by Mel Odom
“Stop your wool-gathering,” Rohoh admonished. “We need to find that forge.”
“I don’t even know if that’s possible,” Wick argued in a low voice. He looked out over the broken masses of islands scattered over the Rusting Sea.
“Craugh sent you here.”
“As I recall, he sent you here as well. Why?”
“To help you.”
“How?”
The skink was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. Craugh just said I was to keep you out of trouble.”
“Well,” Wick said, “that hasn’t worked so far.”
At that moment, the dwarven huddle broke up after a fierce, final debate. Bulokk returned to Wick.
“We’re a-goin’ with ye,” the dwarven warrior declared.
Wick blinked at him. “Why?”
“Why? Why to find Master Oskarr’s lost axe an’ clear his good name is why!”
“Oh,” Wick said.
“Yer quest, halfer, whether ’tis yer own or ye’re a-workin’ fer or with someone else what cares about Master Oskarr’s relationship, ’tis a noble one.”
“That’s why you want to accompany me? To get glory?”
“No,” Bulokk said more somberly. “I’m part of Master Oskarr’s kith an’ kin, halfer. ’Tis me own family we’re a-talkin’ about here, too.” He sighed. “Master Taloston is a good ’un. He’s a-runnin’ this forge the best he knows how to, but we’ve gone a far piece down in the world.”
The sadness in the dwarven warrior’s words touched Wick’s heart.
“Was a time,” Bulokk said softly, “when armor made by the Cinder Clouds Forge with Master Oskarr’s mark on it meant somethin’. It meant a warrior—be he a human, dwarf, or elf—could stand up in a battle an’ know he was protected. But since them accusations after the Battle of Fell’s Keep, no one wants to buy anything from us. Except a pittance of what we used to make.” He pulled at his beard. “By the Old Ones! We’re a-makin’ nails an’ horseshoes an’ plows when we should be a-makin’ armor an’ weapons meant to be carried into battle by kings an’ heroes!”
Several of the other dwarves came closer to Wick and Bulokk, as if finally making the last decision to throw in their lot with him. They murmured similar feelings.
“Ye’re the first one what’s ever come to these islands a-sayin’ ye could find Master Oskarr’s axe,” Bulokk said. “So if ’n ye’ll have us, we’d be right proud to journey with ye.”
“If I’ll have you?” Wick stood dumbfounded.
Rohoh moved so that he could whisper in the little Librarian’s ear. “This is the part where you say, ‘Yes, thank you.’ And then you swear undying fealty to one another.”
Bulokk looked uncomfortable. “We know we said some unkind things about ye—and to ye—be we’re a-hopin’ ye’ll find room in that tiny little heart of yers to overlook that. At least fer a while. Ye see, it’s a-mighty dangerous out there where ye’ll be lookin’. Goblinkin roam unfettered over several of these islands. If ye’re a-gonna be a-searchin’ fer that axe, ye might want some help.”
Gathering himself, Wick said, “Of course. Of course I’d like help.”
The dwarven warrior shoved out his big hand. Unconsciously, Wick took it, finding his own hand engulfed in Bulokk’s.
“But won’t Master Taloston be upset?” Wick asked.
Bulokk turned him and started him toward the harbor again. “Aye, that he will, because he don’t like no one a-questionin’ his authority none. But it ain’t his ancestor we’re a-talkin’ about. It’s mine. An’ come what may of our little hunt, I’m through a-makin’ nails an’ horseshoes. I’m wishful of a-doin’ true dwarven armorer’s work.” He laid a heavy hand across Wick’s shoulders, almost crushing the skink.
They walked down to the harbor but turned away from the ship. Several dwarves and humans called out to Bulokk, for he was known to a number of them.
They chose one of the single-masted longboats tied up at shore. From the lay of the boat, Wick guessed that it was used for ferrying goods among the islands, possibly to supply other dwarven outposts that weren’t as large. Bulokk quickly assigned three of the dwarves to gather food and water to supply them on their excursion. After a short while, they returned with a cart loaded with several water skins and bags of food.
