by Raymond Cain
The crewmen fired volleys of crossbow bolts and the dragon used one of its wings to shield itself. It breathed flames across the deck and once again, the smell of burnt meat filled the air.
An arrow buried itself deep into the dragon’s neck. It squealed in agony and looked around for its attacker. Another arrow struck it in the neck and it grunted in pain. It looked skyward at the crow’s nest as the lookout fitted another arrow to his bowstring. The man let the arrow fly but the dragon breathed first. Flames incinerated the arrow in mid-flight, then destroyed the crow’s nest and the brave man perched there.
The dragon squealed. Flames poured out of the arrow holes in its neck like thin, fiery geysers. The flames burnt the exposed flesh and the creature thrashed in pain against the side of the ship.
“Pull back!” Captain Hayes ordered.
The dragon thrashed its head back and forth in agony. Hundreds of bolts riddled its wings and it had no chance of completing the hundred-mile journey back to land. Captain Hayes reasoned it should no longer pose a threat to anyone that did not get too close. In time, exhaustion should make it let go of the ship and drown.
“Captain!” came a shout from below deck. “We’re taking on water!”
The sound of breaking wood resonated through the ship. The dragon used its hind legs to gouge open the hull below the waterline. The bilge was flooded and the ship began to sink.
The quartermaster ran up to him. “What do we do, Captain?”
“Take the men to the lifeboats,” Hayes said, clasping the quartermaster on the shoulder. “I’m going back to my cabin to have one last drink.”
The quartermaster nodded. “It’s been an honor, Captain.”
Captain Hayes entered the Captain’s Cabin and enjoyed a glass of his best wine as the frigate continued to take on water. Before long, water rushed in on him. His life ebbed away and as his body floated in his quarters, he saw the dragon outside his window, still clutching onto the bow of the ship. Eventually, it let go and fell alongside the vessel.
The last feeling Captain Hayes experienced before darkness took him was a sense of satisfaction. The dragon killed him, but he killed it right back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Flynn woke up in a cold sweat. The persona of Captain Hayes was gone but the memory of the experience remained. He felt the heat of the dragon’s breath, smelled the burnt flesh, and felt the weight of the ocean moving in on him as the boat sank. Clearly, the spiritualist was wrong about the visions being genuine events—a sea of air with a ball of fire in it could not exist—but it all seemed so real.
There was a great weight on his chest that made it difficult to breathe. His vision was blurry and he found the wraithsnake coiled on top of him. Its coils pinned his arms and legs. It changed position, sliding its smooth, scaly body over him but maintaining its perch, preventing him from escape. Its scales felt like supple, polished stone and they appeared darker than they had moments ago.
The parts of Flynn that weren’t being squished by the snake were trembling with fear. He felt like a fool for thinking he could simply put his arm in its terrarium to get the cure he needed and not suffer any other ill effects. Desperation was setting in and he tried to wriggle free, but he was powerless under the creature’s bulk.
The scales were tinged with gray. Shadowy black tendrils danced beneath their surface like smoke in a wind storm. The snake’s red orbs fixed their gaze on Flynn for a long, tense moment, and it buried its shadowy fangs into his chest once more. Again, everything went black.
Flynn expected to be Captain William Hayes again but when the darkness cleared, he found himself looking at the world from the eyes of a young Azuran boy named Theoric. The vision did not settle on a single event. Instead, fleeting images of a tragic childhood passed before his eyes. It began with Theoric helping a pair of humans escape a giant squid. When his parents discovered what he did, they were furious. They killed the humans in front of him and dragged him back to their city to pay for his crime.
Theoric was devastated by the cold murder of the humans as well as the betrayal of his parents. As a boy with a sensitive nature unusual among his people, being subjected to witnessing the deaths was cruel. And putting his life in the hands of the ruling council was even worse.
The council sentenced Theoric to a life of slavery and it felt as though the entire ocean crashed in on him. The verdict was devastating, but there was no trace of emotion on his parents’ pale faces. His mother looked down, and Theoric couldn’t tell if her reaction was one of sadness or shame. His father’s neutral expression never wavered until a tear rolled down Theoric’s cheek; the man’s purple eyes narrowed in disgust.
