by David Adams
“Dragons!”
Blue came straight for him, its eyes locking with his, its mouth open in a toothy grin. Part of Klaffee’s brain screamed at him to jump, knew he could not fight or flee within the confines of the tiny lookout tower. The monster seemed nearly as large as the ship as it flew closer, its speed terrible and awe-inspiring. Klaffee’s muscles locked in place, and his tongue was likewise frozen. Blue grabbed him with a foreclaw, taking part of the nest as well, some of the wood driving into Klaffee’s chest and legs. The man was vaguely aware of pain, and of arrows clattering harmlessly against the dragon’s plated belly, just before Blue drew his head and shoulders into its mouth and sent him into eternal rest.
Tala had tried to target Blue’s right eye, an impossible shot given the dragon’s speed, the sleet, and the swaying of the ship. She had heard that dragons existed but had never thought—or wanted—to see one, but from the lore she knew they had few weak spots for archers to target. She ended up not firing, as Blue had grabbed Klaffee and she had as much chance to hit man as dragon. Once the dragon made concern for Klaffee’s well-being a mute point, the monster was out of firing range.
“Down!” Rowan screamed, and Tala dropped without question. Overhead the main sail burst into flame, and the main mast with it. The sleet beat ineffectively against the spreading fire. Above the blaze, the red dragon passed, smoke and flame still trailing from its mouth.
Alexis had made a lunge at Red with her spear as it passed overhead, but it was already on the rise after having set the vessel ablaze. Her spear scraped the creature’s underbelly but did no harm. She watched Red wheel slowly, wondering if she had drawn its attention with the jab, and if it would try another pass, perhaps with her as the target. If it did so, she intended to see just how strong its plating was.
The adrenaline rush from the string of attacks had temporarily banished Lucien’s sea sickness, but now the weak, unstable feeling was replaced with one of anger and frustration, the flying creatures easily able to keep out of his warblade’s limited range. He found an open area on the deck, took a spread stance and screamed a challenge. The green dragon cocked its head at the sound, flew away in a high, lazy arc, then dropped its head and swooped directly at the goblin.
Corson heard Lucien’s cry and saw the green dragon’s approach. The beast’s head pulled back ever so slightly, a motion Lucien either ignored or missed. The goblin held his warblade ready, clearly intent on hand-to-hand combat. Corson charged, slipping a bit on the deck but getting up enough speed that when he hit an unaware Lucien from behind he knocked the larger being off his feet. Contact between the two friends happened an instant before Green’s head lurched forward, mouth open, spewing a stream of clear liquid that struck the wooden deck where Lucien had been a moment earlier.
Lucien shoved Corson angrily off of him, but before he could speak he saw the deck start to warp where the dragon’s liquid had fallen, and watched with eyes grown wide as metal fixtures where some of it had splashed simply melted away. He helped Corson to his feet with a brisk nod of thanks.
The fire was spreading rapidly, and no one on board could spare any time to fight it. The brown dragon began an attack run, and the remaining crew had seen enough. Almost as one they decided to brave the sea rather than whatever Brown had in store. Jazda saw them flee, wanted to call them back, call them cowards, but knew it would be useless, and unfair as well. Each man fought for his own life now, as best as he could.
Brown swooped in and belched forth a column of gas roughly the same shade as his scales. Those left on board slid deftly away from the original issue, but the vapor clung near the ship’s deck and began to spread. Between the expanding gas and the advancing flames, there was very little safe space left on the ship.
“We have to abandon the ship,” Tala said, taking hold of Demetrius’ arm.
He paused for a moment, feeling the indecision clouding his mind. For some reason he thought of Rodaan, his king, remembered watching him dying, remembered the feeling of utter helplessness and failure. Jumping into a stormy ocean in winter while four dragons circled overhead appeared to lead to an inevitable fate. But the gas and the fire would not be denied, and Blue had devoured its meal and was diving toward the deck now. They could not hope to survive here for long. He nodded a sad acknowledgement to Tala. “The ship is lost!” he cried to any who could hear. “Into the sea!”