Wick crawled into the longboat with Bulokk and most of the other twelve dwarves. Four of them remained on shore to push the boat out into the retreating tide. The waves crashed against the longboat’s side and the cold spray dappled Wick.
“Good job,” Rohoh whispered in the little Librarian’s ear. “Now just keep a civil tongue in your head, and maybe they won’t cut it out.”
9
Collision!
Once they had the craft shoved out into the ungentle caress of the sea, the four dwarves heaved themselves into the boat, aided by the others who grabbed their armor and pulled. They crowded together in the small boat, and Wick’s stomach heaved, certain they would all sink under the combined weight. For a moment he sat petrified among the dwarven warriors, constricted between their massive shoulders.
After a while, a few of the dwarves assembled the single mast and raised the sail, which promptly filled with wind and drove them forward. The wind wasn’t directly behind them, so they canted over to port. Bulokk sat in the stern and managed the tiller with a sure hand.
Then, with the tangy scent of pepper cheese in Wick’s nostrils reminding him how hungry he was, his stomach growled. He immediately felt embarrassed.
That broke the tension on the boat and several of the dwarves laughed. Hunger was something they all understood and shared.
“Are ye hungry then, halfer?” one of the dwarves asked.
“Yes,” Wick answered timidly, not knowing if his admitted weakness was merely going to be made sport of.
“Didn’t get yer fill of goblin stew, I suppose?”
Wick didn’t know what to say.
“Dweller surprise, I think it were, Hodnes,” another dwarf said, chuckling. “I believe them ugly goblinkin was properly surprised, too!”
They all had a good laugh at that for a moment, and the sound combated the darkness of the night that pressed in all around them. Wick even laughed a little.
Then Hodnes opened one of the bags of food and carved up a cheese wheel, passing it out while another dwarf handed out biscuits.
“What’s the landmarks ye was needin’ to find?” Bulokk asked after they were well into the impromptu meal and the dwarven fort was fading in their wake.
“There was a lighthouse,” Wick said. “It was built in the shape of a hammer.” He crossed his arms to demonstrate. “During those days it was called Zubeck’s Hammer, named after the dwarven god of the stars. It was supposed to be over a hundred feet tall. Red and green lanterns hung in either end to let ships’ captains know whether they were on the sea side or the lee side of the island.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Bulokk replied.
“Mayhap I have,” a dwarf said.
“Where did ye see something like that, Drinnick?”
“’Twas north of here.” Drinnick glanced up at the sky, seemed to study the stars a minute, then pointed more or less in the direction they were traveling. “It ain’t above water no more, but if’n ye know where to look, ye can find it.”
“What’s another landmark?” Bulokk asked.
“A domed amphitheater,” Wick answered. “It was called Trader’s Hall. Back before the Cataclysm, there were several such structures. Guildsmen and craftsmen met there twice a year, in the summer and in the winter, to show their wares and do business. The Trader’s Hall in the Cinder Clouds Islands was unique. Besides being shaped like a dome, the builders had hammered blue foil all over it, making it very distinctive. According to what I’ve re—been told, the dome could be seen from miles away.”
Apparently, none of the dwarven warriors had ever seen the amphitheater in their travels and battles with the goblinkin.
; “Anything else?” Hodnes asked.
Quickly, Wick described Hullbreaker Reefs (two of them thought they knew where that might be), the Dragon’s Aerie (so named because it once was home to a dragon), Delid’s Circle (a semicircle of underwater mountains whose peaks appeared above the surface of the sea), and Jerrigan’s Landing (a natural port that was too small to be used for commercial industry, but was renowned for a shelf of vertical granite that set it off from the rest of the island).
The dwarven warriors compared notes to what they had seen over their years of traveling through the Rusting Sea, describing in detail the things they’d observed and heard about. Wick continued eating till he was full, then grew sleepy. The skink’s slight rustle as he burrowed through his clothes in search of the fresh crumbs didn’t inspire the little Librarian to chase the creature down. He wanted his pipe and he wanted a bed instead of being jammed between the dwarves, but he went to sleep anyway.
Only a little while later—Wick was certain about that because he knew from the way he felt he hadn’t slept long—dwarven cursing woke him.
