Servant of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 1) (18 page)

The bouncer scowled and stepped forward. He reached down and grabbed the man’s arm and pulled. The man jerked forward and then pulled back, yanking his hand free. The drunkard shook his head as though he could chase the ale from his thoughts.

“That’s it. I’ll beat the gold out of you,” the bouncer said as he yanked the club from his side. The tie came loose, letting him slap the cudgel in the palm of his left hand.

“You want a fight? I got nothing, but I can still fight,” the man on the ground slurred. He twisted and looked around. “Where’s my sword? May the fires of hell roast Dice’s balls! Which one of you thieves took my sword?”

“You’ve got no sword,” the barmaid reminded him. “Said you’d sold it so you could drink when you came in.”

He focused on her and blinked a few times. “I did?”

“Then you drank all day,” she said. “Fell off your stool and ended up here.”

He scratched his beard and nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“No money?” the bouncer growled. “The harbor’s too good for you!”

The man blinked and shifted his head left and right. “Three against one don’t seem fair.”

Gildor heard Corian snicker behind him. The pathfinder frowned. By all appearances, the man deserved a beating, if not worse. There was something about him, something sad and desperate that he couldn’t place.

“Saints, you’re worse than drunk,” the bouncer scowled. He reached for the man again. “Last chance before I bash your skull in!”

The man jerked to the side and fell over. He kicked out, flailing with his legs and tripping the bouncer so that he fell to the side. The barmaid yelped and leapt back, bumping into a nearby table and upsetting the drinks on the table and the men drinking them. They lurched to their feet and were accompanied by several others.

“Oh saints,” Corian mumbled as he looked around.

The bouncer climbed back to his feet with a snarl and raised his club overhead. The drunkard was rolling and trying to climb to his feet, only to stumble and fall again. Gildor leapt in front of him just as the cudgel started to fall, causing the bouncer to jerk it to the side and stare at him.

“What are you doing?” he shouted. “This drunk’s going—”

“What’s his tab?” Gildor interrupted. “How much does he owe?”

The bouncer narrowed his eyes and then turned to the barmaid. She blinked a few times before answering, “Eight silver.”

Gildor shook his head. “Eight silver? All this for eight pieces of silver.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out two pieces of gold. “This is his bill, and enough to replace the ale those men spilled. The rest is for the trouble he caused.”

“Do you know this man?” the bouncer asked. “He’s bad news. Brings bad tidings and ruin wherever he goes.”

“I could use a little of that,” Gildor said.

The bar had gone silent with the ruckus. Silent enough Gildor could hear the door open and, a moment later, shut. The people, most standing and watching, parted as the barmaid Gildor had spoken to earlier worked her way between them. A man walked behind her, wearing a hat with a brim designed to keep the sun from his eyes.

She stopped and looked around, earning the eyes of everyone back on her. She frowned. “What’s this?”

“Gor here couldn’t pay for his ale,” the bouncer said. “This man took care of his bill and saved the drunk from getting his head caved in.”

She looked at him with a tilt to her head and a twinkle in her eye. Without taking her gaze off Gildor, she said, “Harlon, this is the man I told you about.”

The sailor stepped beside her and looked Gildor up and down. “I see. Just you seeking passage?”

“Three of us.”

“Three?” Corian hissed.

Gildor turned and saw that Gor had gained his feet. He stood unsteady but was tall enough to nearly hit the beams that held the ceiling up with his head. “He’s coming with us.”

“What?” Gor mumbled. “Coming where?”

The sailor raised an eyebrow. “I suppose he shouldn’t sink the ship. Come, let’s talk.”

“What am I doing?” Gor asked.

Gildor grabbed his wrist and tugged on it. “You’re coming with me. I need you.”

“Need me?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I don’t—”

Gildor motioned for Corian to go ahead and cut the giant hairy man off. “Neither do I, so let’s go.”

Gor’s mouth opened and closed twice before he shrugged his shoulders and let Gildor tug him out of the tavern and into the night air.

