“Cadeyrn Seaghda!” shouted Cenric. The earth shook beneath them with the power of those words. Below, in the valley, the soldiers stopped whatever they were doing to look about them for the quake’s cause. Cenric’s eyes popped open, and he looked over at Sterling Lex. “Did it work?”
“You tell me. Reach out through the stone. What do you feel?”
Furrowing his brow, Cenric focused again on the Dragonstone. “I feel it. It is coming closer,” he said at last.
“Then the spell worked. You must prepare. Quickly now. Our time is short, it will be here before we know it.”
“What will be here?” asked Cenric.
“The Dragon.”
Cenric gasped, “Dragon?”
Sterling Lex smiled at the boy, “Surely you realize what it is you carry? That is the Eligius Muliach hanging from that chain. The Dragonstone. You are a Dragon-master. Now, young Dragon-master that beast is coming and you must be ready to command it when it does.”
Cenric looked down at the stone hanging from his neck. “The Dragonstone,” he whispered. “How do I command it?”
“Through the Dragonstone,” prompted Sterling Lex.
“And what should I have it do?”
This was the crucial moment. No longer able to use his influence over the boy directly, Sterling Lex had to depend on the foundation already laid. Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder he pointed down toward the camp below, “Punish them.” Cenric stared down at the encampment as Sterling Lex’s words washed over him. The boy nodded and Sterling Lex took a step back.
Down below in the valley, the camp settled from the quake’s interruption and the soldiers were striking their tents to prepare for a late departure. While they would have scouts at a distance along the valley, none would think to look to the skies.
“He is near,” said Cenric at last. His eyes glazed over and his lips continued to move, but no sound came from his mouth. Looking out toward the north, Lex saw a speck in the air moving in their direction. Rapidly growing in size, it was only moments before Lex could make out the wings, and then the head. It was out of his hands now and he took a step away from Cenric. He knew that physical proximity to the boy would not make it more or less likely that the dragon would sense him here, but he did it anyway.
Swooping down over the encampment the dragon made an initial pass, causing the horses to scream and bolt. It wheeled around for another pass as the soldiers scrambled for their weapons. It would not make a difference. Closing in, the dragon picked up one soldier in each claw and unleashed a wash of fire across the remainder of the camp. It flew on a short distance before dropping the screaming soldiers, allowing them to smash into the rocks below. One last pass and it was done, the camp was destroyed.
Cenric stood, transfixed as the dragon circled once and flew off to the north. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Lex allowed him to remain as he was, absorbing the import of what had happened. When he judged the time was right, he came up behind the boy and placed his hands on either shoulder. “Well done.”
“That was incredible,” said Cenric, a note of awe in his voice. “I want to call him back,” lifting the stone.
Sterling Lex caught his arm, “That would not be wise. The dragon must be your slave, not the reverse. Working through the Dragonstone requires a delicate balance. Call upon the stone too much and that balance may shift against you.”
Cenric nodded, “I understand, I think.”
“It is time for us to return to Cinaeth. Once there, you will go with Radomil to Cale Uriasz to claim the Chronicles.”
“You’re not going with us?”
“I cannot. I must return to Naevean. The King requires my presence if we are to work together to stop Gabirel.”
#
Sebastian found himself at a ball in the Dazhberg. He made quite the dashing figure in his formal attire, medals of honor draped on his chest from his victories. Reaching out his arm, he took Krystelle’s hand as the music played. Her features were softer, almost fuzzy, face framed with curled hair. He had never seen her in a gown like that one.
The scene shifted and he found himself back on his uncle’s farm. If felt good to be back working the land. His little niece danced past. Why did that make him sad? He turned back to the plow and urged his two oxen forward. They were bigger and stronger than he remembered them.
A voice penetrated his dream, “Sebastian.”
Wait. That was wrong. Why was she on his uncle’s farm?