The first years of servitude were hard but Theoric managed to stay out of trouble. Until one of the other slaves assaulted him. The slave was a larger, older boy that often amused himself by terrorizing the other slaves. Preferring to flee than fight, Theoric tried to run away but in the process, he inadvertently killed the older boy. As punishment, Theoric was thrown into the gladiator arena.
As someone who hated violence, there was no worse place. He was revolted by what he had to do to survive. Somehow, he endured for many years and eventually became a hero of the arena. After his blades took down hundreds of foes, he became the monster he always feared. He loved killing, and there was no one better at it.
Through Theoric’s eyes, Flynn watched himself kill a pair of human warriors in the arena. Their deaths ignited the crowd and their shouts of approval filled him with pride. Theoric despised the humans for the weakness they caused in him as a boy, and he hated himself for once intervening on their behalf. He respected his parents’ decision to turn him in—his sentence was well-deserved—but the first thing he did after earning his freedom was kill them. Their actions demanded an answer.
Images sped by, indicating the passage of time, and Theoric found himself at the bow of a ship cruising over hilly terrain. A wooden two-masted frigate and a dead dragon lay before him. A blue light skimmed along the ground, approaching the wreckage from a different direction. It was a steel and crystal ship with a human pilot.
A mermaid emerged from the wreckage and, after seeing the human-made ship, she fled. The human went after her and, ordinarily, Theoric would have captured them both. Human slaves were valuable and a mermaid would be a fine prize, but he was more interested in the wooden frigate and the dragon.
The dragon’s fins appeared too large and cumbersome for ocean travel. The absence of gills was puzzling and if the burnt bodies on the ship were any indication, the creature must have breathed fire or steam. He never heard of a sea dragon that was able to do such a thing. There were deep wounds in the dragon’s corpse and its defeat, even at the cost of the lives of the crew, was testament to the skill of the frigate’s captain.
“Interesting,” Theoric said, scanning the death and destruction around him and trying to visualize the battle that caused it.
Theoric swam over to the main deck. One human body occupied the Captain’s Cabin, presumably the captain. In his hand he held a crystal goblet. Even in death, he did not relinquish his glass. As a wine bottle floated near Theoric, he grabbed it and tucked it under his belt. He was no wine connoisseur, but he reasoned that it would be the best bottle on the ship.
Theoric grabbed a leather tricorn hat floating next to him. The leather felt different than the inkskins he was familiar with. Seeing its three sides pinned with silver skull-shaped pins was pleasing to him. He donned the captain’s hat, coat, and swordbelt. He admired himself in a metal mirror that hung on the wall and nodded approvingly. A dead bird with colorful feathers floated by his head, and he wondered if it was the captain’s pet.
After leaving the cabin, Theoric resumed his inspection. There was significant fire damage to the main mast but a black flag suspended above it was relatively untouched. He was pleasantly surprised to see the flag depicting a skull over a pair of crossed cutlasses. It was at that moment he felt certain the discovery was no accid
ent. The ship was meant for him.
Theoric returned to his ship and ordered his priests to perform a ritual to learn more about the ship and dragon. Contacting another realm and compelling information from powerful beings was risky, but the priests nodded their assent without saying a word.
The priests sat in a circle and Theoric joined them. As one they chanted, opening a connection into a dark realm. A dark cloud formed in the center of their circle and a gate opened. Flashes of lightning from another realm lit up the room and the welcome stench of burnt meat and decay saturated the air. Winged, shadowy creatures flew by the portal and, in time, one of the fiends answered their call.
The creature was small, perhaps half the height of a man, and it had purple skin and spindly limbs. Its head was human-like, with greasy black hair, pointed ears, and large blue eyes that gave it an almost childlike appearance. It had a rope-like tail and leathery wings tipped with claws. Its blue eyes widened in curiosity as they regarded Theoric and the priests.
