“Well then”—he made a careless gesture of resignation—“it turned out that the young Miss Anna had her whole family tramping along up onto the boat to welcome her. I thought I had my hooks into Miss Innes pretty tight, but she went along with them meek enough.” He paused and smiled. “I don’t envy her the way she’ll be feelin’ for the next few days, that’s for sure. She will miss the fairy, that’s right enough.”
Still unsure exactly what the man was saying, Dax understood enough to know that his and Anna’s fear of Fars had been well placed. Finally he found his voice. “What fairy are you talking about?”
“Oh, that most wondrous of concoctions, the dust of the fallenfairy. It gives you the most amazing dreams of power and glory. You are strong and mighty. But it also makes you randy as an old billy goat. I had some fine times with your Lukas and his new best girlfriend.” He clucked his tongue mockingly and shook his head. “My, the two of them did go on, no doubt.”
Fars casually sat on the side of the bed, pinning the blanket over Dax’s legs in place. “Now Lukas was a dandy. Big and strong as he was, he really took to the fairy and was willin’ for just about anything this last day or so.” He nodded with a sly smile. “Yes, once we were in Butterock, I took him for a little walk about the bad part of town, you know. I’m so sorry to say Mr. Trimble will not be joining us for the remainder of the voyage.”
“What voyage?” Dax shifted his legs, but he was well trapped under the covers of the bunk. “Where’s Lukas? Where’s the captain, Fars? Where are we going?”
“It occurs to me we’ve not been properly introduced.” He smiled. “You see, my proper name be Zodas. Farkas Zodas.” He made a little bowing gesture to Dax. “There’s people looking for that name all across West Landly and a good bit beyond. Sometimes it’s easier to travel being someone you’re not. Course you wouldn’t know about that, being a lady and all.” The man made another sarcastic bow in Dax’s direction without getting up. He kept his eyes on Dax.
Another chill ran down Dax’s back. The man had as much as said he knew Dax’s secret. The familiar heat of his dragon anger grew in his belly, but Dax was determined to hold it in check. He was not in a position to fight. He had to talk.
Zodas paused and stroked his chin. “Yes, and where are we going? Well, that’s the thing, now isn’t it? Where’s the captain, and where are we going?” He smiled a little, but it was an evil smile. “Your Lukas? Once I got him fair and befuddled, we got to talking about all sorts of things. He was laughing and going on at a great rate. I was sneaking my little sticker-knife out to put him out of my way when he starts talking about you. ‘He’s on his way to Iron Moor,’ he says.” Zodas frowned. “He? Now that puzzled me most directly, so I held off and asked him some more questions.”
Zodas shook his head in amusement, but his eyes never left Dax. “He was laughing and giggling by then. Quite annoying. I really shouldn’t have given him so much.” Once again Zodas smiled at Dax. “Then he told me he had a big secret. . . but he couldn’t tell.” He stopped and looked at Dax with a grim smile. “Ain’t nothing secret if’n you’re into the fairy, Your Majesty. And suddenly I finds I’ve got me a payday like none before.” Zodas chuckled. “Yes, I know several people who would be will be pay a most kingly sum were I to deliver you to them.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and fumbled for something. “Fortunately, I found Kemble before he left town. He’s a smuggler, right enough, and we’ve done some business in the past. He had a couple of boys on hand, and all we had to do was wait until dark. Wasn’t much trouble to just borrow old Cap’n Lauter’s boat. We even gave the old boys on watch a free ride out beyond the harbor before we dropped ’em off.” Zodas smiled his cruel smile. “Course that means we’ll have to stop up north at Blackguard Harbor tomorrow to pick up a couple more of my boys—we bein’ a bit short-handed and all.”
Zodas finally pulled a small blue paper packet out of his pocket. “Ah, down to my last two. Let’s just give you a little taste of the fairy so’s you’ll be nice and quiet for a time, eh?”
Dax had been scanning the room, desperately trying to think what to do. He had kept his dragon rage at bay. A cold, calculating resolve filled his mind, but hot fire lurked below. He focused on Zodas, waiting for him to make a move. If Dax was fast enough, he might be able to get past the man and escape to the companionway. But where to then? If Zodas and his men had hijacked the Wings of Wind, there was really nowhere to go.
