The Dragon War

by Salvador Mercer

  “Haul his boat on the quarter deck?” Someone asked.

  “Nah,” another voice spoke. “Trail her out behind us but keep an eye on her in case she slows our pursuit.”

  “Aye Second,” the pirate responded using the second mate’s designation as a form of address. Diamedes noticed there seemed to be a lot more discipline, intelligence, and wisdom on this pirate ship than any other he had heard about.

  “Search him,” a voice said from somewhere in the crowd of over twenty pirates crowding around their small prisoner.

  After a brief but thorough search, one pirate held up the glowing blue dagger. “Armed only with this, captain.”

  A couple of voices seemed to ooh and at least one aahed before the captain said, “Bring it here.”

  Diamedes got his first good look at the corsair leader as the men parted to allow the dagger to be brought swiftly to the captain. The man didn’t look anything like Diamedes expected. He was of average height and build but was clean shaven and rather younger looking as a man in his early forties. He wore a leather jerkin with billowing red pantaloons tucked into his black, shin-high boots. His arms were bare but muscular and he had brown hair with blue eyes that sparkled much as the light glinting off the sea waves nearby. The man had a commanding air about him and it was obvious he was born to lead.

  The pirate captain held the dagger up taking it in one hand and its sheath in the other. Diamedes felt the first tugging of regret at giving up his prized possession. The fact that he thought or felt that way was foreign to him because he had spent his life valuing knowledge, fact, and history, not gold, wealth, or possessions.

  The glowing blue was almost hypnotic and for a moment Diamedes thought the captain and his crew were paralyzed by its charm. As quickly as he had received it, the captain sheathed the blade and then tucked it securely into an inner pocket on his leather jerkin. Turning his attention to his prisoner he asked, “What’s your name?”

  “I am known as Diamedes, the Royal Historian of Tyniria.” Diamedes said formally.

  “Told you we got him,” The second mate said to his captain.

  “Aye,” the captain responded yet his gaze seemed curious. “I smell a trap somewhere. The Balarian cutter wouldn’t part with such a prize so easily.”

  Diamedes could no longer see his skiff which he assumed was now being towed behind them. He had no idea where Azor was, but he could easily see the sails that had been unfurled and drawn out to catch the healthy, ocean winds. Already the ship had leapt forward and was gaining speed as the pursuit of the Balarian ship resumed. Only Diamedes fought to gain his sea legs as the pirate crew instinctively bent their knees to sway with the ship’s momentum and movement and not to fight it. He felt he had to distract the pirates from the idea of a trap. “Actually the Balarians took my chest of gold and gems.”

  “What?” The second mate said, stopping whatever he was about to say to the captain and turning to face Diamedes. “What chest?”

  “The one my king gave me to take to Kesh as a truce offering,” Diamedes lied and he didn’t feel comfortable about it. He felt saving the lives of his companions was worth the moral lapse in character.

  “Chest eh?” The captain said, bringing his hand up to his chin to rub it in contemplation. “This is shaping up to be a most profitable trip for us, mates. Let’s catch that Balarian cutter and retrieve the king’s payment.”

  “What about this one, sir?” A pirate standing next to Diamedes asked.

  The captain thought for a moment then responded, “Lock him in the stern hold.”

  Two pirates grabbed Diamedes and escorted him none too gently to the rear of the ship where they entered a doorway similar in both location and purpose to the one on the Balarian ship. The stern had a rear level that opened up to the deck and the roof was higher than the main section of the ship so that the captain and rudder master could see clearly over the bow.

  Not far to the side there was what looked to be a simple room but on the main level with the captain’s quarters in the stern of the ship. The room had a locking bar on the outside and iron bars over a sole window that was looking out the starboard side of the ship. It was obvious to Diamedes that this cell was a special one for the pirate captain to keep valuable hostages or guests that were forced to stay with the corsairs as part of any collateral agreement.