The fiend opened its mouth to speak but before it could utter a word, two ogre-sized hands wrapped around its neck and spine, and snapped it in half. The priests rocked back in surprise, momentarily interrupting their chant.
A demonic head came into view. Like an Azuran, it had white skin, purple eyes, and white hair, but that was where the similarities ended. Two tusks protruded upward from its lower jaw and two more protruded downward from its upper jaw. A pair of large horns stood up from its head and twin rows of smaller horns ran along its spine. Small sparks of electricity flashed beneath the surface of its eyes and black smoke oozed out of the tips of its horns. It looked at Theoric and its eyes flared.
The brute spoke in a voice that sounded like a mountain breaking apart. “You DARE open a portal into this realm!?”
Theoric gulped, but he remained kneeling.
“Close the portal!” one of the priests shouted.
One of the powerful being’s heavily muscled arms reached through and grabbed Theoric by the collar of his leather coat. It pulled his head and shoulders through the gate. The demon’s realm reeked of death and sulfur, similar to his home city of Vekpottaic. Realizing that closing the portal would decapitate their captain, the priests paused their chant. Theoric struggled to escape the hellion’s grip but he had no chance against its supernatural strength.
“Close it!” shouted the same priest that yelled before.
The demonic creature tilted its head back and laughed, a thunderous roar that shook the floorboards. “Such loyalty!”
Theoric looked around to see which of his priests just ordered his death but the demon’s massive arm prevented him from seeing anything behind him.
The monstrous being tossed Theoric back into the room and wrapped its meaty hands around the edges of the gate. Priests chanted with renewed fervor, but it was too late. A white, muscular leg emerged from the dark realm and pushed against the edge of the portal. Its muscles strained and before long, the opening was large enough for the hellish figure to step through. The floorboards creaked under its weight as it entered the ship. It reeked of sulfur and the crackle of electricity traveled down its horns in waves that lit up the room. Once it stepped through, the portal behind it closed and disappeared.
Theoric wrapped his hands around the hilts of a pair of jewelled cutlasses sheathed at his hips. Remembering his lessons from the gladiator arena, he unsheathed his weapons and sized up his opponent. Reasoning he had no chance against the powerful being, he slid his swords back in their scabbards. The priests flattened themselves against the far wall, paralyzed with fear.
With brutal efficiency, the demon went around the room and tore the priests to pieces. The screams of pain, the crunch of bones, and the sounds of ripping flesh reminded Theoric of the gladiator arena. The room was soon covered in gore and the last two standing were the brutish fiend and himself.
“What are you?” Theoric asked, hoping to distract the monstrous being from killing him.
“My name is Terrak.”
Theoric found that hard to believe. “My name is—”
The electricity in Terrak’s eyes sparked with renewed fury. “I know who you are, Theoric.” It crouched down, coming face to face with him. Its breath smelled of sulfur and the heat instantly made Theoric sweat profusely. Its open mouth was like a blacksmith’s forge with its door open.
The hellish creature stood up, its head breaking boards in the ceiling, and it inhaled deeply. “I missed the smell of this realm,” it said, turning to Theoric. “A pity it’s tainted by the stink of fear from you.”
“I doubt that,” Theoric said, staring defiantly into its eyes. Looking into them was like looking into a pair of twin furnaces. Tiny bolts of electricity sparked beneath their surface, reminiscent of the realm the fiend emerged from.
The corners of the creature’s maw turned upward into what Theoric guessed was a smile. It cocked its head and stared off in the distance, as though considering its next course of action. “Perhaps you are worthy after all,” it said in a voice like a rumbling volcano. “Follow me.”
Not one to argue with such a powerful beast, Theoric followed Terrak to the upper deck. Each step it took sent vibrations through the ship and his crewmen hurried out of its way. The men stared at the devilish being with expressions of shock and confusion.
Terrak stepped over the side of the ship and plunged into the ocean depths. Theoric donned a bone helm, enchanted for breathing underwater, and followed the fiend to the wooden frigate. Sand erupted in a widening cloud when Terrak’s enormous feet touched down. The demonic creature seemed unbothered by the cold, airless depths, and all manner of ocean creatures hurried out of its way.
