Ship of Dragons

by C. Greenwood

  I had one other source of hope as our dinghy was about to cast off from the ship. One final pair of boots descended the rope ladder from above and landed with a thud in the middle of the dinghy. It was Nyssa, still dressed as a skinny cabin boy in her floppy hat and loose-fitting coat. Above the tattered collar turned up to her chin I glimpsed her mouth and eyes through a veil of matted, dark hair. Her expression was grim as she caught my eye, as if to say there was little she could do for us. But her very presence made me wonder if she had a plan. I took care not to stare after Nyssa as she took her place with the other pirates at the oars.

  Our party numbered around a dozen as we set off rowing across the choppy waters. It occurred to me that, whether my magic was blocked or not, our odds of escape had just gotten better.

  * * *

  A strange shiver passed through me when my boots first touched the shattered bits of shale that made up the beach. Maybe it was just the breeze off the water, cutting through my clothes. Maybe it was because my legs were wet from scrambling over the side of the dinghy, together with my captors, and wading to shore. All I knew was that a chill crept up my spine as I stood at the ocean’s edge and watched the pirates drag the now-empty dinghy up onto dry land.

  “Are you all right?” asked Basil, beside me. “You look pale.”

  I said I was as good as could be expected considering our circumstances. But secretly it seemed to me there was a strangeness to this new land we had arrived on. There was something tingly in the air, almost like an invisible net spread over the whole area. It reminded me of the way my hand had felt the first time I touched the Sheltering Stone and absorbed its magic. Back then, a tight sensation had traveled up my skin, and it had taken me a while to get used to it.

  I shook aside the memory. It wasn’t magic I was feeling. Surely there could be no magic in this land, certainly with Captain Ulysses’s nathamite machine back on the ship but still in close range. Anyway, nobody around me seemed to feel anything.

  Evening was coming on, and the sun was dipping lower in the sky by the time our dinghy was safely out of the water’s reach and our entire party stood on dry land. I assumed we would immediately continue traveling inland to whatever destination Ulysses had brought us here to see.

  Instead, the captain gave orders for a camp to be set up at the foot of a bluff some distance from the sea. The reason for the delay soon became apparent. Another boat, this one larger than our dinghy, was rowing across the water toward us. It had been launched from the Sea-Vulture, and to my unease, I saw what was causing it to ride so low in the water. It was Ulysses’s machine. For some reason the pirates were undertaking the risky task of moving the heavy object from the ship to the shore.

  By the time they reached us, the western horizon was splashed with red and the shadows of the surrounding bluffs stretched long across the beach. It took the work of several men to unload the machine from the second boat. Many who had come ashore with us rushed to help the others as they landed. Basil and I too were made to wade into the shallows and assist with carrying the weighty machine. The pirates had also brought over a cart and ropes, presumably for moving the machine over the rough countryside later. I wondered at Captain Ulysses’s determination to bring the thing with us.

  By the time the work of unloading the machine was finished, I felt as exhausted as Basil and our pirate captors looked. Yet the dinghies went back across the water, collecting more of the Sea-Vulture crew. I couldn’t imagine what Ulysses wanted so many of us for. We settled into a camp beneath the bluffs, where we ate a hasty meal and waited for morning. Even when we slept, Basil and I were given no opportunities to escape, each of us being bound to guards on either side of us. It was an unsettling way to spend the night, surrounded by filthy, foul-smelling pirates. I stayed awake until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, listening to the snoring of my companions. Basil and I couldn’t talk without being overheard. I knew Nyssa was somewhere nearby, but it was impossible to get her attention either without attracting the wrong kind of notice.

  And so I watched the moon on its path across the sky and tried to plan for whatever surprises tomorrow would bring.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  In the morning we stirred before the dawn while it was still dark outside. Huddled over a cook fire, I tried to fend off the cold that seemed to have crept up from the ground in the night and settled into my bones. At least Basil and I were both fed this morning. Better yet, we had been unbound so that we could feed ourselves.

  I had slept unexpectedly well, despite everything, my rest soothed by dreams of gentle cleansing rain and the swirling waters of a dancing stream, swollen with fresh rainfall. There was something else too, a woman’s voice mingling with the rain. Or maybe it was the pattering water I heard speaking with a humanlike voice, singing words I could never quite make out.

  Strangely, there was no real rain during the night, and when I woke, it was to find the ground dry. As the edge of the sky began to turn gray with the light of early dawn, I saw there were no clouds overhead, no hints at an oncoming storm. For once, it seemed that my dreams were meaningless. Last night’s visions of rain and overflowing riverbeds were just the same senseless jumble of ordinary thoughts as anyone else’s dreams.

  By the time the sun was up, our small army had broken camp, and with a row of men towing along the heavy machine on its cart, we set out traveling inland. At first it was unclear to me how we were to move our burden through such uneven terrain. But Captain Ulysses appeared to know the countryside well, and he led us unerringly to a smoother path that circled the bluffs and cut through the hills on the other side. The way was overgrown and looked as if it had not been traveled in many years, but it was still the easiest way forward.