“Sebastian, wake up!” It wasn’t part of the dream. That was Krystelle. Why did she want him to wake up? He snapped back to consciousness and peered across the fire to where she slept. A look of fright on her face, she was reaching out for her blade. Her fist closed on it when another voice came out of the blackness.
“Now, little lady, you’ll not be needing that.” Krystelle froze. Tired as he was, Sebastian had trouble understanding the singsong voice. “Truth, we mean you no harm.”
“Then why do you come on us out of the darkness?” Krystelle challenged the disembodied voice. “Show yourself.”
“Of course, of course. But first you put down that cutter. I’d not like to get sliced.”
Sebastian realized that they were not alone. He shifted to show Krystelle that he had his sword ready and out of sight of whoever was out there in the forest. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that this might mean they were rescued. Krystelle released her grip on her blade and retracted her arm. “There, I’ve set down my knife. Now show yourself.”
A figure moved out of the darkness and into the flickering light of their fire. Naked to the waist, his baggy trousers were tied above the ankles and might have been blue at one point. A sash draped across his torso supported a rusty cutlass that had seen better days. He had no cover on his head except a mane of ratted hair that extended down to become a foot long beard that would have made a large bird very comfortable should it try to nest there. Dark ink stained the deep pits of his eyes and creases were etched into his forehead just above bushes that stood in for brows.
“Well now, what ‘ave we here?” The voice was getting easier for Sebastian to understand although he still had to strain. “Naught been any folk on this island since afore I made my mark.”
“Good sir,” Krystelle began in her best diplomat’s voice, “We were shipwrecked on this island. It is to our good fortune you have found us. We would enjoin you under the law of the sea to carry us to the nearest port. I can guarantee you fair payment for our passage and fare. I assume you have a vessel anchored offshore?”
“Law of the sea indeed,” the man snorted. “Good fortune had naught to do wi’ it. ‘Twas your fire that brought us in to see what was what.”
Sebastian was confused. “Our fire?” he said, looking at their little campfire.
The strange man chortled, “No not that little firespeck. The one down on the beach was what done it.”
“Luck for us then. We did not mean to set that fire.” She shot Sebastian a level stare, daring him to say something. He wisely chose to remain silent.
“Well, good luck to you then and good luck to me and mine.” He looked about the darkened forest and let out a strange holler in no language Sebastian had ever heard. Moments later four more men emerged into the light, causing Krystelle to tense. Dressed in the same manner as the first, more or less, they had an array of different weapons about them and several had piercings in their noses and ears that made Sebastian wince to look at. All of them had tattoos marking their bodies in one way or another and when the first man turned to greet his fellows, Sebastian saw that his entire back was illustrated with an intricate design.
With the addition of these newcomers, Sebastian and Krystelle both took to their feet, weapons near enough. Sebastian realized that with five to two odds things were not favorable should things degenerate into violence.
“I am Krystelle Mora and my escort is Sebastian…of Gabirel.” Sebastian noticed the pause, and that she had not id
entified her own connection to the order of knights, nor his actual rank as the merest Squire. “We appreciate and accept your offer of passage. May I have the honor of your name and your ship’s master?” Sebastian wondered what game she was playing. They hadn’t actually offered passage. Either she was trying to bluff and bluster her way onto their ship or she knew something he didn’t.
“Well Krystelle Mora, you can call me Nicjo, but I wager you’ll not have heard of our ship.” One of his compatriots mumbled at him in that strange language, and their new host responded in kind. “Come on then you two. The captain don’t want us out away from the ship long. He’ll want to be knowing what we found. He’ll not be expecting you two.”
Sebastian and Krystelle gathered their meager belongings from the campsite and kicked sand on their fire. Covering Gerhard’s chest with a scrap of cloth to keep it out of sight from prying eyes, Sebastian took one last look around their camp. It was not much, but it had been home these last few days. Being marooned on an island with Krystelle had not been all bad. Except for the rats. He would not miss the rats. He followed Krystelle and Nicjo back down the path to their beach, the other four sailors trailing behind.
