The Rage (13 page)

When he finished, he climbed up into the bow to resume surveying the sky. The wyrms were much closer. Even without the spyglass, he could clearly make out the batlike wings, wedge-shaped heads, and serpentine tails silhouetted against the bright golden clouds. But still, not the color of the scales.

As he strung his longbow, the captain approached him.

“What’s happening?” the captain asked.

“We’ve come a bit farther south, and the wyrms have turned to follow. It’s possible they just want a closer look at us. If so, we mustn’t provoke them.”

“But if they do mean to attack,” said the man with the tattooed face, “I don’t want to give them the first move. That could be all it takes for them to sink us”

“You’re right,” said Dorn. “Have the archers stand ready. As soon as any of us hunters sees the least indication the wyrms mean us ill, we’ll let everybody know”

The captain gave a brusque nod and bustled off toward the quarterdeck.

Once Dorn readied his bow and selected an arrow for his first shot, he had nothing to do but watch. The waiting gnawed at his nerves. Eventually Pavel came to join him.

“Stand over there,” the cleric said, motioning him a couple paces toward the stern.

Pavel then positioned himself farther forward than anyone else. He chanted a prayer and brandished his sun amulet, blessing everyone within range. Dorn felt the usual surge of vigor and confidence, though the latter couldn’t truly banish his apprehension, just muffle it a little.

Once Pavel had finished all the spellcasting he deemed useful for the time being, he stood and peered out over the rippling, lead-gray water as everyone else was doing.

“What’s the color?” he muttered under his breath. “Curse it, show us—there!”

One wing dipping low and the other angling high, the drakes turned to keep the merchant vessel directly in front of them, and at last their position was such that they weren’t flying directly out of the sun. Their long bodies gleamed a silver bright as newly minted Sembian ravens, and Dorn could make out the broad, kite-shaped plates on their heads that inspired some folk to call their species “shield dragons.” A number of the sailors cheered, called out thanks to Tymora and Umberlee or simply slumped in relief. Others still held their weapons ready and snapped at their shipmates to be silent.

Dorn was one of those who kept his arrow nocked. The fact that the wyrms had metal-colored scales wasn’t enough to make him drop his guard. Maybe such creatures were less purely malevolent than the rest of their kind, but he’d heard

of instances when they, too, raided for treasure or harmed folk who failed to pay them the deference they considered their due. Anyway, if this pair had slipped into frenzy, their normal inclinations didn’t matter anymore.

They soared overhead and on past the bow.

“That’s it, then,” a sailor said, sounding almost disappointed.

“Not yet,” Pavel told him. He’d noticed the first telltale tail switching, and the enormous, serpentine bodies beginning to twist. “They’re wheeling for another pass”

They swooped lower as well, and stupid as it was, Dorn realized he was glad. Eager to see if he could bring the wretched things tumbling down into the sea.

He was about to give the warning that would start the battle, when Pavel, evidently sensing his intention, said, “No. Wait. We still don’t know they’re hostile.”

“By the time we’re absolutely sure, it could be too late” “They’re metal dragons, born of light the same as humans”

“How do you know?” asked Dorn. “We’ve never even seen a silver before”

“Be that as it may, we can’t lash out at them just because we fear they might be hostile”

“Is that what the Morninglord teaches?” Dorn snapped. “Bugger him and you, too”

Harsh words, but just bluster. Dorn realized he wasn’t going to give the signal to attack after all, not yet, not with his trusted comrade so set against it.

The reptiles hurtled over the ship, lower still, so close Dorn’s nerves sang with the impulse to send an arrow streaking upward. Again, the silvers didn’t attack. What did they want then? Were they really just curious after all?

They circled. The smaller of the pair climbed higher, while the larger dropped even lower. Leveling off, it then glided in an almost stately fashion across the surface of the waves, straight toward the galley. Crewmen yammered in terror and raised their weapons.

“No!” Dorn shouted.

He hated stopping them, but it was the only sane thing to do. He could tell the silver meant no immediate harm. No dragon, even a deranged one, would approach a ship it intended to attack in such a manner. First it would rake the decks with its breath and magic, and when it did decide to fight with fang and claw, it would dive as fast as it was able and smash into the massed defenders like a boulder flung from a catapult.