  As we passed between the rocky hills, I noticed that our party was a member short. Looking around, I saw that Basil’s sister had slipped away from the rest of us. I glimpsed her in the distance, a skinny figure in loose coat and floppy hat, carrying a bag on her shoulder and clambering over one of the near hills to disappear over the other side. Nobody else seemed to notice her departure. I wondered where she was sneaking off to and if it had anything to do with a potential rescue plan for Basil and me. Then again, maybe she had simply been sent on an errand by Ulysses. Either way, I said nothing to draw attention to her leaving.

  We had traveled about an hour inland when we rounded a wall of rock up ahead and, coming out the other side, found an amazing sight before us. An entire tiered village had been carved out of the rocky hills before us. The stone homes were built at different levels against the backdrop of steep green mountains. The structures were massive, square-shaped and flat-roofed, and all created of the same brown rock. Some of the biggest buildings were ornate and had nightmarish faces carved into their walls.

  “Behold Abderion,” Captain Ulysses announced to our party.

  From the exclamations of surprise from the pirates, I realized Basil and I weren’t the only ones seeing the place for the first time.

  Wondering what sort of people lived here, I scanned the doorways and dusty streets of the city. But as we drew closer, it became clear that this was no inhabited city but the ruins of a place that had been abandoned for some time. I also began to see signs of why they might have left. Some of the homes were damaged, and bits of rubbish lay in the streets as if the owners had left in a hurry. Wind, weather, and wild animals had carried off many possessions that must once have littered the area. But enough remained for me to imagine a scene of chaos and destruction.

  For an instant a memory flashed through my mind of the crowd of dragonkind who had stampeded through the streets of Corthium looking for escape in the final hours before the Ninth Isle sank.

  “What happened here?” I asked Ulysses as our path led us to the city gates. “Where have the people gone?”

  “The native inhabitants have not lived here in twenty years,” Ulysses answered. “They were slaughtered or hauled away and enslaved by Gold Ship Voyagers who rai
ded the city.”

  I was surprised at how somberly he said it, for I would not have expected a murderous pirate to be troubled by the violent fates of others. But this place meant something to Ulysses. I could see it by the distant look in his eyes when he took in the ruins. It was as if he were remembering something.

  Passing between the towering posts of the broken gate, I shivered. It was as if all those long-dead inhabitants were warning me not to enter their city. This was a place of death. But I had walked in the footsteps of the dead before, I reminded myself, such as the time I visited the island of Chythus, which had suffered a similar fate to that of my home island. I summoned my courage and told myself there were no cursed spirits to fear here.

  But Captain Ulysses seemed to see ghosts where I did not. His eyes wide, he walked to the cracked remains of a long-dry fountain standing in the road and laid his hand against the broken statue of a woman wearing an ivy wreath around her head.

  “This was called the queen’s well,” he said. “Once a boy played here, stealin’ coins out of the fountain.”

  In a sudden flash of insight I realized aloud, “You were that boy.”

  That explained why the pirate looked so moved as he took in the ruins of the city. He was coming home.

  Ulysses spun around, taking in the towering walls and empty windows looming over us.

  “I survived the destruction and the plundering while my family and all our neighbors were killed,” he said. He spoke hollowly, as if so caught up in the memory that he had forgotten whom he was speaking to. “Carried away and enslaved by the Gold Ship Voyagers, I was forced to work aboard a Voyager ship for years until I finally escaped. But I learned during that time, learned the ways o’ the sea and how to command men and put fear into my enemies. Afterward, I got my hands on a ship o’ my own, collected a crew, and spent my youth as a bloodthirsty pirate. But I never forgot where I came from, never lost my hunger for revenge.”

  I took in his story. It explained many of his actions. Still I didn’t make the mistake of sympathizing too much with the captain. He’d lived a cruel, selfish life and doubtless killed a lot of innocent people in his time. There was no reason to think I wouldn’t become one of those victims. Already I had been taken prisoner for purposes I didn’t understand.

  “How do you intend to get the revenge you speak of?” I asked.

  The pained expression left his face to be replaced by a look I was more familiar with. Once again, the glint of madness and obsession came into his eyes.

  He said, “Through the ancient texts I came across, I became familiar with magic and its uses. That day in the Blue Mermaid, when I saw the glow of magic from your hand, I recognized it for what it was.”

  He had told me this before. I waited patiently for new information.

  He continued. “The seas are full of stories of a dying race that consorts with dragons and commands awesome powers drawn from the very rocks of their hidden islands.”

  It made sense that the sea traders who visited the Ninth Isle would spread around stories of the dragonkind. I didn’t bother to correct the facts Ulysses was getting wrong.

  He continued, “It was clear you knew nothing of the potential of your power. But I knew if I found a way to make your magic my own, I could accomplish anythin’. I could even turn back the hours and the years to go back in time and defeat my enemies before they could destroy all this.”

  He swept his arm in a circle, indicating the surrounding ruins.

  I stared at him, stunned, as his intention finally became clear. He meant to use my magic as a time travel device, much as I had accidentally used the minute glass for a similar purpose once. Only he did not know what I did, that such a feat consumed a dangerous amount of energy. That day when Basil and I were wrecked upon the rocks of Zoltar’s mountain, I had only traveled back a few minutes in time to change our fate. The effort had nearly killed me. I couldn’t imagine the amount of power it would require to go back twenty years. Fear rippled through me.

