“Take aim!” Captain Winther was shouting. Around him, sailors were shouting and pulling harpoons through the dashing rain. “Ready!”
The face of the monster rose above the ship, and it opened its lipless mouth. The smooth head was twice as long as Cuthan’s body. He found himself barely breathing as Captain Winther ordered, “Fire,” and the ship snapped.
A crack split the air, almost deafening the ears of those who were near it. Sailors ducked as wood shattered and flew, breaking the ship into pieces. With a yell, the burly Crons let loose with a volley of harpoons, striking against the rough skin of the sea serpent. It surged forward and opened its mouth, hissing, to reveal two long, curved, yellow fangs, glinting from the roof of its mouth. Golden scales stood up on its back as its body curved over the ship, and it turned clear gray eyes, round as pearls, to stare at the sailors that dared accost it. Roaring it turned and unwrapped its coils before diving head first into the middle of the ship.
“Abandon ship!”
“Jump!”
“Swim!”
Cuthan watched the ship shatter. The wood underneath his feet broke, and he fell backward, watching the black and gold scales of the serpent ripple away. The sea churned around the nimble body of the serpent and the floating blocks of the ship. Cuthan looked up as he fell, shaking his head in disbelief. They had only just started; how could they possibly be failing now? His arms swung out, grasping for something solid to break his fall. Seconds later, his body slammed into the water with such force that he almost screamed. With the wind knocked out of him, he accidentally breathed in while he was under water. His head surfaced above water, and he coughed, spitting the tangy seawater from his mouth. Around him the ship was in chaos, the last of the sea serpent was still disappearing under water, unending the floating pieces of the ship with its tail.
Cuthan gasped as he bobbed in the water, shaking water out of his eyes in time to see the crew members swimming for the remaining three boats that were intact. They were still shouting, and a number of them were cursing as they swam. Some were still pulling ropes with three-pronged arrows attached. He counted them slowly as they floated in the cold waters. Captain Winther was holding on to his ship’s wheel and bellowing orders. The last of the sea serpent had disappeared but hadn’t risen up yet. If it did…Cuthan shook his head and began to swim toward the nearest boat.
The sails floated ominously in the water as barrels and bits of driftwood bobbed.
“Ah.” Artenvox had already climbed aboard one of the vessels. “Come on then.”
“What a mess.” Cuthan grabbed Artenvox’s arm as he scrambled aboard, landing face down in the boat among others legs.
As he sat up, he found himself across from a meaty sailor with a scowl set deep in his rugged face. He was using a piece of wood as an oar, powerfully pulling it through the waters.
“Aim for the islands!” Captain Winther was shouting. “There should be several scattered around here to the west.”
Cuthan turned to Artenvox and bent his head, whispering. “Will the islands have ships? We need a ship to get back to landmass.”
“Ah.” Artenvox shrugged. “How should I know? I haven’t been to any other island aside from Wind Fresh.”
Even as they rowed forward in their boats, the elements fought against them. The rain continued to pour down in a white dash, hitting so hard the droplets hurt. The waves complained as they rose as high as ten feet in the air, only to come hurtling down, tossing pieces of the ships, chairs, bedding, food, barrels of ale, maps, scrolls, and logs in its wake.
Ilieus was sobbing; her own scroll was lost at sea. Phyllis was too frightened for tears, yet she felt some other emotion taking over, blinding her to the fear that shook her body. They were going to die, cut off by the storms of the sea and that hideous monster. She was enraged. It was too soon, and there was nothing she could do to outrun the storm and the creature. Perhaps…perhaps if she had a sword or a bow, she could stop the creature. If she controlled the elements, she would stand up in the boat and order the wind and the waves to pause and let them escape before it continued its wailing temper tantrum. All the same, the waters turned an inky black, and the boat she was in tipped dangerously with the next influx of waves, almost capsizing into the deep. She grabbed a hold of the edge while the rain punished her fingers. She glared at Ilieus. There was no use for tears, crying would do them no good. Reaching down into her lap with her free hand, she felt for her tiny dranagin. Roturk wasn’t there. She felt around in a panic, attempting to peer into the rain. She’d had him when she climbed aboard; surely he wasn’t down there in the waves, drowning.
