The Dragonstone

by Dennis L McKiernan

  “Alos! To starboard!” she screamed. “Starboard now!”

  Even as the oldster hauled the tiller hard over, a great darkness loomed on the left and—gwrrrwwwkkk…—the hull ground against stone, the speeding ship shuddering as the rock juddered along its side; but a surge in the water lifted the Brise banging and thudding up and away, and suddenly they were clear of the fang and racing toward disaster beyond.

  “Starboard, starboard,” cried Arin above the roar of the hammering waves. Again Alos hauled on the tiller, and the Brise responded, and moments later Arin called out, “Now swing larboard a point and square her up and stand ready.”

  As the ship flew along its new course through fangs and thunder and spray, Alos tried to cry out, but all he emitted was a thin squeak, and so Egil shouted to the crew, “Stand ready to come about to larboard, ten points on my command!”

  Whoom! Waves thundered into rock, water leaping to pour over all, and yet Arin cleared her vision and cried, “Stand by!…Stand by!…Stand by!…Now! Now, Alos, now!”

  “Now!” shouted Egil. “Come about, now!”

  Zzzzzz…Again wet rope buzzed against cleats as the Brise swung leftward ’round a great striated stone to veer sharply larboard, from north-northwest by the compass toward a southwestern run, Alos hauling the tiller hard over to make the sharp-angled turn, the jib and main luffing as the bow swung through the eye of the offshore wind; then the canvas snapped taut once more as it filled with the sharp-driving air and the sloop put her shoulder to the sea and ran through a tangle of deadly rocks for the cove beyond.

  “True southwest,” called Arin. “Steady as she goes.”

  Past her fangs, past her rocks, past her booming surf, into the throat of the serpent they sailed, the Brise battered but running true. And as they came into clear water at last, pressed beyond his meager limits, Alos fainted dead away.

  CHAPTER 61

  As Aiko carried unconscious Alos to a bunk below, Egil took the helm. “Keep a sharp lookout, there’s a Rover town somewhere ahead, and perhaps a Wizard’s tower. Arin, love, I’ll especially need your eye.”

  Into the narrow cove they fared, the inlet but a mile or so wide, and they tacked southeasterly along its length for a league or so before the snake began to bend, swinging sinuously to the right. To either hand stood jungle shores, trees thick and tall, vines dangling down, fronds and undergrowth choking the way below, or so Arin said, for in the starlight only she could make out the lay of the entangled surround.

  As they came ’round the turn, Arin hissed, “Fare to the larboard, chier, I see lights ahead. Lanterns.” But Egil had already pushed the tiller over, for he had espied them as well. “Trim up,” he called to his crew, keeping his voice low.

  They swung to the larboard and more lights came into view, the distant yellow glow of lanterns scattered here and there, some shining through windows, others aswing in the breeze.

  “’Tis a fair-sized town,” said Arin, “tucked in the curve of the land. Ships lie at anchor or moor at piers along the starboard shore.”

  As they drew closer, Egil said, “It’s after the turn of the night. I ween for most part the town lies asleep as do the ships’ crews. But even so there’ll be watches aboard as well as patrolling the streets. Take care and keep talk low, for well does sound carry over water. We’ll slip past along the larboard shore.”

  “I’ll ply a plumb line,” said Aiko. “It wouldn’t do to run aground on their very doorstep.”

  Egil grunted his assent. “Signal only if the depth is less than two fathoms.”

  Aiko moved forward, pausing at a midship deck locker to dredge up a sounding line, then she stepped to the bow and began casting the bob.

  Egil changed course again, for now the headwind was blowing directly down the channel and he had no choice but to tack. Still he clung to the larboard shore, hauling into the wind, beating forward in short tacks, changing direction often to remain as far away as practical from the town on the starboard shore.

  Steadily they drew nigh the town, and now they could hear a man singing somewhere, while elsewhere a woman shrieked in a rage cut short. A dog barked, and then another, to lapse into yips then silence as a gruff voice shouted imprecations in an unknown tongue— Kistanian, they presumed.

