Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles

by Sullivan, Stephen D (v1. 1)

  Mik pulled hard and ripped the canvas away from his face. In the glow from the lightning above, he saw Kingfisher sinking around him. The mast had splintered from the deck and sank by itself in the middle of the wreckage.

  Through the gloomy water, at the edge of his vision, he could barely make out the shape of the captain’s cabin and the bridge. His possible salvation—the fish necklace—lay within, but he would never reach it. The cabin was too far away, even if he weren’t ensnared in the rigging.

  He looked up and saw Trip, tangled in ropes and canvas, further up the mast, struggling to free himself.

  Something slammed into the mast just above his head. He saw the tail fin of a shark slice away into the darkness. Struggling, he managed to pull his dagger from the sheath at his belt, then wondered if it was worth the effort.

  Mikal Vardan could hold his breath a long time. He was an excellent diver—one of the best—and he’d gotten a good lungful of air before he went down, but he couldn’t last forever. He didn’t think he could hold his breath long enough to cut away all the canvas and rigging binding him. Pamak’s last reading said the water was forty fathoms deep—a difficult dive for anyone, even a pearl diver, without magical aid. If he sank all the way to the bottom, he would likely never resurface anyway. Was it worth fighting sharks just to drown?

  His boat was dead. His crew was dead. Perhaps he should die as well.

  As the shark bore in again, Mik cast off his doubts and guilt. He would not die here, alone, fishfood for some predator. The ropes tangling the sailor gave him litde freedom of movement, so he knew he’d have to time his strike just right.

  The shark sliced effortlessly through the lightning- dappled water, its blunt head swaying from side to side as it homed in on its prey. The blue and gray mottling along its side marked it as a mangier shark—bane of shipwrecked sailors. Its jaws opened wide as it attacked.

  Mik ducked to one side as the mangier came in, and stabbed up with his knife. The shark missed Mik’s face by inches, its teeth ripping through the swirling canvas just beside his right cheek. The captain’s blade hit home and opened a small gash in the mangler’s belly.

  The fish jerked aside, almost taking Mik’s dagger with it. It turned slowly and came in again, trailing a streamer of dark blood. This time, it aimed for the sailor’s gut. Mik knew he couldn’t stop it; he braced himself to die.

  Just before the shark struck, though, a dark shape flashed down on it from above. The two shadows struggled for a moment, the small shape rolling through the turbulent water with the much larger mangier. A cloud of blood sprayed into the brine and the mangier sank away into the depths. A flash of lightning from above revealed Mik’s savior.

  The sailor would have shouted for joy if he’d had the breath.

  Trip’s small form swam through the tangle of ropes and canvas and began to cut the bonds holding Mik to the sinking mast. Mik shook his head, knowing Trip couldn’t have any more air than he did. He tried to motion the kender to surface, but Trip wouldn’t have any of it.

  Instead, the kender reached into a pocket and pulled out a small wad of damp weed. He thrust the mass toward Mik’s face. “Take it,” Trip burbled. “It’s ... magic seaweed.”

  Mik opened his mouth, and the kender popped the seaweed inside. Mik chewed.

  For a moment, he thought that Trip had made a mistake. Pain like fire shot through the sailor’s limbs, and his muscles spasmed. Multicolored lights flashed before his eyes, and it felt as though someone were sitting on his chest.

  Then a familiar tingle began to build up in his toes. The sensation spread through his body until it reached his lungs and, finally, his skull. The sensation was similar to the one he felt when using his enchanted fish necklace. Mik took a deep breath of the brine and felt pleased when he did not die.

  “Ugh! Tastes . . . terrible,” he said, the words bubbling out of his mouth in garbled bunches. It wasn’t the bell- clear words his enchanted necklace produced, but he didn’t feel inclined to argue.

  “I borrowed it from Karista,” Trip replied.

  “I hope . .. she won’t.. . need it,” Mik said.

  Trip nodded. “Dunno how long ... it works,” Trip burbled. “Let’s cut you free.”

  For long minutes the two friends hacked at the ropes and canvas as the mast binding Mik sank ever deeper into the darkness. Flashes of light from the surface above became more dim and distant, and the turbulence in the water around them grew less and less.

