Dion led his two companions slowly forward. Spreading out, they saw a double moon as the orb’s reflection showed a wavering version of its original on the sea. They stepped cautiously down to the water’s edge and scanned in both directions.
‘There.’ Sal pointed.
The two missing men were wandering along the beach, eyes on the ground as they searched for the fabled gemstones. The smaller form of Riko was closer to high rocky ground and Dion watched him lift his head and call to his companion. Otus came running as Riko crouched and then straightened, holding something out in his hand while they both inspected the stone.
‘Riko,’ Sal hissed. ‘Otus.’ Neither heard him. ‘Can I shout?’
Dion looked at Cob.
‘Too risky,’ Cob said.
‘Come on, hurry,’ said Dion.
He started to run, but he was dragged to a halt when Cob grabbed hold of his wrist, arresting his motion.
Three black shapes plunged down from the clouds overhead, flapping wings growing larger in Dion’s vision with every passing moment. Their path was clear as they descended on the pair of treasure seekers. Bent over the stone, neither Riko nor Otus noticed.
‘Balal save us,’ Sal whispered.
His heart giving a lurch, Dion registered the swooping figures and raised his bow, drawing the nocked arrow to his cheek. He chose a target, sighting along the shaft as he let loose at the birdlike creature.
The string hummed and the arrow whistled through the air as it left the bow. But the shot went wide, and the triangle of furies continued their plummeting raid. They were now just a stone’s throw above the preoccupied men.
Dion aimed yet another arrow and took his first close look at creatures he’d only ever heard about second hand. Their legs and lower bodies were completely reptilian, with clawed feet and scaled leathery skin all the way to their torsos. Their heads were almost human: aside from the scraggly silver hair and wild eyes they had noses and mouths where they should be, although the jaws were enlarged, with long incisors. The scales rose to a varying degree on their torsos. The fury in the center had shoulders leading to normal arms, hands, and outstretched fingers, while the other two had reptile skin to their necks and wrinkled arms like birds, appendages closer to animals, with claws ready to rend and tear.
Outstretched wings spread from behind their backs, veined and ugly, with the bony framework clearly visible. It was as if as eldren they had been unable to completely change to dragon form, stopping somewhere halfway.
Sal and Cob now cupped hands over their mouths and screamed at the two men.
Dion loosed an arrow at the fury high on the left.
His aim was true and the shaft plunged deep into the creature’s back, just below the wings. As the arrow struck, the fury screamed in pain and wheeled away. First Riko and then Otus looked up at the sky, showing the whites of their eyes as they saw the danger.
Sal and Cob ran toward them, weapons held high. They had only halved the distance when the fury with the arms of a man collided into Riko and wrapped him in a deadly embrace, instantly rising into the air with his victim held fast. The youth writhed but was lifted high into the sky.
Dion fitted another arrow as the last fury swooped down on Otus, hitting him hard with sharp claws outstretched. For a moment there was a chaotic tangle of man and creature and then a spray of blood accompanied the creature’s cry of triumph as it flew once more into the air. Otus clutched hands to his throat and Dion saw that his face and throat were torn by long gashes. He fell to his knees and slumped, tipping over and sprawling on the ground.
The wounded fury spiraled away, flying raggedly. The other two had disappeared but Dion tracked the remaining creature and then loosed his arrow, striking it in the torso. It shuddered and then fell from the sky, landing hard on the ground nearby.
By now Cob and Sal had reached Otus but there was nothing they could do. Dion ran over to join them, scanning the sky. ‘Riko could still be alive,’ he panted.
Something large and flailing plummeted from the sky a hundred paces away. It struck the rocks with a sickening crunch. When the group of three ran to the huddled mass on the ground, Dion’s heart sank as he saw that it was Riko. The youth’s eyes were wide and sightless, blood covering his clothing. He had died before having his first shave.
‘We can’t stay here,’ Cob said. ‘We have to leave them.’
‘They’ll be eaten,’ Sal said.
