“Help.” He pulled Chelda, who was staring stupidly at the beast rising out of the sea right in their ship’s path. “Hand me that,” Zirk ordered her, and she obeyed absently, trying not to show the fear that Vanx could sense was dripping from her every pore.
In a matter of heartbeats, there was a well-braced stand erected over the ugly bowsprit, and a crossbow-like harpoon launcher connected to its top, so that it could be swiveled left and right and up and down to some degree.
“Harpoons are there.” Zirk pointed at a compartment nearby, and Chelda dropped three of the long, barbed shafts at his feet just as the ship met the first of the unnatural waves caused by the huge creature.
The Adventurer’s bow rose up and then slapped down hard, causing Zirk to launch a stray harpoon as he was flung overboard.
Chelda grabbed the rail, staying in the boat, and managed to pick up another harpoon. When the ship was settled in the sea again, she took a forward step and threw the shaft at the creature’s mostly submerged head.
The wave that came when her harpoon stuck the thing nearly sent the Adventurer flipping over backward.
“Get Chel steadied, and then get Poops below!” Vanx yelled at Zeezle, as he dove for the harpoon launcher and began trying to re-cock it.
After heaving a float over the side to Zirk, Ronzon joined Vanx, situated himself to help crank back the launcher’s mechanism, and made ready to feed him harpoons.
Vanx looked at Castavonti, searching for advice or a solution, but the man was slack-jawed. He was holding the wheel with white knuckles, and his gaze was rising to the point that his head was craned back.
When Vanx turned, he saw why. The creature was at least thirty feet out of the water, and its toothy tentacles were already reaching for the Adventurer.
Without another thought, Vanx loosed a harpoon right at the thing’s head. He was disheartened when the shaft was just slapped away, and he began racking his brain for any sort of spell that would help.
To make things worse, he heard Zeezle’s splash, when he dove over the side to go after Zirk.
“Two in the water!” Castavonti yelled, as if there were a full crew to hear him.
“Aye,” Vanx answered out of habit, and then trained the launcher on the creature again, not sure what good it would do against such a thing, even if he shafted it true.
Chapter Four
If you stand atop a rocky mound
and look into the sky,
don’t stand too long in that one place,
or you’ll stand there till you die.
Chelda found her feet and heaved a second harpoon. It flew true. But even with all her gargan strength behind the launch, the tip barely punctured the sea monster’s slimy hide. It was massive, and four of its six tentacles were tipped with shark-like maws; the other two were flippers that looked to fold over, like a hand in mittens, but with gripping, serrated claws in place of knitted wool.
One of the shark-headed tentacles darted down at the water near Zirk. Vanx aimed at the creature’s throat and let the harpoon launcher do its job. This time, the shaft went arcing at its target with at least ten times the speed Chelda had been able to muster. The harpoon fell short of its mark but stuck an arm’s length into its upper abdomen.
Zirk’s scream ended abruptly, and his legs fell into the blood-stained sea. A heartbeat later, Zeezle appeared in the lower rigging, looking terrified, and dripping fresh seawater all over the deck. Vanx could feel Poops’s anger over being latched inside the cabin below. The dog was livid, but Vanx knew it was for the best. He let Poops into his consciousness then, permitting the dog to join the battle through him. It was a good thing, too, for Vanx had to roll out of the way of the sea monster’s grasping tentacle, and Poops’s sense of smell had been what allowed him to know exactly where it was.
The thing got hold of the ship’s mast pole then and used it to tilt the whole ship over, so that the Adventurer was almost lying sideways in the sea.
This is exactly why you’re in the cabin, Poops, Vanx explained as he swung his legs up and hooked them in the skyward facing railing. You’d be in the water if you’d been up here.
No water, the dog barked from within the belly of the ship.
“What do you want of us?” Vanx yelled. He figured the thing could toss the ship away like a man hurling a hay bale or a grain sack. It could cripple the ship on a whim, and the fact that it hadn’t, had Vanx as curious as a cat.
“He’s going to have a chat with it?” asked Castavonti, clinging to the side-rail that was dipping a few inches into the sea.