  Keeping to the darkness cloaking the larboard shore, they tacked opposite buildings and ships across the channel on the southeastern end of town, and from the stern of one of the dhows there came a muted giggle and the slap of a hand on broad flesh.

  Once again Egil turned on a new tack, the only sounds issuing from the sloop were that of rope gently creaking and the soft plash of Aiko’s leaden bob. And still the Ryodoan had made no signal, the water being more than two fathoms deep where they fared.

  Again, somewhere, a dog began barking in the stillness, this one to keep up its clamor, but whether it was sounding a warning or after a rat or some such, none aboard the Brise could say, and none ashore seemed to care.

  Finally they slipped past the northerly end of town—with its buildings ramshackle, and its weatherworn ships anchored sparsely or beached, fishing vessels mostly, or so did Arin describe.

  And tacking and beating on close hauls, soon they were beyond another turn of the snake, the Brise now out of sight of the town and running in midchannel once more.

  * * *

  Dawn found them yet faring more or less westerly within the long, long cove, some fifteen miles past the Rover town in all. And still Arin had seen no Wizard’s tower ensconced on the jungle slopes. Nor had she seen signs of any other dwellings along the tropical shores: no beached boats, no piers, no pathways, no buildings or huts, not even a lean-to. All seemed abandoned, or as if it had never been inhabited in the first place. Yet clear-water streams tumbled down from the slopes and into the brackish inlet; fish could be seen in the channel; trees bearing fruit stood along the shore; and as the day came unto the land, monkeys began chattering in the high canopy and iridescent birds sang and flitted through the air, these dawnlight movements and sounds adding to the incessant whirl and whine of midges and gnats teeming ’round, the swarm now joined by tiny, blood-hungry black flies, all held at bay by the pungent liquid Arin had smeared on the flesh of the crew.

  “Well,” said Delon, as he scanned the shores nearby and found no sign of habitation, “it seems as if there isn’t anything worth coming here for, else we’d’ve seen signs of living.”

  At his side, Aiko said, “Either that, or something dreadful lies ahead.”

  Burel looked up from the blade he was oiling. “Your tiger?”

  Aiko nodded and said, “She begins to whisper of peril.”

  Burel grunted and took stone to the curved edge of his saber once more.

  Egil at the tiller said, “I think we need lay anchor here and take ease. It’s been nearly the full day ’round for some, and a half day ’round for the rest. Still, someone should stand watch while the others sleep. Delon, Ferret, you’ve been up longest; take to the bed now.” Egil turned to Arin. “And you, love, to bed as well, for you’ve been on watch all night. Burel and Aiko and I will moor the ship, then I’ll stand first ward. When I need to take my own rest, I’ll awaken someone to spell me.”

  “Alos,” declared Aiko. “By midmorn he’ll have slept long enough.”

  * * *

  When midmorn came, the heat was oppressive, the air muggy and completely still, and but for the whine of an insect or two, a vast silence fell over the jungle, as if life itself refused to move in the stifling atmosphere.

  Alos was bathed in dripping sweat, his sparse fringe of hair plastered against his neck, his clothing drenched, great droplets of perspiration runnelling down his face and body and limbs, all of it refusing to evaporate in the sultry air. And although the oldster drank copious quantities of water, still he could not seem to get enough. And every now and again he dangled his shirt over the side to dip it down into the cove, drawing the cloth up sopping wet to wash over his face and arms and chest. />
  The comrades were scattered all over the decking, for it was too sweltering to sleep below, and even though they lay in shade in the open air, still they found little rest.

  Somewhat past the noontide, Egil began to moan in his sleep, and Arin awakened to hold him while another ill dream tormented his soul.

  * * *

  Weary and haggard, they got underway in early afternoon, the Brise now moving slowly in the light air wafting inland up the cove, the breeze providing little relief from the stultifying heat.

  Still they journeyed onward, the ship’s sails set wing on wing in the light wind. Another league they went and another beyond that, the breeze seeming to freshen the deeper into the cove they fared.