Chapter 20

“This is a boat?” Gildor asked. He was staring at an oval-shaped vessel tied up to the docks. A stick stuck up from the bow at an angle, complete with a pulley attached to the end with a rope around it. The boat had a mast in the middle, but on either side tubes that had sharp points at the front were attached to the side.

“Fastest boat on the lake,” Harlon said with obvious pride.

Gildor frowned. “Doesn’t look like much. I’m looking to pick up a couple more people too. Can it carry them?”

“Me and my crew plus your three and two others? Easy. I’ve been loaded full of elf brandy before and still sailed circles around every ship on the lake.”

“Elves don’t make brandy,” Corian said.

“Didn’t say elven brandy, it was elf brandy.”

Corian frowned. “What’s the difference?”

“This stuff is so strong it’ll make a dwarf think he’s an elf,” Harlon boasted. “It’s illegal in Easton and a lot of other towns because it’ll catch fire if you bring it near an open flame.”

Corian’s eyes widened. “People drink this?”

Harlon’s wry smile answered for him.

“I don’t need to smuggle anything,” Gildor inserted, drawing the attention back to him. “I need a boat to take me to Shathas and then bring me back.”

“That don’t sound too bad; plenty of boats come and go from there,” Harlon said. “What’s really going on here?”

“I’m not going to for a friendly visit. If you’re a smuggler, do you know any secret coves or hidden entrances to the city?”

Harlon laughed. “Wow, that’s a stereotype. I admit to running one load of brandy and now I’m an expert smuggler who can find a secret way in or out of anywhere?”

Gildor’s stomach twisted but he kept his face expressionless. “Not anywhere, just Shathas.”

“Level with me. Start with a name and take it from there.”

“Gildor. I’m looking for my daughter.”

“And my sister,” Corian said. “I’m Corian.”

“Your daughter is his sister?” Harlon said. He shook his head. “I can’t figure that.”

Gildor smirked in spite of the situation. “No. Two people; my daughter was taken by the splisskin and so was his sister.”

Harlon looked back and forth between the two of them. “There’s a lot more to this, isn’t there? Why else would a human and an elf be in a town full of talking snakes?”

“Why indeed,” Gildor said. “We don’t really know what’s behind it either, but it happened. And the longer I wait, the better the chance that I’m not going to find her. If that happens, I’ll be looking for answers and anybody who I find slowed me down is going to have to account for that.”

Harlon tilted his head. “Are you threatening me, old man? Because if you are, you can get the hell away from my boat. I’m here to see you as a favor for a friend. Don’t think you can threaten me into helping you.”

Gildor’s eyes narrowed. He nodded. “I respect that. How much?”

“How much?” Harlon stopped and laughed. “The saints are blowing wind against me tonight.”

“I’ve got gold and I don’t need anything but a boat that can get me there and wait for me to come back. Easiest money you’ve ever made, I bet.”

“No such thing as easy gold, friend,” Harlon said. He paused and glanced at his boat. “All right, here’s the deal. You want to avoid the harbor, that’s fine. I know a place and my boat’s one of the few that can get close enough to shore to make it work. You pay me upfront, though. Twenty gold a head—that’s a hundred because you said you’re picking up two more.”

“No,” Gildor said.

“No? You need me, old man, not the other way around!”

“I’ll pay you half now, the rest when we get back.”

“You don’t have it, do you?” the captain accused. “You don’t look like a wealthy man.”

Gildor shook his head. “I’ve got it. I don’t want you sailing back as soon as you drop me off.”

Harlon nodded. “All right, that’s fair. So let’s see it.”

Gildor glanced at Corian and then reached down and pulled his money pouch free. He poured some coins in his palm and handed them over one at a time. His pouch ran dry with more than twenty gold pieces remaining.

“Damn,” Harlon muttered as he shook his head. “I knew it.”

“Wait,” Corian said. He had a few coins in his palm and thrust them at the captain. “I’ve got the rest. And enough for when we’re back.”