“Look at his hand,” Zeezle said from the rigging.
Vanx put his hand on the crystal at his throat and started yelling at the creature and pointing away. “Get out of our way!” He squeezed the Hoar Witch’s controlling crystal with all he had. “You’ve no business with us. Now go.”
Oddly, the creature let go of the ship but didn’t leave. It swam there, looking at Vanx through eyes as big around as wagon wheels, then it slapped a large wave at the ship and watched gleefully as the water made the boat lean all the way over one way. Everyone was entangled in something, so no one went stumbling. After cresting the wave, the ship leaned all the way over to the other side. The leviathan’s eyes were locked on the flag flying above the crow’s nest as the boat swung back and forth until it was fully righted again.
“By all the fargin’ hells!” Chelda growled, as she pulled herself from the outside of the railing, up and over, and flopped like an exhausted fish on the planks.
“Ronzon,” Sea Master Castavonti called.
“Aye,” came a weak response from a pile of barrel kegs that had come unleashed and scattered across the back deck.
Vanx positioned himself at the front of the ship. When the creature glanced his way, it might have seen his angry look of defiance, or maybe it was the terrible masthead, but for whatever reason, the monster flinched.
Vanx was offended. The Adventurer was offended, too, and Vanx could feel it. He was inclined to oblige the ship’s want for a show of strength, a demand of respect on these waters, where no single creature held reign.
Vanx sucked in a long, slow breath, remembering the feeling of Pyra doing the same, just before she unleashed her fury on something.
“Take us starboard of its body,” Vanx told Castavonti. “Zeezle, do you remember the wind spell?”
“The one we practiced on the way to Dragon Isle?”
“That’s the one.” Vanx motioned with his hands that everyone should hold on, for the thing was leaning down, about to pluck Vanx from the deck with one of its shark-mawed tentacles.
Vanx uttered the words of one of the Hoar Witch’s spells, called Tempus Fist.
In the span of a heartbeat, a great plume of turquoise energy bloomed around Vanx’s hand, and then it went streaking from his pointed finger at the unsuspecting monster’s fully-exposed chest.
The underbelly tissue was soft, and the creature’s guts were most likely pulverized and definitely scorched. It went flailing backwards, sinking as the muscles it was using to tread water went slack.
“Now!” Zeezle yelled, and Vanx felt Chelda catch him as he crumpled to the deck, suddenly exhausted from casting the potent spell.
The boat went lurching ahead, and Vanx knew they’d gotten clear. He almost laughed when he opened his eyes looking upward and saw Ronzon in the rigging trying to hold on as the ship rode Zeezle’s potent wind wish, but he remembered Zirk’s grisly death, and the moment lost its humor quickly.
Deep inside, he felt the ship’s redemption. The wallop Vanx had given the sea monster would be remembered forever if it hadn’t killed the bastard.
Chapter Five
On an old barrel keg
in the shade I sat
with a pint of watered ale
and a skinny old cat.
Chelda used the Glaive of Gladiolus to heal everyone, but poor Zirk was long dead. His remains were far behind them, already being reclaimed by t
he sea.
The mood was somber, but once the sea mage and Ronzon felt the power of the ancient elven sword, and were granted their request of having Zirk’s full share split between them, their sorrow started to fade.
They didn’t dally. They were clear of the sea beasts’ breeding grounds in a few turns of the glass, and nothing was following them. At least nothing they could detect.
Zeezle used three wind wish spells, each of which was said to cost a day off the end of the spellcaster’s life.
“Three days is a cost,” Vanx said jokingly after they were some distance away from where their ship had been laid over like a child’s toy.
“At least we know we will survive a few more days,” Zeezle joked. “Otherwise, I’d have just used up my last few days and dropped dead.”
Once they were back on course, what goods and equipment they’d not lost overboard were lashed down again, and Vanx’s strength was refortified by way of hot food, prepared this time by Chelda.
A little later Vanx also cast two of the wind wish spells, so that they would reach the island on the wizard’s map that much faster. Now, it was full night, but the mysterious island wasn’t that far ahead.
