Dragonfang (28 page)
Jelindel pulled the knife from the corpse and slashed through
the rope. The wheel spun crazily and the
Dragonfang
plunged leeward. Someone fell from the rigging and landed soddenly on the deck. The great wheel spun out of control. With no way to grip it, Jelindel steadied herself against the railing.
‘
Vec-takine
,’ she whispered. Faint tendrils of blue energy poured from her mouth and enveloped the spinning wheel. The
Dragonfang
gave a sudden lurch and Jelindel stumbled towards the bowsprit. The wheel stopped spinning as the water-weakened spell gripped it.
Suddenly the
Dragonfang
slewed sideways as a clipper scraped against it broadside. Grappling hooks careered across the starboard gunwale. The privateers were clinging to the
Dragonfang
like leeches. Jelindel’s spell broke. She gripped the wheel firmly and watched helplessly as the screaming brigands swung across on rigging.
In desperation, Jelindel spoke another word of binding. The result surprised her almost as much as it did the brigand it enveloped. He was in mid-swing across the water when the blue snare caught him. He dropped like a rock, writhing and struggling to escape the binding spell.
Several privateers faltered when they saw him plummet into the water. At least three of them toppled from the railing and fell overboard as the vessels ground together like colliding behemoths.
Jelindel immediately snared three other brigands who were clambering aboard the
Dragonfang
. They were weak spells, but they held. Yelps of pain and fear swept the besieged craft. Magic was afoot and it shouldn’t be. Not on the high seas. Wind chanters were sometimes employed by rich merchants, but never by sole traders. The
Dragonfang
’s crew, encouraged by the unexpected aid, surged forward and met the privateers head on.
Jelindel realised that the grappling hooks were forming a sort
of landmass between the vessels. The water they bridged was disabling part of her spells, but not all.
Buoyed by this newly found phenomenon, Jelindel called to the nearest crewman, ‘Keep her steady!’ Before he could answer, she joined in the fray.
Jelindel snared two more men. No more, her exhausted body told her. Any more drainage and she would collapse and fall prey to the first privateer. She collected a cutlass from the bloodied deck. There were traitors aboard, that much was clear. Where was Hargav? She had no time to worry about him now, but she hoped that he was all right. And Larachel?
She swept away the thoughts as she spied two familiar adversaries coming at her. The Hamarian bounty hunters from D’loom. Daretor’s training came to her aid and she strode forward. Her new sharpened instincts told her which of the two was the most nervous and inexperienced fighter. She edged towards him first.
Wary from their previous encounter with her, they moved apart while unclipping their axes. Cutlasses and axes at the ready, they flanked her.
Jelindel remembered the blade she had used to free the wheel. She flung it with all her might. It caught the more experienced Hamarian on her left in the sternum. The man grunted and fell. His colleague was in mid-throw – at this distance there was no escaping the axe – when Larachel seemingly appeared from nowhere and slashed the man’s hand from its wrist. The axe and hand plopped to the deck.
The Hamarian’s howl was cut in half by the envoy’s second strike. The bounty hunter lay twitching beside his dead colleague.
‘Who are you?’ Jelindel said, barely above a whisper. Only lindraks moved as silently and covertly as this one. The very assassins responsible for her family’s death.
But the fight took Larachel away before he could answer. Jelindel had a moment’s respite before a bearded Baltorian lunged at her with a broadsword. Jelindel’s cutlass met it and the blades sang. She feinted, parried, then lunged as her opponent sought balance. The Baltorian grunted in surprise as Jelindel’s blade raked his chest. Clutching his opened chest, the Baltorian dropped his broadsword and reeled back.
Jelindel dropped the cutlass – an unwieldy and clumsy weapon for a person of small stature – and retrieved the sword. She leapt forward with a jab kick. Her foot landed squarely on the pirate’s chest and he toppled overboard.
A cheer went up. Jelindel realised three of the clippers had cast off their grappling lines and were edging away from the starboard. The fourth clipper listed as more and more brigands fled the
Dragonfang
.
