by J. K. Barber
As if guessing she was thinking of him, Jared raised his brown eyes and met her green ones. For a brief moment there was a look of love, but it was quickly replaced with scorn.
"Do you have something to say, Jared?" the swordswoman asked, frustration clear in her voice. All humor was drained from the room by her now icy demeanor.
"Oh boy," Damon said looking from each of the argumentative couple in turn. He sat back excitedly, as if to watch a show. "Here we go again!" An exasperated moan escaped Katya's lips. Her patience for her sister and Jared had long since expired.
"Gabriel needs changing," the sorceress stated, "I'll tend to him while you two bicker... again. Iluak, would you please lend me a hand?" The therianthrope nodded and rose from his seat. They left the galley together, the baby gurgling contentedly in the sorceress' arms. Even Jon wiped his hands off on his deeply soiled apron and made himself scarce.
Jared sighed and lowered his eyes.
"No, Jared, if you are going to stare daggers at me, I'd appreciate you speaking your mind," Sasha spoke coolly. Her free hand went to her hip with irritation. The woodsman raised his gaze to meet hers.
"It is nothing we haven't argued about before," Jared stated. "You know my feelings concerning our son being on this journey and my anger at you for completely disregarding a decision we made together with your father to keep Gabriel safe."
Sasha nodded. "Yes, I did, because my father and you decided it was a good idea to leave Gabriel behind. If you remember, I was against it. Our child is safer with us. No nursemaid is going to be able to protect him from Shadow Walker assassins."
"Your father would not allow him to come to harm," Jared replied, annoyance in his voice.
"My father has duties of his own, separate from protecting our child. He can’t be with him all the time," Sasha said, sitting down next to the woodsman and setting down her meal on the well-used, smooth wooden table. "Surely, you can understand that."
Jared stood, as if a viper was on the bench next to him. Sasha stared up at him, disbelief and hurt in her eyes.
"Really?" she said, exasperated. "You recoil from me as if I am a snake? Jared, I have apologized for deceiving you by bringing Gabriel along. It has been a month now. You have had more than enough time to either accept my apology or walk away. While your assistance on this trip would be greatly helpful, your presence is not necessary to its success."
"Fine," Jared said, taking a moment to throw his breakfast bowl in the galley's sink and stalk back over to Sasha. He leaned in close to her face. "I do not accept your apology. However, I will not abandon my son, nor my friends." Without waiting for a response, he strode quietly out of the room. The ship tilted on a swell, and Jared's curse could be heard from the hall.
Sasha watched him go and then stared sullenly down at her breakfast for a moment before pushing it away from her on the table; her appetite was gone. Without a word, Damon set his drink down. Sasha's eyes jerked up at the movement; she had forgotten the captain was even in the room, so caught up was she in her argument with Jared. The older man crossed over to her with one of the galley's pewter pitchers and poured her a cup of ale, placing it in front of her. He then laid a friendly hand on her shoulder. The kind gestures caused tears to well in the unexpectedly emotional swordswoman's eyes. She stood quickly and walked to the ladder to the upper deck, damn near knocking Talas off it as he tried to come down at the same time. She managed to scramble past him, offering no apology; she was too busy trying to hide the tears streaming down her face.
"Oh dear," Talas said as he walked over to the table where Damon still stood. "What did I miss?"
"Jared might have just broken his relationship off with Sasha," he said a bit stunned. Talas' mouth dropped in disbelief. The captain's good nature couldn't be stifled for long though; he clapped Talas on the shoulder and pointed to Sasha's breakfast. "You've been hard at work, my friend! I bet your stomach could use some warm food in it. A cup of ale might be in order too," he winked at the old man, his usual jovial attitude having fully returned as quickly as it had gone. "Let's not let the foolishness of young love bring the rest of us down. Sit! Please, eat!" Damon's smile was infectious.
Talas looked back at the ladder, contemplating going after Sasha.
