The Dragon War

by Salvador Mercer

  “How did you know?” Azor asked.

  Dour answered quickly, cutting the Northman off, “They already asked, and I confirmed our encounter.”

  “So how did they know to ask in the first place,” Azor persisted.

  Dour was about to speak when he looked at Diamedes and then Zokar suspiciously. “Yeah, how did you two know to ask about that?”

  “The High Mage informed us,” Zokar said quickly. “Look, I want answers about that ship and it seems like none are coming any time soon. Get on with your story and answer the historian’s questions so that you can answer mine.”

  Dour stood and put his hands back on his hips, this time facing the Balarian. “Not too patient, are we?”

  Zokar frowned but said, “Go on.”

  “I asked you a question,” Dour clarified.

  Diamedes held up both hands in an effort to calm his two companions. “The High Mage seemed able to divine your encounter as it was happening. What magic, spell, or talent he used to do so is beyond us, but he bade us permission to assist you. When we arrived at the our agreed upon location of the distraction, we found signs of death by acid. Obviously, a black dragon had been there, but we couldn’t tell if you three had escaped or were consumed by the beast, so we moved to plan B, meeting you all at our rendezvous.”

  “We escaped,” Azor said.

  “Of course we did, ya big lug,” Dour said, gracing the Northman with an impertinent glare. Returning his gaze to Zokar the small cleric continued. “What other questions do you have for us?”

  Diamedes didn’t allow Zokar to respond, “After escaping what held you up? We waited at the Travelling Toady for a full day.”

  “We was still escapin,” Dour explained. “Damien took another blast from them damn demons and we had to hole up in a brick building at the northern edge of town. Not all the dragons left right away and when they did the area was covered with troops. We had to lie low until the coast was clear to make our escape and that took a day too.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Zokar hissed.

  Dour glared, but Damien agreed, “You are getting louder my friend.”

  “Fine, what else?” Dour said in a whisper.

  Diamedes looked at Zokar who sighed and nodded. The historian turned his attention back to Damien, “Why didn’t the High Mage kill us?”

  “That is a good question,” Damien began. “It could be that you provided him with information or a reason why your existence would benefit either him or Kesh. It could also be that an agreement with another ruler or realm was made in our absence.”

  “Nothing had changed,” Zokar interjected.

  “Then most likely something benefited him from you continuing your life.” Damien said.

  Diamedes nodded, “He seemed to know I was coming.”

  “Hmm,” Damien mumbled. “Then your life is still in danger. He will have you killed now.”

  “Nonsense,” Zokar said. “The High Mage rescinded the contract in my presence and I am a witness.”

  “Yes,” Damien said, looking down and putting his chin in his hand while they rested on his knees. His black, burnt skin started to pulse with some sort of bluish energy that dance along the surface though the wizard paid it no attention. “That means that Master Diamedes said something that saved his life.”

  All eyes turned to the diminutive historian who could only shrug. Zokar asked, “If the High Mage changed his mind during their conversation, why not kill Diamedes upon arrival? Why wait and discuss things with him? Why give the historian and audience when the man is so busy? This makes no sense.”

  Damien cleared his throat and continued in his hushed tone, “Do not take this personally, but. . . you both have been in the presence of nobles?”

  “Of course,” Zokar answered, contempt in his voice at such a question.

  Damien understood immediately, “I ask in order to be as tactful as possible with what I am about to say next. The High Mage is like a noble but more pretentious. Killing you, especially when you called upon him at his abode, is like asking a noble to take out the trash.”

  There was a stunned silence broken by Azor who struggled to keep his voice down and not to laugh. “You mean your High Shaman sees them two as trash?”

  “It is a figure of speech,” Damien explained. “If there is one thing that I understand all too well, it is my ruling class of arcane wielders despite my banishment from their order.”

  “Well this piece of trash is happy to take himself out and move things along,” Diamedes said. “We are running out of time.”

  “Have you made a decision?” Zokar asked, his tone full of impatience.

  Diamedes nodded. “If you can take me to Balax, then I will meet with your master before attempting to rally the rest of the southern realms to action.”

  “How are you two planning that?” Damien asked.

  “Yeah,” Dour chimed in, “Your boat was taken by pirates.”

  Zokar nodded and narrowed his eyes while pulling his blade. “Then we take it back.”

  Chapter 9

  Pirates

  “Did you hear that?” one pirate asked his companion from the bow of the ship pointed at the coast.

  “I’ve been hearing things ever since we took the Balarian’s little boat,” the second pirate said. He was taller and more muscular than the first and a good decade older if appearances were to give any indication.

  “Nah, I mean like something hissed nearby.”

  “That was probably Arches complaining that he got stuck with provisioning duty again.”

  “Arches is two decks down and back near the stern,” the smaller pirate complained.

  The other man shook his head in the dim starlight, “He’s right below us I tell you, and he ain’t none too happy about peeling potatoes again.”

  “Captain should’ve made the prisoners do that.”

  “What are you stupid? If he did that then we get poisoned.”

  “I doubt that. Besides, when will the Captain return?”

  “Hmm,” the second pirate lifted a hand to his chin. “Probably by sunrise as he’s most likely going to take the ship anyway back home.”

