The Rawn Chronicles Book Four: The Dragon and the Daemon (The Rawn Chronicles Series 4)

by P D Ceanneir

  ‘Long story I’m afraid.’ Havoc had no wish to go into details so he busied himself with the deserted ship’s Wind Orrinn. Around them resounded the shrill cries of the Sylphgiest hidden in the mist.

  With the strange effects of the Epicentre keeping everything afloat, the Sylphgiest glided effortlessly through the air, shifting left and right with a skilful ease and a lazy flap of their long leathery wings. They were quick, darting towards the armed crew of the Cybeleion en masse, clanging their spears against the infantry shields and dodging the arrows fired by the Wyvern. It was under the cover of the hail of arrows that several of the deck crew, under Little Kith, used the grappling hooks to catch the burning vessel and so were unmolested by the creatures. With a gargantuan heave, they drew themselves closer to the tired looking party that huddled together for protection from the Sylphgiest. Dead men were scattered around the deck and some of the creatures were dragging them away leaving curved blood trails from their serpent legs.

  As they drew closer, burning debris from the sail and masts collapsed to the deck and the flames started to spread. It narrowly missed the surviving group as they ran to the port side and expedited the boarding of the larger ship that had appeared miraculously out of the mist. Time stretched out and so did the flame, the only consolation was that the fire kept the creatures at bay. However, the smell of burning flesh and wood became overpowering. Eventually the two ships bumped together and the crew of the quest ship helped the survivors on board while some of the Falesti Infantry protected them by blocking the spears thrown down by the swooping and diving Sylphgiest.

  One of the survivors, helped on board by the strong arms of Little Kith and Velnour, was of medium height, wearing a padded leather overcoat and a vest of golden chainmail. Like all of his companions, he also wore a thin blue woollen skirt over his leggings and the excess slung over their left shoulders and down their backs. It was pinned at the shoulder by a large broach depicting a five-tiered temple.

  ‘Thank the gods you have come!’ he said to both Kith and Velnour, ‘we have been fighting those fiends for the past four days.’ His tired face was crusted by old blood, which flowed from under his mousy brown hair and plastered his long moustache to his cheek.

  Captain Danyil ordered his men to push the burning vessel away with their spears. He was concerned that the fire would spread to his ship. The Sylphgiest reorganised their attacks now that the burning ship was out of their way, but Lord Ness used the arts to lift flames from the vessel into the air, they zipped through the white clouds like dancing arcs leaping from creature to creature and burning them black with their intensity. The screeching wail of pain from the burning Sylphgiest was like music to the Ri’s ears. However, weariness hit him also. He stumbled to the ground gasping for breath, and cursing himself for a fool as the energy draining effects of the Epicentre weakened him.

  Only a few of the monsters were stopped by the Ri, the others continued the attacks and were repulsed by the infantry spears and the arrow shafts. Some of the creatures that came too close to the ship found themselves hooked in by the Paladin Foygion spears, and then impaled by the shorter infantry ones.

  The deadly arrows fired by the Wyvern were a problem for the Sylphgiest and they hung back more and more as they circled the mist out of range.

  They were in no rush.

  The large Sky Ship was at a dead stop, all they had to do was wait.

  Chapter Four

  Captain Carbaum

  I

  t was Orlam who noticed that the Sylphgiest were not as patient as they appeared. While everyone else thought that the last run of attacks from the creatures was the end of the battle they were sorely mistaken. Orlam saw that the burning hull of the distant vessel was getting larger as it floated through the mist.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ he said and then called for the captain, ‘they’re pushing the fired ship towards us, sir.’ Now everyone’s attention was drawn to the burning vessel. Several of the creatures were shoving the fire streaked blackened ruin from the starboard side straight towards them.

  ‘Gun crews!’ shouted Danyil. A swarm of bodies rushed below decks to the mounts that housed the cannon and catapults. Hinged porthole shutters opened quickly on the starboard side and the guns loaded in record time. When one of the young gunnery officers shouted up to the deck that his crew were ready, the captain gave the order to fire.