The big man had been watching Dax, and he smiled even wider. “I’ll just bet you are thinking about gettin’ away, now aren’t you?” He leaned toward Dax, and Dax immediately tried to push out from under the covers. Zodas was prepared, however. The man cuffed him back onto the bed, and the side of Dax’s head exploded with pain.
Zodas smiled wickedly. “Now you just lay still, and enjoy the sweetest dreams you’ll ever have.”
Dax’s head had cleared quickly, but Zodas held him down on the bed while he squeezed the sides of the blue paper packet. A fine shower of powder hit Dax in the face.
It burned! It was fire! The agony took his breath away. Every nerve in his face erupted with pain. Thrashing and flailing in Zodas’s grip, he managed to gasp in a breath and screamed.
“Here now.” Zodas struggled to keep control of Dax. “There’s no call to go on like that!” Finally, in anger he bashed Dax on the head, slamming him back onto the bed.
Stunned, Dax’s arms and legs refused to move no matter how hard he tried. He lay helpless facedown on the bed, gasping for air. His face blazed with pain. He heard a vague whimpering, but it stopped when he closed his mouth. His mind cleared quickly, but the pinpoints of fire on his face burned on. Tears flooded his eyes, and he could not open them. Zodas pulled Dax’s arms together. Blindly Dax wretched away and tried to twist out of the man’s grasp. Molten-hot fury poured through his body. He writhed in the man’s grip, trying to get his legs in position to kick. Even with his eyes tight shut with pain, pure rage burned his thoughts away.
“By the devils of hell, you are a little bastard!” Zodas growled, struggling to pin Dax’s arms behind his back. A moment later, he had tied a cord around them and stepped back. Dax’s legs were free. He kicked, hoping for Zodas’s crotch, but he could not see his target. He missed and fell to the floor. Zodas knelt on top of him, crushing the wind out of him. Now Zodas tied his legs.
Dax, trussed top and bottom, could not move. All he could do was flail in helpless rage. Blinking hard to clear his vision, Dax fought to get his fury under control. Zodas stood scowling at Dax twisting in pain and anger on the floor. Zodas picked him up easily. Dax felt the man’s hot breath on his face when Zodas snarled, “I should kick you into next week for that.” Zodas paused to take two more breaths before he growled, “You gold-plated little shit, you.” He gave Dax a rough shake. “Unfortunately, I need to keep you in at least passable health until I get my payday.” The man cast him back to the floor. Dax could do nothing to soften his landing. His face still in agony, Dax welcomed the new pain in his hip and the back of his head when he crashed to the floor. The fire of his anger burned brightly.
Zodas wiped moisture off his forehead. “Never, ever saw anybody react to the fairy that way. You should be the happiest you’ve ever been right now, smiling and tittering as you plays with your little toes.” Zodas shook his head and raked his hands through his hair. He gave Dax a dismissive kick in the ribs. “Well, the ropes will hold you. I’ve got to go check on Dipper to make sure he’s still on course. By the time I get back, you will be well into dreamland.” He snorted contemptuously and closed the door behind him.
#
Dax’s face burned with pain, but he certainly was not headed for dreamland. Once Zodas’s taunting face was out of the cabin, he got his anger under control. His mind worked furiously. No longer raging, his thoughts were cold and determined. Every nerve in his face shrieked with pain, and his head throbbed. He ignored it. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he s
truggled to make out the cabin around him. Zodas had taken the lantern, but his candle still burned. Was the pain in his face fading, or was he better at ignoring it? His head felt as if it had been split in two. Each pulse of his heart pushed a throb of pain through his eyes.
But he could see.
His anger bloomed into rage. He would not lie there meekly on the floor. He had knives. He took a deep breath and thought a clear thought. They were in his pack. Awkward with his hands tied behind him, he hunched toward the lower cubby, where he had stored his travel pack. It took forever, but he finally got his hands into the pack. Only his fingers moved, and he had to search through the contents without seeing what he was doing. A desperate fury drove him, and he fumbled everything he touched.