The demon walked a few laps around the wooden vessel before investigating the dragon corpse. With frightening ease, Terrak flipped the dragon over. As the scaly corpse flopped onto its back, a massive dust storm arose that forced Theoric to cover his eyes. The wave it created pushed him backward.
Purple energy erupted from Terrak’s hands and sizzled in the water. Tendrils of electricity struck the dragon’s exposed chest. A loud ripping sound cut through the relative quiet of the ocean depths and the energy tore the dragon’s torso wide open. Blood painted the nearby water like a red cloud that expanded with each new tear in the dragon’s flesh. A pair of frilled sharks entered the area, lured by the blood, but they fled after seeing Terrak.
A series of loud cracks drowned out the sound of ripping skin and the rib cage emerged from the dragon’s chest. Purple energy wrapped around the creature’s torso, lifting the ribs and sternum from the chest cavity. The water was murky with blood and sand as the rib cage was set down on the seabed next to the wooden ship. Next, magical energy ripped the spinal column out of the skin and attached it to the rib cage. Another surge of energy surrounded the dragon’s head and a sickening crunch reverberated through the water. After a few gut-wrenching moments of breaking bones and tearing spinal cord, the skull was ripped from the body. The first few neck bones were still connected to the skull and they reattached themselves to spinal vertebrae at the back of the rib cage. Terrak was reconstructing the dragon’s skeleton and Theoric had no idea why.
More bones burst from the corpse and connected to the gruesome skeletal construction. Near the rear of the rib cage, leg bones were connected together to form long beams that protruded from the skeletal back like bony trees. Theoric watched the process with dumbfounded fascination. It wasn’t until he looked at the ship next to it that he realized what the demon was doing.
Terrak was creating a ship from the corpse of the dragon. Bones formed crossbeams on the masts and dragon wings attached to the beams as sails. The dragon’s sinew became netting and rigging. The skull and neckbones formed the bowsprit. The flag depicting a skull and crossed cutlasses was taken from the crow’s nest and attached to one of the skeletal ship’s bone masts.
Terrak clasped its powerful hands together and a long, thick ray of purple energy sliced through the wooden ship and cle
aved it in half. The stroke of magical energy created a thick line of bubbles and the nearby water smelled of burnt wood. Terrak picked up the aft section of the ship and carried it to the skeletal construction. With a resounding crunch, the demonic creature shoved the wooden hull segment into the rib cage. The bones surrounding the wooden hull bit deep into the wood, securing the skeleton and the rear of the ship together. After minutes of mutilation and violence, a two-masted frigate rested on the ocean floor before them.
It looked impressive, but Theoric did not see how a ship formed of bone and wood could function underwater.
Terrak turned toward him. “Your prisoners,” it spoke in its deep, rumbling voice. “Bring them to me.”
Theoric felt the words as much as heard them from the vibrations they caused in the water. His crew watched from the edge of his ship and he signaled the vessel to come closer. Reluctantly, they obeyed orders and Theoric swam up toward them as they came near.
The first mate, an Azuran priest wearing black chain mail and wielding a skull-shaped mace covered in spikes, stood at the edge of the ship. The priest had chiseled facial features and a skull-shaped scar on his forehead.
“Gorkan,” Theoric began, “bring me the prisoners.”
Gorkan’s purple eyes bunched together in confusion. “All of them?”
Theoric narrowed his eyes, dangerously. “All of them.”
The priest turned away to gather the prisoners and Theoric swam back to Terrak. As he touched down in the grainy soil, his feet gave rise to small dust clouds that were soon swallowed up by the frenzied storm created by Terrak’s movements.
Before long, a handful of Azurans wearing bone helms left the ship with a string of twenty prisoners in tow. Most of the prisoners were salari, peaceful, aquatic humanoids with blue hair and fins. They were shackled to one long chain and their souls would have fetched a fine price upon his return to Vekpottaic. But Theoric feared Terrak had other plans that would cut into those profits.