At least it was supposed to be.
Zeezle was up in the crow’s nest with the full set of looking glasses, trying to spot a land mass in the dim, cloud-filled night.
Ronzon said they were fools, and Castavonti agreed, saying that they’d sailed the trade routes all their lives and would have heard of such an island if there was one.
Half the night later, Vanx was starting to believe them. Ronzon was now up in the crow’s nest, ringing a bell and listening for echoes. Zeezle had climbed even higher and was at the top of the mast pole, leg wrapped in the lines to hold him steady as he scanned the pinkening horizon with the scopes, one after the other.
Poops was down in the galley with Chelda, listening intently for the sound of anything falling to the plank floor. But the dog slipped into Vanx’s head when he heard the whistle of a distant shore bird.
Ronzon hushed everyone then. In the following silence, he struck the bell with its hammer, and the chime rang out, carrying over the sound of the waves sloshing along the Adventurer’s hull.
Poops heard the echo, so Vanx did too. Then Ronzon grumbled something from above about being wrong about the island.
“There.” Zeezle pointed.
“Land ho,” Castavonti called out.
“Land ho!” Ronzon, Zeezle, and Vanx repeated out of habit.
“We’ll find the lee side and drop anchor after the sun shows us the best place to land?” Castavonti gave Vanx a shrug.
“Belay that,” Vanx said, but was nodding his agreement anyway. “Take us all the way around it. I want to sketch the shoreline in detail. Have Ronzon use his pinger to mind the bottom as we go. Keep us fifteen fathoms or deeper. I don’t want to run onto a reef or anything. Find the calmest lee, but don’t drop anchor until I’ve studied the shape of what we see against the wizard’s chicken scrawl.”
“Aye,” Castavonti nodded, acknowledging to Vanx that he was no longer in command. “Should I have a longboat loaded?” he asked. “How many are going, and for how long. It looks like a pretty big island.”
“Can you cast spells beyond those of your current station?” Vanx asked.
“A few,” Castavonti answered unsurely. “I mean, a few light spells and a protective ward or two; my kinetic pulses have a little thump to them still. I think. At least when I’m rested, they do. I can cast a handful in a day.”
“It’ll have to do.” Vanx gave him a forced grin. “We will need you to help detect the exact location of what we are after and slip the wards if there are any.”
“Ronzon, you’ll stay on board with Chelda Flar. Someone go fetch Master Ruuk. He, Zeezle, the sea mage, and I are going a questing.”
“What about your better half?” Zeezle asked, indicating the dog that just came on deck.
Chelda wasn’t far behind the pooch. She must have heard what he’d said, for her cheeks were an angry shade of red, and she was glaring at him.
“Master Ruuk,” Vanx called down the spiral staircase, suddenly changing his mind about who should go with them. “Ship or shore? I’ll let you decide.”
“I’d just as soon stay right here if you don’t mind,” the Zythian replied. He was clearly pleased about this option, for his words held more enthusiasm than anything he’d said since they’d run into the leviathan.
Vanx had to remember the man had lost his charge, Pexicon, in the battle with the Paragon Dracus. The old Zythian was down there fighting more than sea illness. Grief was an ugly bastard. Thankfully, after singing about a hundred thousand laments, Vanx found that when someone in his world died, he didn’t dwell on the loss but on the good times. He gave them a ballad to live in forever, and that was that.
“That settles it. Master Ruuk and Ronzon will stay behind and guard the ship. The rest of us will go ashore, so pack the longboat with a few days’ worth of provisions and gear while Zeezle and I map this place.”
“That’s more like it.” Chelda’s crimson complexion faded back to normal. “Should I put a harness on the pooch?”
“We have one?” Vanx asked, wondering when they’d have picked up such a thing.
“I threw it in the pile when you were clearing out our credit at the harbor. I think it is for swine, but Poopsy has gotten fat enough to fill it, if I widen the leg holes.”
No leash, Poops barked.
“Take it with us, in case we have to climb or haul him up a cliff.” Vanx eyed the dog, not seeing any fat on him, but Poops was twice as thick as he was the last time he’d thought about it. “Take plenty of rope, water, and food, too.”