Tala, Corson, and Alexis moved quickly, each grabbing something wooden that might help them stay afloat and then flinging themselves over the starboard rail. Demetrius hefted a barrel and tossed it in, then another, which he followed.
The sea was still a shock, despite the fact that his clothes could not be any more wet than they were on board. For an instant he was in an icy tomb, cold and black as death. But he righted himself, regained the surface, then swam a few strokes to grasp one of the barrels that bobbed on the water. He looked up in time to see Blue spray the deck with a column of frozen liquid. The pale blue liquid covered the lower portion of the mizzenmast, which proceeded to develop fine fissures, crack, and then fall, its flaming sail plummeting into the ocean.
Corson had only a shattered board to cling to, but for now it was enough. He was able to find everyone except Onders. Most were in the water, but Jazda, Rowan, and Lucien were still on the ship, which was beginning to list severely to port. The latter two exchanged a few brief words, both seeming to grow angry. Finally Rowan broke off and dove overboard. Jazda followed soon after, bowing his head for a moment as if in prayer. He bent to the deck, kissed his fingers and pressed them on the wood, and then departed. The ship was now Lucien’s alone.
Corson watched Red circle and start down, and heard Rowan come sputtering up beside him. “He’s going to let them kill him,” the paladin said.
Corson did not understand. “Surely he’ll fight. To the death if need be. His pride and courage won’t allow him to yield, perhaps.”
“Pride and courage is right, but not the way you think. He hates deep water. I fear he’d rather be burned alive than jump.”
“Then he will die quicker than us,” Tala said. “Even if the dragons leave us, the sea and cold will not. We may have bought a few minutes, but maybe nothing more.”
Corson stared at her for a long moment. “A lot can happen in a few minutes.” He turned his gaze to the ship, which was slowly drifting away from them. Beyond it he was faintly aware that Green dove toward the sea, reaching its foreclaws out to grab something—or someone. “Lucien!” he screamed. “Get off the ship!”
The goblin said nothing, but his ears twitched.
Corson was sure he had been heard. He tried again. “Lucien, we need you to fight on! You can’t win by yourself, not on the ship!”
Lucien gave no response, his attention fully on Red, which flew swiftly down toward the deck. The dragon belched forth flame, and from the water it appeared that Lucien had been consumed. But as the ball of fire dispersed and the dragon's flight reached its ebb, Lucien was there, having rolled away from the blast. The goblin lunged at the dragon, but was too slow even if the beast had come within reach, which it had not. The dragon knew it could attack without moving into the warblade’s range, and it was smart enough to use that to its advantage.
The blaze on the deck grew in intensity. The sails had been completely consumed and the parts of the masts that remained were pillars of fire. If Lucien did not jump into the sea, the dragons need not attack again to see his life claimed.
“You can do no more, Lucien!” Corson shouted, angry and afraid and shivering all over. “Jump!”
“I make stand here!”
“You die there!”
“Then I die!”
“Coward!”
Lucien turned slowly and let his gaze meet Corson’s. His look was more lethal than his weapon.
“Coward!” Corson repeated. “You die without honor!”
“I die with warblade in hands!”
“And gain nothing by it. You are quitting, on your
self and on us. And I say that makes you a coward.”
Lucien stood like a statue, flames flaring all around him. Corson watched the boat continue to drift away and felt his head start to drop, his heart growing as numb as the rest of him felt. He saw Green start a run at the ship, then closed his eyes, not willing to watch Lucien die.
The goblin let out a scream, then raced through a wall of flames and plunged into the sea. Green plastered the ship with another blast of acid, ignoring the goblin’s move. Corson and Rowan kicked their supporting pieces of wood to where Lucien sputtered and flailed to keep his head above water.
