Authors: Dennis L. McKiernan
Crossing this horrific chamber, Ordrune trod toward an iron door barred with three massive metal beams, a door from which emanated the sound of slow monstrous breathing and the stench of carrion. As the dark Mage approached the heavy portal, something massive thundered into the iron, juddering the panel and rattling the bulky hinges and bars…and angry skreighs shrieked forth.
Ordrune mouthed a silent word, quelling the sound and fury on the opposite side. Then he raised each of the heavy bars in turn and opened the door and stepped into the reeking fetor beyond.
There he faced a monstrous winged
thing
from elder days, its flailing pinions leathery and black, a single scimitarlike spur jutting forth from the forward bend of each wing, its long beak filled with jagged teeth, the large piercing claws of its feet hooked and clutching and grasping. And it skrawed and clacked and lurched among a litter of bones, bones gnawed and crushed and cracked and splintered for their marrow.
Ordrune looked into one of the creature’s glaring yellow eyes and reached up to stroke its long neck. Then the dark Mage smiled and said, “I have a mission for you, my pet.”
D
own the channel of Serpent Cove fled the
Brise,
her sails spread wide to catch every bit of the following wind. With Alos unconscious in the cabin below, Egil manned the helm, while Ferret and Delon handled the sheet lines. Arin, Aiko, and Burel stood in the stern peering aft, arrows nocked in the event of pursuit, though only Arin could see fully by the light of the thin crescent moon.
“Something is not right,” growled Aiko.
Burel glanced at her. “Not right?”
“It was too easy,” she replied, “as if Ordrune wanted us to escape.”
Burel canted his head. “My sire was slain for merely knowing of the existence of the scroll, and he did not even get to read but a line or two. Yet we know even more, for we heard the whole of the text, the words Dara Arin read. Why would Ordrune kill one with little or no knowledge yet allow others who know its contents in full to escape? It makes no sense, Aiko.”
In the pale moonlight Aiko glanced up at the big man. “Even so, Burel, it was as if our way was deliberately kept free of
Kitanai Kazoku.
”
“Kitanai Kazoku?”
“Foul Folk.”
“Ah.”
Delon, holding a line and peering at the enshadowed jungle to either side, said, “Even had Ordrune wanted us free, Aiko, how could he have known of our plans—your sharpened spoon, for instance?”
Egil said, “Perhaps he did not, yet he did know given the opportunity we would attempt escape.”
Aiko nodded and added, “Do you think it was pure chance that our weapons were at hand when we fled?”
Delon shrugged, saying, “It was, after all, an armory where we found our gear. Where else would you expect weapons to be stored? I think you look too far to find a plot, Aiko.”
Arin said, “Could it not simply be that Fortune turned Her smiling face our way?”
Aiko looked from Delon to Arin yet said nought, her gaze impassive…
…And down Serpent Cove sailed the
Brise,
the strengthening wind blowing toward the distant sea.
* * *
The moon set, leaving but the glimmer of the spangle overhead to light the way. Arin moved to the fore and used her Elven sight to guide them. Time edged past, along with the slow miles, as night gradually wheeled toward the dawn. Stars above shone down, like silent observers watching desperate life unfold below. And still the
Brise
sailed onward.
* * *
It was dark when they slipped past the town in the throat of Serpent Cove, dawn but a faint glimmer in the east. And though the tide was in full ebb and low, they had no choice but to run the fangs in the blackness, for to delay risked discovery by the Rovers.
“As we did before,” called Egil, “strike all sails but the main and jib.” Working together, Delon, Burel, Aiko, and Ferret took down the jib top, fore stay, square, and the gaff top and stowed them below. Arin took station on the starboard wale to give Egil directions at the tiller, while the others took up lines for the difficult run ahead. And though they fared on but two of her sails, still the
Brise
ran fleet, for the offshore wind blew strongly and bellyed the sails full.
“Stand ready on the jib; stand ready on the main,” called Egil above the surge of waves as they began their run true northeast toward the striated guide-rock.
“Trim starboard a bit, Egil, half a point,” cried Arin, leaning out over the rail and peering ahead. “That’s good. That’s good. True her up now.”
