The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path

by Douglas Van Dyke

  Trestan tried to shift his position. Another lightening bolt passed in front of them, with another resounding boom echoing over the deck. With the vessel still in a sharp descent, the storm caught Trestan at the wrong time. He slipped on the wet deck in the face of a strong wind. He flailed his arms, fearing a drop overboard. His body fell against a solid object. Something snapped behind his armored back, and Mel yelled in pain. Trestan rolled away immediately, and again grabbed the railing to steady himself. The young human watched as Mel shook his right arm, and then sucked on the first couple fingers of that hand. The gnome was mildly hurt, but soon he was reaching for the lever on that side again. The fingers seemed ok and unbroken.

  However, the control lever protruded from the figurehead at an odd angle. Mel got a hold of it, but as soon as he tried to use it he knew something was wrong. The others looked through the rain-splattered deck in horror as the gnome raised the broken control stick, revealing that the wooden joints had separated from the mechanism inside.

  Dovewing continued descending sharply, an empty hole in the console where a control stick should have been connected.

  The deck began tilting, falling out of control. Not one of them had ever been so high off the ground, and now they found themselves falling to their deaths. There was a scream from someone, maybe Cat, as another lightening blast illuminated breaking waves and sharp coral reefs far below them. Mel had to think quickly, and he did. Muttering a few words, he cast a spell. His fingers on one hand stretched and became more flexible. The gnome slid his elongated fingers into the hole for the disconnected lever. Mel was able to manipulate the stub to which the lever had been attached, though it wasn’t easy. Their descent slowed, and the vessel started to fly level again. They were not yet out of danger by any means, for apparently the gnome’s fingers still couldn’t maneuver the craft as finely as the control stick could. Trestan heard Mel muttering a string of whispered words, talking to himself as he struggled with the craft. Strong winds pushed at them from one side, then the other. The deck still jerked and dropped at irregular intervals as the gnome tried his best to regain some semblance of control without the lever. He seemed to level out their flight path, yet they had lost a lot of altitude.

  Rain fell to the deck in sheets, driven by fierce winds. Trestan hauled himself closer to Mel’s seat as the gnome worked at guiding the wounded vessel. He glanced behind to see the others also trying to hold tight to the railings. Most of the equipment was safely stored in the hold, but a few loose items slid on the deck. The darkness, rain and jostling movements made visibility very limited.

  They suddenly found out how low they were flying, as a wave slammed water across the deck. The cold water shocked everyone slammed all of them. A spray of froth mingled with the driving rain to thoroughly soak the deck. Trestan heard someone coughing up water, but his attention focused on Mel. The gnome furiously worked the one remaining control lever, while still using his fingers through the hole left by the other one. The young smith prayed the second lever wouldn’t come loose as well, for that would certainly spell disaster. Trestan rose up enough to gaze over the rail, and the sight frightened him. They still sped at a fast rate, only a few feet above the storm-driven waves. He looked for the island they had spotted from above, but between the darkness and the rain he could see very little. In lifting himself up to see, the young man suddenly felt the weight of his attire. The leather and metal plates he wore reminded him that if he happened to go overboard, or if they started to crash and sink, he would likely drown.

  Mel said something, but it was lost in the roaring crash of another wave. Salty water slammed the deck and the guardrails once again, sweeping loose equipment overboard and drenching the companions. Trestan imagined that the others were also just trying to hold on for dear life. Brine from the sea made the railing a bit slippery to hold. The wave did something unexpected to the magical vessel when it crashed over the deck. The force of it sent the craft into a turn. The craft slowly rotated to the right despite keeping a straight course. The gnome sorcerer found himself trying to control a spin, and to hopefully get the front of the ship facing the direction they were headed. They were soon flying backwards. Trestan looked out the front of the ship at a large wave they were outrunning.

  “Reef!” Cat shouted.

  Trestan turned back only in time to witness the collision.