  There was a simple bed on a stable wooden shelf attached to one wall with a mattress and pillow in its tray shaped shell. Another small desk with two small drawers was likewise bolted to the floor along with a chair that was canter levered into the desk to hold it in position. A small chest on the floor completed the sparse furnishings in his cell. He heard the lock bar shut as the pirates talked between themselves and the sound of their voices eventually faded.

  The sun was still high overhead as morning had ended and the afternoon began. It would be hours till sunset and the relative cover of darkness that would allow his companions to liberate him and perhaps sabotage the pirate ship. At first they worried that Zokar’s plan would work too quickly and draw a dragon upon them in their little skiff. Now Diamedes had serious doubts that his magical dagger could summon a lame cat much less a fierce dragon. Thus was his thinking when he was locked away without his pack, weapon, or companionship.

  It felt like a good hour had gone by when he heard a hiss from outside the iron barred window. Walking over to it from his seat on his bed, he reached the window and looked out. He could hear the wind as it pulled and tugged at the sails to his left and the sound of the ship’s bow hitting the ocean’s surface was also audible. The faint but steady rhythm of the sea as the waves frolicked with each other was a calming influence on him. Far out he could barely see the shores of Kesh on the horizon.

  He had almost forgotten why he had walked to the window in the first place when he heard the hiss again. “Diamedes.”

  “I’m here. Who is it?”

  The voice no longer hissed and whispered and instead became crystal clear and familiar, “It’s Azor. Are you alone?”

  “Yes,” Diamedes replied.

  “Good, stay put. Zokar will be by shortly to let you out.”

  “Isn’t he still in the skiff?”

  “No,” Azor explained quickly. “As soon as they made plans to tow the boat, I opened the lower hatch and gave them a rope line to aid their swim to this ship. They are all on board now.”

  Diamedes nodded then realized no one could see him. “That sounds great… No wait. What do you mean they’re on board the ship? Where are they hiding?”

  Azor was patient, “They boarded through the rudder port.”

  “You mean where the rudder runs up and into the stern of the ship?”

  “Yes, if that is how you say it in your language,” Azor said.

  “What happened to waiting for nightfall?” Diamedes asked.

  Azor appeared to get closer to the window, though he was still not visible, “The likelihood of a demon beast arriving now is not very high. Zokar decided it’s better to alter our plan.”

  “His plan,” Diamedes corrected the Northman.

  “If you say so,” Azor said non-flummoxed.

  “The Racer won’t turn back and aid us till dusk,” Diamedes recounted their original plan, one that most of the crew on the Balarian ship thought was suicidal. “What good will liberating me now do if we have no way of escaping?”

  “Zokar has something interesting in store for these bandits,” Azor said.

  “Bandits eh?” Diamedes asked.

  “Yes, bad men.”

  Diamedes sighed, “Fine, I’ll be in here taking a nap then till Master Zokar arrives with my escort to take me out of my cell. Let him know he can free me at any time.”

  Diamedes’ sarcasm seemed to go unnoticed by the Northman. “I’ll let him know you are ready and able to assist in your escape.”

  “Great, you do that now,” Diamedes said. Suddenly, he asked, “Did you change into a spider or how is it that you’re talking to me
from outside this ship?” Diamedes was a good twenty feet above the water line so his question was valid.

  “I’m using knives to grab hold of the side of the wooden ship,” Azor explained. Then, as if a demonstration was necessary, he grunted and suddenly an arm shot into view from the side with a fairly large dagger. With the same quickness, Azor brought his arm out of view and by the sound of it, plunged the blade back into the wood side of the ship anchoring him securely to it. Only someone as large as the Northman could get away with referring to the blades as knives.

  Diamedes pressed his head to the far left and squinted and was rewarded with the slim image of part of the Northman as he clung to the ship. The historian thought about it for a moment then asked, “How is it that they can’t see you from the top of the deck?”

  Azor continued his patience, “The stern quarters overhang the ship.”