"I suppose she'll want some time to herself. I'll check on her and the lad later today after their emotions have had a chance to cool down," the priest stated, more to himself than to Damon. Talas had been attempting to council the pair and get them to reconcile ever since the baby was discovered on board. While he was able to succeed in comforting them both, he had failed to bring them back together, as of yet.
"Well, I am not one to let good food go to waste," Talas said and sat down, digging into Sasha's abandoned meal. The captain sat backwards on the bench next to the priest, leaning against the table with his elbows leisurely resting on its edge.
"So, you are enjoying yourself on deck it seems," Damon commented, picking at the priest's sweaty shirt and breeches in a playful fashion. Talas just smiled and ran his hands over his face that was covered in dried sea-salt, attempting in vain to wipe it away. He returned to his meal, realizing that the act was a meaningless endeavor. "You seem vibrant every time I see you hauling on the ropes," Damon continued, making cheerful conversation.
"Good, honest work makes a man feel whole," Talas replied after finishing a bite. "Had I known working a ship like this was so fulfilling back in the day, I may have joined your crew when you purchased The Isabella instead of continuing on as a mercenary."
Damon laughed aloud. "I tried to convince you, if you remember. But someone was afraid I'd turn him into a freebooter," the captain quipped. Talas laughed and clapped his old comrade on the shoulder.
"How I have missed you, my friend! I am glad for this journey, if only for the time we have had to catch up," Talas remarked heartily. The two men clinked their pewter cups in a wordless toast of friendship.
Chapter 3
Sirus regarded Tomas curiously as his new mentor tended to the young, different colored dragons, showing them where to find the best meat on the dead shark at their feet. The massive dragon's purple scales sparkled brilliantly in the afternoon sun, intensified as it reflected off the white sand beach on the largest island of the Sapphire Isles. It was a sight the woodsman, re-born dragon, would never forget. Even if he wanted to, he had his own pale scales to constantly remind him that dragons really do exist. He sighed at the black, inky veins that flawed his almost translucent hide, the sound from his dragon's throat a deep rumble. The Empress of Ice's corruption was in his very lifeblood. Three other dragons present, Niambe, Misae, and Isa, were equally marred. Their scars appeared to be forgotten though, as the female drakes happily played with the other dragons. Sirus wished he could join them fully in their youthful play, but he was mentally older than all the dragonlings. He had been a middle-aged human before the Ice Queen had, in one of her more successful foul experiments, transferred his consciousness into that of an unborn hatchling. His body had been discarded after the baby dragon’s tender mind, unable to adjust to the transition, had gone mad. Anger swelled in his chest at the memories of being tortured by Salamasca’s regent, Roane, before they succeeded in the transfer. His throat grew parched and his gut churned with fury. Sirus returned his attention to Tomas, realizing that his thoughts were taking an unhealthy turn.
Sirus knew that Tomas was able to transform into a young human, just a boy actually, but he had only seen him do it once when the older dragon had returned through the Ley Lines from some unidentified errand. Since then, Tomas had remained in his larger draconic form.
He told many stories in the past months of events on Aronshae that he had witnessed, including his time as the Administrator of Snowhaven's Sorcerer School. From what history Sirus knew, the tales Tomas told dated the dragon as at least a thousand years old, and yet his human form was still so young. Sirus and the other dragonlings were unable to transform into humans yet. Tomas explained that even if
they knew how, they would only be babes. Sirus pondered all this moodily, wondering how long dragons lived. How old I will live to be? he thought.
Tomas had glanced Sirus' way briefly when the Shadow Drake had sighed but had returned his concentration back to the lesson at hand. Once the dragons were feasting happily, the older dragon left them to their meal, lumbering over to where Sirus sulked, lying under a palm tree. Tomas placed a claw on the coconut Sirus had mindlessly been rolling around in the sand. His large eyes were always piercing, as if he knew what one was thinking. He does actually, Sirus chuckled inwardly at the human saying. Dragons could share emotion mentally in the form of images. Sirus had taught the other Shadow Drakes to use words in their thoughts, but, with Tomas, the adult dragon's understanding of emotion was so profound that words were an overstatement. Tomas could keenly sense the woodsman's tumultuous thoughts. They must have been hanging over him like dark clouds that threatened rain.
