Servant of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 1)

by Jason Halstead

  The sailor raised an eyebrow. “I suppose he shouldn’t sink the ship. Come, let’s talk.”

  “What am I doing?” Gor asked.

  Gildor grabbed his wrist and tugged on it. “You’re coming with me. I need you.”

  “Need me?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I don’t—”

  Gildor motioned for Corian to go ahead and cut the giant hairy man off. “Neither do I, so let’s go.”

  Gor’s mouth opened and closed twice before he shrugged his shoulders and let Gildor tug him out of the tavern and into the night air.

  Chapter 20

  “This is a boat?” Gildor asked. He was staring at an oval-shaped vessel tied up to the docks. A stick stuck up from the bow at an angle, complete with a pulley attached to the end with a rope around it. The boat had a mast in the middle, but on either side tubes that had sharp points at the front were attached to the side.

  “Fastest boat on the lake,” Harlon said with obvious pride.

  Gildor frowned. “Doesn’t look like much. I’m looking to pick up a couple more people too. Can it carry them?”

  “Me and my crew plus your three and two others? Easy. I’ve been loaded full of elf brandy before and still sailed circles around every ship on the lake.”

  “Elves don’t make brandy,” Corian said.

  “Didn’t say elven brandy, it was elf brandy.”

  Corian frowned. “What’s the difference?”

  “This stuff is so strong it’ll make a dwarf think he’s an elf,” Harlon boasted. “It’s illegal in Easton and a lot of other towns because it’ll catch fire if you bring it near an open flame.”

  Corian’s eyes widened. “People drink this?”

  Harlon’s wry smile answered for him.

  “I don’t need to smuggle anything,” Gildor inserted, drawing the attention back to him. “I need a boat to take me to Shathas and then bring me back.”

  “That don’t sound too bad; plenty of boats come and go from there,” Harlon said. “What’s really going on here?”

  “I’m not going to for a friendly visit. If you’re a smuggler, do you know any secret coves or hidden entrances to the city?”

  Harlon laughed. “Wow, that’s a stereotype. I admit to running one load of brandy and now I’m an expert smuggler who can find a secret way in or out of anywhere?”

  Gildor’s stomach twisted but he kept his face expressionless. “Not anywhere, just Shathas.”

  “Level with me. Start with a name and take it from there.”

  “Gildor. I’m looking for my daughter.”

  “And my sister,” Corian said. “I’m Corian.”

  “Your daughter is his sister?” Harlon said. He shook his head. “I can’t figure that.”

  Gildor smirked in spite of the situation. “No. Two people; my daughter was taken by the splisskin and so was his sister.”

  Harlon looked back and forth between the two of them. “There’s a lot more to this, isn’t there? Why else would a human and an elf be in a town full of talking snakes?”

  “Why indeed,” Gildor said. “We don’t really know what’s behind it either, but it happened. And the longer I wait, the better the chance that I’m not going to find her. If that happens, I’ll be looking for answers and anybody who I find slowed me down is going to have to account for that.”

  Harlon tilted his head. “Are you threatening me, old man? Because if you are, you can get the hell away from my boat. I’m here to see you as a favor for a friend. Don’t think you can threaten me into helping you.”

  Gildor’s eyes narrowed. He nodded. “I respect that. How much?”

  “How much?” Harlon stopped and laughed. “The saints are blowing wind against me tonight.”

  “I’ve got gold and I don’t need anything but a boat that can get me there and wait for me to come back. Easiest money you’ve ever made, I bet.”

  “No such thing as easy gold, friend,” Harlon said. He paused and glanced at his boat. “All right, here’s the deal. You want to avoid the harbor, that’s fine. I know a place and my boat’s one of the few that can get close enough to shore to make it work. You pay me upfront, though. Twenty gold a head—that’s a hundred because you said you’re picking up two more.”

  “No,” Gildor said.

  “No? You need me, old man, not the other way around!”

  “I’ll pay you half now, the rest when we get back.”

  “You don’t have it, do you?” the captain accused. “You don’t look like a wealthy man.”

