“I should have known. The devil himself. Stay away from him. He communes with sea serpents. So many Red Claws have slipped down their gullets. Feeds them live victims. He nearly destroyed Cape Spear.”
She shivered. “My father’s already formed an alliance with the rogue, according to what the wizard told me.”
“We can’t let him!” Darek sprang to his feet.
“Have you seen him? The wizard’s magic is powerful enough to pull ships out of whirlpools.”
“I can defeat him.”
She croaked out a laugh. “Fat chance of that, dragon boy. And forget about talking sense into my father. We’re talking about Serle here, right? Better luck convincing an eel to walk on land. You think you’re going to tell him to back out of some skullduggerish plan to get rich and bleed his enemies dry?”
Darek lowered his head with a grimace. He rubbed his temples, racking his brains for some inspiration. “I have to think on this more.”
“Well, don’t think too long—or you’ll miss your chance to seize the treasure.” She let the seductive hint hang in the air.
She was about to ask more when an eerie horn echoed through the trees from across the bay.
“Serpents’ teeth!” She scrambled to her feet. “Serle’s horn. We have to get back. Now.”
Darek looked around wild-eyed. They raced back to Silver Eye who was napping. He nudged her awake and gave Livis a push up on her back as he as he beetled his way up himself. Dismay hit him that the intimate moment had passed but the thought of Captain Serle and his pirate ships worried him more. A dozen mixed feelings warred in his heart.
Darek guided Silver Eye skyward to pass over the proud, green-boughed sea firs. They plunged down over the shore toward the cove where Livis’s ship gleamed, still beached like a shiny whale. The crew worked with minimal success, hauling on lines as several men shoveled away at sand holding the bow in place. No sign yet of other ships. Maybe the horn was a false alarm? The embankment would shield them for a time, but it was scant cover.
Silver Eye landed with a thud on the ship’s bow. Livis sprang off to address the struggling crew. “Serle’s near! I heard his war horn.”
Others raised their heads from their work. When the mournful sound echoed again across the waves, she snapped a command. “Serpents’ breath! Shovel faster!” She whirled about as a pair of schooners with skulls on their gunnels edged around the shoals of the island. “That’s Serle alright. She flung out a hand at the startled mates. “Farnoss, Pipler, get us off this bar! How could he have found us so soon?”
Maquia gazed with enmity at Darek. “This squeaking porpoise must have brought him straight to us.”
“Mistress, I studied the charts and had the lookout keep watch,” protested Skarlee. “We’ve been aground in the lee too long.”
“Never mind.” She turned to Darek. “You’d better make yourself scarce, Darek. If my father catches you, he’ll tear your legs off. Maybe if I offer him the mage’s gold, he’ll let my crew live—but you?” She winced. “He still thinks it was you who set fire to the village that dark day.”
Darek grimaced. “I guess he would never suspect his own daughter of setting fire to her village.”
“Never mind. Put your backs into it, you sea dogs! or Serle’ll skin us alive!”
Darek’s fingers clutched for his knife. Kraton’s balls! Maybe beaching the craft hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“My dragon can help!” Darek cried. Silver Eye, grab that tow line while I help push!
He readied a small Mobilization spell, something he could use to help move the vessel without attracting attention.
Maquia dragged a heavy hawser from the bow, winding it off the capstan. His mates took hold and wrapped it about Silver Eye’s harness. She growled at them, snipping at their hands, but on a word from Darek, allowed them to secure it around her breast. Darek jumped into the waist-high water and took up position with the other men. Maquia and a group of men spread across the sandbar, pulling the ropes taut.
On his signal, Maquia and her men pulled, aided by the mighty tugs of Silver Eye. The boat shuddered, but still refused to move. “Pull, Silver Eye, pull!” Darek called.
He thrust his back against the boat, using one of spells from Agrippa’s books to strengthen his body for several seconds. He ignored Maquia’s look of doubt and braced himself. Several of the men around him did the same. “Everyone, push!”
“Motus,” he whispered. A surge of power traveled up his spine, pushing out his back. The Singing Gull lurched back into the water—just as the incoming ships veered in like killer barracuda. Shouts grew from the enemy decks, carried over the waves like demon chatter. Harpoons whizzed by, tearing the foresail of Livis’s ship. Darek ran to free Silver Eye as Livis’s crew took battle positions and swung the ship around.