"Sirus," Tomas said, the name stated with a warmth that evaporated the Shadow Drake's gloomy demeanor.
"I am sorry. I think too much about everything," Sirus replied.
"Worry you mean," Tomas added, a smirk forming at the edge of his toothy mouth.
"Worrying like an old woman, yes sir," Sirus chuckled aloud. His merriment faltered, however, and his draconian face became drawn with anxiety. "She haunts my dreams."
Tomas nodded his great horned head knowingly. "I figured my former student’s servant was the object of your thoughts," the wise drake spoke as he surveyed the others about him, his eyes pausing on Sirus’ female clutchmates. They appeared genuinely cheerful as they played with a bunch of earth drakes, nibbling teasingly at the long brown spikes that protruded from their faces. "Your sisters do not share your worries, my friend."
"My sisters weren't tortured for a year by that bitch," Sirus all but spat, the memories flooding back, igniting his hatred for Roane all over again. His chest ached, tight with leashed rage. Tomas, witness to Sirus' obvious torment, placed his snout against the Shadow Drake's and closed his eyes.
"Peace, brother. Breathe," the purple dragon said smoothly, his voice calm. Images from Tomas of floating clouds on a warm day flowed over the younger dragon. The satisfying taste of hot meat from a fresh kill in his mouth deeply soothed him, even if it was just in his head. "Salamasca and her regent's influence cannot reach you here."
The moment of peace passed, and then, against his will, Sirus' body went suddenly rigid, his shoulder scar threatening to burst open from the inside with fiery pain. He tried to scream, but he was commanded to be silent.
Sensing a change in Sirus, Tomas opened his eyes. The younger dragon's face was stiff as if a mask. A mental wall slammed down, severing the communal bond. The woodsman's eyes grew cold.
Tomas knew those eyes.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Master," Sirus said, his voice now feminine and rich with scorn. The male Shadow Drake launched, teeth flashing, at Tomas' throat. It was only the mature dragon's survival instinct that saved him from harm and quite possibly death. One of Tomas' giant front claws rose reflexively and impacted so hard with Sirus' temple that the Shadow Drake's head actually bounced off the sand. Except for his shallow breathing, the smaller dragon lay in a motionless heap, his inky blood already forming a black bruise where Tomas had struck him. Sirus' world went dark.
A woman's wild scream added to a monstrous growl was the only warning Tomas got, as he looked up to a large shadow descending upon him. Walron, wearing an adrenaline-crazed grin and his wings tucked for an impossible dive, plummeted towards the beach at lightning speed. Tomas only had a moment's glimpse of Salamasca mounted on the Shadow Drake's back, before Walron crashed into him, flinging them both to the ground and sending sand flying in every direction.
The youngling dragons stared in horror as the two larger dragons thrashed about, trying to regain their footings. Even though Walron was born at the same time as the other dragonlings, he was significantly bigger than any of them. Still, his size was not near as enormous as the purple giant with which he now grappled. Palm trees were reduced to splinters under Tomas' girth alone. So distracted by their mentor and his attacker, the young earth drakes never saw the three female Shadow Drake's demeanors darken and grow cold. Isa ripped the throat out of the nearest brown dragon, his rocky scales not quite old enough to have hardened fully, and leapt on top of another, her talons ripping long bloody rents down his back. Misae and Niambe started attacking others as well. The dragons were panicked and disorganized, as they tried to flee from the frenzied Shadow Drakes.