The
Brise
cut a foaming white wake in the water, the churning trail faintly luminous as the sloop ran at an angle toward the jagged Serpent’s Fangs, the rocks jutting taller now that the tide was low and ebbing.
“Remember, all,” cried Egil, “we will jibe starboard a full ten points to square up on the next guide. Stand ready.”
Now the ship fled in among the fangs, the inner guide-rock yet ahead. But even as jagged stone slid by, Arin cried, “Oh, no!”
“What is it, love,” shouted Egil, spray showering over the
Brise
in the darkness as her bow churned through the waves.
“Another ship, a dhow, has begun a run inward toward the fangs. ’Tis a Rover craft.”
“Damn, damn!” cried Egil. “We can’t come about in these rocks. We’ve no choice but to try to run past her.”
“How can they see?” called Ferret. “Have they an Elf aboard?”
Arin did not answer as—
Whoom!
—waves thundered into rock, water leaping to pour over all; instead she called, “Stand by!…Stand by!…Stand by to make the turn!…Now! Now, Egil, now!”
“Now!” shouted Egil. “Jibing now!”
Zzzzzz
…Wet rope buzzed against cleats as the
Brise
swung rightward ’round the great striated stone to veer sharply starboard, from true northeast by the compass toward a south-southeastern run, Egil hauling the tiller hard over to make the sharp-angled turn, the crew ducking the boom as it slammed ’round from starboard to port as the ship jibed before the wind, the canvas full taut with the sharp-driving air as the sloop on a beam reach slammed her shoulder to the sea and ran through a tangle of deadly fangs for the guide-rock beyond, while crew let line and took up.
And in that same moment the Rover dhow to the east entered the fangs opposite.
Arin quickly moved to the larboard rail to sight on the guide-stone ahead. Billows crashed in against the huge rocks, upflung waves hurtling over the
Brise
and down, drenching ship and sails and crew. Arin shook water from
her eyes and stared steadily at an oncoming rock taller than the others.
“Starboard, ease starboard, Egil!” she called. “Now steady as she goes!”
“Hoy now,” came a slurred cry, and Alos stumbled topside from the cabin below. “What’s all this—?”
“Stand by to jibe larboard a full twenty-eight points,” called Egil. “Alos, ‘ware the boom!”
“What?” cried Alos, lurching out from the cabin door as the ship sped through the roaring blackness, death to the left and right, her bow crashing, waves smashing, spume flying, water drenching all.
Without turning loose of her line, Aiko kicked the old man’s legs out from under him, and just as Alos slammed down to the deck—
“Now, Egil! Now!” shouted Arin.
“Jibing now!” called Egil, haling hard on the tiller.
Zzzzz
…Again loose ropes buzzed against cleats as strong hands haled hard on the opposite lines. ’round came the bow of the
Brise,
a tall rock to the larboard looming but an arm’s span away.
Wham!
the boom slammed across from port to starboard as the ship heeled over and the stern swung through the wind and the
Brise
came to a larboard beam reach.
Water whelmed into stone and leapt into air as the sloop sped through and onward, while Arin shifted to the starboard rail, stepping over floundering Alos to do so. She leaned out and peered to the fore, where an oncoming Rover dhow loomed.
“Egil!” she screamed. “Trim to starboard now!”
Even as Egil hauled the tiller hard over, a great darkness hulked on the left and—
rrrnnnkkk
…—the hull ground against wood, the speeding ship shuddering as the dhow juddered the length of its side, Alos shrieking in fear as the surging water lifted both sloop and dhow, the
Brise
to bang and thud larboard to larboard along the hull of the Rover craft. And in the wind-shadow of the dhow the sloop’s sails suddenly fell slack though she yet had momentum, but just as suddenly they were clear of the Rover and the sails snapped taut again, hurling the
Brise
toward disaster beyond.
“Larboard, larboard,” cried Arin above the roar of the hammering waves and above Alos’s screams. Again Egil hauled on the tiller, and the
Brise
responded, and moments later Arin called out, “Now swing starboard a point and square up.”
As the ship flew along its course through fangs and thunder and spray, they could hear loud shouts aft from the scudding dhow, but what the Rovers cried out, none aboard the sloop knew.
“Steady as she goes,” called Arin, as whimpering Alos scrambled on hands and knees back into the cabin.