Jelindel turned in time to ward off a vicious sword stab. Her attacker’s left hand drove forward with a dirk, but Jelindel blocked the thrust with a snap of her arm, and locked her opponent’s wrist with her hand. They stared at one another for a moment. With the binding spells still not returned to her, Jelindel was on the point of collapse. The pirate blinked away blood from a massive head wound.
The man’s eyes blazed with anger and Jelindel felt his hand overpower hers. Then her legs weakened and she gave ground. The pirate started pushing down against her wristlock, his blade inches from Jelindel’s exposed neck. He drove home his attack and Jelindel felt a sting as the dagger pierced her skin.
Suddenly, the binding snares from her earlier victims returned to her. The surge of power made her light-headed, but she pushed back at the dagger. Her opponent’s eyes widened in confusion.
Maintaining a grip on the pirate’s right wrist, she clasped his left shoulder and planted her foot in the man’s stomach; she fell back with unexpected speed. The man grunted in surprise as he was lifted off his feet and jettisoned over the railing.
Breathing heavily, Jelindel rose unsteadily to her knees, but it was all over. Another cheer went up as the last privateer was shoved overboard. She found Larachel by her side. Too late to be of any assistance had her opponent driven home his attack, she realised.
‘Fools,’ Larachel said contemptuously amid the crew’s jeering. He helped her up. ‘Those wretches will reach a safe distance and firebomb us till we’re sunk.’
Jelindel looked over at the helmsman. Henrik Ju’Shron had taken over the wheel. The joyous Captain Porterby was rallying the crew. The sails ballooned out and the
Dragonfang
regained its even keel, sluicing through the water.
‘Not if our luck holds,’ she managed. ‘It’s a wonder they didn’t cripple us with firepots before tackling us.’
Larachel looked at her enquiringly.
‘They’re obviously after something of value, and didn’t want to risk sinking us.’
‘And what they can’t have no one else will,’ said Larachel. ‘I can assure you they’ll scuttle us rather than let us go.’
To give weight to his words a descending whistle of a catapult shot caused everyone to duck their heads. A moment later a great fountain of spume shot from the heaving sea off to larboard. It was followed in rapid succession by two more boulders, whistling down and crashing into the sea not a bowshot from the tacking
Dragonfang
.
The timbers creaked as the vessel heeled to larboard. Jelindel steadied herself. Already their pursuers were falling behind. ‘Looks as though our luck
is
holding,’ she said.
Three more massive rocks splashed into the water, but well short of the
Dragonfang
.
Jelindel stepped around Larachel. ‘You’ll excuse me. I need to attend to things. Have you seen Hargav?’
Larachel pointed aft. ‘Last time I saw the poor fellow he was emptying his stomach overboard. I suspect the sight of so much blood unsettled him.’
Jelindel found Hargav sitting forlornly by the forecastle. She sat beside him and draped an arm around his shoulders. Together they watched the crew throw the last of the corpses of both foe and friend overboard. There was no time for decent burials.
‘It’s not all like this, you know.’ Jelindel ruffled Hargav’s hair.
He lifted his head miserably from his hands. ‘Jaelin, it’s been barely three weeks and we’ve been boarded twice by cutthroats. We’ve been accused of theft by no less than a town’s senior constable, and I’ve been dunked in bilgewater more times than I can remember, and been strung out for a day on the bowsprit. This is the worst time of my life.’
Jelindel shook him playfully. ‘If it’s any consolation, I know exactly how you feel. Come now, we all need to pitch in. An active mind is an occupied mind.’
With five men dead and another four wounded, there would be little rest for the crew of the
Dragonfang
. But, despite their losses, they soon lost sight of the pursuing clippers. Jelindel’s hope was that they would arrive at Mordicar at least fifteen hours ahead of the privateers. Time enough to conduct their business and leave before their pursuers arrived.
Fortunately for Jelindel, no one had witnessed her snaring the enemy with her binding words. It was hotly rumoured that Larachel was the only man aboard capable of such wizardry, he being the only newcomer. No one openly said this, of course, but
Jelindel noticed that the crew now gave Larachel a wide berth. It was not that they feared him. It was just that they would no longer trust him to play an even hand of skitterjacks, and no card game was considered even with an Adept present.