  Gildor shook his head. “I’ve got it. I don’t want you sailing back as soon as you drop me off.”

  Harlon nodded. “All right, that’s fair. So let’s see it.”

  Gildor glanced at Corian and then reached down and pulled his money pouch free. He poured some coins in his palm and handed them over one at a time. His pouch ran dry with more than twenty gold pieces remaining.

  “Damn,” Harlon muttered as he shook his head. “I knew it.”

  “Wait,” Corian said. He had a few coins in his palm and thrust them at the captain. “I’ve got the rest. And enough for when we’re back.”

  Harlon inspected the coins, eyeing the elvish script on them and biting a few to make sure they were gold. Satisfied with the size and feel, he shrugged and accepted them. He turned and gestured at the plank to the deck of his boat. “Welcome aboard. We can leave anytime. You might want to wait until your friend wakes up, though.”

  Gildor turned and saw that Gor had curled up on the dock and was using a bundle of rope as a pillow. “We’ll go now,” he said. He stared at the slumbering giant and asked, “Think he can swim?”

  Corian shuddered. “I’d rather not find out.”

  Gildor’s brow furrowed as he looked at the elf. “He’s asleep and drunk—why are you afraid of him?”

  “I’m not,” the elf said. “I don’t want to know what happens if we roll him in the lake and find out he can’t swim.”

  Gildor’s wrinkles deepened.

  Corian sighed. “I don’t want to go in after him. I’ve had enough of rivers and lakes and large puddles to last me the rest of my life.”

  The guide’s lips twitched up in a smirk. “Fair enough. Come then, help me try to get the lug on his feet and into this, uh, boat.”

  Gildor turned to look at the boat and saw Harlon using his boot to rouse two men curled up in the stern of his boat. He shook his head and turned back to Gor. The sun had barely set, yet these men were all fast asleep. “When I was their age, I wasn’t ready to sleep until the sun kissed the eastern sky.”

  “How long’s it been since you’ve slept?” Corian asked. “Seems like you’re still that way.”

  Gildor frowned. The elf was right; it had been awhile. He shook the thought away and walked towards the slumbering hulk. He didn’t have time to dwell on sleep; he had a daughter to save.

  “Grab his legs,” Gildor said.

  Corian walked around Gor’s body and shook his head. Gildor could tell the elf didn’t think they’d be able to move him, but he didn’t much care what the elf thought. “It’ll be a good eight hours to sail there; he can sleep it off.”

  “You think he’s going to help?”

  “He’ll help one way or another,” Gildor said. “Even if I have to use him as a distraction.”

  Corian’s jaw gaped for a moment. “You’d do that?”

  “I’d do just about anything,” Gildor said. “Wouldn’t you for your sister?”

  The elf tilted his head and nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Good. Now lift.”

  Corian squatted down and picked Gor’s legs up by the ankles. He tucked them against his side and waited for Gildor to grab the drunkard by the shoulders. They heaved and managed to pick him up, but after three staggering steps, they were dragging his bottom across the planks of the deck.

  Gor snorted and struggled, twisting and kicking free of Corian’s grip. His feet landed on the deck and he j
erked awake, pulling free from Gildor. “Ow!” he roared when his shoulders and head hit the dock.

  “Get in the boat,” Gildor said and pointed at the unusual boat.

  Gor rolled onto his hands and knees and rose to one knee. He looked at Gildor and then at the boat before climbing all the way to his feet. “Why?”

  “Because I saved you from a beating and an unpaid bar tab,” Gildor said.

  Gor tilted his head and blinked. “Why?” he asked again.

  “I need a man not afraid to fight. Are you that man, or was that the wine talking?”

  “Wine?” Gor snorted. “I don’t drink wine.”

  “Do you fight?”

  The drunk man nodded. “I can fight. Where’s my sword?”

  “You sold it.”

  “Oh.” Gor scratched his beard. “That’s right.”

  “Boat?” Gildor pointed again.

  Gor shrugged and shuffled past them to the plank. He walked across and dropped to the deck inside, causing the large boat to rock in the water. He walked part of the way towards the bow before spotting a couple of bulging sacks tucked against the hull. The large man knelt down and then lowered himself to the deck. He used the sacks as a pillow and was snoring in seconds.