A shadow hung over the blackening sky, and a hiss of anger roared over the wind and the crashing waves. The sea serpent reared its head again; this time the flattened horns on its head stood up as well as its golden mane of scales. It dived and resurfaced closer to them; it was so close they could see the blueish shimmer of its hard scales in the dim light. Phyllis had a sharp intake of breath; she had never seen a creature so fearsome or so beautiful. Its body snaked its way between the boats while the sailors roared and shouted, loosening harpoons as best they could, but the lack of height and speed rendered them useless. The sea serpent blasted through them like toys, tipping two of the boats over, just for fun, with its rattling tail. Opening its mouth, it bared its yellow fangs, two of them the size of Phyllis’s face. Phyllis recoiled in horror when she saw what it was after. It must have smelled it as soon as they set sail, even though it was only a babe, it wasn’t dangerous.
“No!” Phyllis screamed as she leaped out of the boat, swimming against the wind and waves as she saw the sea serpent dive. The ruby scales of Roturk shimmered right before the sea serpent pounced.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The Island
Perhaps the serpent controlled the sea because the waves became as small as babes, silent and lapping like sorry puppies, looking for a way to win back the hearts of those it wronged. The rain stopped, and the clouds faded, leaving a clear horizon. The sky was pink with longing as the sun began its descent, light stretching out across the blue-green sea, touching its glistening surface with a blessing. The shipwrecked crew floated on the ends of torn boats; some holding on to barrels as they drifted toward the nearest island, an outcropping of trees welcoming them to its shady boughs.
The sunset held as they struggled towards the shore, counting their numbers, realizing a few of them were still missing. The waters became shallow as they reached the bay, floating into the waiting arms of the island. White sands rose to meet them, quickly fading into the palms trees and wild grasses that lined the shore. The mood was tense, furious, and grumpy, but Captain Winther always had his head.
“The water should be fresh!” he called. “We’ll make a fire and hunt for food in shifts. Everyone stays here tonight; we look for help in the morning.”
All said and done, there were only about twenty of them, mostly burly Crons who set to work as quickly as they could. Ilieus and Phyllis lay flat on their backs, side by side on the beach, catching their breaths. Phyllis felt like her insides had been twisted, and she leaned forward to spit into the waters, even though she was parched and hungry. She glanced to where she thought Cuthan and Artenvox would be. Of course, they were helping to search for dry wood on the coast and to find anything to start a fire with. The buzz in the air was thick with unsaid words of anger and grief.
Phyllis balled her hands into fists. She was to blame for this. If she had not brought the dranagin on board, they would all be safely sailing and close to reaching the landmass and the North Forests. She closed her eyes as the dazzling colors of the sunset became muted. Exhaustion took over, and she slept.
***
It was warm when she woke; the weather was calm and balmy, the perfect beauty after the storm. Before she opened her eyes, she could hear the fire singing over the wood, a song in a separate language known only to the fire itself. Creatures from the sea were cooking over it, fish o
f some sort. She could smell their bones and scales roasting and burning into brittle ash. Opening her eyes, she looked up at a blue sky where hazy white clouds drifted above it. She smiled, almost thinking she was back with the Dezzi, but the broad leaves of a palm tree made her sit up. Sand stuck to her cloak as she rose, so she attempted to brush it off.
Cuthan walked over, carrying a platter of wood with slabs of fish on it. “I know it’s not much.” He squatted down. His voice was gentle with a hint of begging. “But eat.” He held it out to her, his bright eyes sneaking toward the palm trees that hid the rest of the island.
Phyllis paused, and she reached for a slab of fish meat. “Cuthan.” She looked at the twinkle in his eyes. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing.” He grinned and winked, handing her the entire platter of wood.
Phyllis looked down at the fish and thought of Roturk. Where was he? Had he survived the assault by the sea monster? She missed his chirps of hunger in the morning and his impatient nips when he didn’t get enough food.