‘So will we if we stay,’ said Dion. ‘We have to go. Quick. Back to the cave.’
The three men sprinted to the cavern. Dion wondered how long it was until dawn. They all threw their possessions into the boat and then exchanged glances, Cob still holding his axe and Sal his sword.
Then Cob looked out at the night and pointed with a trembling hand. ‘By the gods,’ he breathed.
A pack of huge man-shaped figures lumbered along the beach in the distance, dark silhouettes far too large to be human. They were following the shore, in a path that would take them directly past the open mouth of the cavern.
‘They don’t communicate, do they?’ Sal whispered. ‘They’re no longer eldren. They’re just animals.’
‘Pack animals,’ Dion said grimly.
‘What do we do?’ Sal looked at Dion.
‘Only the furies saw us,’ Cob said slowly. ‘There’s no evidence they’re looking for us. This cave is defensible.’
‘We can’t take the risk,’ Dion said. ‘The three of us are going to have to manage the boat.’ There was a giant in the midst of the ogres, five feet taller than its companions. The pack was coming closer with every passing moment. Dion met the eyes of each man in turn. ‘Better to risk a leviathan than every wildran on Cinder Fen. We have to go. Now!’
21
‘Cob, take the front on your shoulders. Sal and I will each lift a corner of the stern.’
‘This is madness,’ Sal muttered. ‘We’ll never carry it with just the three of us.’
‘Got a better idea?’ Dion growled.
‘If the boat was on the shore in the first place . . .’
‘The furies would still have come,’ Dion finished. ‘Get moving. Our lives depend on it.’
Each man went to his place and then Dion counted. ‘On three. Ready? Lift!’
The open-decked boat had been placed with the front facing the beach. Groaning in unison, they lifted, getting it up into the air and then moving forward. Dion had a crushing weight on his shoulder but he knew that to stop would be to die. His back screamed for him to set the boat down but he set his jaw and kept moving.
‘Watch your footing,’ he grunted. ‘Take slow steps. Move!’
Dion was on the left as they shuffled out of the wide gouge in the rock wall they’d called a cave and made their way over the precarious ground, bare feet stepping over sharp rock.
The pack of wildren on the beach saw them immediately and the monstrous creatures started a lumbering run toward them.
‘They’re coming!’ Dion said hoarsely. ‘Let’s get off these rocks, but the moment we’re on sand, we run too!’
He struggled to keep his attention on his task but his eyes kept going to the wildren. The giant opened its mouth and roared, desperate for flesh. It led the charge now, long strides pounding the ground. It ran faster than Dion had expected for a creature of such size.
‘We’re on the sand. Run!’ Dion shouted.
They almost dropped the boat as they shifted into their own ragged sprint. The boat slipped off Dion’s shoulder and stars sparkled across his vision as he lifted it back on. The beach began to slope toward the water.
‘Last stretch!’ Dion gasped. ‘Nearly there!’
He looked over his shoulder and saw a mouth the size of a dinner plate open wide, displaying sharp black teeth as the giant roared again. There were seven in the group; he didn’t know how he managed to count them but he did. Though no words were spoken, there was clear coordination to their actions. They were close enough for him to see indi
vidual scars on their bodies.
Dion’s feet plunged into the water and the sensation was so unexpected that the boat slipped forward and none of them was able to hold it up any longer. It struck the shallow water hard, but the keel held, despite digging hard into the sand underneath.
‘Get her off the bottom!’ Cob shouted.
Working together they got the boat moving once more. Dion thanked the gods that the tide was coming in as a wave sent water underneath the hull, lifting up the vessel and enabling them to push it forward.
‘Get in!’ Dion cried.
Cob was short and already in water up to his armpits. With groaning effort, he managed to haul his body over the side. Sal followed a moment later.
Dion ran forward, pushing the boat ahead of him. He gave one final mighty shove and nearly lost his grip near the tiller, but Sal held out a hand and Dion threw himself forward, tumbling into the back of the boat.