  Several times, a razorfish with a Turbidus leech attached to its belly flashed by, but Mik and Trip were able to fend the predator off with their knives.

  Just before the masthead settled to the silt forty fathoms down, Mik finally wriggled free. He took a long, deep breath of enchanted air and bubbled, “Thanks, Trip.”

  The kender merely nodded. The seaweed’s magic allowed them not only to breathe but also to see—if imperfectly—in the twilit depths. It prevented the depths from crushing them and even kept the brine from stinging their eyes. Talking, though, remained tricky.

  “Now... find my cabin,” Mik blurted. Trip nodded.

  It took a moment for the two of them to get their bearings in the ocean dimness. Soon, though, they spotted a likely looking silhouette.

  Moving quickly, they bobbed over the ocean floor toward their destination.

  Mik’s cabin, and the bridge above it, had broken off from the rest of the ship when Kingfisher sank. The greater part of the two decks lay on the bottom, canted at a twenty- degree angle and shrouded in billows of settling mud.

  The two divers swam cautiously to the wreck, keeping their eyes peeled for signs of the dragon, sharks, or other predators. They kicked past the remains of several bodies along their way—small bits of flesh difficult to recognize as human, never mind as former crewmates—and soon reached the wrecked cabin.

  The door didn’t give when Mik tried it, and it took them a few minutes to pull the wood off its bent hinges. The contents inside floated in a jumble, the shambles of Mik’s life tossed everywhere. Some woven items—silks, clothing, blankets— hung eerily in the water, like strange and colorful jellyfish.

  Uncovering the captain’s sea chest took longer than either of them would have liked. Mik’s trunk had settled to the bottom of the confused heap, but appeared otherwise undamaged.

  The sailor quickly opened it and pulled out the box containing his enchanted necklace. The metal fish’s be- jeweled scales glimmered in the dim light inside the sunken cabin. Mik took the amulet from the box and hung it around his neck.

  For a moment, he felt sick to his stomach, as the magic of the necklace tangled with the water-breathing spell from the seaweed. He spat the chaw of weed into his hand and immediately the pain passed. In a moment, the submarine world around him became brighter as the amulet’s powerful enchantment sharpened his senses. His lungs filled with sweet, fresh air, and his limbs tingled with new vitality. Then a shiver ran through him, and he noticed that three more jeweled scales had flaked away.

  Mik grimaced and handed the magical seaweed back to Trip. “Thanks,” he said.

  The kender frowned at the green-brown wad before popping it into one of the many pockets of his lizard-skin vest. “Dunno ...” he said, “how good it is . .. used.”

  Mik knelt beside the sea chest and opened the box with his copy of the Prophecy. The box, though, was not watertight, and the parchment had already been ruined. A small cloud of blue-black ink puffed into the water as the paper floated out, like a pale bit of seaweed.

  The two of them quickly sifted through the jumble and turned up Mik’s sword. They took all the coins they found as well, knowing they’d need cash when they reached civilization again.

  “You still have the black diamond?” Mik asked.

  Trip nodded and patted one of the pockets of his lizard-skin vest. “Ula had ... right idea about... money,” he commented.

  “The others ... dead?”

  Trip shrugged. “We were . . . lucky.”


  “Let’s surface,” the captain said. “If anyone’s still alive ...”

  They swam hack out the cabin door and took a moment to get their bearings. Light from the storm and the fire above had died away considerably. Darkness shrouded the sea, and even their magically assisted sight couldn’t penetrate far.

  A swift-moving shadow flitted past, just at the edge of their vision. As the captain and the kender turned to face it, something struck them both from behind.

  A heavily weighted net encircled them, pinning their arms and making it difficult to move. Mik twisted against the ropes and yanked his specially weighted dagger free from its scabbard. He threw the knife at a shadowy figure nearby.

  The underwater shiv sliced through the water and struck the object with a dull thud.

  Deep laughter echoed through the darkness.

