The Chronicles of Amberdrake

by Loren K. Jones

  Amberdrake bent his head to look at the Lord High Chamberlain. He was an old man, sixty or more, but not feeble. He stared up at the dragon, fear plain on his face. “No,” he moaned, and Amberdrake drew away.

  He looked at the other man and asked, “Who are you?”

  “I am Zelin, son of Zandar, son of King Zolon. I am next in line for the crown of Zamaria if my cousin should die.”

  “Your family seems stuck on ‘Z’ names, King Zelin,” Amberdrake commented, informing the new king indirectly of the death of his predecessor.

  “The wish of our ancestor, King Zamar,” Zelin warily moved away from the Lord High Chamberlain. “This one ruled my cousin, making decisions for the king to parrot from the throne.”

  Amberdrake looked down on the prostrate man again. “Who was that child you sent to die?”

  “She, I, that is, I did not send her to die. I did only the king’s bidding.” The Lord High Chamberlain saw a way to deflect the anger of the dragon by blaming the late king, but it didn’t work.

  “She told me that it was you who issued the orders, and the new king claims that you manipulated the old king for your pleasure. I think you have caused enough trouble.” A massive foot crashed down on the Lord High Chamberlain, mashing him into the ground.

  The king jumped back, narrowly missing being spattered with the blood that spurted from between Amberdrake’s toes. Between one breath and the next, a young man stood in the dragon’s tracks, shaking blood from his boots. “Let’s go inside, King Zelin. I have some things to discuss with you.”

  Back in the court room, Amberdrake seated himself and faced the new king. “Why does the King of Zamaria employ assassins as servants?”

  King Zelin shook his head. “We have always had the Clan with us. They were part of the Imperial Guard, and were used as special guards for the ruling family and their favorites. When Luxand fell, the remnants of the Clan came here and entered the service of King Zamar. Since then they have been part of the fabric of the kingdom.”

  Amberdrake shook his head slowly. “Strange to employ assassins in such a manner, but there are many strange things I have seen. The truth of their origins is something that I would like to research. Do you have any idea when and why they were created?”

  “No, Lord Dragon. No one does. The only thing we do know for certain is that they have been around since the time of the Empire. Some claim that they are the children of Dandarshandrake and a human woman, though few lend credence to such notions. Others claim that they were specifically bred from the great snow leopards of the mountains. Other theories have been advanced from time to time, but those are the major two.”

  “And they are fertile with normal humans?” Amberdrake asked, leaning forward.

  “They are, Lord Dragon. It is a trait that has diluted their bloodlines so that not every child shares the gifts of the parent.” The king stood and walked the room, hands clasped tightly behind him. “The girl, Pini. Did she die quickly?” he asked, not looking at the man who was a dragon.

  “What does it matter? Was she someone special?”

  “She was. I would have married her if she had survived. I do not blame you for killing her. That was Gorid’s doing. I just wish...”

  “...That she had survived?” Amberdrake asked softly, and the king nodded his head. “She is making her way to the kingdom of Evandia, to the south. I did not think her death was necessary.” Amberdrake smiled at the surprise and joy that flooded the king’s face.

  * * *

  Careful examination of the records that were stored in the deepest recesses of Zamar revealed no further information on the Silent Clan’s origins. Summer passed with Amberdrake delving and searching, but never finding the information he sought. Finally, as his interest in the search waned, he left Zamaria. King Zelin stood with Queen Pini and waved as the dragon flew away. Exactly who and what the Silent Clan were remained a mystery that would intrigue him for years to come.

  * * *

  Mellody was giggling again. “You are such a show-off, Drake.”

  Drake chuckled as he grinned. “You already knew that.”

  Saunder was chuckling as well. “Yes, we did. How long did you say in Zamaria?”

  “Not long. Ten or eleven years. Zelin and Pini had five kids by the time I left.”

  Adventure 8

  The Pirates of The Southern Islands

  DRAKE STANDRALSON PACED THE DECK OF the Gull, the ship he had chartered to take him about the Southern Islands. Twice before he had seen the islands, but both times it had been Amberdrake’s eyes that had looked down upon the white shores and verdant hills. This time, Drake would enjoy the sights as a human.