The foremost ship angled in fast, preparing to ram her. Darek took to the air as Captain Serle’s lead ship’s prow smashed into the side railing. Horn-helmed men with eye patches and scars dropped from the rigging and streamed over the rails, yelling, wielding cutlass and knife. Livis fought hand to hand with the invaders while Maquia’s cutlass cleaved limb and skull and threw men overboard. Skarlee’s and Farnoss’s blades rose and fell in red.
Captain Serle stood glaring on the foredeck of the second ship, sword gripped in a clenched palm. His brow gleamed with sweat, his voice hoarse from bawling orders at his men and gloating at his moment of triumph. His eyes caught a glimpse of who it was on the dragon. “You!” His jaw dropped in recognition and his face curled into a sneer, of wrath and disbelief.
“Motus transvenio!” Darek hissed, sending the full force of the Mobilization spell through the pirate raiders like a wave of air. Several boarders toppled over the rail while the others sank to their knees. The spell filled the sails with a contrary wind and the lead craft veered backward as if possessed. The crew of The Singing Gull threw the last attackers overboard as Livis steered the boat away. She headed around the south end of the island and toward open sea.
“Kill that dragon rider!” Captain Serle ordered, looking up at Darek in rage. “Any man who comes between me and my feckless daughter pays with blood!” He ordered his dragon riders to take to the air.
A harpoon skated up, glinting in the golden light, glancing off Silver Eye’s light armor. Darek’s dragon gave a throaty rumble as another caught her flesh, spilling out blood. The tip struck below the breastplate where a seam had burst, leaving her vulnerable. Hot blood began to pour from the wound. Darek wheeled her about and spun down, feeling every bit of Silver Eye’s sting. The rope had snapped but the harpoon’s end still protruded from her chest. Nobody harmed his dragon!
With the hawser still tethering them to The Singing Gull, Darek drew his knife from his hip and leaned forward to hack at the binding around Silver’s chest. The rope frayed then snapped. Silver Eye launched herself away from the ships.
Serle’s dragon riders gave chase, leaving only his ships to pursue Livis. Darek hoped he’d given her enough time to escape, but he couldn’t be sure. He led the other dragons through a series of low dives and spinning rolls, drawing them farther away. The beasts were no match for Silver Eye, a dragon among dragons. After a time, they circled back to the mother ship.
Darek’s mind reeled with the turn of events: the unexpected reappearance of Captain Serle, Cyrus alive, their unholy alliance cemented and the lovely Livis caught in the middle while pirates lurked like crocodiles, waiting to attack.
The game board was a complex mix of pieces. Better to fly back to the Rookery, gather his allies in Jace and the others. Right now, there were too many foes to fight.
Bristling with agitation, he circled high and flew over the water until he found Livis’ ship. She had a significant lead on her pursuers and seemed to be outpacing them. Raising his hand, he waved down to her. She stood looking back from the bow of the retreating ship—raised five fingers, meaning five days until they met at Valkyrie Island.
/> Silver Eye’s wings beat the air with irregular rhythm. Her breath came in labored spurts. He placed his palm on her back and sent a pulse of energy down to the wound, gently pushing out the tip of the harpoon. She gave a soft groan as her body healed and the scales knitted closed.
The wavelets sparkled a million shades of scarlet as the ochre sun moved to the west to sink in a wallow of cloud. Despite the victory of the day, Darek’s stomach felt like lead.
Chapter 11.
Darkthorn Isle
A black flag with dueling dragons rode high on Serle’s lead schooner’s mizzen. He commanded The Persephone with a stern hand, guiding it through the waves like a fine-honed sailfish. His thieving daughter had evaded capture again, but larger prizes were for the taking.
Twelve schooners trailed in his wake as would a pod of whales. Four were commandeered Black Claw vessels outfitted with pirate crews. Captain Varnet, master of The Calliope, had just joined Serle’s fleet. A bluff, blond-bearded man, eager for spoils and slaughter, he ruled with hand almost as stern as his own. Fame tempted the man’s mind, with a longing to make a name for himself. His three ships sailed in unison, crowded with men bearing gleaming swords at the hip, eager to stretch their limbs across the deck of the next ship they fell upon.