  Mik reached for his cutlass, but the shadowed figure tugged on a line, tightening the net so he could barely move. Trip, though, had managed to pull both his daggers and was already working on cutting the sturdy mesh.

  Another figure, swimming almost too swiftly to see in the darkness, yanked on another cord and toppled them off their feet. Trip’s daggers fell from his hands and settled to the sea bed below.

  The two figures circled quickly outside the netting, pulling the trap tight around the sailor and his diminutive companion. Try as they might, Mik and Trip could not break free. In moments they lay bound and helpless on the bottom of the sea.

  Eleven

  Scavengers

  Mik struggled against the rope netting binding his arms and legs.

  “We must reach the surface!” he said.”

  “Friends ... maybe .. . dying!” Trip burbled.

  “Anyone on the surface is dead already,” said a raspy female voice. The voice was far clearer than Trip’s, or even Mik’s magically assisted tones—as though it had been bom to deep waters. “Sea dragons don’t take prisoners, and Tempest is the worst of all,” the voice continued.

  “A had break for sailors,” added the deep voice they’d heard laughing before, “but very good for our business.” This voice was just as clear as the first.

  “Who are you?” Mik asked, peering into the shadowy deep. “What do you want?”

  “Salvage,” the raspy voice, which was attached to the slender, swift-moving form, replied. “Even half-drowned sailors have some value.”

  “We should go,” the deeper voice said. “The dragon isn’t far off. We should return to Reeftown.” A huge armored knight emerged from the shadows and began reeling in the net containing the captured mariners.

  Mik and Trip glanced at each other in wonder.

  “How...?” Trip blurted.

  “Yes,” the raspy voice said, “we should hurry back. I want to see what our other salvage parties have brought to fatten my treasury. See to the prisoners, Shimmer.”

  Shimmer, the underwater knight, nodded and said, “Yes, Lakuda.” As he drew closer to the captives, tightening the net as he came, his appearance became more defined. He was a tall man in shiny reddish armor decorated with fins, scales, and fishlike patterns. A spiky helmet completely covered his face.

  The creature known as Lakuda swam forward with a few quick undulations of her lean body. Her black eyes peered at the prisoners in the weighted net. She was dressed in a combination of form-fitting black orca-leather and golden jewelry. Her face was thin and sharp-featured. She had tightly tied green hair and pointed ears. Even without her pale blue skin, Mik and Trip would have realized immediately that she was a sea elf.

  Moving with the deadly grace of a razorfish, Lakuda regarded the prisoners with a cold, predatory smile. She poked a slender finger into Mik’s shoulder; he struggled.

  “This one seems strong enough,” Lakuda said. “Tough, too, or he wouldn’t have survived in such good shape. Perhaps he’ll fetch something. The kender’s next to worthless, though. We should leave him for the sharks.”

  “We’ve captured them,” Shimmer said. “We have a duty to keep them alive—at least until we reach home.”

  Lakuda arched one eyebrow at him. “You’d do better if you abandoned such hopelessly idealistic notions, Shimmer,” she said. “They’re not profitable.” She swooped down and retrieved Mik’s knife and the kender’s daggers from where they’d settled into the silt, and tucked them into a bag.

  “We were traveling with an aristocrat from Jotan,” Mik said. “Profit for her rescue would certainly be great.” The tightness of the net made it difficult to speak, even with aid of the necklace’s spell.

  Lakuda gazed into Mik’s brown eyes, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth. “Don’t toy with me, sailor,” she said sternly.

  Shimmer turned his armored head toward the surface, two-hundred and forty feet above.

  “If anyone’s alive up there, they’ve either been taken by the dragon or by one of your other pods,” he advised Lakuda.

  “You can . . . see all that . . . from down here?” Trip burbled, awed. He peered up but saw nothing.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Lakuda said. “Come, Shimmer.” She put one of the lines securing the net over her shoulder and began to swim away.

  Shimmer grunted and did the same.

  “Is your shoulder acting up?” Lakuda asked.

  “Not to worry about, Mistress,” Shimmer replied.

  “We could swim along with you ... if you let us free,” Mik suggested.