"NOOOOO!" Tomas screamed out loud, as well as through their communal dragon thoughts. Their happiness from a moment before the attack had been replaced by pain and horror. He flung Walron off him and rose onto his hind legs, trying to open his wings to assist him in detangling from the Shadow Drake. Walron hesitated at the impressive wingspan of the elder dragon. His mind filled with the older dragon's overwhelming rage. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before and was paralyzed in fear as Tomas raised his horned head and roared so loud the ground shook. Even the female Shadow Drakes paused in their attacks, giving the other dragons a few precious seconds to recover and regroup from their shock at the unexpected attack.
"You weak, oversized cow," Salamasca hissed at her mount, unfazed by Tomas' display. After the initial collision, she had smoothly leapt from her saddle and landed in a controlled tumble. She had settled into a crouch that displayed her smooth white legs underneath the modified, black riding skirt slit all the way up to her hips. The woman's low-cut black leather bodice showed an ample pale, marble-like bosom in her bent position. She grinned up at Tomas, a pouty, sultry smile on her light pink lips. Her stark white hair twisted about her in the ocean breeze, framing her solid black eyes. She stood slowly, swinging a staff made of dozens of dried up, twisted branches bound by leather bands. So tightly were they wrapped that she had been able to sharpen the ends, a memorable feature from her previous staff. As she leisurely twirled her new weapon, it emitted the chittering sound of thousands of chitinous insect legs that sent chills up Tomas' spine. Black smoke wisped off of it, leaving thin trails as she spun it over her head, extended her neck, and screamed her own startling banshee-like wail into the air.
The sand under Tomas' feet began to steam with inky tendrils. The magic was foreign to him, and he tried to simply back out of it. With each step however, where his foot depressed the sand, even more smoke spilled out of the ground. Salamasca laughed wildly watching her spell take shape. The affected sand suddenly went solid and cracked like a dried up desert devoid of water. From the fractures, thousands of tiny scarabs swarmed out and up Tomas' legs, biting at his scales in their search for soft flesh. He batted at them fruitlessly with his claws, trying to crush the insects or at least wipe them off, but more and more of the bugs swarmed out of the sand to cover his body. His amethyst-colored scales were rapidly disappearing under millions of shiny black bodies. As he flapped his wings repeatedly to fling the relentless scarabs away, it occurred to the elder dragon that as soon as they reached his mouth, ears, nose, and eyes they would find the supple flesh they so craved. He was horrified as he realized he would be eaten from the inside out and left a lifeless shell of scales. Salamasca leaned on her staff casually, as she watched the chaos before her, drunk in her eminent, long awaited victory. Walron recovered himself and stood at her side, his scaly face slack in awe of her spell.
The purple leviathan cursed as he tried to think quickly. He needed magical assistance, which was extremely difficult to perform in his larger body; he could focus power much more precisely in his human form. Tomas didn't see that he had much choice as he drew energy into his body. An idea bloomed in his mind. Bending his neck and snout so that they faced his flank, he breathed lightning onto his scales. The energy he had collected, he then pushed to the surface of his body. It was weak and poorly formed, but it didn't need to be powerful. The lightning crackled as it caught on the surface of his s
cales and spread with electrical fire. Burning bugs fell from him like a black rain. Fully immune to his own breath, Tomas was unaffected by his spell. He rounded on Salamasca, his fury returned, and fixed her with his stare. She was frowning.
The sorceress sighed and released her spell. "I am offended, Master," she said, twisting the title as if it were distasteful to even say it. "It took some time to come up with that particular enchantment, and you had to go and ruin it." Her pouty grin returned from before. "I must say I like you in this form, by the way. Had I but known..."
Tomas ceased to listen to Salamasca, his concern elsewhere. He looked at the gathered dragonlings, who had fully recovered from the initial assault and had surrounded the three female Shadow Drakes. They kept them from doing further harm by corralling them with sheer numbers. The pale-scaled drakes paced in their makeshift pen, their tails twitching and tongues licking their lips eagerly. His heart ached at the sight of three still forms lying on the beach. His gaze paused upon Sirus, who remained unmoving, as he returned his full attention to his still bantering former student and her steed.