Past her fangs, past her rocks, past her booming surf, out from the mouth of the serpent they sailed, the
Brise
battered but seaworthy still. And as they came into clear water at last, dawn broke on the horizon east.
“Bend on all sail but the square,” commanded Egil. “The Rover likely will come after us.”
As the crew restored the jib and gaff topsails and the fore staysail, Arin said, “Dost thou think we can outrun them,
chier
?”
Egil looked aft, but the mouth of the cove was now beyond sight ’round a shoulder of land behind. “I know not, love, yet we must try.”
* * *
In the dawn light the captain of the dhow swung his ship into the cove, then brought her about through the eye of the wind, heading her back toward the Serpent’s Fangs to pursue the intruder. He glanced at the rocks and then at the growing light of day, and set aside the potion that briefly allowed him to see by starlight alone. He would not need it for this pass. Besides, he did not wish to risk losing his sight altogether.
Once more he commanded his grumbling crew to set the sails for the run, then true northeast he tacked, his ship picking up speed as he trimmed for the striated rock.
Just as the dhow entered the fangs, something hideous and large and skrawing came swooping from the sky. Men shrieked in fear and cowed down against the deck, and some leapt overboard. And with her crew in panic, the dhow veered and crashed in among the rocks, where the
waves battered and bashed her to wreckage against the Serpent’s Fangs.
In moments she sank from sight.
And on great dark wings the monstrous
thing
flapped away into the dawn sky above.
I
tell you, Alos, old man, if she hadn’t swept your feet out from under you, you would be dead, bashed overboard by the swinging boom to drown among the rocks.”
Alos glared at Delon, then stuck his nose in the air and sniffed loudly. “Nevertheless, she owes me an apology.”
“Ha!” snapped Ferret. “Apology, my left foot! Instead, you owe her a big thanks for saving your worthless hide.”
“Thanks for nearly breaking my elbow?” Alos ruefully and belatedly rubbed his left arm. “And another thing: I’m not worthless. There’s no better helmsman aboard.”
“Yes, but for how long?” said Delon. “You declared in Sarain that you’d leave us for good once we got free of the cove. Well, now we’re free.”
Alos glared at the bard. “I’m going to leave you when…when”—Alos paused, something deep in his memory nagging at his thoughts, as of a whisper commanding. Alos shook his head, then said, “Unlike before, I’ll not desert my shipmates in their time of need.”
Delon glanced at Ferret, then back to Alos. “Are you earnest?”
“Of course I am,” snapped Alos.
“Then you’ll remain until we get the treasure?” asked Ferret.
Delon cocked an eyebrow at his love. “The time of need will not be past until the Dragonstone is safely delivered to the Mages.”
Ferret looked out to sea and did not reply, and nought but indigo waters met her gaze.
* * *
Kistan lay beyond the horizon some thirty nautical miles to the west, the
Brise
having sailed directly east and
away from the isle for a quarter of a day before turning to run due north on a beam reach. It was now midafternoon, and Alos, Delon, and Ferret crewed, while Egil and Arin and Aiko and Burel slept below. Their plan was to stay well out to sea and away from the isle and its shipping lanes and run parallel to the eastern marge, hoping to avoid any Rovers, Rovers who ordinarily lurked in the straits far to the north and south and running to the west. Once the
Brise
was free of Kistan some six hundred miles hence, they would head her across the strait, aiming for the coastal waters along the shores of Vancha. From there they would sail to the Weston Ocean, and around Gelen to the Northern Sea, and thence unto the Boreal, for it was on the bounds of those waters where lay their goal: Dragons’ Roost. Their journey would cover nearly nine thousand miles altogether, though tacking and hauling as they must, it would be nearly half again as far. There was, of course, a shorter route, one through the channel ‘tween Gelen and Jute, but given what Aiko had done to Queen Gudrun the Comely, the waters near Jute were too hostile to fare, and so they avoided that risk by choosing the longer route. And given fair winds and tolerable seas, they would come to Dragons’ Roost sometime in the month of May.
* * *
It was not until the change of shifts at the dawn of the following day that they began to consider how they would obtain the Dragonstone.
“Here is what we know,” said Arin. “The stone is in a cavern in a silver chest chained to rock by a pool.”