cast off his doubts and guilt. He would
not
die here, alone, fishfood for some
predator. The ropes tangling the sailor gave him litde freedom of movement, so
he knew he’d have to time his strike just right.

 
          
The
shark sliced effortlessly through the lightning- dappled water, its blunt head
swaying from side to side as it homed in on its prey. The blue and gray
mottling along its side marked it as a mangier shark—bane of shipwrecked
sailors. Its jaws opened wide as it attacked.

 
          
Mik
ducked to one side as the mangier came in, and stabbed up with his knife. The
shark missed Mik’s face by inches, its teeth ripping through the swirling
canvas just beside his right cheek. The captain’s blade hit home and opened a
small gash in the mangler’s belly.

 
          
The
fish jerked aside, almost taking Mik’s dagger with it. It turned slowly and
came in again, trailing a streamer of dark blood. This time, it aimed for the
sailor’s gut. Mik knew he couldn’t stop it; he braced himself to die.

 
          
Just
before the shark struck, though, a dark shape flashed down on it from above.
The two shadows struggled for a moment, the small shape rolling through the
turbulent water with the much larger mangier. A cloud of blood sprayed into the
brine and the mangier sank away into the depths. A flash of lightning from
above revealed Mik’s savior.

 
          
The
sailor would have shouted for joy if he’d had the breath.

 
          
Trip’s
small form swam through the tangle of ropes and canvas and began to cut the
bonds holding Mik to the sinking mast. Mik shook his head, knowing Trip
couldn’t have any more air than he did. He tried to motion the kender to
surface, but Trip wouldn’t have any of it.

 
          
Instead,
the kender reached into a pocket and pulled out a small wad of damp weed. He
thrust the mass toward Mik’s face. “Take it,” Trip burbled. “It’s ... magic
seaweed.”

 
          
Mik
opened his mouth, and the kender popped the seaweed inside. Mik chewed.

 
          
For
a moment, he thought that Trip had made a mistake. Pain like fire shot through
the sailor’s limbs, and his muscles spasmed. Multicolored lights flashed before
his eyes, and it felt as though someone were sitting on his chest.

 
          
Then
a familiar tingle began to build up in his toes. The sensation spread through
his body until it reached his lungs and, finally, his skull. The sensation was
similar to the one he felt when using his enchanted fish necklace. Mik took a
deep breath of the brine and felt pleased when he did not die.

 
          
“Ugh!
Tastes . . . terrible,” he said, the words bubbling out of his mouth in garbled
bunches. It wasn’t the bell- clear words his enchanted necklace produced, but
he didn’t feel inclined to argue.

 
          
“I
borrowed it from Karista,” Trip replied.

 
          
“I
hope .
..
she
won’t.. .
need
it,” Mik said.

 
          
Trip
nodded. “Dunno how long ... it works,” Trip burbled. “Let’s cut you free.”

 
          
For
long minutes the two friends hacked at the ropes and canvas as the mast binding
Mik sank ever deeper into the darkness. Flashes of light from the surface above
became more dim and distant, and the turbulence in the water around them grew
less and less.

 
          
Several
times, a razorfish with a Turbidus leech attached to its belly flashed by, but
Mik and Trip were able to fend the predator off with their knives.

 
          
Just before the masthead settled to the silt forty fathoms down,
Mik finally wriggled free.
He took a long, deep breath of enchanted air
and bubbled, “Thanks, Trip.”

 
          
The
kender merely nodded. The seaweed’s magic allowed them not only to breathe but
also to see—if imperfectly—in the twilit depths. It prevented the depths from
crushing them and even kept the brine from stinging their eyes. Talking,
though, remained tricky.

 
          
“Now...
find my cabin,” Mik blurted. Trip nodded.

 
          
It
took a moment for the two of them to get their bearings in the ocean dimness.
Soon, though, they spotted a likely looking silhouette.

 
          
Moving
quickly, they bobbed over the ocean floor toward their destination.

 
          
Mik’s
cabin, and the bridge above it, had broken off from the rest of the ship when
Kingfisher
sank. The greater part of the
two decks lay on the bottom, canted at a twenty- degree angle and shrouded in
billows of settling mud.

 
          
The
two divers swam cautiously to the wreck, keeping their eyes peeled for signs of
the dragon, sharks, or other predators. They kicked past the remains of several
bodies along their way—small bits of flesh difficult to recognize as human,
never mind as former crewmates—and soon reached the wrecked cabin.

 
          
The
door didn’t give when Mik tried it, and it took them a few minutes to pull the
wood off its bent hinges. The contents inside floated in a jumble, the shambles
of Mik’s life tossed everywhere. Some woven items—silks, clothing,
blankets
— hung eerily in the water, like strange and
colorful jellyfish.

 
          
Uncovering
the captain’s sea chest took longer than either of them would have liked. Mik’s
trunk had settled to the bottom of the confused heap, but appeared otherwise
undamaged.

 
          
The
sailor quickly opened it and pulled out the box containing his enchanted
necklace. The metal fish’s be- jeweled scales glimmered in the dim light inside
the sunken cabin. Mik took the amulet from the box and hung it around his neck.

 
          
For
a moment, he felt sick to his stomach, as the magic of the necklace tangled
with the water-breathing spell from the seaweed. He spat the chaw of weed into his
hand and immediately the pain passed. In a moment, the submarine world around
him became brighter as the amulet’s powerful enchantment sharpened his senses.
His lungs filled with sweet, fresh air, and his limbs tingled with new
vitality. Then a shiver ran through him, and he noticed that three more jeweled
scales had flaked away.

 
          
Mik
grimaced and handed the magical seaweed back to Trip. “Thanks,” he said.

 
          
The
kender frowned at the green-brown wad before popping it into one of the many
pockets of his lizard-skin vest. “Dunno ...” he said, “how good it
is .
..
used
.”

 
          
Mik
knelt beside the sea chest and opened the box with his copy of the Prophecy.
The box, though, was not watertight, and the parchment had already been ruined.
A small cloud of blue-black ink puffed into the water as the paper floated out,
like a pale bit of seaweed.

 
          
The
two of them quickly sifted through the jumble and turned up Mik’s sword. They
took all the coins they found as well, knowing they’d need cash when they
reached civilization again.

 
          
“You
still have the black diamond?” Mik asked.

 
          
Trip
nodded and patted one of the pockets of his lizard-skin vest. “Ula had ...
right idea about... money,” he commented.

 
          
“The others ... dead?”

           
Trip shrugged. “We were . . .
lucky.”

 
          
“Let’s
surface,” the captain said. “If anyone’s still alive ...”

 
          
They
swam hack out the cabin door and took a moment to get their bearings. Light
from the storm and the fire above had died away considerably. Darkness shrouded
the sea, and even their magically assisted sight couldn’t penetrate far.

 
          
A
swift-moving shadow flitted past, just at the edge of their vision. As the
captain and the kender turned to face it, something struck them both from
behind.

 
          
A
heavily weighted net encircled them, pinning their arms and making it difficult
to move. Mik twisted against the ropes and yanked his specially weighted dagger
free from its scabbard. He threw the knife at a shadowy figure nearby.

 
          
The
underwater shiv sliced through the water and struck the object with a dull
thud.