Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles (32 page)

 
          
* * * * *

 
          
The
drumchanter set a brutal beat, but Lord Kell’s oarsmen didn’t complain. Kell
himself paced the main deck, staring out to sea, as if he could will their
quarry to appear. Karista Meinor stayed close by his side. Stormclouds trailed
in the boat’s wake, threatening to blot out what remained of a glorious
afternoon.

 
          
Kell
stopped near the bow and peered ahead, his mood mirroring the darkening
weather.

 
          
“They
can’t be too far over the horizon,” Kell said, as much to himself as to the
aristocrat.

 
          
“Is
that what your dragon allies tell you?” Karista asked.
“Aye.”

 
          
“And
you’re sure you can trust them?”

 
          
Kell
looked slightly offended.
“Of course.”

 
          
“The
reason I ask,” Karista said deferentially, “is that there may be quite a bit of
wealth involved, and the propensity of dragons for treasure is well known. If
one of them should find the hoard before we do ... can we be sure they would
use it for the glory of the Order?”

 
          
Kell
smiled sympathetically at her and put his arm around her smooth shoulders. “If
Lord Thrakdar desired this treasure, he wouldn’t need
us
to get it. Indeed, I would give it to him gladly, if he asked.
That he allows me to pursue this bounty for the glory of the Order is a great
honor. To be aided by his consort Tanalish is an honor nearly as great. When
you have been in the isles longer, you will understand these things.”

 
          
Karista
smiled up at him, her steely eyes flashing. “I’m sure I will, milord. I look
forward to the ... mutual edification our trade pact will bring.”

 
          
The
lord of the dragon ship gazed into her eyes; she did not turn away. “Aye,” he
said quietly. “We have much to learn, you and I.”

 
          
“My
lord!” a brass-armored warrior called, pointing to the sky. “A dragon comes!”

 
          
Kell
and Meinor looked up. Far over head, a bright yellow dot, like a shooting star,
moved through the darkening sky. It arced lazily toward the ship, angling in
from the east, to catch the onrushing wind.

 
          
Lower
it streaked, resolving itself into the form of a huge brass dragon. The rays of
sunlight leaking through the stormfront danced on her wings in a dazzling
display. She dove straight for the trireme, not breaking speed at all.

 
          
Karista
edged closer to Kell and put her hand on the crook of his arm. “Don’t worry,”
the lord said. “It’s just Tanalish.”

 
          
“I
fear, milord, that all dragons look alike to me.”

 
          
“Another
thing you will learn,” Kell replied. “If she were a hostile, we’d be dead
already.” He and Karista moved to one side of the bridge as the dragon swooped
toward them.

 
          
As
Tanalish came in, she stretched and became thinner. Her wings trailed out
behind her, becoming long, gossamer silks. Her face grew shorter and rounder.
Her body twisted and took a womanly shape.

 
          
Flitting
under the furled sails, she landed on the deck only three strides away from
Benthor Kell. As her bare foot touched down, she was no longer a dragon, but a
beautiful young woman.

 
          
Her
eyes were bright green, like new-born leaves in spring. Her wavy golden hair
hung down over her smooth, dark shoulders. Her body was that of a sensual young
goddess, and she moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. A shimmering, gossamer
gown clung to her perfect form. The dress glittered like brass in the sunshine.

 
          
Karista
tightened her grip on Kell’s arm, and her breathing became shallow; the ship’s
crew instinctively fell to their knees.

           
“Milady Tanalish,” Kell said,
bowing. “What news?” Lady Meinor bowed as well.

 
          
“Red Wake
is near, Benthor Kell,” the dragon
in human form said. “I have seen the people you seek—the sea elf, the kender,
and the human—wandering her decks.” Her green eyes flashed. “Shimanloreth is
with them, too, and this I do
not
like.”

 
          
“He’s
a pale shadow of his former self,” Kell replied. “The wound the overlords gave
him grieves him still. I’m sure you can handle him should it become necessary.”

 
          
The
dragon nodded.
“As you wish, Benthor Kell.
The storm
will break before we reach them, though.”

 
          
“This
cursed weather,” Kell said. “We’ve had more of it lately than I’ve seen in my
whole lifetime.”

 
          
Tanalish
frowned. “The Veil is weakened,” she said.
“Storms seep in
from outside.
It is a concern.”