  It was a simple explanation, but it worked. Diamedes shrugged despite it being a useless gesture and refrained from moving to his bed as he had verbally committed to previously. Now that he was alone and a captive of these pirates, he didn’t feel much like isolating himself when he had the company of the Northman.

  Whether Azor knew it or not, Diamedes could not tell, but the man lingered for a couple of minutes before the audible, but faint, sounds of the blades being pulled and then plunged into and out of the wood indicated the man had finally left.

  With a sigh, Diamedes shuffled his feet and found himself sitting back on his bunk and waiting his fate. After more than two hours it appeared that either Zokar was not ready to spring him from his cell, or the pirates had found his companions and incarcerated, or worse, killed them.

  Footsteps approached and the outside bolt barring his door was pulled to the side. With a creak the door opened, and two guards appeared though different from his original escort. “Up and out with you,” One said, standing slightly to the side of the door to allow Diamedes room to exit.

  The other one spoke once Diamedes exited, “Follow me.”

  One led the way and the other had a large, wooden club and followed closely behind. They pretty much exited the same way they came in and when the afternoon sun hit Diamedes he felt both its warmth and a tinge of discomfort from the direct gaze. This paled in comparison to the audience that was watching him as he was marched out onto the main deck and to the center of ship near its main mast. The entire crew, or most of it, was assembled and watched in silence as Diamedes was taken to a specific spot in front of a blood-stained, wooden block with notches in it.

  The first pirate turned and roughly forced Diamedes to place his back to the mast and face the rear of the ship. No one spoke and after a few minutes the captain and his second in command appeared, taking their places at what must have been a common position for them at the stairwell from the captain’s upper quarters located at the stern of the ship. Each one stood near one of the railings, the captain to starboard and the second to port.

  “Read the bounty,” the captain said to his second, barely audible since they were a good thirty feet away.

  The second nodded, pulled out a scroll and cleared his throat. “Being soldiers of fortune in the world of Agon, under the specific bounty of the realm known as Kesh, the honorable Captain Red Blade of the free ship, Vindicator, hereby executes the aforementioned contract on one individual known as Diamedes, a citizen of the realm of Tyniria, in the lawful presence of witnesses. Once fulfilled, the terms of the contract will become imperviable and payment due upon receipt and request by its executioner.”

  Diamedes was hit by several emotions all at once. The most immediate being that he didn’t like the use of the word executioner, even when its context was that of one completing a transaction. The second was the fact that he felt he actually crossed paths with rationale, intelligent, mercenaries that understood proper protocol when dealing with laws, contracts, and rules in general. Then this emotion was contrasted with the fact that they were corsairs from the east, known as pirates in his part of the world. In a bit of anxiousness, Diamedes waved his right arm to get the attention of the captain and said, “I think there’s been a mistake.”

  Instead of the captain speaking, the second in command looked up from his scroll and locked his gaze on Diamedes before speaking. “They always say there’s been a mistake.”

  “No, I really do think you need to know that I spoke with the High Mage of Kesh himself not more than a few days ago in Keshtor. He has rescinded the bounty and allowed me to leave freely.”

  Before the second could speak, Captain Red Blade raised a hand to silence not only him, but his crew as well in case anyone thought of uttering a word. No one spoke but the captain. “All bounties are good until countered in writing by the issuing authority. You do realize what the implications are of what you’re saying?”

  “I do,” Diamedes began. “My life for one.”

  The captain waved him off, “I’m not referring to your implications. I’m referring to the business of running this ship and crew. The lack of a bounty on your head would be a serious set back to the profitability of this voyage, especially considering the amount that its listed for.”

  “It’s that high then?” Diamedes asked.

  “You don’t know?” the captain answered the question with one of his own.

  “No, I don’t.”

  The captain shook his head in mock sympathy. “It matters not, what does matter is that I had my second in command fish the updated bounty from our records chest and it says the amount was doubled for presenting proof of an immediate execution.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” Diamedes said, a tinge of alarm in his voice.