  The land about them began to rise, and here and there they started seeing runs of sheer stone. And still they sailed forward, while the sun slid down the sky, a thin crescent moon chasing after.

  And all the while Aiko’s tiger growled of nearing peril.

  And as the sun lipped the horizon, they rounded a final turn, and in the distance dead ahead to the south they could see the root of the snake hemmed in by soaring stone. But it was not the sheer-sided bluffs at the end of Serpent Cove which drew their full attention, nor was it the dhow moored at a dock below; instead it was the fortress atop, the setting sun highlighting a tower in one corner and standing above the walls.

  And even as they heeled the ship sharply full about and reversed course to slide back out of sight, Egil at the tiller ground his teeth and hissed, “At last I’ve found you, you bastard,” for he was certain they had finally located the tower of the Wizard Ordrune.

  CHAPTER 62

  In the twilight they slipped the Brise into hiding in a cut along the southern shore. And as they assembled and packed the gear they planned to use to gain the top of the tower, Alos looked on in desperation and groaned, “This is madness, I say, madness. Assaulting a Wizard’s tower. Sheer madness.”

  “We know what you think of it, Alos, old man,” said Delon, as he arranged a climbing harness in his pack. “Nevertheless, it’s what we must do. And you’re welcome to come along.”

  “Me? Come along? I’m not foolish enough to go anywhere near. I’m staying here with the ship.”

  “Okubyomono,” hissed Aiko, binding a rope into a hank.

  Paying her no heed, Alos said, “When you all get caught, don’t think I’m coming to fetch you. No sir. Come first light and I’m hauling anchor.”

  Arin paused in her preparations and stepped to the oldster and took him by the hand. “Alos, first light may be too soon, depending on what we find. I would have thee wait through two full nights ere taking leave.”

  Alos puffed and heaved and would not look her in the eye, yet she gently grasped his trembling chin and turned his face her way. A tear trickled down the oldster’s cheek, and finally he nodded sharply once.

  “Well and good, Alos. Well and good.” Arin stepped away and strung her bow.

  Soon all was set, and they unshipped the small dinghy from atop the cabin and lowered it into the water. Aiko and Burel hefted their backpacks and took up their weapons and clambered over the side and into the boat, and Egil ferried them to the shore yards away. On the next trip he tethered a rope to the small craft so that Alos could haul it back to the sloop, then he rowed the rest across.

  All now ashore, Egil adjusted the straps on his own backpack, then turned to the others. “Ready?”

  Ready.

  “Then let’s go.”

  As they turned to enter the jungle, Alos called out one last time, “If you get caught, I’ll not lift a hand to save you. Not lift a hand, you hear?”

  * * *

  Into the undergrowth they disappeared: Arin leading the way, Aiko immediately after, with Burel, Delon, and Ferret following, Egil in line coming last.

  Darkness engulfed them, for the sun had set and the moon with it as the eventide had swallowed the land. Above the canopy, stars now glittered brightly in the night sky, though only a faint glimmer of their light filtered down through the interlace to reach into the jungle below. Even though Ferret carried a hooded lantern, its light gleaming out through a slender crack, except for Arin with her Dylvana eyes, to the companions all was dark shapes looming at hand, black on black in blackness, and only by following closely did they not lose one another or the way ahead. And they did not wish to risk detection by opening the lantern hood wider to see through the ebony murk. In this utter gloom they could hear stirrings and swashings, and something scurried away through the thick leaf mold, and something else crashed through the brush, and they drew weapons and faced outward, seeing nothing, yet nothing came upon them. Through ferns and fronds they pressed, past dangling vines and small clinging plants and over great fallen trees, the trunks covered with moss and mold and wet toadstools and other soft, pliable growths.

  Slowly the land rose, and upward they fared, and as they gained in altitude the darkness became less black, for the soil turned rocky and the jungle thinned. Finally they came into the open along a high rocky bluff, and down below lay Serpent Cove, what there was left of it.