 
          
“Let
the dragon lords worry about such things,” Kell said. “You and I—and lord
Thrakdar-—must strengthen the Order, lest the encroaching chaos catch us
unprepared.” He paced to the bow and gazed toward the onrushing storm. Karista
trailed behind.

 
          
“We
must have these people, Tanalish,” he said. “Or, at least, the keys they’ve
stolen. Our mission depends on it.” He turned back to the dragon and gazed into
her bright green eyes. “See to it.”

 
          
“Your
will is mine as my lord’s, Benthor Kell,” Tanalish said, bowing slightly. The
dragon-woman leaped over the side of the trireme, transforming as she fell.

 
          
Tanalish
stretched out her arms, like a cliff diver aiming for the surf. Her glittering
yellow gown lengthened, the sparkling metallic flecks on its surface changing
to hard brass scales. The dress’ billowing pleats became the leathery membranes
between the bones of her wings. Tanalish brushed low over the waves, the armor
of her huge belly sending a spray of mist into the sky.

 
          
With
two quick beats of her titanic wings, the brass dragon soared high into the air
once more. She executed a series of tight spirals and disappeared into the
advancing clouds.

 
          
Lord
Kell smiled.

 
          
* * * * *

 
          
“Damn
this storm!” Jerick the Red bellowed. “Secure the hatches and trim the sails.
Watch your feet, there! We won’t be stopping to fish anyone out of the drink!”

 
          
Torrents
of rain spattered
Red Wake
. Wind
ripped across her sails and surging waves tossed the galleon up and down. The
ship rocked precariously, but her seasoned crew was well used to squalls.

 
          
Mik
slogged over the waterlogged deck to Trip and Ula, standing near the bow. The
joined key shone faintly at the sea-elf s belly, making the other pieces of
jewelry in her web-like attire glitter. Trip clung fast to the gunwale,
enjoying the feel of the wind and rain on his small face.

 
          
“We
should all get below,” Mik said. “Red doesn’t need our help on deck. We’ll only
get in the way.”

 
          
“And
miss this great show?” Trip asked, disappointed.

 
          
Mik
ignored him and spoke directly to Ula. “I’d hate to have that bauble washed
overboard with you.”

 
          
“That
would defeat the purpose of my wearing it,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

 
          
“Perhaps
we should trust each other,” he said.
“At least a little.”

 
          
She
smiled; even in the rain she looked lovely.
“Perhaps a
little.”

 
          
Shimmer
appeared beside them.

 
          
“What’s
keeping you?” the bronze knight asked. He kept his helmet closed against the
rain. “We should get below and let the captain’s men do their jobs.”

 
          
Ula
smiled again and leaned against the rail. She looked nearly as comfortable in
the downpour as she did underwater. “The minnow and I are in no hurry. We like
the storm. You and Mik go below if you like.”

 
          
Mik
glanced from her face to the incomplete key at her belly. “We’ll wait,” he
said.

 
          
“Light off the stem!
Light off the stem!” the ship’s lookout
cried.

 
          
Jerick
cursed.
“Where away?”

 
          
“Ten
degrees to starboard,”
came
the reply.

 
          
“What
kind of ship?” Mik called.

 
          
The
lookout peered into the storm. “Sea’s too high to
he
certain. Yellowish galley, I think.
Closing fast.”

 
          
Jerick
cursed again. “Let’s hope that’s not Lord Kell.”

 
          
“It’s
Kell, all right,” Ula replied. “Only a fool or a fanatic would follow us into
this storm.”

 
          
Mik
took Ula by the arm. “Now would be a good time to go below, I think,” he
shouted over the storm. Ula nodded, as did Trip and Shimmer.

 
          
The
four of them had taken only a step toward the hatch, though, when the ship
heaved and pitched them all to the deck.

 
          
Ula
swore and untangled herself from Mik. The two of them rose unsteadily to their
feet. Shimmer got up more slowly, leaning against the gunwale and clutching his
left shoulder.
Trip, still sitting, pointed and cried,
“Look!”

 
          
They
turned as a large brass dragon streaked out of the clouds. The dragon dove
straight for the deck of
Red Wake.
Jerick’s
crew shouted futile cries of warning. Mik grabbed his sword, and Ula stooped to
retrieve her spear from where it had fallen. Shimmer gmnted and heaved himself
to his feet.

 
          
In
an instant, the dragon shrank smaller, darting between the galleon’s masts like
a huge metallic bird. Terrified sailors leaped out of the way as she passed;
several fell to the deck with bone-cracking impacts.

 
          
The
dragon extended her claws.