“’Ware there!” someone said. “It’s a-comin’ straight fer us!”
Wick tried to dive for the bottom of the boat—not that there was any real room there, but it seemed safer there than sitting up if they were under attack. Being caught out in the open was one of the worst things to happen to anyone under attack. However, he was jammed too tightly among the dwarves to move.
“Show ’em the lantern,” Bulokk ordered.
One of the dwarves brought out a small pot of coals they’d kept out of sight. So far, Bulokk had wanted to remain unseen. When the dwarf removed the lid, the glow formed a translucent orange ball in the moonslit darkness.
Wick was curious about what had changed the dwarven leader’s mind about remaining hidden. Fatigued and a little frightened, he turned and gazed in the direction the dwarves seemed to be focused on. There, parting the great steam clouds that lay over the area from the volcanic activity, a ship designed solely for speed bore down on them. If it hit the small boat with its narrow prow, the ship would only leave splinters in its wake.
“Ship!” Wick squalled, managing to lever up an arm and point at the approaching craft. “Ship!”
“Ship!” Rohoh squealed in his tiny voice in Wick’s ear. The dwarves didn’t appear to have heard the skink’s cry of warning, but the shrill scream in Wick’s ear almost deafened him.
“Aye, we seen it already,” Bulokk said, holding the tiller hard so the boat cut back toward the land. But the smaller craft was coming around too slowly to avoid the oncoming ship.
Staring through the darkness, Wick realized the ship was sailing without running lights, like a smuggler might. Like we’re doing, he thought.
Her sails were black-gray, almost invisible against the sky and noticeable only because they were blank fields and held no lights. She was fully strung, even flying jib sails, not moving with any trepidation, obviously familiar with the waters.
The lantern wick caught flame from kindling lit by the coals. Handing the coal pot off, the dwarf replaced the hurricane glass on the lantern and turned the wick up. Bright, cheery light filled the lantern.
“’ Ware!” the dwarf called as he stood and waved the lantern. “’ Ware! There’s a boat out here!”
Figures shifted on the black boat, all of them lean shadows. Moonslight glinted on steel. Then, between a momentary gap of sails that allowed the moonslight through, Wick spied an archer bending his bow.
“Look out!” Wick called. “Archers!” even as he was wondering who would just fire at them without hailing.
Before his voice drifted away, an arrow crashed through the dwarf’s lantern, shattering the glass. Another arrow took the dwarf through the chest. Oil splattered the boat, then the wick fell through and the oil lit the dwarf holding the lantern and the boat on fire. Flames wrapped threatening tendrils around both.
The burning dwarf cried out in alarm and beat at the flames with his hands. He flung the remnants of the lantern into the sea.
Fear clawed through Wick and his instinct screamed at him to burrow as deeply into the press of dwarves as he could. Instead, he fought to get free, to try to reach the burning dwarf, but he couldn’t.
“Adranis!” Bulokk barked. “Get him into the sea!”
Instantly, one of the dwarves pushed up, caught the burning dwarf in his arms, and threw them both from the boat into the sea.
Another arrow found a second dwarf. Two more arrows were embedded in the gunwales. Eight or nine shafts (things were confusing at this point) pierced the boat’s sail. And a half dozen more arrows spiked the water around the boat as it pitched.
“Got me in me leg!” the wounded dwarf yelped. His big hands closed around his thigh. Flames from the spilled oil licked at his boots.
Wick gazed in disbelief as he drew his own feet up. Where did they come from? Why did they attack?
“To port!” Bulokk roared. “Turn the boat over! Save her if’n we can!”
The dwarves reacted to their leader’s orders at once, standing on the port side and grabbing the gunwales. Three of them even took hold of the mast and boom and pulled those over to port as well.
Overbalanced, the boat turned on its side as the ship came abreast. Wick held onto the seat, not wishful of dropping into the deep, dark water. The ship collided with the boat, hammering it unmercifully. Then it was done. The boat capsized completely and he submerged. The dark water pulled at him but he held onto the bench.
