Monster Girl Islands 5

by Logan Jacobs

  Tasty. George grinned when he’d finished.

  “Yeah, sushi’s not exactly my style,” I replied. “I prefer my fish cooked. And cooked well done.”

  To each his own, dear one, the dragon chuckled.

  The next day and a half went just like the first. The waters were clear, the sailing smooth, and there wasn’t a nasty storm or an orc ship in sight. George dipped in and out of the water, eating his raw fish and putting on shows for the women, where he flipped in and out of the water, soaked them to the bone, or tossed fish on board for them to eat. I warned him to be careful of any sea monsters, but he assured me he’d be safe in the water. After all, the ocean was his homeland.

  I was still a little wary, even after he made that point, simply because of the stories I’d heard. None of them were proven or confirmed, of course, a fact Jonas made sure to remind me of, but the story about the massive sea squid that had attacked Mira and I on our way to the deer women’s island had been supposedly fake. And yet, the thing had nearly killed us. So, as much as I wanted to believe the sea monsters were just old legends, I couldn’t help but be cautious.

  George was careful, though. He made sure to always swim a few feet below the surface, and he kept near to the ship in case he needed to jump back on at a moment’s notice.

  The massive water dragon looked perfectly at home in the water, though, and I had to admit it was an awe-inspiring sight to see. His blue scales blended in with the crystalline ocean waters, and his long tail was perfectly formed to aid him as he navigated the chilly waters. It reminded me of the way a mermaid swam back on Earth in the movies.

  It was our third day out on the open waters, and I was on the lower deck while Mira manned the wheel. George was not in the water for once, and he instead slumbered peacefully behind Mira. Jonas had retreated below decks to rest his stomach, since the poor soothsayer had gotten sea sick not long after we’d left shore.

  The sails were open and tied off, and the waters and wind were both smooth, so the women were spread out along the deck of the ship. Some leaned up against the rails like me, while others laid out and enjoyed the feel of the warm, undisturbed sun on their faces.

  Jemma was next to me as we watched the water and the fish below it.

  “Look at that one, Ben,” she gasped for what was probably the millionth time, and then pointed down below us.

  A large, thin silver fish swam alongside the ship, just below the water’s surface. With the angle of the sun and the way the blue waters skimmed over its back, the fish almost looked like a clean, shiny piece of metal as it carved through the small waves that lapped up against the side of our ship. Sunshine glinted off its scales and bounced back toward my eyes, and the reflection was so bright I had to look away and turn my head, or else risk being blinded by the bright fish.

  As I looked up and away from the glow, though, I saw something on the horizon. At first, it just looked like a large black dot, and I thought I was seeing things. Maybe my eyes had been more affected by the glint from the fish’s back than I thought.

  So, I squeezed my eyes shut and then blinked them open again, only to see the black dot still on the horizon.

  “Ben, what is it?” Jemma asked as she caught onto my tension.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I muttered

  Then I ran up to the bow of the ship, so I could get the best look possible. I planted my foot between two of the wooden poles that made up the railing of the ship and hoisted myself up. If I hadn’t been intent on figuring out what the hell was ahead of us, I definitely would have made a Titanic joke.

  But jokes were not the first thing on my mind as we pulled closer to the black dot on the horizon. After another few minutes, excitement lit a fire in my belly.

  “It’s an orc ship!” I yelled out.

  The vessel in front of us had become clear enough now that I could tell it was another, smaller ship, about the size of the last one we’d chased down. And as far as I could tell, its sails were up and its anchor was down, so it didn’t move, even as we came closer to it. This told me they either hadn’t seen us yet, which was doubtful, or they thought we were friendly.

  Boy, would they be in for a surprise when we fired a giant cannonball right at their ugly faces.

  This was going to be awesome.

  “Ready the cannons!” I shouted out.

  Suddenly, the deck was alive with action as the women raced about and loaded all three of the cannons, positioned them, and got ready to aim when we got into range.

  I leapt across the deck and took my spot next to Mira. George was awake and alert now, and I could tell all his senses were activated as he readied himself in case we faced danger.

  “Do you think they see us?” Mira asked me.

  “I’m not sure.” I shook my head. “If they do, they think we’re friendly. I don’t think the orcs know we have their ship.”

  “The ones who escaped probably thought we’d never be able to sail it with all these women,” she snorted in disdain. “We will prove them wrong.”

  “Hold your horses, Jack the Ripper,” I teased. “Let’s figure out what we’re up against first.”

  Despite my apparent calmness, I wanted to rip the orcs to pieces as much as Mira did. As soon as we were in range, I knew I’d just give the order to fire, and not wait until we could even see their ugly, disfigured faces.

  So, I waited in anticipation as we got closer and closer.

  Only, my anticipation was quickly squashed when we saw what looked like a bright orange flame that burned on the water, just behind the boat. From far away, I had assumed it was the reflection of the sun, but now that we were within three quarters of a mile of the vessel, I could tell it was no reflection. Instead, it was a line of fire that burned on top of the ocean’s surface.

  “Oh, my gods,” I breathed as I remembered Marella’s vision.

  This was exactly what she’d seen, I was sure of it.