  “Laird Drake?” a voice said from slightly behind his left shoulder. Drake turned to face the ship’s captain and nodded. “Sir, we are entering dangerous waters. Pirates have been reported near Camistan and Nowlin Island.”

  Drake nodded again, then turned back to watch the sea. “We aren’t a merchantman, Captain. I doubt any pirate would waste his efforts on a small schooner like this.”

  “Laird Drake, with all due respect, there are pirates who would attack a row boat for the fisherman’s catch,” the captain replied, disturbed by Drake’s lack of concern.

  “Very well, Captain. What would you suggest?” Drake turned back, his eyes boring into the captain’s.

  “I would suggest that we seek safe harbor each night, and stay close to the islands when we may. This sloop has a shallow draft, and can slip through waters that would rip the hull out of a larger ship.” The captain remained calm and looked Drake straight in the eye when he spoke.

  “Very well, Captain. Do as you think best.” Drake turned away, looking out into the blue depths.

  Captain Vidosic shook his head and walked away, unsure what to make of the laird. A rich man, obviously, though prone to acts of outrageous generosity, Laird Standralson was soft spoken and courteous. He was also maddeningly incautious about the risks that he was taking. These waters were beautiful, the captain had to admit that, but dangerous. One-Eyed Petrof and his crew had begun preying on the shipping in the area and had been very successful.

  Landfall that night was in the port town of Logan’s Cove. Captain Vidosic had been there many times before with rich clients, and he guided Drake to the best bars. Laird Drake was free with his silver, and both men were feeling warm and fuzzy early in the evening.

  “You shee, Lair’Drake, it is best to be in port at night,” the captain slurred from the seat across the table from Drake. A dusky skinned woman sat on his knee, her bare breasts glistening in the lamplight.

  Drake nodded his agreement, not taking his eyes off the girl that inhabited his lap. “Indeed.”

  Morning saw them again at sea, with Drake paying close attention to the waves that slid past the small ship as he hung over the rail. “Oh, why do I do this to myself?” he moaned.

  Captain Vidosic smiled as he watched his charter heave his guts up over the rail. Landsmen! Laird Drake was a fine man, but he didn’t hold his liquor well. Looking to the sea, he smiled at the prospect of the night’s entertainment.

  * * *

  Alic (One-Eyed) Petrof guided his fast brig through the waters of the Southern Islands. In his short career as a pirate he had made a name for himself as the most ruthless privateer on the sea. His lookout shouted down from the nest, “Ship a starboard, on the horizon.”

  Alic nodded and spun the ship’s wheel, bringing the brig on line with the lookout’s pointing arm. This wasn’t the season for the major traders, so it was likely a minor House or private venture. All the better. Major Trading Houses had the resources to protect their shipping and arm their ships. Minor Houses didn’t.

  The lookout kept his eyes on the small ship as they slowly overtook it. It was a pleasure schooner, not a merchant vessel, but that didn’t deter Alic. Pleasure vessels meant bored rich men with fat purses. They didn’t overtake the craft before nightfall, but that wasn’t a problem. The schooner had
swung into Devan’s Landing, and was probably going to emerge in the morning. Ordering his sails furled and the anchor dropped, Alic sent his men to bed. Morning would be busy.

  * * *

  Devan’s Landing was a paradise as far as Drake was concerned. The beaches were made of brilliant white sands, powder fine and glistening in the hot tropical sun. They had drawn Drake away from the bars that night, along with a companion, and he had swum naked in the blood-warm waters. Phosphorescent waves lapped at his bare skin and the laughter of his guide echoed across the waters.

  Drake decided to stay a few days, much to the captain and crew’s joy. Devan’s Landing was a kind, friendly place where a man could spend his days in lazy splendor or chase the thin grass skirts as the mood took him. Drake went inland with his guide to see the beautiful jungle that filled the interior. He noticed that this island had a mountain at its center, and asked his guide, “What do you call your mountain?”