  “That’s a skilled drunk,” Corian observed.

  “Not skilled, a master,” Gildor agreed. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Gildor and Corian boarded the boat and watched Harlon finish rousing his two-man crew. One of them, a boy who looked barely older than Allisandra, stifled a yawn as he walked past them to the bow. The other stayed to the aft to ready the boat while Harlon approached them.

  “Get comfortable. We’ll be underway soon and you’d just be in the way. Stay low and out of the wind. If the wind holds, we’ll be able to tack our way there well before dawn.”

  Gildor’s eyes widened. “Before dawn? I thought it was an eight-hour trip with the wind behind you.”

  Harlon grinned. “Told you she’s fast. Have a seat and watch us chase the wind.”

  Gildor met Corian’s gaze and saw the elf shrug. Gildor nodded and moved to find a bench that ran along the hull. Corian moved to one on the opposite side and they watched the three-man crew fit oars through holes in the hull and cast loose the lines that kept the ship tied to the dock.

  Both boys pushed the ship away from the dock and then leapt aboard as it floated free. They landed with practiced skill and hurried to take the oars in hand. Harlon called out orders and they stroked according to his commands. The boat pulled away from the dock and began to move through the harbor with a nimble grace that left Gildor beginning to believe Harlon’s claims.

  “Take us out, lads,” Harlon told his crew. He strode across the deck to the bow and tied a bundle of cloth to the rope on the pulley. He routed two more ropes through pulley hooks to the port and starboard poles and then hurried back to check on the mainsail that was piled neatly amidships.

  He finished and stopped near Gildor to admire their position in the harbor. “We’re fast and able to turn because we’ve got no keel,” he shared.

  Gildor frowned. “I’m no sailor, but I thought those were important? Especially for deep water?”

  “Aye, they are,” Harlon said with a grin. “I’ve got something better.”

  “What?”

  “Just wait and see,” the captain cackled.

  Gildor frowned and felt Corian’s eyes on him. He didn’t return the gaze for fear the elf would read his face and know he was doubting Harlon’s sanity. Instead, he remained focused on the bow and watched it against the signal lamps on the rock walls of the harbor. The lights grew closer and closer and soon passed on either side of them. Almost instantly, the warm breeze blew from the south against them.

  “This is where it gets exciting!” Harlon said to Gildor. He called out to his crew, “Stow the oars, boys! Rig up the floats.”

  “Floats?” Corian repeated.

  Gildor shook his head and shrugged, unable to explain.

  The oars were pulled in and tucked against the hull. They introduced shorter wooden poles and screwed them into holes that ran through the sides of the boat just above the deck. Two poles went in each side before extra beams were slipped over the ends and secured with heavy pins. A final wooden pole was slipped through the middle of the main mast and connected to the framework the two boys were assembling.

  “Are you building a house?” Gildor asked, unable to silence his curiosity any longer.

  Harlon held up a finger. “Just you wait,” the man said. He hopped over the ankle-high wooden framework and made his way to the mast. “Run out the outriggers!”

  The boys pushed the poles on the port side first and then repeated the action on the starboard side. The two bizarre nodules that had been connected to the side of the boat slid away on the poles that had been screwed into them until they were more than six feet away from the hull. Harlon knelt down and grabbed pegs at the base of the main mast and began to pull and push on them, turning a clicking wheel. Each click signaled the mast growing a few inches out of the deck. The two outriggers dropped as the mast rose.

  After almost two minutes of Harlon twisting the wheel, the boat shifted in the water. Gildor twisted and lifted to look over the rail. The water glistened, reflecting stars and moon. As he watched, it dropped farther and farther away.

  “Ha!” Harlon cried as he stepped back from the wheel. His face was slick with sweat but he was grinning. “Only my floats in the water now; we’ll be skimming across the water in no time.”

  Gildor was at a loss for words as he watched the three-man crew raise sails and trim them to catch the southerly wind. The boat jerked as the sails snapped and filled. Harlon lowered a long-handled rudder through a mount at the stern and used it to keep the ship pointed to the west.