  “Anora!” I called out, and the woman turned to me immediately, ready for orders. “I need you to get Jonas for me.”

  She nodded quickly and rushed off below decks to rouse the soothsayer.

  “What is it, my king?” Mira murmured.

  At the same time, cries rang out from the lower deck as the women saw what laid in front of us, and within a split second, we’d all realized this wasn’t just an orc ship.

  “That’s Marella’s vision,” I hissed. “She said she’d seen fire that burned along the water as if the ocean was its fuel. This must be what she spoke of.”

  “But how?” Mira shook her head in confusion. “Water is the enemy of fire. How is this even possible?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered and frowned. “Get as close as you possibly can and then drop anchor.”

  “Yes, my king,” she replied.

  “Ladies, be ready at the canons!” I called out. “Who knows what we’re about to stumble across.”

  Dear one, I have never heard of anything like this before, George said.

  I turned to see my dragon’s brilliant blue eyes were full of worry and anxiety.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I assured him.

  Anora reemerged, with Jonas close behind her. The poor man’s face was positively green, but he forced himself forward, especially once he sensed the rising tension on the boat.

  “What is it, Ben?” he asked as he climbed the stairs, one at a time, with a hand on the rail.

  “I’m so sorry to get you up,” I said seriously. “But I wouldn’t do it unless it was absolutely necessary. Look.”

  I pointed to the ship in front of us, with the blaze of fire that burned alongside it.

  Now, we weren’t more than forty yards away, and the picture before our eyes became extremely clear.

  The ship was burned to a crisp. I knew what orc ships were meant to look like, and this one was a shadow of its former self. The entire upper deck had been eviscerated by what must have been a blazing hot flame, the sails and mast were completely gone, and the
entire bow of the ship still flickered with little sparks every now and again.

  “Oh, my,” Jonas breathed as his eyes widened. “That is a sight.”

  Mira called for the women to drop anchor about thirty yards away from the vessel, to ensure we didn’t get too close. We had no idea what caused the fire, and there was the potential for us to get hurt as well, so we wanted to be completely cautious.

  The ship was completely useless. I doubted there was any way there were still living beings on board, and I didn’t want to find out just yet. Anyone who had been on the top deck whenever the fire started would have certainly been smoked like a marshmallow over a campfire. I couldn’t tell yet, but I had a feeling the same went for whoever was below decks.

  As much as I loved to revel in any sort of harm or damage that came to the orcs, I couldn’t help but be a little nervous. I didn’t know how the fire started, but I was fairly sure the orcs hadn’t done it themselves.

  And I definitely didn’t want to run into whatever creature or being who had done that.

  “Everyone, be on high alert,” I called out. “If you hear, see, or even have a feeling about something suspicious, you let everyone know, got it?”

  I was met with hollow nods and a couple of weak “yeses, but the women were all fixated on the burned orc ship just as I was.

  “I have never seen anything like this before in my life,” Jonas breathed. “Marella had a vision about this, but I believed it might have been a metaphorical one, not literal.”

  “She told you about her vision?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes.” The soothsayer nodded. “We discuss all of her visions and intuitive feelings. I am the only one who understands, after all.”

  “Right,” I replied. “Of course. Do you have any idea how this happened, Jonas? What kind of magic could make fire burn on water?”

  “Magic?” He raised his eyebrows. “No, Ben, this is not magic. At least not any sort I have ever read about, and I am fairly sure I know them all. There is not a potion in this world that could make fire burn on the surface of water. They are two elements, constantly in opposition with each other. This should be impossible.”

  The last sentence seemed like it was more to himself than it was to me, but I completely agreed with him. The dancing orange flames shouldn’t exist, and at this point, they should have at least died out.

  But they hadn’t. Instead, the flames still flickered over the water, but the fire didn’t move. It didn’t seek out more sources of fuel and more things to burn, it just danced in the exact same place as we watched, like it was stuck there.

  Impossible or not, there was no mistaking what we saw.

  Ben, I will go into the water and investigate this flame, George said. I do not want you to take the boats over there in case they catch fire, as the orc ship did.

  “Thank you, my friend.” I nodded to him.

  George leapt down from the ship and swam just under the water’s surface as he made his way over to where the flames still danced along the water.

  As George investigated, I did a full circle turn and stared out over the waves of the ocean. I had no idea what to look for, and whatever caused the flame could have been in the water, the air, or even on the ship itself. For all we knew, some sort of enemy combatants had appeared on the ship, lit a fire, and then disappeared just as quickly. After our run in with the maldungs, there was absolutely no theory I discounted anymore.

  This world had taught me that even the craziest things were possible.

  The ocean and sky, though, were completely clear. If we hadn’t been thirty yards away from the burned-out shell of a ship and a dancing flame that fed on the water, I would have thought it was a perfectly nice, completely normal day.

  “I do not like this, my king,” Mira murmured.

  “Well, on the bright side, maybe whoever burned that ship to a crisp will be on our side,” Jemma said as she climbed the steps to the upper deck. “Would it not be wonderful to have a fire wielding ally with us when we attack the orcs’ home island? I would love to see the expressions on their fat, ugly faces when we swoop in and light them on fire.”