Harlon inspected the coins, eyeing the elvish script on them and biting a few to make sure they were gold. Satisfied with the size and feel, he shrugged and accepted them. He turned and gestured at the plank to the deck of his boat. “Welcome aboard. We can leave anytime. You might want to wait until your friend wakes up, though.”

Gildor turned and saw that Gor had curled up on the dock and was using a bundle of rope as a pillow. “We’ll go now,” he said. He stared at the slumbering giant and asked, “Think he can swim?”

Corian shuddered. “I’d rather not find out.”

Gildor’s brow furrowed as he looked at the elf. “He’s asleep and drunk—why are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not,” the elf said. “I don’t want to know what happens if we roll him in the lake and find out he can’t swim.”

Gildor’s wrinkles deepened.

Corian sighed. “I don’t want to go in after him. I’ve had enough of rivers and lakes and large puddles to last me the rest of my life.”

The guide’s lips twitched up in a smirk. “Fair enough. Come then, help me try to get the lug on his feet and into this, uh, boat.”

Gildor turned to look at the boat and saw Harlon using his boot to rouse two men curled up in the stern of his boat. He shook his head and turned back to Gor. The sun had barely set, yet these men were all fast asleep. “When I was their age, I wasn’t ready to sleep until the sun kissed the eastern sky.”

“How long’s it been since you’ve slept?” Corian asked. “Seems like you’re still that way.”

Gildor frowned. The elf was right; it had been awhile. He shook the thought away and walked towards the slumbering hulk. He didn’t have time to dwell on sleep; he had a daughter to save.

“Grab his legs,” Gildor said.

Corian walked around Gor’s body and shook his head. Gildor could tell the elf didn’t think they’d be able to move him, but he didn’t much care what the elf thought. “It’ll be a good eight hours to sail there; he can sleep it off.”

“You think he’s going to help?”

“He’ll help one way or another,” Gildor said. “Even if I have to use him as a distraction.”

Corian’s jaw gaped for a moment. “You’d do that?”

“I’d do just about anything,” Gildor said. “Wouldn’t you for your sister?”

The elf tilted his head and nodded. “You’re right.”

“Good. Now lift.”

Corian squatted down and picked Gor’s legs up by the ankles. He tucked them against his side and waited for Gildor to grab the drunkard by the shoulders. They heaved and managed to pick him up, but after three staggering steps, they were dragging his bottom across the planks of the deck.

Gor snorted and struggled, twisting and kicking free of Corian’s grip. His feet landed on the deck and he jerked awake, pulling free from Gildor. “Ow!” he roared when his shoulders and head hit the dock.

“Get in the boat,” Gildor said and pointed at the unusual boat.

Gor rolled onto his hands and knees and rose to one knee. He looked at Gildor and then at the boat before climbing all the way to his feet. “Why?”

“Because I saved you from a beating and an unpaid bar tab,” Gildor said.

Gor tilted his head and blinked. “Why?” he asked again.

“I need a man not afraid to fight. Are you that man, or was that the wine talking?”

“Wine?” Gor snorted. “I don’t drink wine.”

“Do you fight?”

The drunk man nodded. “I can fight. Where’s my sword?”

“You sold it.”

“Oh.” Gor scratched his beard. “That’s right.”

“Boat?” Gildor pointed again.

Gor shrugged and shuffled past them to the plank. He walked across and dropped to the deck inside, causing the large boat to rock in the water. He walked part of the way towards the bow before spotting a couple of bulging sacks tucked against the hull. The large man knelt down and then lowered himself to the deck. He used the sacks as a pillow and was snoring in seconds.

“That’s a skilled drunk,” Corian observed.

“Not skilled, a master,” Gildor agreed. “Come on, let’s go.”

Gildor and Corian boarded the boat and watched Harlon finish rousing his two-man crew. One of them, a boy who looked barely older than Allisandra, stifled a yawn as he walked past them to the bow. The other stayed to the aft to ready the boat while Harlon approached them.