  “Settle in and stay low out of the wind,” Harlon advised. “I’ll be tacking a few times but I’ve got to head west a bit to get clear of the shore first.”

  Gildor waved his hand and glanced at Corian. The elf was staring over the rail and grinning. “This is amazing!” he said when he noticed Gildor watching him.

  Gildor smirked and settled himself against the hull. The gentle waves of the lake and the constant movement were soon letting his exhaustion overwhelm him. He had a few hours until the island. Time enough, he reasoned, to risk catching up on some much-needed sleep.

  Gildor curled up on the bench and, using his arm tucked under his head as a pillow, drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  “Hey, wake up!”

  Gildor jerked himself awake and leapt to his feet. His hand was on his sword but his feet felt funny, like he was on the side of a hill. He reached out to bat away the hand that grabbed his shoulder but he realized it was holding him steady, not trying to push him over. He grabbed the arm that held him and kept himself from pitching over the railing.

  “Kind of jumpy,” Harlon said with a grin. “Anyhow, we’ll be coming into dock real soon.”

  Gildor blinked the sleep out of his eyes and rubbed his face. “Thanks,” he muttered as he stared at the mountainous island ahead of them. Cliffs and steep hills rose from the water, providing an impenetrable wall. He turned to look back at the boat’s captain. “Dock?”

  “No—you said no harbor, right?” Harlon asked. After Gildor nodded, he continued. “So there’s a cove we can sail into with the Lady Hornet.”

  “Hornets?” Gildor asked, misunderstanding.

  Harlon chuckled. “Didn’t you see her name? My boat. Lady Hornet is what we call her. She’s fast and floats so high she’s almost flying.”

  “I don’t see a stinger.”

  Harlon nodded. “That’s where you come in. We’ll wait for you, you’ve got my word, but only until dusk. Then we’ll be leaving.”

  Gildor turned and looked behind them. “That east?”

  Harlon nodded. “We made better time than I expected. Either the saints are with you or they can’t wait to claim your soul.”

>   Gildor grimaced and looked over to Corian. The elf was fast asleep. “Can I wake them up?”

  “Sure, just take care you don’t break anything.”

  Gildor nodded and ducked under the wooden poles and beams that kept the unique boat on top of the water. A nudge was all Corian took to jerk awake and look around through glassy eyes. He focused on Gildor and then the looming mountains of the island ahead of them and nodded. “Is it time?” the elf asked.

  “Almost,” Gildor said. “Be ready.”

  Gildor turned from the elf’s nod and made his way to where Gor snored against the side of the boat. He caught the eye of the young man manning the strange triangular sail at the front of the boat. The sailor glanced down at Gor and rolled his eyes before turning his focus back to the sail and the water in front of the boat.

  Gildor sighed through his nose and reached out to shake the large sleeping man. He had to repeat the gesture with more force before the man snorted and rolled over. He looked up at Gildor, squinting in the darkness and then yawned. Gildor stepped back, reeling from the man’s foul breath.

  “Who’re you?” Gor asked as he sat up.

  Gildor stared at him. “You don’t remember anything?”

  “Little bit. Something about a boat. Hey! We’re on a boat. Guess that make sense.”

  “I guess it does,” Gildor agreed. “I stopped you from getting your head caved in at the Ratskull. Paid off your tab and now you’re here with me. You said you can fight.”

  The man grunted. “Should have left me,” he said.

  “Probably,” Gildor agreed. “But I didn’t. I need someone able and willing to fight. We’re going into Shathas to rescue some prisoners.”

  “Snakes don’t take prisoners,” he said. “At least, not often.”

  “We believe they did this time,” Gildor said. “I’m Gildor; that’s Corian.”

  “Just you two?”

  “And you.”

  Gor snorted. “Shouldn’t have brought me. I’m bad luck.”

  “So change your luck,” Gildor said.

  He shook his head and sighed. “Any ale on this barge? I need a drink.”

  “That’s the last thing you need,” Gildor growled. “My daughter is who I’m trying to save and having you too witless to stand won’t help.”