  “We would just have to hope we don’t light ourselves up in the process,” I reminded her.

  Admittedly, what Jemma said sounded pretty cool, but unlike her, I wasn’t quite so easily swayed by optimism. I’d be wary and on edge until we knew exactly what had caused the fire, and why. Until we could figure out it was, indeed, some other species that was at war with the orcs, I’d lay awake and listen for some sort of fire breathing beast.

  Plus, I didn’t see how it could be another population of people. Technology or even just knowledge that advanced seemed like it would belong to a people who would have encountered the women at some point.

  Dear one, you must see what I have found, George’s worried voice suddenly interrupted my rambling thoughts.

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  I will swim back to the ship and show you, the water dragon replied.

  I looked out to see his massive blue head pop up on the other side of the burned orc ship. He swam quickly and cut through the water like a shark in his hurry to reach us and let me know whatever was on his mind.

  As soon as George had jumped back onto the ship, he rushed up to the upper deck, and the women below all looked on worried as the dragon came forward.

  “Everyone go below deck,” I ordered them. “I want you as safe as possible, just in case.”

  There was, as usual, no arguments. The women raced below deck and left Mira, Jonas, Jemma, and I above the deck to speak with George.

  “What did you find?” I asked him.

  The dragon approached with his mouth completely closed, and he looked between us all with eyes that held a mixture of anxiety and confusion.

  Anxiety was not an expression I’d seen in George often before, if at all, and it dug a pit into the bottom of my stomach.

  Slowly, George opened his mouth and coughed out whatever treasure he had found in the sea.

  The object hit the deck with a loud, hollow clang, like the sound a copper pipe makes whenever it collides with something.

  Bright golden light from the sun bounced off the object with such ferocity it actually blinded me for a moment. I shut my eyes against the assault and sidestepped to my right, so the sun was behind me and the glare was much less harsh.

  Then I realized what I was looking at. Or at least, I thought I did.

  It was a water dragon scale. I knew this because it had the same texture as George’s scales did, though its color was completely different. This scale looked like it was made of a soft, dewy silk, as if it would be like velvet if I touched it.

  The color was a pure gold, though, but it wasn’t the tinny, brassy gold associated with jewelry or paint. This gold was pure, as if sunlight had been bottled up and fermented until it turned into paint, and then layered onto the dragon scale over a long period of time until it had taken the color into its very fibers. A soft shimmer ran throughout the scale, but unlike George’s near sparkling sheen, this shimmer was very slight. If the sunlight didn’t hit the scale the exact right way, the shimmer completely disappeared.

  Water beaded up on the surface of the scale as I examined it and slowly rolled off, the way rain slips off a fancy umbrella.

  Something was different about this scale, though. Where George’s scales were relatively small, about the size of my hand, and nearly perfect circles, this scale was huge. It was at least triple the size of even George’s largest scale, and it was twice as thick. Instead of lying flat, the way George’s did, the scale was slightly curved, and it looked as if it would fit snugly over the curve of an arm or leg.

  And on top of all of that, this scale was shaped like an oval, and not a circle.

  For a split second, I forced my mind to think about Nixie and the children and hoped maybe I’d remember they had scales like this. That, somehow, I’d just completely forgotten what their scales looked like while I stood
here and did my comparison.

  But I hadn’t. All of the water dragons’ scales were nearly identical, save for their colors. The slight variations in size were so minimal, they looked like nothing more than margin of error when compared to the difference between the golden scale and George’s.

  “That looks completely different from your scale, George,” Mira spoke up as if she’d heard my thoughts.

  Yes, it does, George replied.

  But he had nothing more to say. None of us did.

  Slowly, I sank down to my knees next to the scale and reached a hand out to touch it.

  I didn’t know what I expected to find. Maybe I thought it would still feel like George’s scale, and therefore we could assume there was a fifth water dragon that swam the seas, one much larger than George.

  But it felt nothing like George’s scale. Whereas water dragon scales were smooth to the touch, created to help water skim by and off their scales to allow for the easiest swim, this scale was rough, and I could feel teeny tiny little divots and bumps below my fingers, like some sort of rock.

  “What kind of creature did this come from?” I breathed.

  I was fully convinced it wasn’t from a water dragon at all, but until we saw the creature that had dropped it, my imagination wanted to run wild. I imagined all sorts of terrifying sea creatures, or maybe some sort of land-dwelling monster the orcs had taken on the ship with them. They were all dumb idiots, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they had failed to properly cage some sort of dangerous monster. The monster could have gotten loose, and then set fire to the ship before it made its escape.

  But that just begged the question. Where could the monster have gone off to? Unless it could also swim, I didn’t see how it could have gotten very far.

  “I do not know,” Jonas said behind me. “But I do not think we want to run into whatever creature lost that scale.”

  “You think the thing that shed this scale also caused the fire?” I clarified, just to make sure Jonas and I were on the same wavelength.

  As always, we were.

  “I see no other explanation,” he replied. “A burned orc ship and a strange fire that exists on water, coupled with a new sort of scale? I do not see how those events are not interlinked.”