  The rear portion of Dovewing, including the plush couch and a good section of guardrail, buckled as it collided head-on with a sharp reef. The magically strengthened oak boards of the deck splintered as they broke apart. Trestan’s teeth gnashed together upon impact. Wood and water sprayed apart into the air as he was shaken. He saw one body launched upwards from the deck, but did not know who it was. The couch and a portion of the rear guardrail fell away from the rest of the ship. The vast majority of the deck remained intact as the damaged vessel slid over the coral. The sharp reef scraped away several underside crystals, sabotaging Dovewing’s maneuverability. Trestan had to concentrate on his own handholds when another danger loomed over the moving deck. The wave that they had been distancing surged toward them.

  Trestan held his breath as water rushed over him. Most noise drowned underneath the surface of the wave. The sounds he could make out were odd; much quieter than the crunching boards and screams that had assaulted his ears a moment ago. He continued holding the rail for what seemed like several seconds, and still he remained underwater. Trestan fought the instinct to let go and try swimming, knowing he would drown. Finally, a rush of bubbles and froth moved over him before the deck finally rose above the wave again. He gasped for air.

  The magical vessel was battered, but its remaining crystals still offered buoyancy to gravity. It continued to fly randomly, skimming several waves. Trestan had water in his ears, but could hear the gnome sputtering and coughing next to him. Sadly, all Mel could do was hang on tightly to his chair. Without anyone controlling the vessel, and with waves turning and battering it, the deck began to spin in odd ways. Without Mel or Trestan truly being able to see what happened, the vessel began to roll on its sides. The floating, circular craft cartwheeled across the surface of the water like a coin rolled across a floor. Guardrail, woodwork, intricate designs and precious metal highlights ripped off as it went.

  Trestan finally lost his hold as the guardrail in front of him shredded like a rotted log. The young man suffered a disorienting fall before landing and rolling across wet sand. Dovewing rolled past him on its side up a dark beach. The vessel continued to shred apart, with precious carvings and gem ornaments flying off into a trail of rubble in the sand. The old oaken boards making up the majority of the ship settled in scattered fragments along the beach or floating with all the other debris out in the water.

  Trestan got on all fours and gathered the strength to raise his head. Whether by luck or divine guidance, he had ended up on the island. The young man wobbled dizzily, as he watched the last large piece of the vessel roll to a stop many meters away. It was a shaky endeavor to get to his feet, but somehow he managed. He reached back, and confirmed with considerable relief that Sword of the Spirit still sat in its scabbard on his back. He took several shaky steps along the trail of rubble, looking for his other friends…or their bodies. He spotted the helmsman’s chair, (several pieces of it), and walked that way hoping to find Mel. The rain pelted him and sent a cold into his bones, he was drenched with water, his muscles ached from gripping the railing, the wet sand slowed his feet and he worried over the fate of his friends.

  Mel Bellringer sprawled not far from the remains of the chair. His fingers had returned to their normal size, and his other hand clutched the formerly unbroken control lever. Trestan looked over him with apprehension. Mel soon let out a cough, and the gnome rose into a sitting position on his own strength. It relieved Trestan to see that at least the sorcerer was recovering.

  Trestan dropped to his knees beside the gnome, “Are you alright? Nothing broken?”

  Mel spit sand before he
replied, “I’ve had worse beatings. I don’t think I broke any bones.”

  Trestan turned back to face the shoreline, sitting beside the gnome. Both tried to catch their breath as they looked over the remains of Dovewing. Not twenty feet away rested the ornate dragon door from the starboard side. The dragon carving was now divided into three large pieces, and several smaller ones. All along the beach shattered crystals and decorative gems glittered. A trail of splinters, metal pieces, nails and larger boards marked the path of the craft from where it had first hit the beach, to the position where the core of the deck’s hold ended up. Crashing waves carried more floating pieces of debris, but left behind those precious metals and gems that sunk offshore. The hundred-year-old creation of Korrelothar was reduced to scattered pieces of junk on some unnamed island out at sea.