  “That is Manokoui, Great Laird. Home of LaiLai, the God of Fire. In the before time LaiLai sat on Manokoui and made the lands of the sea. Great was his fire, and the very rocks melted beneath him. He sank into the rock, deeper and deeper, his anger at sinking causing much of Manokoui to fly into the air. They say that the mountain is hollow now, and LaiLai sleeps in the depths of the hole. When my first ancestors came here the glow of his fire could still be seen and melted rock oozed from the cracks in the mountain. That was long ago, but the stories are still told.”

  Drake nodded, remembering the legends surrounding the volcanoes of his home in the Empire. The names were strange, but the legends were the same. A fire God sitting in his mountain making the land. His guide, Enilai, led him to what she called her “special” place. A small, rain fed stream slid down the side of a lava flow into a deep pool amid a lush garden of foliage. Laughing, Enilai dropped her flowered wrap and jumped, her butt landing squarely in the center of the stream. She laughed as she slid down the water slide and into the pool.

  Drake divested himself of his garments and soon joined her, though he positioned himself on the slide more carefully than she had. He had to laugh as he slid down the slide. It was akin to flying, and the slightly rough texture of the stone tickled his butt. No wonder her skin is so smooth.

  Drake and Enilai swam and laughed for half of the day. Drake was amazed by her endurance in and under the water, and watched her swim across the pool without surfacing. He tried, but made it little more than one third of the way before he had to surface. When they tired, she led him up to a secluded spot where sand filled a hollow in the rock. Smooth places on the rock attested to the passage of many hands over the stone, and Drake suspected that this had been a “special place” for generations of islanders.

  * * *

  Alic Petrof fidgeted as he watched for the pleasure craft to emerge from the lagoon. Three nights they had hovered here. Two days and three nights! What were those fools doing? Finally, the sleek lines of the schooner slid into view and he ordered the anchor raised.

  * * *

  Captain Vidosic saw the ship that was lying in wait and quickly ordered his men to action. Drake came out on deck to see was happening. He observed the men scurrying about the vessel for a moment, then found the captain. “Captain Vidosic, what is going on? Why all the excitement?”

  “What I was afraid of! Pirates! They were lying in wait for us as we emerged.”

  Drake went to the back rail of the ship and looked at the ship that was following them. It was not impressive, fat and rolling in the sea, but he could tell that it was overtaking them. A flicker of power and the ship’s main sail halyard parted, dropping the sail on the frantically working crew.

  Captain Vidosic was also watching, glancing over his shoulder as time allowed, and called to his men when the sail fell. “Keep at it, men. They’re down but not out. It won’t take them long to restring that line.” Walking to Drake’s side, he looked carefully at the pursuing craft. “It’s Petrof,” he said softly.

  “Petrof?” Drake asked, looking at the captain.

  “A friend, Laird Drake. An old friend, until lately. He turned pirate after we had a falling out over a wench in Porton. That was where he lost his eye.” Captain Vidosic shook his head. “If he catches us, there will be no survivors.”

  * * *

  Alic looked ahead at the small ship, finally recognizing it. “Faster, you mother loving sons of whores! That’s the Gull! Vidosic’s ship! Faster!” he screamed as he jumped about the deck, never taking his eyes off the Gull.

  The crew looked briefly at the receding ship, then returned to their work with extra vigor. Captain Petrof was not known to be a patient man, and there was little doubt as to his reaction if they should lose sight of the Gull. Soon, though not soon enough for Captain Petrof, they were under-way again, chasing the smaller ship. Alic stood at the bow sprit, straining to be one inch closer to revenge against his former friend.

  * * *

  Captain Vidosic saw the main sail rise and shook his head. “He has a good crew. I have to give him that, he has a good crew.” Shaking his head, he began directing his men to lighten the load. “We need every bit of speed we can manage if we’re to see another sunrise, men. If we can live without it, it goes overboard.”

  Sailors began divesting the Gull of anything that could be thrown overboard, from the galley stove and its firewood to the trade goods the captain was hauling between islands. Drake assisted, adding his muscle to the task. He did not want to reveal his nature to these men, nor his abilities. Not yet.