  Four lead and iron cannonballs, the size of large clenched fist and three catapult balls fired in unison trailing a jet of flame, the pounding shockwave of sound made the rescued party jump in fear. They all watched in wonder as the projectiles smashed into their ship. The fire-weakened hull obliterated into tiny shards of smoking debris. The crew of the Cybeleion ducked behind the railing as the explosion buffeted the ship and peppered the deck with scorched debris. Screaming Sylphgiest, caught up in the blast, either exploded or were impaled by splinters of burning timber. The rest retreated from the flaming black smoke.

  The crew of the quest ship all cheered at the wonder of the destruction. Even the rescued men of the late ship joined in, sad that their vessel was now in pieces but comforted in the knowledge that there was nothing they could do about it, and that they were alive.

  Suddenly, everyone stopped and gasped in astonishment as another Sky Ship burst through the black smoke that merged with the thick fog of the void. It was small and in bad need of repair. Large holes in its hull spoke of losing battles with the rock stacks. Nevertheless, she still had sails and, more importantly, an active Wind Orrinn and outriggers to steer her way through the valley. The ship shifted to starboard sending up gusts of white waves that dispersed the mist; it glided to the quest ship’s bow and as everyone on the Cybeleion ran to that end of the ship, they could see Tia standing on the ships stern waving slowly with a big grin on her face.

  ‘Throw a rope so I can tow you!’ shouted Havoc who appeared behind Tia.

  Little Kith and Furran wasted no time in executing that order, while Furran tied thick rope to the end of the thinner grappling hook line, Little Kith threw the hook with an enormous effort from his powerful shoulders. It landed on the other ship’s stern, a few feet away from Tia.

  As Havoc prepared to move off, Tia picked up the rope and looped the thicker one over the cleats, she then shouted to him, ‘the wood under the cleats are rotting they will just rip off.’

  ‘Tie it around the Orrinn Tower then,’ said Havoc. She did so, knotting it tightly in place. Havoc called to the Wind Orrinn, instructing it to move the ship forward slowly at first so the loose, thick towrope could tighten without jerking both ships. Even without the Muse Orrinn on his sword helping him to Rule the Wind Orrinn, he still had an advanced knowledge of Skrol and with the help of the Blacksword, they managed to command the Orrinn to activate and blast out gusts of elemental energy.

  The Sylphgiest must have realised the prince’s intention, because they attacked with gusto trying to cut the towrope, but Linth and several of the Wyvern Filial kept them at bay by showering them in a hail of arrows. The rope finally tightened sending up a wet spray along its length as moisture wrung from it with the tension. The tow ship juddered to a halt and deck planks creaked and groaned. Tia and Havoc looked at one another in worry.

  ‘For what it’s worth, it was a good plan,’ said Tia.

  ‘What do you mean was?’ said Havoc with a hurt look, ‘it still is.’

  He incanted Skrol directly towards the Orrinn, hoping he was using the correct command; the sound of the subconscious language burst through Tia’s head like hot needles and she moaned aloud. The tow ship groaned but stayed intact as it pulled the larger vessel forward, slowly at first, but soon they picked up momentum. Havoc did not wish to order the Orrinns Wind output to its limit. He had the feeling it would not last long anyway and that without the Muse Orrinn’s influence, he felt he had pushed to the limits of his own ability with Skrol. He thought that the cheers from the Cybeleion crew were a little premature, though.


  He had no idea where they were going. Even through the eyes of the Blacksword, he could see that the volatile energies were everywhere and it became a mental and physical effort in avoiding them. However, avoiding them became impossible as the result of hitting them caused white sparks to flash around the ship created by the merging of volatile and Orrinn energies. The sharp cracking noises they made caused Tia to jump.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘We are hitting unstable pockets of energy and they are reacting with the Wind Orrinn, this is the reason it deactivates, it’s taken all my concentration to keep it active, and I’m not even sure I’m doing that right. I have asked it to ignore its eventual doom.’ said Havoc who was also struggling with the wheel as the bursts of energy jostled the ship from side to side. The rope and sails of the little vessel ripped and snapped under the strain of the flight, wind and the electrical sparks. In the distance, the mist was clearing enough for him to see that the valley was narrowing; he turned the wheel in that direction hoping to reach it before the tow ship was ripped to pieces.