 
          
Mik
brought up his sword and slashed at her, too late. The creature crashed past
the sailor, toppling him to the planking before he could make a second cut.
Trip stabbed at the dragon with his daggers, but the wyrm’s armor turned the
tiny weapons aside. A slap from a brass-scaled wing cast Shimmer over the rail
of the ship. The bronze knight splashed into the dark, heaving waters below.

 
          
The
dragon seized Ula in her hind talons and yanked the startled elf off the deck
before Ula could even raise her spear. The impact knocked the weapon from the
Dargon- esti’s hand, and it clattered to the deck of
Red Wake.
Growing to full size again, Tanalish dragged her captive
into the torrential sky.

Shimanloreth

 
          
“Ula!”
Trip cried, peering up at the rapidly disappearing
sea elf.

 
          
“Knight overboard!”
Jerick called. “We can still reach him
if he hasn't been swept away
! ”

 
          
Mik
staggered to his feet. He glanced from Ula to the place where Shimmer had
fallen over the side. The sea elf was too far away to help. “C’mon, Trip!” he
said, shouting to be heard above the storm.

 
          
The
two of them skidded up next to Jerick at the rail, where Shimanloreth had gone
over. Luckily, the bronze knight had seized a frayed rope dangling over the
side. He dangled in the waves, grunting with every impact as the surf battered
him against the hull.

 
          
Mik,
Trip, and Jerick grabbed the rope and pulled, but the three of them made little
progress.

 
          
“He’s
heavier than he looks,” Mik said.

 
          
“Where’s
Ula?” Shimmer called. “Is she safe?”

 
          
“The
dragon took her!” Trip called back before Mik could stop him.

 
          
The
knight howled in anguish. “I have to save her!” he said.

 
          
“How
can you save her?” Mik said. “Worry about saving yourself! Climb up the rope,
blast you!”

 
          
“Stand
back!” the bronze knight snarled.

 
          
He
reached up and the tips of his bronze-gloved fingers grew long spiky nails.
Digging his claws into the side of the ship, he climbed relentlessly up to the
rail, growing larger as he came. The gunwale splintered under his grip.

 
          
Mik
and the others backed away as Shimmer heaved himself aboard.

 
          
The
bronze knight stood nearly twelve feet tall, and was still growing. He threw
back his head and screamed as curving horns sprouted from his helmet. Thunder
crashed, echoing his agony.

 
          
“What’s
happening to him?” Trip cried.

 
          
Shimmer’s
back bulged inhumanly, his huge muscles rippling and changing beneath his
armor. Bronze spikes sprouted from his shoulders, at his elbows, and along his
back. His metal-shod feet split into long, sharp talons.

 
          
He
grew even larger. His body stretched and became more monstrous with each
passing moment. The spikes at his shoulders shot outward and split into
segments, like hideous, skeletal hands. Inhuman webbing knitted itself between
the long, thin fingers.

 
          
His
jaws thrust forward and his orange eyes bulged out of the eyeslits in his
faceplate. He screamed, and the pointed snout of his face ruptured open.
Shimmering light escaped from his mouth along with his terrible, tortured wail.

 
          
Striations
ran along the length of his body as his armor cracked. Between the fissures,
his bronze skin bulged in scaly, ragged lumps.

 
          
The
ship seemed in danger of capsizing under his massive weight.
Red Wake's
gunwale tottered toward the
crashing waves. With a parting glance at Mik, Shimanloreth threw himself over
the side once more.

 
          
Mik,
Trip, and Jerick raced to the splintered rail and gazed over the stormy sea.
They did not find their friend in the whitecaps below. His transformation
complete, Shimanloreth was rising awkwardly into the sky as a large bronze
dragon.

 
          
“I
was wondering if he might do that,” Jerick said.

 
          
“You
knew?” Mik asked, incredulous. “You knew he was a dragon and you didn’t mention
it?”

 
          
Jerick
shrugged. “Everyone in the isles knows the tragic story of Shimanloreth.”

 
          
“What’s
wrong with his wing?” Trip asked, gazing in awe at the transformed knight. Shimmer’s
left shoulder and wing looked scarred, deformed.

 
          
“The
dragon overlords crippled him,” Jerick replied. “He can’t fly very well—from
what I hear. I think his injuries hurt less when he’s in human form.”

 
          
“Which
is the only way we’ve seen him,” Mik said thoughtfully.