  “It means,” the captain began, “that the bounty initiator changed his mind and now wants you dead instead of alive and furthermore, he’s willing to pay double for it.”

  “It?” Diamedes asked.

  “Your immediate death,” the captain explained. “You’re being executed here and now to fulfil the terms of the contract.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Diamedes began, looking furtively around him for help, but was cut off by the captain.

  “No, you made the mistake,” The captain said. “Your friends can’t help you and neither will this.” With a slight tug, the captain pulled Diamedes’ dagger from its sheath ever-so-slightly to show a peak of its blade which pulsed that same hypnotic blue color. As quickly as he had allowed a glimpse of the blade and its pulsating power, he tucked it back down and followed up by tugging on his jerkin, so it covered the belt as well.

  “Executioner,” the second in command called out.

  A door below the captain opened and a man walked out wearing a black hood with leather armor carrying a very large curved sword. At first Diamedes felt hopeful as he inspected the approaching executioner to see if he’d recognize Azor’s body, but the other man was much smaller and appeared to have a drunkard’s belly, puffy and bloated from drinking too much ale and not doing enough manual labor.

  His heart sank and not for the first time he felt his end was near. Where were his companions? Had they been caught? The captain mentioned them as friends and said they couldn’t help him, and the nasty man was in possession of the only thing that Diamedes could use to defend himself, his dagger.

  The executioner arrived and sank the sword blade into the bloodied, wooden block then reached for a noose that was dropped from the main mast and dangled enticingly in front of Diamedes. Opening it slightly, the man looped it over Diamedes head and around his neck but didn’t tighten it.

  “What are you doing, Edger?” the second asked from his perch atop the stern stairwell.

  “Hmm?” the executioner asked, turning to face the man and give him a shrug.

  The second sighed and spoke in a tone exhibiting exasperation, “We’re chopping off his head, not hanging him. Take off the noose and use your sword.”

  Suddenly, there was a large splash, much too loud to be a man. Something large had hit the water and most of the men
looked around to see what it was. A rather familiar voice from the top of the most cried out, “Ahoy, man overboard.”

  “What man?” the second said, walking to the gunwale of the ship to starboard side where the shore line was barely visible.

  For a split second all attention was on the water and not Diamedes. He was about to take off the noose when the executioner lowered it even further pulling Diamedes’ arms through the noose so that it ended up cinching snugly under his arm pits. That seemed a strange way to secure a prisoner and fortunately for Diamedes his hands were not tied.

  Looking up, Diamedes saw the familiar glint of blue eyes looking at him through the eye holes cut into the black hood. One eye winked and the man motioned above to someone on the crow’s nest. Diamedes leaned into the executioner and felt the man’s pudgy body give way to something soft. Before he could say or do anything the executioner lifted out a pillow from under his jerkin, dropped it on the deck and leaned over to whisper in Diamedes ear. “Hold tight.”

  Diamedes looked up and saw a welcome though terrifying sight. The Northman had a length of rope and had leapt from the crow’s nest pulling it with him. Suddenly, Diamedes was pulled up from the rope at a rate of speed equal to the plummeting barbarian. Further past the Northman, Diamedes could see Dour’s outreached arms sticking out from the crow’s nest prepared to grab him. It took only a second before the two, Diamedes and Azor, passed each other in mid-air and Azor smiled at him on the way down. The familiar war cry was issued, and every pirate was caught off guard by the crazed barbarian hurling down upon them.

  Diamedes’ view of the ocean improved immensely with his new vantage point high above the ship’s deck and, as a coincidence, he was facing shore when he ascended. He saw a huge shadow approaching the ship, much like a whale or a very large school of fish. Further out the water from whatever had hit the ocean was still raining down as gravity returned the liquid to its natural abode.

  As Azor hit the deck, Dour grabbed Diamedes pulling him into the nest, “Gotcha!” he said triumphantly.