  ‘Ah, I hate to bother you,’ said Tia beside him, ‘but the sail is on fire.’

  The prince looked up and sure enough part of the sail above them at the aft end of the ship had caught fire from the snapping energy around them. The ship lurched as exploding flashes hit the port side and ripped the rotting wood off the railing and splintered the warped planks of the deck just ten feet from the Orrinn Tower. Twanging noises drew their attention to the sail’s cables as they unwound with the strain.

  The burning sail spread more flame and the speed of the ship decreased, Havoc took a chance and ordered the Orrinn to force more Wind into the Outriggers. The ship juddered forward and the tow dragged the heavier Cybeleion with a lurch that unbalanced the crew on the deck. Volatile energies burst and snapped around both ships now, but there were more explosions on the tiny tow ship. Flames ignited all around the deck and soon smoke, black and thick, billowed from the holes in the hull. The one consolation of these events was that the Sylphgiest kept their distance from both ships enshrouded, as they were, by sparks of electrical energy.

  The clearing mist up ahead showed Havoc, through the excellent eyes of the Blacksword, a diminishing of volatile energies. This was their escape from this unwelcome void if only the tow ship held together and did not fall apart around them.

  ‘Get off the ship,’ he said to Tia, ‘use the tow rope to climb to the Cybeleion.’

  ‘I’m not going without you,’ she said, looking up at him with her brown soulful eyes. With one hand on the wheel and using the other to snake round her narrow waist, Havoc hugged her. He said, ‘I will be right behind you,’ he kissed her full in the lips; she squeezed him tightly feeling his slim, but hard body under the tight-fitting Raider armour.

  ‘You had better be,’ she said, ‘it gets cold at night.’ She broke the embrace and ran to the rear of the ship. She jumped off and nimbly clung on to the thick towrope, climbing along it with the speed and suppleness of a cat.

  The flames reached the area of the Orrinn Tower and the towrope around it caught fire, Havoc concentrated on holding the wheel straight and tying a rusty wire latch over two of the protruding handle grips so it fixed in place. Then he looked through the cloying smoke that surrounded him for an escape route. The flames had spread quickly around him, sparks of energy were becoming longer in duration with fewer gaps now and he knew that when they merged into one continuous force it would rip the ship to pieces, and him with it if he were still on board.

  Behind him, the strain of the burning towrope caused it to unwind and it screamed in a sharp twanging noise. Havoc saw it in slow motion as it snapped. He wasted no time as he ran through the flames and jumped off the ship hoping to grab the falling rope, but as he exited from the black smoke, his hands missed the rope completely, fortunately his arm was grasped by Tia’s left hand as he fell. Both of them plummeted downward and Tia yelped as she received rope burns on her right hand, yet managed to keep a tight grip of her section of the towing rope still attached to the Cybeleion despite the pain.

  The sparking energy around the small tow ship finally merged into a bright explosion that ripped through the sky around them and blew away the mist to reveal the exit to the valley. The wreckage of the ship rained down as the Epicentre energies weakened enough to allow gravity to return. The Cybeleion dropped also, but as Havoc looked up, he could see someone had the forethought to start the Wind Orrinns and keep her afloat as gusts of Wind blasted out of her hull-ports. The crew was pulling up the thick towrope and Tia smiled down at Havoc.

  ‘I thought you said that you were right behind me?’ she accused him.

  ‘Yes I did, I was picking my moment. You know how I like to make a dramatic exit.’

  ‘You are by far the luckiest bastard I have ever met!’ Powyss grinned as he and other members of the crew helped to pull Havoc and Tia over the starboard side rail. Everyone was crowding them, patting their backs and cheering, even the normally cold and reserved Maleene hugged them both, giving the prince a light kiss on the cheek.

  Little Kith pushed his way through the crowd with one of the rescued soldiers from the other ship. He was the one with the scalp wound and the golden mail. His gaze was bright and grateful as he set eyes on the prince.