  Ferret slammed the lantern shutter down tight, for in the near distance stood the fortress, no more than a mile away, its stone walls flickering with yellow torchlight, its tower looming up in the darkness. Great iron gates stood in the center of the north-facing bastion wall, a barbican atop looking down into the cove below. A roadway issued out from the gates to run alongside the fortress and then, in a series of switchbacks, twist down to the pier below, where the dhow was moored.

  Arin and her companions stood on the east bluff of Serpent Cove; the tower stood at the northwest corner of the bastion. After a moment Egil said, “There’s no moon to reveal us, and only starlight above. We should be able to follow this bluff a good way, then work our way ’round sides and back, to seek advantage in what we might find, and if nothing better, continue on ’round to come straight at the tower and up its side as planned.”

  * * *

  As they drew closer they could see warders posted atop the ramparts. And closer still they heard a clatter of gears, as of a portcullis being raised. The iron gates swung open, and a torch-bearing troop marched out and down the switchbacks toward the dhow as the portcullis behind clattered again.

  “They look like Foul Folk,” said Arin. “Loka, I ween.”

  “What would Drôkha be doing here?” asked Delon.

  “It is said that Black Mages draw the Foul Folk to them,” replied Arin.

  “And Ordrune is indeed a Black Mage,” growled Egil.

  “If what you say is true, Dara,” said Delon, “then perhaps Trolls and Ghûls and Hèlsteeds and other such reside in Ordrune’s tower. If so, then our task may be doubly hard.”

  Aiko touched her chest—there where a red tiger lay—but the golden warrior said nought.

  * * *

  Finally they faded into the fringes of the jungle and began slowly working their way ’round the fortress, pausing now and then to slip forward and see if there was aught to give advantage in going over the parapets rather than climbing up the outside of the tower.

  The walls themselves stood some thirty feet high, and a wide strip of land had been cleared of growth about the bastion, the land laid bare to give archers above clear arrowcasts at any attacking foe, laid bare as well so that enemies could not easily come upon the fortress unseen. Even so, the companions had come prepared, for at Ferret’s suggestion in Sabra, they had purchased reversible cloaks in the event they might prove useful, cloaks which would blend into the terrain—greyish brown on one side, grey-green on the other—cloaks that were now rolled and lashed to their packs. And as they examined the open strip and the bulwarks beyond, she whispered that they could cover themselves and crawl forward undetected across the bare land, or so she believed.

  And the stars wheeled silently above as the comrades watched swart guards pace atop stone walls.

  Finding nought to change their plans, back the companions fa
ded into the jungle to creep ’round to the south, and then once again move forward to examine the back wall. Long they looked as the night deepened, and just as they had found on the eastern bulwark, there seemed no advantage here either, nothing to change their plan to climb the tower.

  Once again they faded back. Slowly they worked around to the west as stars wheeled above. When they moved forward to the edge of the bush and examined the western ramparts, still climbing the tower seemed best.

  Now they passed through the undergrowth and vines and trees to come opposite the northwest corner, to come opposite the high stone tower, wavering torchlight illuminating its inner side.

  Delon murmured, “It seems your drawing was right, Egil: there appears to be no banquette around the outer wall of the tower.”

  “There are arrow slits, though,” said Arin. “And if warded on the inside—”

  “Fear not,” said Delon. “From what I have seen, the walls and tower are large blocks piled atop one another, some mortared, others not. I believe there’s enough crevices and handholds so that we can all free-climb the stone. We’ll not need to drive a single rock-nail; our ascent will be silent.”

  Arin glanced at the sky. “It is nearing mid of night.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Egil, untying his cloak from his pack. He looked at Ferret in the starlight. “Dun side out?”

  “Indeed,” she replied.

  * * *

  Slowly, carefully, a yard at a time, on their stomachs they inched across the open terrain, listening for sounds of alarm while watching the movement upon the walls to see if there were any change. Now they came into the shadow of the tower, and all seemed at ease, yet of a sudden there was a flurry atop the ramparts and a great shouting erupted.

  Ferret called out quietly, “Steady. Don’t move. It may not be us.”