“Should kill for calling coward,” Lucien said, “but you save my life twice now.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Corson answered. “We won’t last long in this water.”
“Or if the dragons decide to attack us rather than the ship,” Rowan added.
Lucien forced his toothy smile. “Should have stayed on boat.”
Demetrius had been only vaguely aware of the drama playing out between Lucien and Corson. He had been intently watching the dragons, which seemed to be going about their attack almost casually, except for Blue, which dove at Grall—the largest and most boisterous of the sailors in better times—twice and Jazda once, reaching with claws and trying to snatch them from the water. Its attempts had come up empty, the men able to dive under the water’s surface in time to avoid the straining claws. Blue was the smallest of the four dragons, but was clearly the most aggressive.
The survivors had now drawn Red’s attention. The great beast flew low over the sea, past Alexis and Jazda, past Rande, and then sent a blast of flame at Onders, who had moved the furthest away from the ship. Onders dove, stayed down as long as his lungs would allow, and then came up, gasping for air, Red’s flame long since dissipated. He only had time to suck in one draught of air.
Blue plucked Onders from the sea, having used Red’s attack to move in from behind unnoticed. Onders did not scream, whether from being gripped with fear or from a lack of air in his lungs, it was impossible to say. Blue made one horrible rending motion with its claws and then it was clear to all that Onders lived no more.
Rowan realized the danger to him and his nearest companions was perhaps the most grave. He released the board and started to swim away. “We have to spread out. We’re too much of a target bunched together.”
“You keep the wood,” Corson said to Lucien. He moved slowly away, ignoring the way the sleet stung his upturned face, wanting to keep track of the dragons.
As Lucien watched Corson move away he could feel the panic inside him rising like the swells on the ocean. He wanted to call out, to beg not to be left alone, but he swallowed the words before they escaped. He clung furiously to the board, nearly crushing it in his hand.
Blue soared high into the sky, enjoying its meal. Green, Brown, and Red circled lazily, content for now to let the survivors of the destroyed ship spend their little remaining energy fighting to stay afloat in the rough sea.
When Blue returned, it dove at each survivor in turn, almost as if to count and mark them. It flicked the water with its claws, toying with its prey, not really making an attempt to pull anyone from the sea. Lucien ducked when Blue passed near, just as the others had done, ignoring the odd claustrophobic sensation as the sea closed over his head. When he returned to the surface he grabbed the board with his free hand, knowing it marked him but also that he had no choice. He was a poor swimmer with two free hands, much less one, but he was not going to let go of his warblade for anything. He would cling to the board, and to life, as long as he could, but he would die with his warblade in hand, as a goblin warrior should.
When Blue turned its attention to Grall, the man panicked, swimming away frantically as if he could outdistance the flying beast. He refused to turn and look back, hoping the dragon would go away like some bad dream, but he heard the leathery swoop of the beast’s wings in the air, and the splash of it grazing the water just behind him. As he felt a foreclaw graze the top of his head, he screamed and plunged under.
Blue rose up, circling, watching the spot where Grall had vanished as did the man’s companions. After a time it was clear to dragon, elf, goblin, and human alike that Grall had chosen a sailor’s watery grave rather than having to feel the dragon’s embrace.
Before Blue could pick a new playmate, the Mists returned, howling with fury. The shadows paid little heed to those in the water, but rather raced to the dragons to gain their full attention.
Close on the Mists’ heels came at least a dozen dragons, flying in formation, their bodies seeming to swallow up the northern sky.
Tala swam close to Demetrius. “I did not think our situation could get more hopeless,” she said with a wan smile, acknowledging defeat.
“I’m glad to have met you, Tala. It was my honor to fight by your side.”
“We threw a scare into Solek. We could have done much worse.”
They waited for the new arrivals to join in the attack, but instead saw them charge at their four tormentors. Blue reared as if to meet them, but Red flew past with Brown and Green close behind, and Blue reluctantly followed.