The remainder of the fleet belonged to Serle, bringing the count to thirteen ships. He grinned. An ominous number. Unfavorable for his enemies.
The weather stayed fair, a hint of squalls to the south. A steady wind blew from the northeast. Like a flock of snow geese, the rogue ships rode the breeze, tacking back and forth across the blustery reach as they approached Darkthorn, the northernmost and perhaps most unwelcoming isle of the Black Claw territories.
Serle rubbed his leathery cheeks, the skin toughened by decades spent in the sun. If only they could seize enough Black Claw ships in this next raid to cement his power!
Soon enough, he would move against Rivenclaw itself and take the main port. It would cost him in blood and ships, but such a move would yield enough wealth to make up for the losses. Such was the pirate’s code and the game he had played all his life.
The fall of the Black Claw Empire was long overdue—the cursed Black Claws, yes, they would tumble, and his armada would be supreme. Skull and crossbones would ride the flags of every ship from Fairweather Town to Xandu, everywhere across the Serpents’ Deep. He would have the last laugh.
If this strange wizard, Cybox, or whatever the fool’s name was, stayed true to his word, that dream might come true even sooner. Not that he trusted the poisonous sea snake any farther than he could spit. No doubt the man would betray them on the drop of a silver shell. He’d tangled with serpents of his kind before—slimy, slick-tongued and dangerous, with about as much mercy as a striking adder—but this one was an extra special breed.
Perhaps the fool would deliver what he promised and die in the act. With all his heavy black garb and pale, twitchy hands, the wizard had one foot in the grave.
“Sails to starboard, Captain,” grunted Myx, his misshapen gunner. “Shall we engage?”
Serle jerked his attention back to the sea.
“No, Myx, let them flee before us. We’ve bigger fish to skewer. Ahead full sail to Darkthorn Island!”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The helmsman Grar grinned.
Serle reached for the horn of grog at his side and grimaced. His mind, already wrapped in a fog, would require a sober cleansing to ensure victory in the days ahead. Like an incoming storm about to break, the mates moved about the decks with restless mutters, ready to revolt. Livis had already mutinied; others would follow. If they didn’t respect him, they’d fear him.
Keel-hauling Lebe had been a hard choice to make. The wretched bugger had sold him false information and given him lip. So he had deserved his fate. Made him look bad in front of his crew.
He was a harsh captain, but fair. He’d given fifty lashes to the forward deck archer Kestra yesterday, for spilling oil on the deck and nearly setting the ship on fire. The man’s incompetence was astounding and had earned him the flogging as a lesson to everyone.
Serle’s fists clenched. He thought of Livis and what he’d do to her when he caught up with her skulking band. She’d regret stealing his ship. The sniggers behind his back made him want to break heads. How she’d played him for the fool! Her cunning still burned his ears and irked him to no end.
Speaking of which, he still had to punish that lout Besgor for his thievery the other day. He reached for the horsehair flail by the midships cannons, but Hreg grabbed his arm. “Leave it, Serle.”
Serle flung Hreg’s arm off and glared at him. “What’s this?”
“Ever since Yip took that poison arrow and you became chief, you’ve led us into spoils, Serle, I’ll grant you that. But you’ve got to let up on the mates. All that keel-hauling and drunken beating’s starting to wear on the lads. Look! Look at you, you’re like a bleeding executioner. You’re going to have a full-fledged mutiny on your hands before long.”
Serle growled in agreement. “Honest words, Hreg.” He shook his head with a sigh, and threw aside the whip. “Things used to be different, Hreg, simpler. I used to dream of the day I would give my daughter’s hand to some promising captain’s son, like your own boy, Nax. A mother of champions, and to bear me grandsons. Now she’s a renegade, fighting against my command.”
“Livis’s a spirited wench, let’s give her that.”
Serle spat. “Spirited wench? Unruly and defiant is more like it. Taken up with that philandering Red Claw boy again. Serpents’ tails!” Spit from his angry lips flecked the deck. “On a dragon, no less! I’d recognized that glib face anywhere.”