Be calm. Think, he chided himself. He visualized his pack. His head throbbed, but he pictured the pack’s orientation behind him. He felt for the pocket where he had put his knives. His fingers fumbled, but he touched the haft of his small, leaf-bladed boot knife. He pulled it free of the pack, but his fingers held it pointed away from the ties on his wrists. Easing back against the side of the bunk, he bent his knees. He forced his feet up toward the knife. After fishing about, the knife caught on something. He probed with it until he was convinced the blade had touched the rope. He started sawing. The knife bit into the cord. He kept it moving, but nothing happened for the longest time. His fingers were almost numb with effort when there was a slight give in his ankles. The next moment, his legs were free.
He struggled to his feet. With his hands pressed against the bunk, he managed to turn the knife around. He started to saw at the bonds around his wrist, but he stopped when the knife dug into his arm. Carefully, he repositioned its edge and went back to work.
It took a long time, but the cord around his wrists parted. Dax stood up and stretched his aching arms. Pain pulsed in his head. His dragon anger returned like a red tide. Dax fought for control. He did not have time for a mindless rage. Zodas would be back, but how soon? Dax ripped off his dress and opened his pack. He dug out his traveling clothes—his real traveling clothes. He dressed quickly. Even in his desperate rush, Dax reveled in the familiar feel of his old clothes—and boots! Now he had something solid on his feet. The irregularities in the deck planking disappeared beneath his heavy soles. Properly dressed, he was more confident.
He eyed the wooden rod in the tall cubby where his dresses hung. He dumped the clothes onto the bed and pulled the rod from its supporting notches. About three feet long and an inch thick, it was the only object in the room resembling a weapon. Snatching up a few things from the room, he readied his pack. Touching the dragon’s egg comforted him, and he packed it cradled in among his clothes and softer belongings. As tough and leathery as the egg was, he did not worry about harming it, but he still packed it with care.
While he had struggled to cut the ropes, Dax had thought of a plan. The ship towed its longboat from the stern. If he was to get away from Zodas and off the Wings of Wind, the longboat was the only way. He reached into the pack to touch the dragon’s egg one more time, and the thought hit him—what if the boat was not there? He racked his brain to remember. Had he seen it since they made port in Butterock? Could some of the crew have taken it to another part of the harbor?
He had to look. If it was not there, he would have to think of another plan. He could not go up on deck to check the boat, not with Zodas and his men in control of the ship. The captain’s cabin at the stern had windows that opened. He could get at the longboat from the window—if the boat was still there.
He laced his pack shut and turned to go. A heavy tread in the passageway stopped him. Zodas was back. Dax’s cold determination had never left, but now a wicked fury blazed up. Trying not to lose control, Dax visualized holding his anger clasped tightly in his hands. He took a deep breath. The rage was there, but he could think clearly. The clothes rod lay on the bed. He picked it up and stepped behind the hinge side of the door. Zodas was coming.
Zodas pushed open the door, but he stopped in the doorway when he saw the empty floor where Dax had been. With a growl, he strode into the room. He turned to look behind the door, and Dax hit him in the face with the rod. Dax had swung for Zodas’s eyes, but his aim was off. The stick crunched on the bridge of the man’s nose. Zodas gasped in pain. Blood gushed down his face, and he raised his hands to his nose. Dax shifted his grip on the clothes rod, but his control over his anger faltered. He struck Zodas with the wooden rod. And struck him. And struck him . . .
#
The paroxysm of rage faded. Dax returned to his senses. Zodas lay sprawled across the bed, his face a bloody wreck. How much damage had Dax done? The staff was not heavy, but he had been unremittingly vicious. Dismayed by the pure, uncontrolled brutality of his attack, Dax stared, torn between wanting to see how badly Zodas was hurt and wanting to flee. Zodas finally groaned and tried to roll to one side.
The motion startled Dax’s brain into working. He had an idea. He approached the bed and reached into the pocket where Zodas had kept the fallenfairy. Zodas had recovered enough to paw at Dax’s arm, but he had no strength. Dax dipped into the pocket. Yes! There was another packet. Dax took it out, held it in Zodas’s face, and squeezed the sides. A soundless explosion of fine powder erupted into the man’s face.
Zodas could not avoid the dusty cloud. Struggling to breath, he inhaled a lungful. The effect was almost instantaneous. The rictus of pain and anger on his face softened into a bland smile of acceptance. His breathing slowed, and he chuckled faintly. “You hit me, you bloody bastard.” His words were slurred and lazy. He raised his limp hands, looked at them, and wheezed a weak laugh. He touched the bloody wounds on his face. “You hit me. Look at my blood. It’s so red.” His voice was full of wonder.