The largest of the new dragons had golden scales. He watched the four dragons until they neared the horizon, making certain they had departed before he did anything else. With blazing yellow eyes it regarded the Mists. “Go back to your master,” he commanded in a voice as deep as the ocean beneath him.
“He will hear of your interference,” hissed one of the Mists, as it led its fellow shadows away.
The dragons slowly descended. Several were bronze, others copper. The golden dragon settled gracefully into the water before Tala. “Do you lead this group?”
“No more or less than anyone else. We stand together.”
“Then you carry the Sphere because you are elven and know something of magic.”
Tala paused, looking deep into the dragon’s eyes. There was something ancient and wise there, something that made her trust him. “That is the way of it,” she replied.
“We can carry you to land, give you shelter and a fire. You will surely die if left in this water much longer, and your ship has been lost. Once you have rested, we will speak more. Do we have your leave to bear you away? We shall be as gentle as we can.”
“There seems to be no other alternative. And you would have our eternal gratitude.”
The dragons carried their passengers with strong claws, a miserable journey for those so transported, an agony of damp cold and aching muscles. The ocean seemed to go on forever from their view in the sky, but just when they reached the point where they could no longer bear the cold or the dragon claws that held them fast, an island came into view. Tala wanted to ask a hundred questions but exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm her, and the land before them beckoned like a soft bed. The island was heavily wooded, and although the trees had long since dropped their leaves, evergreens and the occasional patches of yellow-green grass gave the place some color. Inland, hills rose to meet the foot of a large white mountain, the top of which vanished into the clouds. The speed of the dragons was frightening, but it had shortened the trip significantly. Suddenly the land was beneath them and they began to descend.
* * *
Lucien woke first. Nightmares had plagued him, causing him to toss and turn violently, and he finally struck his head on the cave wall. He sat up, shivering, unsure whether it was from the cold or the dream. He remembered yesterday, and the water, and thought maybe the dream wasn’t so bad. He started to pull his cloak around him, found it was still wet, then settled for moving nearer the fire, which apparently had been well tended through the remainder of the day and whatever portion of the night had passed.
Corson joined Lucien by the fire, yawning. “Sleep well?” he asked.
“Well enough.”
“I never thought I’d be happy to see a dragon.”
Lucien nodded.
“Lucien, what I said yesterday—”
“What I needed
to hear. Was being coward.”
“No, you weren’t. I just said that to get your attention.”
“Worked.”
“I’m glad for that. We need you with us. And besides, who do I have to sharpen my wit on if you’re not here?”
“Wit does need work… I dead now if not for you.” He turned to look directly at Corson, drawing himself up. “Thank you, friend.”
Corson smiled and put a hand on one of Lucien’s massive shoulders. “I like the sound of that. And you’re welcome.”
Eight had survived the sea voyage, the six who sought the Sphere, along the Captain Jazda and the boy, Rande. Once they were all awake, they conferred quietly with one another.
“Any idea where we are?” Demetrius asked.
No one had any notion. “I lost my sense of direction during the attack,” said Jazda, “and could get none of it back during our flight with the thick cloud cover.”
“The dragons that saved us were clearly benevolent,” said Alexis, “but what is their intention now? Are we prisoners here?”
“It appears we can leave the cave at will,” said Rowan. “Though past that I cannot say.”
“There is at least one dragon, maybe more, beyond the fire, watching the cave entrance,” said Tala. “A guard of sorts.”
“To protect us or keep us from fleeing?” asked Demetrius.
Tala shrugged. “I am sure we will know in time. For now we should wait patiently for our benefactors to make the next move.”
As dawn broke they could see that food and water had been left on the other side of the fire. A copper dragon sat some hundred yards away, facing the cave entrance. Lucien and Corson retrieved the meal, eyeing the dragon the whole time, which looked back at them placidly. As he lifted a large bowl of water Corson gave a small nod, which the dragon returned.