#
Boarding their rescuer’s longboat, Krystelle shot Sebastian a look warning him to stay silent. She held her tongue also and their voyage to the anchored ship passed in relative silence except for snippets of conversation between the five men, mostly consisting of commands from Nicjo to his companions in their guttural language.
Their ship came into view just around the point from where Sebastian had found Gerhard’s case, out of sight from where the remains of the raft continued to smolder. At first sight, the vessel was not especially impressive. Her rigging had a haphazard appearance and there was an air of causal indifference about the few crew members lounging on deck. The Grey Gull it was not, concluded Sebastian. He supposed it must be some sort of merchantman or smuggler’s vessel, which would explain Krystelle’s reaction to the sailors back at their camp.
Reaching the side of the ship, a deckhand lowered a raggedy rope ladder and their whole escort save one scampered up onto the deck. Sebastian was forced to hand Gerhard’s chest, along with the rest of their possessions, up to a helping hand before making his way up the ladder, Krystelle close on his heels. Seeing the chest sitting amongst the rest of their gear, he breathed out a sigh of relief. There was nothing on the case to mark it as anything special and he was sure that these sailors would have no better luck than he in opening it. Yet he felt it was his duty to keep its contents safe.
Nicjo was making his way back towards them from the stern of the ship, issuing more commands in that strange language. Sailors who had been occupied with their lounging moved into action with a grace and energy that belied their previous lethargy. For all his rough demeanor, the crew was quick to follow his orders.
“Here you two. Captain wants us aways from this shore before the sun,” that sing-song voice combined with the rocking of the ship threatened to bring back Sebastian’s seasickness. “Clear your gear and follow me below.”
Sebastian and Krystelle gathered their small pile of belongings and followed the man to nearby stairwell leading to the belly of the ship. Taking Krystelle’s lead, Sebastian remained silent, hoping she would reveal more once they were alone.
He was not disappointed. No sooner had Nicjo closed the door to their little cabin when she rounded on him. “We’ve got to get off this ship!” she hissed.
“Get off the ship? What are you talking about?”
Krystelle moved back to the door, listening. “They have locked us in, no doubt they are hoping we will not realize what they are until too late.”
“Too late? Too late for what?”
“Sebastian, did you not see their tattoos and the ensign flying on the mainmast? This ship hails from Cale Druenenn!”
“Cale Druenenn! You mean this is a slaver’s ship?”
“That is exactly what I mean.”
“If you knew all that why did you go along with coming here?” he was panicking. Stories of cruelty and barbarism abounded when it came to Druenenn pirates.
“I went along with it because it was the only way I could see to get off that island without getting our throats slit. The only reason we are not already in chains is because they think you are a full knight of Gabirel. I bought us some time there, but they will grow emboldened the further we are from friendly shores.”
“We’ve got to get off this ship!”
“Yes, I believe I said that. Not now though. They are busy preparing the ship to set sail. Once we are underway, the crew will settle in and that will give us our opportunity. I’m not sleeping one night on a slave ship and I have no intention of being put up for sale on a block in Cale Druenenn. Besides, we have an appointment in Cale Uriasz…and now we have a way to get there.”
Waiting for Krystelle to give the go-ahead for their escape was excruciating. For a time they occupied themselves outlining their plan, but all they could do was wait. Sitting in silence, Sebastian jumped at every sound, fearing that the slavers were coming for them. After the tenth time his twitch at a stray noise in the corridor also caused Krystelle to jump, she exploded. “Calm yourself!” she said in a loud whisper. “They will not be coming for us tonight. They believe us lulled into complacency at the relief of being rescued and have no idea who they are. We have nothing to fear unless you bring attention to us.”
Sebastian counseled himself to silence, feeling the ship beneath him and trying to find a restful place. He imaged a grand battle between himself and the pirates until he remembered what had happened on the Gull the last time he had drifted into a waking dream. Focusing his attention on the movement of the ship, he could feel his pulse pick up. Bad idea. His stomach, still full of rat from their dinner, protested.