Apparently the wyrm wanted to come aboard peacefully, by lighting on the quarterdeck. Dorn could only hope that alone wouldn’t bring disaster. It was easy to imagine the huge reptile’s weight shoving the stern all the way down under the water.

But it didn’t come to that. As the shield dragon drew near, it dwindled, its body drawing in on itself so quickly that for a second, Dorn lost track of it. Then he noticed the ordinary looking white gull at the center of the space the wyrm had occupied.

Wings fluttering, the seabird set down in the center of the quarterdeck, which the captain and everyone else had hastily vacated to make room for a gigantic drake. There the creature shifted shape again, swelling upward into the guise of a skinny old man clad in a shabby brown robe and buskins. He had a genial sort of face, seemingly made for smiles and laughter, in which the eyes looked out of place. Pale and piercing, the gray orbs, set deep under scraggly white brows, peered out at the world with the cold, imperious regard of a magistrate or warlord.

The silver gazed down the length of the ship, then said, “Do you think I didn’t spot you from the air, Karasendrieth? That I can’t taste your scent? Show yourself.”

Kara stepped from behind a bundle of burlap sacks bound together in a net.

Azhaq,” she said.

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve done,” Azhaq said. “Now come along. It’s time to go.”

Dorn leaped out of the bow and shoved through the massed sailors with their bows and spears. Raryn, Will, and Pavel scrambled to join him, the priest pausing to grab the captain and haul him along as well. As they hurried aft, the shadow of the silver that had remained in dragon form swept across the deck, a reminder it was still hanging above the galley like a hawk floating over a hare. Dorn and his companions took up a position between Kara and Azhaq.

When the bard realized what they were doing, she said, “Wait.”

what you paid for,” said Will.

“I wasn’t expecting two of them,” said Kara.

The halfling grinned a crooked grin and replied, “We weren’t even expecting one. Still, a deal’s a deal. Mind you, if we survive this, a bonus would be nice”

Dorn glared up at the transformed shield dragon and asked, “What’s this all about?”

“Justice, human,” said the silver. “The female must answer for her crimes, but Moonwing and I have no quarrel with yon. Stay out of the way, and we won’t hurt yon.”

“What crimes?” Raryn asked.

“That’s none of your concern. Suffice it to say, my comrade and I serve in the Talons of Justice. Do you know the name?”

Dorn did. He’d run across it in his studies of dragon lore. The Talons were supposedly a fellowship of silvers who’d banded together to combat evil, rather like an order of paladins. The claim didn’t impress him. Even if it was true, who was to say that a dragon’s notions of right and wrong were the same as a man’s?

“You have no authority over me,” Kara said, “nor does the lord to whom you’ve chosen to bow your heads.”

“Someone must lead,” Azhaq said. “Otherwise, all will suffer, drakes and these small folk, too”

“If he led to some purpose,” Kara said, “I’d agree. But as it stands—”

“Enough!” Azhaq snapped, his patched, faded robe flapping in the frigid breeze. “I didn’t come to argue, but to arrest you as the king commands, and a long, hard search it’s been. You know what it costs to remain in dragon form for days at a time, so you can imagine that my patience has worn thin. Now, do you surrender, or do you mean to fight a pair of Talons, both older and stronger than you?”

“The lass doesn’t stand alone,” Pavel said.

The silver regarded the priest as if surprised that any of the other “small folk” would presume to speak again.

“I seek to protect you and all your kind,” Azhaq said, “as my race has always done. If you’re truly entitled to wear Lathander’s amulet, then you should aspire to aid, not hinder me.”

“If you truly deserve to proclaim yourself a champion of good,” Pavel answered, “then you should understand why decent folk wouldn’t surrender a companion to any stranger simply because he demands it—especially a drake, whatever its hue. We’ve seen proof that a good many of you are running mad.” He turned to the captain and asked, “Your passengers are under your protection, aren’t they, sir?”

The mariner scowled. Plainly, he was uncertain and didn’t like having his hand forced. But he was tough, as any captain had to be to sail the perilous waters of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and perhaps it helped that the shield dragon currently wore the guise of a man. It made the creature somewhat less intimidating.