  ‘Boss, this is Captain Carbaum of the late galley ship Ferthen,’ said Little Kith as he introduced the battered looking man. ‘Interestingly, he tells me he comes from a small village called Ternquin of Assassi.’ The noisy chatter from the crew of the quest ship died down when they heard the growling words from the giant. All eyes looked questionably at the prince who pushed himself forward to meet the other man. The shorter captain fidgeted with unease at the silent throng around him. The captain’s own men watched the tall dark-haired man, wearing the handsome green armour, stop in front of their captain and fix him with those feral green eyes of his.

  ‘Ternquin, you say? Well captain it is most fortunate that we ran into you and your men, welcome aboard the Cybeleion,’ said Havoc.

  The short captain twitched a finger through his long drooping moustache. Havoc could see through the dirt and dried blood that he was in his mid-thirties.

  ‘Aye it is that, sir. Any longer and we would be fresh meat for those monsters, but who are you?’

  ‘My name is Havoc De Proteous Cromme, Prince of the Roguns, from the continent of Tattoium-Tarridun, and we have been looking for you for some time now.’

  There were murmurs all around from the small group of survivors as they took in the information that the prince divulged, and then their captain held up his hand to stop their chatter, the talk ended instantly and Havoc realised this man was well respected by his crew.

  Captain Carbaum regarded the prince with a strange look of awe and suspicion. Seconds ticked by then he sighed and shook his head.

  ‘You seek the Gredligg Orrinn, my lord.’ It was not a question but a statement.

  ‘That is correct, captain.’

  ‘Then you have joined illustrious company, my lord. For so have all of the ships in the Epicentre.’

  As it turned out Carbaum was a captain-of-arms and not in command of the Ferthen, he had explained this to the prince and Lord Ness sometime later when the Cybeleion cleared the narrow valleys, but she still moved slowly through the fog, which was thinning with every mile behind them.

  ‘Some of our own Sky Ships became lost a while ago, we are the rescue party. Most became trapped in the Epicentre,’ Carbaum said to the prince, unconvincingly it seemed to Havoc. He also had an unnerving habit of not looking you in the eye when speaking and he was obviously afraid of the Ri, because he constantly glanced about him warily as if Lord Ness was about to attack him.

  ‘So was the original ship looking for the Book of Lost Souls as well?’ Havoc asked him in as soothing a voice as possible, just to calm this obviously agitated man.

  ‘I believe so…erm… most are. The, ah…Floating Isle has been fabled to come to th
ese parts every two years or so.’ Carbaum seemed keen to discuss of the isle of the dead, however, the prince realised the captain was skilfully trying to extract information from him to gauge what knowledge he had. Havoc decided trust was an issue here if he was to learn some more himself.

  ‘I am well aware of Mortkraxnoss and her wanderings, captain,’ he said, ‘I am also led to believe that she appears in a valley high in the mountains beyond Ternquin and that your ancestors have come from Assassi to guard it.’

  The captain went a little pale at that and his shoulders slumped. ‘You have been to our homeland, the ancient citadel in the Mubean Desert?’

  ‘Yes, but I would not call it home anymore. The Brethac Korzac still linger there.’ Havoc saw the man flinch as he said the name of the terrible creatures that forced his people out of their city.

  ‘You are descendants of the Elementals are you not?’ asked Lord Ness.

  Carbaum looked ill at ease with the question and the prince was becoming a little impatient at the man’s lack of trust towards them. After a few seconds, the captain nodded. ‘Aye that we are, although there are few amongst us that perform the old arts any more, none of us are Elementals in the truest sense, most of us live mortal lives…Master Ri. We are all just humble traders now; we are not even able to prove we are descended from the Children of the Desert, such a long time ago it was now.’

  Havoc could see shame in the man’s eyes and he berated himself for his own ill-advised thoughts on this small man.

  ‘I see,’ he sighed, ‘How do I find Mortkraxnoss?’

  ‘Finding it is easy, getting to it is the hardest part.’

  Havoc sighed again; the captain was starting to sound like Lord Ness.