Krystelle came to his rescue. “It is time,” she said, rising to her feet. “Bring your sword and the trunk. We must abandon the rest.”
He gathered up the chest and joined her at the door. Handing it to her for a moment, he wiped the sweat from his palms on his breeches and licked his lips. As they had discussed, he visualized the outside of the door and the latch holding it closed. In his mind’s eye he watched as the latch lifted from its catch, striving to align reality to his will. With an explosion of air, he released the breath he had been holding. He reached out to try the door. Nothing.
“What is wrong?”
“I’m not very good at this. I’ve never tried to use magic, it just happens. Are you sure there’s no other way?”
“Just concentrate Sebastian. You can do this. I believe in you.”
In any other circumstance, hearing those words from her would have thrilled him. Now, it made him more nervous. He wiped the sweat from his brow and laid one hand on the door, closing his eyes and returning to the vision. Once again, he watched the latch lift from its place, but he knew it was only a vision in his mind. He forced the vision out, to where he wasn’t sure. It was just out. As the vision moved from a mental construct to something outside of himself, it took on a substance it had not had before. Moments later he took the chest back from Krystelle and pushed the door open. Their first gamble had worked.
Stealing their way back onto the deck, he peaked out to see the few crew members on duty lounging around the wheelhouse paying more attention to a game of dice than to anything happening on deck. “I think the way is clear,” he said.
Krystelle followed him out across the deck to the relative safety of a pile of rigging next to the dinghy that had brought them aboard and subsequently been hoisted back up onto the deck. He examined the mechanism used to lower the boat. “Can you make it work?” Krystelle asked.
“I can. It is much like a winch we used on the farm in Taleros. That was much smaller, but it worked the same.” Reaching out he untied the line securing the little boat that would be their escape. No sooner had he released the line, the dinghy slipped out of its berth, crashing to the deck. The noise would
have woken the dead and even the languid sailors at the stern couldn’t miss the commotion.
Within moments the crew had them surrounded. They were still wondering whether to fight when Nicjo came storming onto the deck. “And just where do you think you’re going Krystelle Mora and Sebastian No-name? Most folk would have been so relieved at their rescue they’d not notice anything, but not you. Who are you?”
She drew herself up in the face of the towering pirate, “Just who we said, and we know who you are.”
“Oh you do, do you?”
“We know enough,” she retorted. “And I give you fair warning now. Aid us or face the wrath of the Knights of Gabirel.”
A deep laugh welled up from Nicjo’s belly. “Gabirel’s wrath? I hear the Krenon and the Dark Wizard handed your knights their arses.”
“Quiet Nicjo,” a new pirate stalked up next to the slaver. “Krystelle Mora and Sebastian Pwyll. Oh, don’t look so surprised, I know just who you are. The bounty on you will fetch me a pretty penny when we turn you over to Sterling Lex at Cinaeth. Oh, yes we will join the great Wizard in his battle to cast down the weak-willed ones in power in your little kingdom. I am Captain Tiriaq and this is my ship. Mark me well, I will be one who takes many slaves when we march on your capital. Nicjo, irons on these two. I’ll not have them trying to escape again.”
Nicjo’s toothy grin took on an ugly pallor as he approached Sebastian. Looking about the deck, Sebastian considered his options. The slavers were armed with a variety of cruel looking knives, an occasional sword, plus a smattering of cudgels. Attempting to fight their way out would be suicidal. For the briefest of moments he considered trying to use his burgeoning magical skills and discarded the idea almost as fast. It was all so unreliable and closing his eyes to focus did not seem a good plan.
He could see the resolve and fire in Krystelle’s eyes, and then he watched it fade ever so slightly as she came to the same conclusions he had about their situation. This was the scenario they had hoped to avoid, and the reason she had not provoked a confrontation back on their island.
Eligium- The Complete Series Page 25