  Hour after hour the chase went on. Petrof’s ship was still faster, and the distance between them dwindled until Drake could hear Captain Petrof’s taunting call.

  “Vid! I told you to never let me catch you!”

  “You haven’t caught me yet, Alic,” Captain Vidosic shouted back, throwing the wheel hard over. The Gull heeled sharply, throwing unprepared men to the deck. Drake found himself hanging onto the mast, his feet slipping on the sharply angled deck. The Gull shot ahead toward an island as the heavier brig tried to turn and follow. Petrof’s angry shouting died in the distance as the Gull slid in close to the island. Drake watched in fascination as the bottom rose to meet them, seeming to be just inches below the keel.

  Captain Vidosic held the Gull close to the island until he had partially circled it, then, when he saw the spray blowing away from the island’s mass, he again swung the wheel, heading them out to sea with a following breeze. Drake was impressed by the captain’s handling of the small ship until a rending crash echoed through the hull.

  Drake and all the sailors were thrown to the deck, and several men went into the sea.

  “We’ve hit the reef, Captain!” a man shouted back as the ship slammed to a halt.

  Ropes were thrown to recover the men as the captain went below to assess the damage. He quickly reemerged and ordered everyone into the boat. “She’s stove in, men. There’s no saving her, nor ourselves. Petrof is still behind us.” As if to add emphasis to his words, Petrof’s un-named ship rounded the island. “To shore, men.”

  The sailors all manned oars as the tiny lifeboat pulled away from the Gull. Drake huddled in the bottom of the boat, staying out of the way as he had been instructed. The experienced sailors drove the small boat through the water, riding the breaking waves to the beach. Captain Vidosic led his crew into the interior of the island as soon as they landed, dragging the boat into the bushes, just in case any of them survived.

  “Laird Drake, I’m sorry. Your adventure is likely to end right here,” he said to his passenger, surprised to find him grinning.

  Drake gave the captain a feral grin. “I may have a surprise or two for your friend Petrof, Captain.” Then he took off into the bush, leaving the sailors behind as he ran.

  Captain Vidosic shook his head as Drake vanished into the jungle and said, “Let him go, men. He doesn’t stand a chance alone, but he doesn’t stand much more of a chance with us.”

  * * *

  Alic Pe
trof led his men ashore on the island, stopping beside the Gull’s lifeboat to break several holes in it. “No survivors. And I get Vid.” Turning on his men, he glared at each of them. “I’ll kill the man who kills Vid before me.”

  The searchers spread out, each armed with a cutlass or ax. They knew the men they chased, but that wouldn’t stop them from killing them. Pirates do not have friends outside their own crews.

  Drake watched the boat come ashore, then he faded back into the forest. A flaring light surrounded him, then the daemon stalked forward. Not normally a day hunter, the daemon’s shiny black chitin reflected the bright sun, alerting the man he hunted. The man charged forward, thinking he had found one of the Gull’s crew. His scream of fear was cut short as the daemon’s claws ripped out his throat.

  Petrof heard the scream, but assumed that it was one of Vidosic’s men. “One down,” he said, smiling at the soft laughter of his crew.

  The daemon’s lips pulled back from its long teeth as it looked at its prey. The weapons they carried didn’t concern it. No mundane weapon of man could harm it. Stealthily sliding through the dense foliage, it spotted another victim. This man did not scream. He had no warning beyond the sound of something passing through the air behind his head. Then his head fell away as his body jerked convulsively on the forest trail.

  One by one the pirates fell, until Petrof called the survivors together. “Where are the rest?” he asked, but received no answer. “Stay close. I don’t like this.” Motioning his men forward again, he stalked along the trail that Captain Vidosic and his crew had left.

  * * *

  Captain Vidosic and his men had managed to prepare a few traps for their pursuers. A vine in the path caused a slung tree trunk to swing into the party of pirates, injuring three of them. This angered the rest, but it was not the last trap. A small pit covered with palm fronds gave way, impaling a man’s foot on spikes of bamboo. His screams told the crew of the Gull that one of their enemy was down. The sudden silencing of that scream chilled them: Petrof was killing his own men.