He heard a series of unforgettable sounds: the crash of several sets of legs plunging into the water; the roar of the giant; the chorus of grunts from the ogres; bumping knocks of wood against wood as Cob fit the oars.
‘The tiller!’ Cob called with panicked urgency.
Righting himself, Dion saw that the tiller was hard against the stern. Cob had the oars going but with the tiller angled the boat would turn in circles. He grabbed at the pole and centered the steerage.
Waves pounded at the hull, pushing the vessel back to shore. Risking a glance behind, Dion saw snarling monsters now waist deep in the water, just a dozen paces from the stern.
But Cob had his jaw set and pulled hard at the oars. The light vessel rose over the crests of the waves and drew away from the pack of raging wildren. Looking back, Dion saw the creatures finally halt.
Their prey had escaped.
As the boat reached calmer waters Sal went up front to help with the oars. For a long time they rowed only to increase their distance from shore, and then both the oarsmen slumped in exhaustion.
They exchanged wide-eyed glances.
‘Come on,’ Dion said. ‘Let’s get the mast up.’
The sun had risen by the time they mounted the mast and fit the sail, running it up and finally setting the boat to rights. Dion pushed the tiller, turning the boat until they were once more oblique to the distant landmass, still too close for comfort. Wind filled the sail and the sea was calm, as it often was in the early morning.
The growing light banished some of the fear from the previous night. But they had lost two men, and Dion kept wondering what he could have done differently.
‘We should never have brought Riko,’ Sal said.
‘It’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead,’ Cob murmured.
‘He saw some whale and called it a leviathan,’ Sal spat. ‘We should never have listened to him.’
Cob suddenly released the rope in his hands; his fingers went limp. He stared down into the blue water, then raised his head to look at Dion. His expression was strange, a look Dion had never seen before on the old man’s face.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ he said.
Dion looked down into the water.
An expanse of serpentine flesh was passing directly underneath the boat. The monster was as thick as the biggest tree and it revealed its entire length to Dion’s eyes as it writhed and undulated, faster than the boat it was swimming beneath. The glossy silver scales went on and on, displaying a crest-like silver fin along its spine and a tail like an eel’s, swaying back and forth to propel the body forward.
Dion’s blood ran cold. ‘Serpent,’ he whispered.
‘Where?’ Close to the front of the boat, Sal’s movements were frantic as he tossed his head one way and another, peering into the depths. ‘Where?’ he cried. ‘I can’t see it!’
‘Under the boat,’ Cob said calmly. ‘We’re dead men.’
Not being able to see it was worse than knowing where it was. The serpent was smaller than the one at the narrows. But unlike the eldran who had helped clear the trade route, this monster was wild.
Cob shook his head. ‘Something has agitated the wildren in this area. Perhaps the eruption of Mount Oden. Perhaps the passage of the Ilean warship. Perhaps something else altogether.’ He met Sal’s eyes and then Dion’s. ‘Pray to the gods. There’s nothing else we can do.’
Dion heard a mighty splash to his left, in the direction of Cinder Fen. He caught sight of a curled body, gone as swiftly as it had appeared. The sea heaved, creating waves where the serpent had plunged.
He reached for his bow and quiver.
The three men stared silently into the depths. Dion began to hope it had left.
Then he saw it again. This time he caught full sight of the angular head and spiky frill as it traveled under the ship. He prepared his bow. Once more it vanished from sight. Dion drew in a shaky breath as he waited.
The serpent’s angular head suddenly shot out of the water a dozen feet away; in an instant it was heading directly for the boat and its occupants. Open jaws revealed incisors the size of daggers jutting either side of its mouth, yellow with extreme age. Remembering his experience at the narrows, Dion saw that this serpent’s eyes were different. Wild. This creature wanted only prey.
Dion had the string against his cheek, anticipating the serpent’s movement. As the head came forward, he released.
The arrow struck it in the very center of its eye.