Long, loud crashing filled the water around Wick. Holding onto the seat, Wick felt the longboat shudder and shake as the black ship ran up against it all along its side. More thumps! signaled the arrival of more arrows. One of them cut a furrow along the back of one of the little Librarian’s hands. He grew instantly more worried because blood in the water would draw marine predators.
Once the boat stopped bucking and pitching in his grip, he took a fresh hold and pulled himself up into the dark of the upside-down boat. He felt at least three more arrows that had poked through the boat’s hull.
Then he thought about the dwarves, wondering how many of them had learned to swim.
Taking a deep breath, Wick ducked under the side of the overturned boat, swam free of it, and popped up above the surface of the water. Shaking the wet hair from his eyes, he gazed around, glad of the full moon.
“What were you trying to do?” Rohoh squalled. “Drown me?”
“You’re welcome to take your leave at any time,” Wick invited. He wasn’t sure where the skink had gotten to, but he was certain wherever it was couldn’t be dry.
Adranis surfaced near Wick. The dwarven warrior was striving to keep his head above the water and was failing miserably due to the weight of his armor.
Wick pulled his knife from his water-filled boot and seized hold of Adranis’s support straps. In the pale moonlight, the little Librarian saw the dwarven warrior’s face.
Stay back from him, Wick told himself. If he lays hold of you, he’ll drown you as well as himself.
As Wick started to saw at the support straps with the knife, Adranis figured out what he was doing.
A fierce, “No!” escaped from Adranis’s mouth, emptying his lungs of air. Bubbles from his unheard bellow rushed through the water. But the deed was done quickly because Wick had learned to keep his knife sharp if he was going to keep it at all. The dwarf’s armor peeled away from his body and slid away into the sea.
Angry, Adranis closed his hand over Wick’s arm, pulling the little Librarian underwater. Sinking, Wick fought to free himself but couldn’t manage the feat by strength alone. Lungs burning, he gripped the knife in his free hand and tried not to let fear claim him entirely. Drowning was a horrible death.
But Adranis couldn’t remain underwater any longer either. Releasing Wick, the dwarf kicked upward. Wick swam up as well, aiming for the other end of the overturned longboat.
Partially submerged in the sea, the longboat still mainta
ined a little buoyancy. Wick grabbed hold of the stern and clung there, sucking in deep breaths. No matter how many times I venture to the mainland, I’ll never get used to the idea of death dogging my footsteps!
Gazing around the longboat, listening to Adranis’s curses, Wick saw that the mystery ship had continued on its way. Relief washed over Wick. The vessel could have stuck around to either finish killing them or take survivors as slaves.
“Ye stupid halfer!” Adranis growled. The dwarf thumped the longboat’s hull with his fist. “That was me family armor ye just sent to the bottom!”
“You would have looked really good wearing it there,” Rohoh snarled.
Before Wick could assure the dwarf that he hadn’t said that, Adranis erupted in a torrent of foul curses that left the little Librarian in fear for his life. If he could have found the skink, he would have thrown him into the sea.
“Ain’t no replacin’ that armor!” Adranis worked his way around the lifeboat, obviously meaning Wick bodily injury. “I’ll thump yer melon for ye, I will!”
For a moment, Wick continued around the boat in order to avoid the angry dwarf. Then he gripped the longboat’s edge and flipped himself up onto the hull, which was riding a few inches out of the water. His weight (slight for a dweller!) didn’t affect the overturned boat’s buoyancy.
Adranis, unable to pull himself up out of the water, had to content himself with cursing Wick soundly.
A few feet away, Bulokk surfaced, spluttering and gasping for air. He, too, had sacrificed his armor. Still other dwarves came up as well.
When Bulokk asked for a quick count, they discovered that three of the dwarves had been lost. The warrior who’d held the lantern and gotten shot and set on fire had been sunk in the depths without recovering. Arrows had accounted for one more, dead with an arrow through his neck before the boat flipped. The third had evidently gone down too fast. Repeated diving turned up no results.
Setting his sights on continued survival, Bulokk gave the orders to those who could swim (and only about half of them could) to push the longboat to shore while the others held on.