Not an altogether bad thing, Jelindel thought, since the crew’s previous adoration of Larachel would have made it harder to confront him when the time came. And that time
would
come.
It was her job to get them all safely to Mordicar. And get them safely there she would. In the meantime, she would sleep with one eye open. Someone had murdered the lookout and the helmsman. Captain Porterby and the crew seemed oblivious to the fact, but she saw no point in bringing up the subject. She stood a better chance of finding the traitor by subterfuge, than by openly making accusations.
P
ositioned in a politically stable port of Bravenhurst, Mordicar was a small port city. Judging by the varied craft, including a slave galley, the town was not under martial law. For all intents and purposes, it was enjoying brisk trade. Had a war been imminent, the harbour would have been empty and the docklands deserted.
As soon as the
Dragonfang
docked, Captain Porterby began purchasing food, water and general supplies. The crew was not free to leave until the ship was cleaned and fresh supplies stowed, but Hargav ran ashore and vanished as soon as they docked.
‘Funny, he didn’t seem unhappy enough to jump ship,’ said Henrik. He was helping Jelindel to roll a barrel of biscuits.
‘Well, yes, he seemed more cheerful than ever for the past day. Maybe he knows a girl in Mordicar.’ Jelindel winced at the transparent lie.
‘It’s his first voyage,’ Henrik snorted. ‘How could he know a girl here? We’re halfway across the continent.’
‘He’s a fast worker, then,’ Jelindel joked.
‘Could be at that,’ Henrik said when he noticed Jelindel’s smile. ‘But I do know one thing. There’s more to that one than meets the eye. Him and that Larachel.’
‘An odd couple,’ Jelindel agreed, slowly. She realised with a start that Henrik’s observations had been jarring. In her loneliness had she allowed Hargav to slip beneath her defenses? Hargav the fast learner. Hargav always questioning, prying. Tumbling thoughts stacked up against one another. She needed to speak to young Hargav the moment he returned.
If
he returned.
Hargav returned that night with a man aged about fifty. Hargav introduced the man as Augerin, a Skeltian merchant who wished to buy a passage back to D’loom. Captain Porterby thought it a good bargain. The man had little luggage, enough money for the trip, and did not look as if he would eat much. Jelindel’s earlier assertion that the
Dragonfang
would most certainly come under attack also weighed heavily on the captain’s mind. An extra man on board would not hurt.
As soon as Augerin was safely in his cabin, Jelindel took Hargav aside.
‘Tell me, where is the ringstone circle?’ she asked.
Hargav turned away but Jelindel’s hand caught his shoulder and spun him back.
‘What? I don’t know what you mean, Jaelin – you’re hurting!’
‘Hargav, I can almost smell its essence on you.’ She let go of his shoulder.
‘You’ve been very strange lately, Jaelin. Almost as though you blame me for all the bad luck we’ve had.’ He rubbed his shoulder. ‘I thought we were friends.’
‘I’ve found friends to be a liability,’ Jelindel replied. ‘Never forget your place, Hargav. Now, you have been carrying a rare magical artifact called a pentacle gem. You no longer have it on your person. The Duke of Mordicar is collecting them to power a ringstone circle, so you visited him. He must have taken you to the circle, in order to test your gem, so you obviously know where it is.’
Hargav grinned scornfully. ‘You’re mad. If I had had such a thing, that dummart Senior Constable and his Adept would have discovered it when the ship was searched in Hazaria.’
‘You cloaked it very well, but you forgot that it leaves a residual essence unless one takes precautions. An error that will prove costly. As for the Adept in Hazaria, magical auras are weakened by water. You hid the pentacle gem in your own vomit, assuming that the guardsman would not approach close enough to see it, and the Adept would not get near enough to feel its aura. Very clever, and not a little crude. But then I have kept company with some of the most crude and clever people on the continent so I am awake to things like that. Who is this Augerin?’