Fascinated with the blood on his hands, Zodas was oblivious to Dax’s presence. Dax could have beaten him with the clothes rod at his leisure, but the man was already far gone into another world. Dax’s dragon rage was gone as well. He could not bring himself to brutalize the helpless man, no matter what he had done. Dax trembled as his muscles relaxed. He tried to think. From what Zodas had said earlier, the drug should last a couple of hours. Dax would have time to make his escape, but he would have to avoid the rest of the crew. What if someone missed Zodas and came looking for him? That thought spurred him to action. He had to get off the ship. He flipped a concealing blanket up over Zodas, and the man giggled faintly below it. Dax picked up his pack and blew out the candle.
Cautiously Dax opened the door and looked out. There was no light in the passageway. He heard only the wind and rushing water. Carefully, he groped his way along the passageway to the stern. The captain’s cabin door was locked. Dax still had the bar from the clothes rack. At the bottom of the door, the gap was wide enough to admit the staff. He slipped the rod under the door and levered upward. He did not have a good angle, but he heaved with desperate strength. The lock snapped, and the door popped open.
Had anyone heard? How long would it be before someone missed Zodas and came looking? Dax pushed into the cabin and swung the stick in front of him, feeling for furniture. He bumped a chair near the door, pulled it over, and used it to prop the cabin door closed. The windows at the stern of the ship were slightly less black than the inside of the cabin. He felt around the margins of the center window. Two sturdy latches at both the top and bottom held the panes closed, but they turned easily. He swung the window open and leaned out. Where was the longboat?
There! Its dark silhouette bobbed along in the faint trail of the ship’s wake. An occasional white ruff of foam at its bow showed where it plowed into the water.
Now, could he get to it? He looked around for the boat’s towline. The rope was secured to a cleat on the bridge deck above him and out of sight. How far above him was it? He craned his neck upward, trying to see in the dark. Nothing. He eased out of the window, holding onto the sill above. He had to reach upward for the rope, but the rushing water below caught his attention. He had he
avy boots on, and if he made a mistake, he would be in the water. He went back inside the cabin and took off his boots.
Leaning back out the window, Dax reached upward again. The ceiling of the cabin was not high. His hand found the lip of the deck above. He gripped a piece of trim and carefully pulled his feet up onto the sill of the window. Standing on the sill with his head below the level of the deck, he felt for the rope to either side. Desperate to find the boat’s bow painter, all he could think about was the ocean’s deep water below his dangling heels. His fingers ached with the force of his grip.
He heard a cough from in front of his precarious perch. He raised up and looked over the stern edge of the bridge deck toward the bow. A dark shape stood at the wheel, picked out by the glow of the lantern running lights amidships. Dax ducked back down. If he could see the man at the wheel, the man could see him. The light was dim, but he might see Dax’s pale face through the spindles of the rear railing.
Thankfully his glance over the deck had also shown him the mooring cleat for the longboat. For the moment, he would leave the boat cleated to the ship in case he lost his grip. Dax reached to his left and fumbled for the line. Once he had his hand firmly around the rope, he carefully retraced his moves back through the window and into the cabin. Clutching the rope with one hand, he had to be even more careful than he had been coming out. Back inside, he waited until his heart stopped pounding. He flexed his legs to make sure they still worked. Although he was desperate for time, he took a minute to recover himself. After he caught his breath, he looked at the longboat dutifully following the rope he now held in his hand. The ship rushed on. The water was deep. What he had to do next frightened him.
Fear or not, he had to continue. Dax took a turn of line around the window latch to secure the longboat’s bow painter within easy reach. Picking up his pack, he pulled the line in until the boat trailed just below the window. He wanted to get his pack into the boat first. He looked down, but the longboat, bobbing and churning in the ship’s wake, was too far below. He watched it heave and pound for a minute while he thought. He did not want to chance tossing the pack into the boat. If he missed, the pack, dragon’s egg and all, would sink to the bottom of the ocean. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat at the thought of losing his egg. He would not risk that no matter how much danger he was in. The thought of his pack falling into the sea almost unmanned him. He had to protect it at all costs.
King's Exile: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 1 Page 23