  “He’s going after the bounty. He would never leave it be, not when he’s this close to it. He’ll take the bounty and then the ship to boot.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Psstt.”

  “There it is again.”

  “Yeah, I heard it too this time. Came from the very front of the ship where the anchor line is.”

  The two men drew their curved blades and advanced slowly the few paces distance between them and the very front of the bow. “I don’t hear it anymore. Maybe you should look over the gunwale.”

  “Why don’t you look first? You’re the one who heard it first.”

  “Now that makes no sense.”

  “Fine, then you go left, and I’ll look right. We’ll look over the side at the same time. We go on three, agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  The men separated slightly and looked at one another in the dark, each standing near the bow on either side ready to peer over, weapons drawn. The second pirate spoke, “One… two…”

  Zokar intervened, “Three.”

  Both men heard the assassin’s voice from behind them and sharp as cats they twirled, quickly brandishing their weapons and seeing Zokar standing not more than six paces behind them dripping wet. He was dressed all in black with a short sword drawn in one hand and a dagger in the other. The first pirate spoke, “What do you want?”

  “I want my ship back.” Zokar said calmly.

  The two pirates looked at each other then started to chuckle. After a few seconds of laughter even Zokar started in with all three men laughing in unison. Finally, the second pirate waved a hand at his companion to stop. All three men went silent. The larger pirate spoke, “You’re outnumbered two to one and all it takes is one little call to bring the rest of my mates on deck.”

  “Then what are you waiting f
or?” Zokar asked, suddenly frozen in his battle stance.

  This seemed to confuse the pair of cutthroats as they looked at each other then back to the intruder on board their newly pirated ship. The smaller pirate asked, “You want us to call our mates?”

  “Yes,” Zokar said.

  Seeing that the intruder was serious the first pirate was defiant, “Well we’re not going to call them and instead we’re going to cut you into pieces for the fishes.”

  “Have you gone daft?” the larger pirate asked his companion. Without waiting for an answer he continued. “I’m not going to cross swords with one of those Balarian assassins without backup.”

  “But he wants us to call our mates,” the first one complained.

  The larger pirate let out an immense sigh in frustration, “He only said that to confuse you and get us to not call out the alarm. Did you think of that?”

  “Now that you mention it, his request does seem wacky. Will you call out, or shall I?”

  “Blimey you have no brains in that wee head of yours,” the larger and more experienced pirate said. “We both raise the alarm on the count of three. That way he can’t stop the both of us.”

  “Right,” his companion said.

  The larger pirate started to advance slowly on Zokar and seeing this his companion followed suit with the larger pirate starting the countdown. “One…”

  The smaller pirate spoke, “Two…”

  “Three,” said two voices in unison behind the pirates.

  They twirled again to come face to face with a smaller, older cleric of the Akun sect and an immense Barbarian who looked angry. The two pirates were about to scream when Azor grabbed the smaller one, who was standing in front of him, by his throat and lifted him from his feet. The man instinctively dropped his weapon and used both hands to grab onto the barbarian’s wrist in an effort to prevent himself from being strangled.

  Dour lowered his helmeted head and butted the larger pirate in the stomach knocking the wind from the man and followed up with an uppercut of his other hand that held a small hammer which made contact with the pirate’s groin. The pirate doubled over out of breath and unable to speak for a moment.

  Lifting his head, Dour’s helmet made contact with the pirate’s chin knocking the man out cold who toppled over onto his back unconscious. Looking at Azor, Dour spoke, “No need to play with that fish, he’s too small for ya. Throw him back in the water.”

  “Wait till Damien boards,” Zokar ordered. “I want this one to raise the alarm.”

  “Why in Agon would ya want that,” Dour asked, kicking the larger pirate gently to see if the man was truly knocked out.

  “I discussed this with Damien and we have a way to liberate the boat without killing all the pirates.” Zokar moved over to inspect the smaller pirate who was held firmly in Azor’s grasp, unable to talk or cry out.

  “Where’s Damien?” Dour asked looking around.

  “I am here,” Damien said from the side of the boat, peering through the columns of the gunwale where he had used the side netting that Zokar had lowered for him.

  Dour walked over to lend a hand and help his friend onto the ship. “What’s your plan?”

  “I learned something new this winter and wanted to try it in an active combat situation.” Damien tried to wring the water from his robe with only one hand as he was loathe to release his grip on his staff.

  “What would that be?” Dour asked. “You’re not referring to that lullaby spell you practiced on me, are you?”

  Damien stopped and looked down at the smaller cleric. “What? It is a perfectly suitable alternative to using something more destructive like fire or energy. Can you help Diamedes? I am afraid he is slower than even I.”

  Zokar nodded at Dour indicating that he’d help the royal historian. Leaning over the gunwale on the port side, he reached down offering a hand for Diamedes. In short order, the historian also boarded the ship dripping wet.

  Diamedes asked, “Wouldn’t a rowboat have been better?”

  “Well we didn’t have one,” Zokar said, “and I’m pretty sure these two sentries would have spotted us taking theirs. Time to see if Damien can secure the boat without destroying half of it in the process.”