 
          
“But
couldn’t the good dragons heal him or something?” Trip asked.

 
          
“If
you want to ask them why they didn’t, be my guest” Jerick said, “assuming you
can find them.”

 
          
“The
other dragon is larger,” Mik said. “Can he heat her?” “Shimanloreth’s toughness
is legendary,” Jerick replied, “but Tanalish is one mean dragon.”

 
          
“Do
you have a how you could lend me?” Mik asked, trying to gauge the distance
through the storm.

 
          
“They’re
out of range, mate,” Jerick said. “There’s nothing we can do but watch.”

 
          
* * * * *

           
Shimmer rose quickly through the
blinding storm toward Tanalish. Lightning flashed all around them, and thunder
shook the heavens. The wind swirled and gusted, smashing the driving rain into
the metallic bodies of the dragons and the form of the struggling sea elf.

           
Ula twisted in Tanalish’s
iron-thewed claw, but she couldn’t even reach her dagger to fight back. The
gemstone key pressed sharply into her belly, but her web of jewelry held it in
place. Lances of pain shot up her spine as the dragon squeezed her. “Let go of
me!” she yelled.

 
          
If
Tanalish heard the elf, she made no reply. Rather, the brass dragon wheeled to
face the oncoming menace. She opened her mouth and belched a burning, sulfurous
blood- red cloud. The cloud sparked and sizzled, billowing large despite the
wind. The toxic vapors fanned out across Shimmer’s flight path.

 
          
“A
warning, Shimanloreth,” Tanalish hissed. “Keep back. This doesn’t concern you.”

 
          
“Ula
concerns me,” Shimmer rumbled. “She’s my friend. You have no right to take
her.”

 
          
“She’s
a thief, an enemy of the Order of Brass and a threat to the isles,” Tanalish
replied.

 
          
“Fish oil!”
Shimmer boomed. “Give her back or you’ll regret
it.”

 
          
A
smile creased the brass dragon’s scaly lips. “You’re no match for me,
Shimanloreth. Your wing is crippled, almost useless. Fly back to the ship and
lick your wounds.”

 
          
Shimmer
didn’t reply. Instead, he lunged forward, extending his jaws toward Tanalish’s
long neck. The move surprised the brass, and she barely jerked her head aside
in time.

 
          
Shimanloreth’s
fangs raked across her throat, and his powerful hind talons seized the leg
holding Ula.

 
          
“Let
go or I’ll drop her,” Tanalish hissed. She snapped at Shimmer’s face, but he
ducked out of the way.

 
          
“You
don’t dare,” Shimmer said. “Kell wouldn’t allow it”

 
          
Tanalish
tucked her wings and sent them into a frenzied spiral. She coiled her tail
around Shimmer’s and continued to bite at his face. Shimmer fought back,
fending off her foreclaws with his own and counterattacking with his horns.

 
          
Red,
oily sweat began to bubble up on his bronze carapace. He panted with the
effort, his breath sounding like huge bellows.

 
          
Tanalish
laughed and brought one armored knee up into her opponent’s belly. She jerked
away, disentangling the two of them. Ula’s guts jumped as the brass dragon
lurched upward again.

 
          
Momentarily
falling, Shimmer lashed up with his head. One of the long spikes behind his
horns slashed across Tanalish’s cheek, close to her eye. The brass dragon
screamed.

 
          
“Son
of a fetid egg!” she howled. “You’ll pay for that.”

 
          
Turning,
she lunged straight at Shimmer’s eyes. The bronze dragon ducked aside, hut it
wasn’t his face Tanalish aimed for. Throwing her jaws wide, the brass dragon
sank her long fangs into Shimmer’s left shoulder, right where it joined his
crippled wing.

 
          
* * * * *

 
          
“Look
at them go!” Trip said, using one hand to shield his eyes from the wind and
rain. The battling dragons looked like metallic birds high up in the storm. “I
wish they were closer, so we could see
better
.”

 
          
“So
do
I
,” Mik added, hefting Ula’s fallen spear.

 
          
“Thank
the gods they’re not,” Jerick the Red growled. “We’ve enough trouble as it is.”
He was rallying his men to secure the sails before the storm ripped them to
tatters.

 
          
Mik
ducked out of the way of a loose line whipping over the deck. “Ship to
starboard!” he cried, pointing.
“Ship to starboard!”

 
          
Over
the top of a huge swell surged Lord Kell’s trireme, its brass ram aimed
straight at
Red Wake’s
hull.