At any rate, the captain said, “It’s true. The bard paid for her passage. I can’t just toss her to the sharks. Maybe if you were the Sembian or Impilturan navy, I’d obey your orders, but what do your Talons of Justice mean to the likes of us?”

Azhaq’s wrinkled features twisted as if he’d suffered a pang of headache.

“You have no idea what a dangerous game you’re playing,” he said. “You think that because I’m a silver, I’ll coax and

coddle you… never mind. Just listen to me. Karasendrieth is a dragon in human form, like me.”

Dorn turned to Kara.

“Tell me the wyrm is mad,” he said, “just like the others”

Kara sighed and said, “I wish I could.”

“You see,” Azhaq said, “her fate is a matter for dragons, not men”

“That… might make a difference,” the captain said.

Did it? Were the hunters and sailors under any obligation to protect one cursed wyrm from others, especially when she’d deceived them concerning her true nature? Will, Raryn, and Pavel all glanced uncertainly in Dorn’s direction, waiting for their leader to supply the answer. Unfortunately, he didn’t know.

“Give the rogue up,” Azhaq continued, “and go your way in peace. Moonwing and I are friends to men—and dwarves, and halflings—and have no wish to hurt you. But if you’re fools enough to stand with her, we’ll do what we must. You’ll be throwing away your lives for nothing, for surely you realize you can’t stop us.”

Maybe it was the memory of Kara risking her life to fight the wyrms of the Flooded Forest. Or maybe Azhaq’s arrogance, his certainty that humans could do nothing to balk him. Either way, Dorn knew he meant to side with the female.

But how was he to help her? Even though she was a dragon herself, he questioned their ability to fight off two silvers. It would surely be impossible if the sailors declined to help, and he could tell the captain was wavering. It was impossible to guess which way he’d ultimately jump.

Unless somebody pushed him.

“We need a couple minutes to palaver,” the half-golem said.

Azhaq’s mouth tightened in vexation.

“Do it quickly,” he said shifting his gaze to Kara. “However they choose, don’t make these little ones perish in a quarrel

that’s none of their making. Llimark isn’t dead. Surrender now, and—”

In one smooth, sudden motion, Dorn lifted his longbow and pulled the arrow back to his ear.

For a split second, he had the shaft pointed straight at Azhaq’s heart, and to his own surprise, shifted his aim. The arrow plunged into the Talon’s belly. That could be a mortal wound, too, but not immediately, and probably not if Pavel or some other healer tended it.

Dorn dropped his bow and rushed the quarterdeck. If he wasn’t going to kill the silver outright, then he needed to incapacitate the creature quickly, before Azhaq could revert to reptilian form or start casting spells. As he scrambled up the companionway, sailors started screaming, giving voice to the fear an attacking drake inspired. Evidently Moonwing had seen Dorn shoot his comrade and was diving at the ship.

The captain and crew would have to fight. They no longer had a choice.

As Dorn scrambled up into the stern, Azhaq was still doubled over with the shock of his unexpected wound. Good. The hunter charged the silver, and the galley listed violently to starboard, sending him reeling off course. He slammed into the rail, it cracked, and for an instant he feared he’d crash right on through to drop into the sea. But the barrier held.

Thinking Moonwing must have landed on the ship, he glanced around. In fact, the silver was still in the air, but another drake was swelling into existence on the deck, her burgeoning mass tipping the galley off balance. Kara’s reptilian form, though huge compared to a human body, was smaller and slimmer than that of the shield dragons. Her scales were a shimmering silver-blue, and her eyes the same lustrous violet as before, though the pupils were feline slits instead of circles. Dorn had never seen such a wyrm before, but the knowledge he’d collected enabled him to identify the breed. Kara was a song dragon, a rare species allegedly as benign as the metal wyrms.

She had a half-healed wound at the base on one wing, evidently left over from the injuries she’d received prior to stumbling into the wererats’ den. Pavers prayers apparently hadn’t mended the gash because he hadn’t been able to see it while she was in human guise.

The galley rocked again as she leaped clear. Dorn threw himself at Azhaq.

Unfortunately, the rolling of the ship had given the Talon time to shake off the shock of his stomach wound. He rattled off an incantation and swept his hand through a mystic pass. Dorn felt a sudden, sickening vertigo.