“Yeah, well, his head’ll be pinned to our rails before long.”
Serle gave a snort of disgust. “That’s not the point, Hreg. Won’t change anything. Black Claws’re getting smarter, more desperate. Their ships are stacked with more cannons and deadlier harpoons. Their dragons fight like they’re half-starved. Maybe they are. The Red Claws are no less easy targets, avoiding pirate territory like the plague and protecting their fleets with scores of dragon riders. They retreat to Cape Spear and other safe harbors rather than risk engagement. Can’t say as I blame them.”
Hreg gave a careless shrug. “The few we can catch are faster than dolphins, and run double sails with lighter hulls.”
“Enough. I feel blood in the air; there’s battle in the works.”
The afternoon had grown old and the outliers of dusk crept over the moody swells when the first defenders of Missel Town challenged his fleet. They’d seen his vanguard and now poured out from their stark jut of windswept shore clad in gumwoods and seathorn. Eight Black Claw vessels turned to meet them, aiming harpoons and cannons.
Captain Serle squared himself at the bow, his hand reaching for the pommel of his sword. A single dragon flew across the sky, then another.
Serle’s mouth twisted in challenge as he flung forth a fist to the helmsman. “Engage, Gisor! Show them Kraton’s fury!” He had more ships, and more dragon riders. “Send our riders out to soften their resolve.”
Almost as he hissed out the commands, a stream of arrows rained down from on high and struck the midships deck, one taking the second gunner in the leg, pitching him to his knees.
The crew sprang for shields. Another deckhand caught a shaft in the throat, gurgling out his last breath. Blood stained the deck.
Pinned behind the bulwark, Captain Serle gave a florid curse. “Turn us hard to port and give them a broadside!”
As the ship turned, the next flight of arrows missed wide. The gunners dropped their shields, running to the cannons and rolling them forward.
“Return fire!” Serle yelled.
Cannons roared and the deck of the closest ship exploded, killing scores of the archers aboard.
The dragons collided in the air above, screeching with rage as they raked their claws across armor. Following his orders, Serle’s dragon riders broke after the initial impact and flew in a
wide arc around the Black Claw ships. The Black Claw dragon riders gave chase, exposing their flanks.
“Harpoons!” Serle ordered.
Gleaming iron shot up at the beasts, skimming off the closest dragon’s protective plate. The beast fled under the onslaught.
Other ships of his brigade drove forward into the center, separating the six defending vessels into two groups. Outnumbered and outgunned, the enemy ships slowed and wallowed.
The battle appeared turning to their favor when all of a sudden the lookout gave a shout from above. “Sails to stern!”
Serle swung his bulk around as two Black Claw man-of-war ships appeared. Kraton’s hammers! How did they get behind us?
“They must’ve slipped out of that cove back there,” called Hreg. “An advance guard or something.”
Serle ran to the wheel and gave it a full turn. “Prepare to fire!”
Captain Varnet sized up the situation and broke off from the fight. His wingman’s ship, Seawrack veered in after him. The Calliope’s gunners fired at the lead ship, but the shot flew wide. Serle’s men, still reloading from the last round, stared aghast as cannon shot burst from the first man-of-war and raked her starboard bow. A gaping hole smoked in the railing. Two cannons went up in flames in an explosion of dying men. Varnet’s ship took minor cannon shot, but Captain Darnmeyer’s Seawrack suffered a more serious hit; her forward bow cracked and water spilled in as fire spread across the main deck. The first man-of-war closed in for the kill. The second still barreled toward his ship at full speed. She set in to ram The Persephone.
“Kraton’s beard!” Serle yelled.
Over his shoulder came a thunder of beating wings. Three dragons, the size of small whales, glided over the choppy waves to strike at the two new Black Claw ships. The first dragon, red-bellied and tinged with wide, grey-tipped wings, swooped down upon the enemy craft and seemed impervious to their harpoons. The lead beast with its rider, ripped claws through the main sail, dropping low to rake men with claw-tips. The black-robed wizard riding the dragon clutched glowing stones in his palm and chanted some dire words.
Dragon Mage- Uprising Page 10