Enraged, the serpent flung itself forward, passing through the sail, cutting a hole and stabbing into the water on the other side. A length of snakelike body came down on the boom, snapping it like a twig until the length of scaled flesh lay across the deck. The mast came crashing down.
The boat’s timbers creaked.
Dion grabbed another arrow and shot at the middle of the serpent’s body where he hoped to strike something important, but the arrow bounced off the tough hide. With the serpent’s long body lying across the deck, he saw the head of the beast circle underneath the boat, blood streaming from the wounded eye and clouding the water as it looped around the vessel.
‘It’s trying to squeeze the boat!’ Dion cried.
Spurred into action, Cob hefted his axe and swung with a strong overhead stroke at the scaled skin. His weapon bit hard, sinking to the haft, and the monster shivered.
The boat’s timbers cracked. Water began to seep into the floor.
Seeing Sal too stunned to react, Dion nocked another arrow and stood tall, riding the boat’s jolting motion as he waited for the head to appear. He suddenly saw it under the water, just a few inches below the surface, a dozen feet from the gunwale.
The serpent was so fast he knew he would have to lead the shot. In one smooth motion, praying for success, Dion drew and released.
The arrow jutted an instant later from the water, and this time the shaft was buried in reptilian flesh. The head rose to the surface, and he saw that the arrow had struck a soft part on the side of its head. The scaled body lying across the ship trembled again.
His chest heaving, Dion didn’t take his eyes off the serpent. But the creature stayed motionless.
Dion turned to Cob. ‘I think—’
Something smashed into the bottom of the boat, so hard that it knocked Dion clear off the vessel and tumbling into the water headfirst. He managed to keep hold of his bow as he fell, but holding onto his weapon made it difficult to swim. When he finally surfaced and looked back at the boat he felt the blood drain from his face.
The creature he had killed was only a serpent. This was a true leviathan.
Its head was as big as the boat, large enough to swallow the vessel in a couple of mouthfuls. It raised itself slowly out of the water, slippery and scaled, the crest behind the triangular head fully erect. The wildran fixed a baleful stare on the boat’s two occupants.
The leviathan opened its jaws and roared.
The deafening noise was the most terrifying sound Dion had ever heard. The teeth revealed in the open maw were the size of swords. Before Sal
could react the creature arched its neck and shot down from the sky, snapping him in half with a single bite, spraying the wooden planking with blood.
Cob stood tall and held his axe in both hands. When the leviathan came for him he swung at the monstrous jaw but the creature dodged out of the way, faster than Dion would have thought it could move. Cob’s return swing never came.
The serpent’s huge mouth opened wide as it plummeted, swallowing the old sailor whole, together with a mouthful of splintered timber and surging water. The creature continued the movement to crash through the hull of the broken sailboat. The force of its passage created a swirling vortex of planks and rope as the vessel disintegrated.
Dion was sucked into the water behind its passage, together with the boat’s remains. The paddle-like tail of the leviathan grew ever more distant. He clutched at anything his fingers could find.
22
Dion woke and saw scales.
He had arms wrapped around him, arms that kept his head above water and pulled him through the water with the smooth passage of a creature born to the sea.
His mind clouded and eyes stinging, recollections came back to him in a series of flashing images. The last thing he could remember was grabbing hold of a plank as his body was dragged down deep underwater. At some stage he’d risen to the surface and thrown his body on top of the wood, draping himself over it like seaweed on a rock. Exhaustion overcame him.
Sadness took hold of his heart when he remembered the deaths of his crew, eaten by wildren. Cob was gone. Dion was alone.
Now he was being carried in a strange embrace. He was on his back, head carefully raised out of the water. His body was angled so that he was looking at his feet, which were beneath the surface. Below his legs he could see scales.
The long tapering body under his own terminated in a fish-like tail. But the arms that held him had soft white skin and feminine hands. The tail swept at the water; the arms held him tightly.
Ever so slowly, Dion rotated his head.
Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) Page 15