Vanx darted down into the belly of the Adventurer then and returned with a charcoal pencil, some parchment, and his lodestone compass.
“Get comfortable, Zee,” he called up to his oldest friend. “Once we are close, I’ll be asking you to estimate all sorts of distances and elevations.”
“Aye, Capt’n Vanxy,” Zeezle joked, as he dismissed Ronzon from the rigging to go help Chelda load the longboat. “Don’t forget to put some bedrolls on that tub,” he told the seaman. “Not all of us have a four-legged heater to keep us warm at night.”
Chapter Six
Some things are hard to find, my friend,
some places hard to go.
There’s a reason, most like, they’re so obscured,
because no one’s supposed to know.
The island was roughly shaped like a bean and resembled the wizard’s map enough that Vanx had his bearings pretty quickly. The lee wasn’t in the natural curve, where sandy white beach met coral-green sea, but at its opposite side on the southern, slightly larger end. There was a cut in a steep rise there, and a less graded, lightly wooded area to land the longboat a few oar strokes away.
Even though the beach looked to be most optimal from the map and the terrain’s perspective, anchoring in the lee protected the ship. Vanx was already spying, with the short glass, a path for them to take up and over the ridge to where the wizard’s map showed its “X.”
“If you camp on the hilltop there,” Master Ruuk said, “we will be able to see your fire.”
“So will everything on that island,” Zeezle said. “This is bigger than Dragon Isle. This place could sustain all sorts of dangerous predators.”
“Our ‘X’ is just over the ridge there, near that old dead tree.” Vanx pointed to a place where there was a dead, grey, tangle-limbed oak amid an area of green pines and firs. Perched on one of its limbs was a yellow-beaked buzzard, and when Ruuk nodded that he saw, the bird squawked at them and lifted away, only to dive down below the ridgeline, beyond their field of view. “You’ll be able to sense the heat rising with the fire smoke from here, but we will camp on the other side of the ridge in a shelter even if we have to build it.”
Vanx looked over at Ronzon. “Be sure there is an ax and a saw on that rower.”
By midday, Vanx, Poops, and Castavonti were being pulled swiftly toward the island by Zeezle and Chelda’s smooth, powerful oar strokes. When they landed, Chelda distributed the packs evenly. Then, she, Vanx, and Zeezle hauled the longboat up the shore until it was fully above the high tide line. There, she tied it off to a tree, just for good measure.
Vanx drew his sword but let Zeezle lead. Zeezle had a machete, and though he really didn’t need to, he hacked and trimmed a path of signs, that any of them could follow, as they went.
It was thickly wooded, but the trees were of a size to give plenty of space to walk under them. Chelda had to duck a time or two, and there were thorny shrubs that had to be cut away in a few places, but the uphill journey was less of a climb and more of a hard walk. Only Poops had an easy time of it. The dog was elated to be around so many new smells, and he stopped and peed on everything from tree trunks, to rocks, to deadfall.
“Gah, he’s full of piss,” Chelda laughed.
“Piss and vinegar,” Zeezle replied.
“Shhh,” Castavonti hissed. “Did you hear that?”
“‘Twas just a bird or a coon, man,” Chelda scoffed.
“Nah.” Castavonti shook his head. “It was bigger.”
They stood there a while, all looking around, seeing nothing outside of what one would expect to find under a rich forest canopy.
Vanx had submerged himself into Poops’s perception now and couldn’t smell any danger or threat in the air. “I think we can continue,” he said. “Everyone keep your eyes open, and be on the ready. Who knows what lives around here?”
“‘Twas a deer or a big bird, Vanxy.” Chelda shook her head.
The frozen forests were her element, and Vanx knew she was no fool. She was acting cocky, though. She’d smashed the Paragon’s head flat with that dwarven hammer she was carrying, so he supposed she had a reason to be.
“I hope you’re right.” He grinned at her, but gave Castavonti a look that showed he didn’t doubt the man had heard something.
Then a noise carried across the forest.
The Long Journey Home (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 8) Page 2