  Mel drew in a deep breath, frowned, and offered his foremost thought. “Well, now all those other scratches we picked up earlier seem rather paltry by comparison.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Trestan and Mel wandered the beach searching for any sign of their friends. They spotted someone foundering out in shallow water. The weakened individual struggled towards shore, but waves buffeted every attempt to stand up. Trestan unbuckled his sword baldric and let it fall to the beach as he ran down to the water. The weight of his own armor was of some concern, but he didn’t dare take the time to try undoing the straps. Mel ran alongside as far as he could manage. The gnome wanted to assist, but the tall waves battering the other person would have given Mel trouble as well.

  As Trestan got closer, lightning illuminated Salgor’s chain mail and beard. Weighed down by his armor and disoriented by the crash, the dwarf had difficulty staggering in the stormy waves. The smith waded into the storm tide to assist. The waves forced Trestan to work at keeping his own balance, but he finally reached the sputtering dwarf. Their progress was slow, buffeted by waves on the shifting sand. The wind and waves made it hard to speak. They reached a patch of sand far from the surf and dropped to the ground. The poor dwarf was truly a sorry sight. He breathed heavily through a beard plastered to his armor. Mel ran back to the broken deck holds in order to salvage something. Salgor and Trestan just relaxed for the moment and tried to regain their breath. Despite their exertion, they felt chilled from the rain and the cold seawater.

  Mel ran back to the beach with a coil of rope in his hands. Trestan looked at it in confusion, wondering what the gnome intended to do with it. All three of them turned their eyes to the sea and shoreline. Time seemed to stretch into eternity, while they simply watched and listened. Finally worry for their comrades motivated them to go closer to the sea and search. They called out for Cat and Petrow a few times, while wandering up and down the shoreline. They were slowly giving up hope that their friends had survived.

  At one point, Salgor and Trestan were both calling out when Mel shushed them. The gnome turned one ear towards the water. He stood there listening, hoping it hadn’t been his imagination. All three heard someone yelling. Trestan called out again, and then stood silent as they heard a reply drift over the waves. It was Cat’s voice. They could not see her, but her voice restored their hopes.

  Out in the water, Cat endured turbulent water. The waves pushed her toward shore, but shallow, sharp coral loomed as a danger. The half-elf put all her strength into keeping her head above water as she swam onward.

  “Petrow! Still with me?”

  From behind her, a voice answered over the tumult of waves. “Aye!”

  Cat continued to struggle forward. She felt as tired as ever, but the sound of voices ahead kept her spirits up. She gasped through waves and breaths. “I hear them…up ahead…close.”

  Because of the storm, Petrow could not see the shoreline in the darkness. As it was, he barely tracked Cat’s form as they swam in an endless, violent sea. The shoreline became visible when Cat crested each wave, compliments of her elf heritage. She knew she led Petrow in the right direction.

  The blue-eyed man was strong and muscular from his life of hard labor but his lungs had also taken in a lot of seawater. She heard him cough and sputter. Between waves he called out. “Is land close? This is tiresome.”

  Another wave surged forward, and at its crest Cat could make out their companions on the beach. “Not far! I see them! Please…”

  Cat’s sentence broke as a smaller wave caught her by surprise. It wasn’t the first time she choked on water during the swim. Petrow caught up to her and stayed by her side, riding the rough waves. “Are you well?”

  In the distance they heard Trestan’s and Salgor’s voices. Cat adjusted her direction and kicked forward. “I’ll be fine. Stick with me.”

  The sandy beach loomed ahead, portions of the broken flying vessel becoming visible to the half-elf. Petrow could barely make out the light-colored beach. The human barely had time to react when he heard Cat yell. “Shallow!”

  The sharp reef raked along Petrow’s abdomen and thighs, but the handyman avoided serious injury. Both swimmers struggled while still wearing their leather armor. It was a bit heavy and unyielding, yet at the same time it had already saved them from a few cuts off of similar coral.

  They were past the danger, still navigating through the high waves, when Cat screamed. The half-elf started thrashing in place. Petrow swam closer to her, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Stay back! Something is here!”

  “Something?”

  “Wrapping around my waist! I’m trying…my dagger…cut free.”

  Petrow felt it too. A thin, tentacle-like appendage started circling his hips. Petrow went to reach for his knife, but remembered he wasn’t wearing his utility harness. He had no weapon to use against whatever new threat was grabbing at them.