Cuthan stood, his clothes still waterlogged and ripped. “Want to go for a walk?”
“What?” Phyllis spit out a mouthful of fish. It tasted slimy and warm, much like she imagined an eel would taste.
“Captain Winther and his crew are going to search for a ship. He told us to stay in small groups. A large group could spook the inhabitants of the island, if there are any. So I’m thinking we should do our own scouting.”
“Why?”
“Hunt a bit, find better food, and figure out where we are?”
Phyllis leaned over to wake up Ilieus, who sat up and glared at them. She calmed down as she remembered and reached over to help herself to some fish, not even bothering to fix her hair. Phyllis explained where they were off to, but Ilieus shook her head. “Go without me.”
“No.” Phyllis fixed Ilieus with a look. “Please let’s stay together in case things go awry.”
Artenvox, having lost his armor in the shipwreck, joined them after scarfing down his own meal of fish. The four walked up the sloping hill to the trees, stumbling in the banks of deep sand. The cool shade of the palm trees blocked out the sunlight, and they shuffled through tall, white grasses. The palm trees quickly faded, displaying the wide-open expanse of land.
“Wow,” Artenvox breathed as they looked at the island spread before them. Hills of green rippled across the islands with a golden path winding inland. Palm trees still danced across the lush lands, and in the distance, the tips of a castle sparkled in the sunlight.
“Shall we?” Cuthan stepped forward onto the golden road.
It was soft, almost springy, and Cuthan wondered if he could touch the top of a palm tree if he jumped high enough. Round, hairy, brown balls hung from them. A kind of blossom of poisonous fruit perhaps?
“It’s beautiful here.” Phyllis threw her head back in the sunshine, astonished with how different the island was from the landmass. In the islands, it was as if the slow death of the Eastern World did not exist. Perhaps they were immune from it.
Ilieus pointed. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide. “There is something about this place though…”
Cuthan raised an eyebrow. “Come now, we are just out for a morning walk. Everyone loves adventures; besides, we’ve never been to the castle before so that’s where we’re going.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Ilieus muttered.
“Ah.” Artenvox laughed. “Adventure is never wise.”
“Ilieus.” Cuthan moved to walk beside her. “You don’t have to be all doom and gloom; we are off on an adventure. Who knows what can happen next?”
Ilieus frowned. “We are supposed to be in the North Forests. Something is hindering our passage.”
They ignored her as they followed the golden road, winding through hills and curves into the heart of the island. Tall white and green grasses lined the path with wild flowers; their pale purples and yellow faces peeked at them. They waved in the gentle sea breeze, dancing to their own inner tune. Palm trees rose up in the fields, their broad leaves casting shade wherever they stood.
“I could wrap myself in one of those.” Cuthan pointed. “And sleep like the Dezzi in their hammocks.”
“Ah, the Dezzi.” Artenvox shook his long locks. “Would that I could have met them.”
“Their queen.” Cuthan grinned. “Is quite serious, but she would like you much better than she liked me.”
The two chuckled and slapped each other’s shoulders playfully.
“But think,” Ilieus interrupted. “Where do you think we are? What other islands are inhabited aside from Wind Fresh?”
“Plenty,” Cuthan replied. “Just look at a map. There are dozens of islands scattered across the Westiles Sea.”
“I know.” Ilieus reached out, grabbing Cuthan’s arm and halting their progress. “But which ones are inhabited?”
“Wait.” Artenvox spun around to look at them and then froze. “Ilieus, you may have a point. I’ve been down the Westiles Sea before with Captain Winther and his crew. Most of the islands are uninhabited because they are too small to live on. It’s too much work, especially with the storms. There’s nowhere to go when the sea decides to have its say.”
“What are you saying?” Phyllis interrupted, pinpricks of doubt forming in her mind.
“Here.” Cuthan pointed to a person headed their way. “Let’s ask him.”