  “It can’t be done.”

  I didn’t realize I had spoken the words aloud until Ulysses whirled to glare at me. Still I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. “What you want is impossible. No one can push time back that far. And even if they did, they would have no remaining magic to change the course of events. They would be drained of their power by the very attempt, burned to a dried-out husk.”

  The spark of anger cooled in Ulysses’s eyes, and to my surprise, his manner became unexpectedly serene. “If that is the case, we will soon know it,” he said calmly.

  He turned and stalked off ahead, leading the way. More slowly, our party and equipment followed him down the abandoned street.

  “The man has lost his wits,” Basil whispered, falling in alongside me.

  I didn’t answer. Mad or not, Ulysses was the one with all the power right now. With the nathamite machine rolling along on the cart behind us, I had no ability to access my magic to put a stop to his scheme.

  As we wandered deeper into the city ruins and the shadows of the crumbling buildings fell over me, I had the dreadful sense that I was walking toward my own grave.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Nobody but Ulysses seemed to know where we were going. But the mad pirate captain appeared to have a definite destination in mind, and the rest of us followed him into the heart of the city. The afternoon sun was high overhead when we climbed a set of steep stone stairs and reached a pinnacle overlooking the surrounding ruins and the valley below. I could see the sea in the distance and the indistinct shape of the Sea-Vulture anchored offshore, awaiting our return. Or awaiting the return of whichever members of our party made it back alive. I was beginning to realize I wasn’t meant to be one of them. More than likely neither was Basil.

  With an effort, Ulysses’s followers were unloading the nathamite machine from its cart and carrying the heavy object up the steps. This busied many of them, but there were still plenty of armed pirates on hand to guard the prisoners. All the same, I knew this might be our last and best chance for escape.

  I scanned the area, looking for a route to flee by. We stood in an open space that might once have been a spot for official ceremonies or announcements. There were stone arches on every side of the square, with steep, pebbled paths leading down the sides. None looked safe to descend except for the stairs we had taken on our way up. Neither was there any place to hide. From here anyone could command a view down the hillsides and into the ruins. More importantly, our guards were standing near enough to prevent any attempts to dodge them and dive down the hill.

  They had made it to the top now, and the evil-looking machine was dropped onto the stone tiles at our feet. The crashing noise it made echoed through the valley. A network of cracks shot across the tiles.

  Unconcerned with the damage, Ulysses looked the machine over with a satisfied eye.

  “I searched far and wide for this device.” He seemed to be speaking to no one in particular. “When I first read of the existence of such a thing, I knew it would be necessary for my purpose. But I had to look in unexpected places and go to great expense to find it.”

  He made a sudden motion to a pair of pirates on either side of me, and I found myself seized and dragged over to the machine.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded as another enemy stepped up to begin binding me to the machine with its attached chains.

  “Unfortunately, a machine such as this does not operate itself,” answered the captain. “It needs a source of power, a source of magic.”

  “But if you feed the device with Isaura’s magic, that could kill her.” Basil stepped in to protest.

  “Hence the word unfortunate,” Ulysses answered.

  He made a motion, and other bystanders moved to take hold of Basil, I supposed to bar him from interfering.

  Fighting my rising panic, I made a last effort to persuade Captain Ulysses of the foolishness of his plan. “What you hope for is impossible,” I told him. “I don’t have the po
wer to change the past even if I could carry us back that far. I’ve attempted something like this once before, and it nearly destroyed me.”

  That admission got his attention.

  “But did it work?” he asked, excitement and hope in his voice.

  I refused to answer. The truth was my accidental time travel had saved my life and Basil’s. It’s only negative effect was that it had almost killed me. But confessing as much would hardly help my case.

  Ulysses must have read the truth from my silence. “So it can be done,” he said, nodding to himself, although he had hardly seemed to need the confirmation.

  The news seemed to spur him to hasty action. He strode around to the other side of the machine and adjusted a series of small wheels and gears I could only see out of the corner of my eye. I felt a sudden shock, as if I had been struck by lightning, and then a wild rush of power surged through me. My hand’s faint glow abruptly blazed into a bright light that made me wince.

  I hadn’t felt the full force of my magic since being shackled in the nathamite the first time the pirates had held us captive. It should have been a relief to feel it flowing through me again. Only something was different now. I tried to draw on the power, tried to form one of my invisible shields, but the magic was slippery. I couldn’t get hold of it.

  “Something’s wrong,” I muttered in confusion. I felt the power, but it was as if I was merely conducting the magic as it passed through me on its way somewhere else.

  I looked around me to see all eyes were not on me but on the machine. The nathamite device was alight in a fire of reddish-purple light that reflected off the amazed faces of Basil and the pirates.

  I didn’t understand what was happening. The metal should have been blocking my magic. But whatever adjustments Captain Ulysses made had somehow reversed the workings of the device. Instead of blocking my magic, it was now amplifying it. Simultaneously, the power was being harnessed by the machine so that I could not access it. I didn’t have time to wonder how this was possible.