  Something broke the surface of the water between them. Tendrils of seaweed clung to it. Cat and Petrow both looked with wonder at the strange object wriggling between them.

  Cat was puzzled. “That’s a rope!”

  On the beach, Mel stood over a coiled end of rope. The rope wriggled away from him and disappeared into the water, where the distant end encircled his two friends. The gnome had his arms out before him, swaying like a flag in the wind as he reached out his will along the tether. Cat spotted the gnome manipulating the rope without really understanding the strange sorcery involved. He used the rope to help buoy his friends and help pull them to shore. Trestan and Salgor soon helped with the latter part.

  Arm over arm the smith and the dwarf reeled in the length of rope, while Mel assisted by the use of magical hand gestures. Cat and Petrow were still swimming, though progress came a lot easier. Mel’s power over the rope lent it the strength to keep them afloat. Despite the tossing current, no more waves managed to force salty water down their throats. The rope supported the water-logged swimmers as their feet touched bottom. Cat and Petrow stumbled several steps away from the water’s edge before dropping to the sand and resting. Pieces of old oaken wood littered the spot, but the companions were content to lie where they dropped. Cat’s long hair tangled about her head. Bits of sand stubbornly clung to most of the companions. Petrow coughed water out of his lungs until his voice wheezed. For the longest time, they rested together as the rain rolled off their faces. The others glanced over to the scattered remnants of Dovewing. Flashes of lightening helped illuminate the trail of debris. They shook their heads and tried not to think about how angry Korrelothar might be if they ever lived to see him again.

  Though most of them suffered bruises from the rough landing, no one was seriously hurt. Petrow and Cat had scratches on their leather armor from brushes against the coral reefs. Luckily, neither suffered any cuts from their hazardous swim. Everyone felt less weary after that brief respite, though hearts and minds alike still tried to calm down. They picked around the craft for their supplies. The hold under the deck remained mostly intact: the storage for most of their equipment. Since it had been in the center of the craft, it was the portion that rolled the farthest from the shore. They had lost a fair amount of
food, so the group hoped they weren’t stranded on an island with limited resources. They went through the packs, looking for items jostled free during the bad landing.

  “About all I can be thankful for is that I left my wood axe here with the rest of our things.” Petrow pulled his woodcutter’s axe free of the wreckage. “That battleaxe Hebden loaned me washed off the deck at some point.”

  Trestan chuckled at that. “You seem to have a tendency of losing good axes. Remind me not to have you carry this sword for any length of time.”

  “I don’t know whether to feel lucky or unlucky after that landing,” the handyman responded. He brushed wet sand off of the axe, and felt around the blade in case the experience might have taken the sharp edge off of it. “That was some quick-thinking in trying to save us Mel, although I don’t think I’ll trust any more flying contraptions for a while.”

  The gnome scoffed through a veil of smoke. Somehow, despite the rain and the drenching water, the sorcerer had lit his pipe. Mel spoke, “Believe me, it really hurts to have brought such a wonderful creation to such an end. I sure hope we found the right island.”

  Cat looked ragged, but she was already carrying all of her bags and equipment. “On that subject, we really should move off this beach. The sooner we explore the sooner we can find out if this is the right place, and where we might find shelter. I’d like to be able to get under a covering of any kind and warm myself by a fire if we can do so safely.”

  * * * * *

  The companions moved off of the beach under cover of the nighttime rain. There was nothing to do for Dovewing except to bid goodbye to its scattered pieces. Cold settled about the companions like a mantle. Their breath formed in the air, adding to the foggy visibility before them. Weary, they all wished for the comforts of a warm inn and fire. Mel had asked for a fire to be made under some short trees near the beach, but both Salgor and Cat had spoke out against it. If they were on the right island, then it might be easy for the wrong kind of eyes to see their fire and investigate. The five of them walked in relative quiet through tall grass, interspersed with sand. They made their way past the borders of the island and up onto a raised area that supported more plant life. Cat’s superior eyes guided them.