It was a lone farmer, shuffling down the road and pushing an empty wheelbarrow. A smokeless pipe drooped out of the left corner of his mouth, bouncing with every step. He chewed on the end, mumbling curses and complaints regarding the lack of tobacco. He was a short Cron, but the way he hunched over his wheelbarrow and the dragging lurch of his steps made him appear shorter. Self-care was clearly of no importance to him. His poor attempt to grow a beard left straggly hairs dripping from his chin. Rags, which were more holes than anything else, flapped around his thin body, and as the four drew closer, they were taken aback by the distinct smell of manure.
He paused as they walked up to him, dropping the end of his wheelbarrow with a thump on the golden road. He jerked the pipe out of his mouth. “Aye, what do ye ‘ave ‘ere?”
Cuthan crossed his arms and grinned. “Say, we got attacked by a sea serpent and are a little lost. Would you tell us what island we’ve arrived on?”
“Aye, strangers are ye?” The farmer stuck his pipe back in his mouth and stared at them out of his pale blue eyes, taking in their torn clothing and lack of weapons. “First.” He stuck a finger in the air. “What are ye goin’ ta give me fer in-fer-ma-tion?” He stumbled over the last word; it was much too big and long for him, but it made him feel important.
“What do you want?” Artenvox folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin.
The farmer chewed on the end of his pipe and eyed the four as he considered. “For starters…” He coughed and spat a wad of brown liquid onto the polished surface of the golden road. “Ye ken get rid o’ ‘em.”
“Who?” Artenvox raised an eyebrow.
The farmer jerked a thumb backward toward the middle of the island. “Dem. Ye know.” He shook his head; the wide-brimmed straw hat he wore flopped in the wind. Phyllis noticed it had a hole on the top, letting the sunlight in to burn the thin hairs left on his head. “I’m a-gettin’ a poorer an’ poorer dez days. Ever since dey came.”
“Wait.” Cuthan waved his hand. “What are you talking about? Where are we?”
The farmer wagged his finger, picking up the ends of his wheelbarrow. “See now, I can’t be doing talks with the like of ye. Ye don’t even ken where ye are.”
“Hold on.” Cuthan held out a hand to stop the wheelbarrow’s progress. “What do you want from us?”
Setting down his wheelbarrow, the farmer considered them. “Naw, nothin’ but to keep me own food. Ye see, all I know is, dey need a lot ‘o food over yonder. Got a lot ‘o mouths to feed and eat up all the grown plants in me land. An ta think, dey don’t gimme anything
for it.”
“The Contrevails?” Artenvox asked boldly. “This is their island, isn’t it?”
“Now, now.” The farmer raised a dirty hand, visibly shaking. “I’m all fer the Contrevails. But…some things day do just don’ make sense. We had more here, a-fore dey showed up,” he complained. His eyes turned shifty as he looked at them, and he grabbed the handles of his wheelbarrow. “Spies are ye?”
“We’re not spies,” Phyllis hissed, afraid of the very word.
“Get off this island.” The farmer peered back over his shoulder at them as he marched away. “When dey come, just the noise of de marchin’ sends yer blood a-chillin’. I’ve seen ‘em.” He waved uncertainly back at the castle in the distance. “Thousands of ‘em getting ready fer war. Something ‘ta be proud of at least, but leave a-fore yer one of dem!”
He hurried away, shuffling off the road into the wild grasses.
Ilieus spoke first. “We are on Contres.”
Phyllis swallowed hard. “We should go back to the shore. Before they find us.”
“Wait.” Cuthan reached out to grab her arm before she could run away. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t you see we have to go to the castle now and gather as much ‘in-fer-ma-tion’ as possible,” he suggested, mocking the farmer’s accent. “We’re spies after all, and if we have the opportunity to find out something that could help the Realalons, why wouldn’t we?”
Phyllis yanked her arm away from Cuthan. “Because something terrible could happen to us. They are dangerous, and here we are, lost at sea and running straight into their hands. What if they capture us?”
Cuthan just smirked while Artenvox held up his sapphire ring. “If worse comes to worst, we will charm them.” He grinned as well, and at that moment, the two of them looked like twin jewels.
The Blended Ones (The Four Worlds Series Book 2) Page 19