  Dour turned to Azor, “I told ya to take the left and I’d take the right. You left me with that big gallupa.”

  “What’s a gallupa?” Azor asked, still holding a firm grip on his prisoner.

  “Never mind,” Dour said, a frown coming over his face.

  “Enough,” Zokar ordered. “Azor, put him back on deck and allow him to call out an alarm.”

  “What if he doesn’t cooperate?” Dour asked.

  “Then we’ll kill him,” Zokar said coolly. “Now do it, Azor.”

  Azor nodded and lowered the man till he was standing on his own two feet. Releasing the tight grip slightly, it allowed the man to take in a deep breath of air and without prompting, the smaller pirate yelled one word, “Help.”

  “Showtime,” Dour said, swinging his small hammer and readying his short sword.

  “Are you ready, Damien?” Zokar asked.

  “It would have been wiser to ask that question before allowing the man to raise his alarm, but I am ready.”

  It didn’t take long as eight more pirates appeared from the rear door at the stern of the ship. Due to the late hour and the appearance of their dress, it was obvious that they had been awakened from their sleep.

  From the bow of the ship a good half a rock throw away, Damien murmured his arcane words and held it staff high then finally pointing it at the group of pirates. A wave of soft orange light rolled over the group and as one they fell to the deck, weapons clanging as they lost consciousness.

  “Well that went rather nicely all things considered,” Diamedes said, standing from where he had been crouching behind a water barrel.

  Azor grunted then used his forehead to headbutt the smaller pirate into submission. Releasing his grip the man fell to the ground to join his companions. Azor looked around and said, “Now we dump them overboard?”

  “No,” Damien said. “I am done killing if I do not have to.”

  “Then what?” Azor asked, looking at the ten pirates strewn across the deck as if they had passed out from a wild night of drinking and partying.

  Zokar walked to the starboard side of the ship and looked down. “We put them in this dinghy and leave them.”

  “Better to let Father Akun have them and be done with it,” Dour said.

  “You heard your friend,” Zokar said, turning back to look at the small cleric. “He’s had enough killing and enough dying. I promised him if he could incapacitate the pirates while keeping the ship intact, we’d let them live.”

  “You should have shared this with us back on shore,” Dour said, stomping towards the stern and beginning to inspect each pirate for awareness by giving them a swift kick in the torso or back of the head.

  “We didn’t have time,” Zokar explained. “Besides, we liberated the ship without Damien burning it to its waterline with his magic.”

  “Did we?” Diamedes asked.

  “You’re an assassin,” Dour said, looking back after kicking a larger pirate with a bit too much effort. “You shoulda just gone below deck and slit their throats.”

  “Too risky,” Zokar said. “We needed something a bit less messy with a high degree of success.”

  “Then you’re a poor assassin,” Dour answered, continuing his inspection.

  “I’m a tired assassin,” Zokar said. For the first time it dawned on the group that Zokar grew weary of killing despite it being his profession. He had to be in order to agree so readily to such a plan with the Kesh wizard.

  “Someone should check below deck in case there are any more pirates lurking about,” Azor said.

  “I’ll do it,” Dour said, finishing his last kick and heading to the half-opened door, hammer in front of him.

  “I’ll come with you,” Azor said, walking quickly to join th
e cleric as both men disappeared through the door.

  Once gone, Damien faced Zokar, “Thank you for allowing me my plan.”

  “I’m good with it and I meant what I said. I grow weary of taking lives. It’s no longer what I want to do, though I fear I’ll have to do it again nevertheless. It is good to have a break from killing.”

  “Can we get out of these wet clothes?” Diamedes asked.

  Before they could answer Dour and Azor returned with Azor pulling two more pirates behind him and dropping them unceremoniously onto the deck. “Two more there were,” Dour said.

  A third man came onto the deck wearing a plain jerkin, pants and a cap that seemed mundane enough. He carried himself well and walked with a slight swagger. As he exited the door, he looked at the bodies lying on deck. When he caught sight of Zokar, he smiled and walked over to the Balarian, “Zokar, is this your handiwork?”

  Zokar met the man and embraced him, forearm to forearm with their free hands resting on each other’s shoulders. “Crimson, good to see you. This was my plan, but this is the work of our Kesh friend here.”

  Crimson turned to face Damien. “My thanks for freeing me and my crew.”

  “You are the Captain of this ship?” Damien asked.

  “Aye. I command the Racer and I’m glad to have her back again. I take it you need to go somewhere?” Crimson said, turning to face Zokar after addressing Damien.

  “We need to get to Balax as soon as possible.” Zokar said.

  “Consider it done,” the Captain answered.

  “How long have you and your crew been held captive?” Zokar asked.

  The Captain looked around the quiet bay and then back to his compatriot. “They took our ship two nights ago and kept my crew and I in the lock hold… those that survived the raid.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Zokar said. “Did we get every intruder?”

  “It appears you did, though I couldn’t get an accurate count as they shifted watch every four hours. I do think they left a dozen and took off yesterday at noon for parts unknown.”

  “It will be sunrise soon, the twins have set,” Zokar began. “Do you need time, or can we get underway at first light?”