“Get comfortable. We’ll be underway soon and you’d just be in the way. Stay low and out of the wind. If the wind holds, we’ll be able to tack our way there well before dawn.”

Gildor’s eyes widened. “Before dawn? I thought it was an eight-hour trip with the wind behind you.”

Harlon grinned. “Told you she’s fast. Have a seat and watch us chase the wind.”

Gildor met Corian’s gaze and saw the elf shrug. Gildor nodded and moved to find a bench that ran along the hull. Corian moved to one on the opposite side and they watched the three-man crew fit oars through holes in the hull and cast loose the lines that kept the ship tied to the dock.

Both boys pushed the ship away from the dock and then leapt aboard as it floated free. They landed with practiced skill and hurried to take the oars in hand. Harlon called out orders and they stroked according to his commands. The boat pulled away from the dock and began to move through the harbor with a nimble grace that left Gildor beginning to believe Harlon’s claims.

“Take us out, lads,” Harlon told his crew. He strode across the deck to the bow and tied a bundle of cloth to the rope on the pulley. He routed two more ropes through pulley hooks to the port and starboard poles and then hurried back to check on the mainsail that was piled neatly amidships.

He finished and stopped near Gildor to admire their position in the harbor. “We’re fast and able to turn because we’ve got no keel,” he shared.

Gildor frowned. “I’m no sailor, but I thought those were important? Especially for deep water?”

“Aye, they are,” Harlon said with a grin. “I’ve got something better.”

“What?”

“Just wait and see,” the captain cackled.

Gildor frowned and felt Corian’s eyes on him. He didn’t return the gaze for fear the elf would read his face and know he was doubting Harlon’s sanity. Instead, he remained focused on the bow and watched it against the signal lamps on the rock walls of the harbor. The lights grew closer and closer and soon passed on either side of them. Almost instantly, the warm breeze blew from the south against them.

“This is where it gets exciting!” Harlon said to Gildor. He called out to his crew, “Stow the oars, boys! Rig up the floats.”

“Floats?” Corian repeated.

Gildor shook his head and shrugged, unable to explain.

The oars were pulled in and tucked against the hull. They introduced shorter wooden poles and screwed them into holes that ran through the sides of the boat just above the deck. Two poles went in each side before extra beams were slipped over the ends and secured with heavy pins. A final wooden pole was slipped through the middle of the main mast and connected to the framework the two boys were assembling.

“Are you building a house?” Gildor asked, unable to silence his curiosity any longer.

Harlon held up a finger. “Just you wait,” the man said. He hopped over the ankle-high wooden framework and made his way to the mast. “Run out the outriggers!”

The boys pushed the poles on the port side first and then repeated the action on the starboard side. The two bizarre nodules that had been connected to the side of the boat slid away on the poles that had been screwed into them until they were more than six feet away from the hull. Harlon knelt down and grabbed pegs at the base of the main mast and began to pull and push on them, turning a clicking wheel. Each click signaled the mast growing a few inches out of the deck. The two outriggers dropped as the mast rose.

After almost two minutes of Harlon twisting the wheel, the boat shifted in the water. Gildor twisted and lifted to look over the rail. The water glistened, reflecting stars and moon. As he watched, it dropped farther and farther away.

“Ha!” Harlon cried as he stepped back from the wheel. His face was slick with sweat but he was grinning. “Only my floats in the water now; we’ll be skimming across the water in no time.”

Gildor was at a loss for words as he watched the three-man crew raise sails and trim them to catch the southerly wind. The boat jerked as the sails snapped and filled. Harlon lowered a long-handled rudder through a mount at the stern and used it to keep the ship pointed to the west.

“Settle in and stay low out of the wind,” Harlon advised. “I’ll be tacking a few times but I’ve got to head west a bit to get clear of the shore first.”

Gildor waved his hand and glanced at Corian. The elf was staring over the rail and grinning. “This is amazing!” he said when he noticed Gildor watching him.