  Lakuda laughed, a chilling sound rippling through the water. “And then you’d meekly follow us back to Reeftown to be ransomed.”

  “Where else would we go?” Mik asked.

  “I’ve never seen ... a sea-elf city,” Trip bubbled, his eyes lighting up.

  Lakuda ignored the kender. “You’d be fools to try to go anywhere,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try, though. You’re already marked as fools to venture this far north. The continent is too far to swim, and no one enters the Dragon Isles—without permission.”

  “We make a living off fools like you,” Shimmer added with a chuckle. “Business was good even before Tempest started patrolling these waters.”

  “I’m Captain Mikal Vardan,” Mik said.

  “Former captain, I’d say,” Lakuda interjected.

  Mik fought down a wave of anger and continued, “... and this is my ace diver, Tripleknot Shellcracker.”

  “Call me Trip,” burbled the kender. “Can we ... call you, uh . .. Lakuda and Shimmer?”

  Both scavengers pointedly ignored him as they continued to drag the bound captives forward.

  Shimmer glanced at his companion, his orangish eyes shining from beneath his bronze helmet. “Hauling them to Reeftown would be easier if they would cooperate.”

  Mik smiled. “Sure. Just cut us free, and ...” He never finished his sentence.

  As Shimmer turned toward the captives, he lifted the faceplate of his helmet ever so slightly. Beams of dazzling light shot out from the crack, filling the sea with multicolored brilliance.

  A wave of dizziness swept over the shipwrecked captives. Mik’s senses reeled and he remembered no more.

  *****

  When Mik woke again, he found himself bound by the waist to a long rope. Trip was tied behind him, like two caught fish on a line. Their hands had been tied as well, though their legs remained free for swimming. Lakuda darted in front of them, tugging on the rope; Shimmer brought up the rear. Mik’s cutlass had been confiscated and, along with the daggers they’d lost earlier, put into a bag-like net hanging from Shimmer’s right shoulder.

  Whatever spell the Bronze Knight had used against them, the effects hadn’t lasted long. Mik recognized the wreckage of Kingfisher around them as they swam forward.

  Occasionally, Lakuda or Shimmer would break away and scoop up a piece of debris from the ocean floor. They’d examine the item and then either stuff it into one of the pouches hanging from their belts, or drop it back into the silt

  As they passed a large tan
gle of ropes and chains, Mik’s heart fell. There, amid the wreckage lay the body of Pamak. Parts of his torso had been bitten away, and his bloated tongue lolled horribly out of his mouth. His eyes peered, unseeing, into the endless deep. Already hagfish and other sea scavengers had begun to strip the flesh from his bones.

  Shimmer paused a minute to yank the chain free from the tangle. Pamak’s body danced horribly, like a puppet on a string.

  Hatred for these heartless scavengers welled up within Mik’s breast. He lunged forward, an incoherent scream on his lips.

  The move yanked Shimmer off his feet and caused the knight to plunge into the silt Lakuda darted back and swung the haft of her spear into the back of Mik’s head.

  The sea filled with bright points of light, and Mik’s face smashed into the mud. A moment later, Shimmer’s big hand jerked him up again. Mik blinked and tried to regain his senses.

  Lakuda pointed her spear at the sailor’s chest “Try anything like that again.” she said, “and IT gladly run you through”

  “He was part of my crew,” Mik said.

  Lakuda’s black eyes narrowed. “Now he’s just fish food.”

  They swam in silence for a long time after that. Lakuda snaked through the water in front of them; Shimmer plodded along behind, a large sack of loot on his armored back. The wreckage of Kingfisher soon disappeared into the indigo darkness.

  Mik couldn’t tell whether they were headed toward the isles or away. Their captors swam swiftly over the sparse patches of seaweed and coral. Clearly Lakuda and Shimmer knew the sea bed as well as Mik knew the stars at night

  The constant swimming soon fatigued the sailor and Trip. Lakuda and Shimmer pulled them along if they flagged, the ropes tugging uncomfortably at the captives' middles.

  “Maybe I don’t want to see a sea-elf city after all,” Trip moaned.

  “We’re not scuttled vet,” Mik said in a low voice.