by Dan Knight
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Jack woke up. Was I asleep? He shivered.
The Black Wharf’s towers were higher than he expected. The castle was silhouetted against the starry night. He was far from the safety of the beach. He took his bearings and corrected course.
After traveling a time, a spit blocked their way. He approached the spit and saw it was a causeway lined with stones. He rounded the causeway, and into a cove. He sailed along the beach, and in this way another hour passed.
The castle loomed high above the cove. The towers seemed to scrape the sky. The grey shapes of shops and inns told him they were close. The black wharf appeared out of the shadow. He squinted at first to adjust his eyes.
In the dark, he kept sailing towards the wharf. Moonlight is tricky. He scanned the beach for a safe place to land the raft. He steered towards the wharf. See any werewolves? No! Seeing no danger, he sailed ahead. So why am I uneasy?
The raft hit a halyard and jerked. They bounced off the rope and tipped over. The collision catapulted him backwards. He performed an ungainly back flip. His feet flew over his head. He flailed at the air and hit the water.
Shotgun rolled off the raft. The physics of improbable results asserted itself. Free of its load, the raft fell back on its barrels with its deck up.
Jack broke the surface, and he sucked in a breath. He treaded water and called out in a hoarse whisper. “Shotgun?” From the water, he saw the ship wreck. “Shotgun?” He swam towards the spot where he thought the dwarf had fallen into the drink.
In the moonlight, a forest of masts, spars, yardarms, and halyards protruded from the lagoon. But the black wharf swallowed all light. No wonder I didn’t see the wreck! Against the wharf, it’s black on black!
“Shotgun?” He tried diving, but succeeded only in running into a slimey rope in the dark water. He surfaced for air. No, Shotgun! I can’t lose you now! Treading water, he risked a little magical light to search. Where is he?
Claws and limbs pounded his back. He flinched, “Whoa!” He swirled around to see his attacker.
“Ha! Got you!” The dwarf’s head popped out of the water. “Admit it, Jack, I got you!” Then, he laughed, “That was good!”
“Shotgun!” His calm returned as rapidly as it vanished. “I was worried. Are you all right?” He scolded himself. It was funny!
“Yes, I’m all right, but I’m revoking your rafting license.” The dwarf caught his breath, and he wiped the seawater from his face.
“Sorry, I ran into a shipwreck.”
Shotgun nodded and swam for their raft. Despite his heavy clothes, he bounded onto the raft like a seal. The elf levitated out of the water, and landed on the raft.
Is our journey jinxed? Their clothes had begun to dry, but now they were soaked again. We can’t sneak into an enemy stronghold dripping wet. If we’re in the right place, we’ll need a disguise. How can we be sure? These people aren’t friendly, but maybe they’re not enemies.
“You hit a halyard.” Shotgun held out a thick rope.
“A what?”
“A ship’s rope; it’s part of the shipwreck. Sailors use halyards to hoist sails. It’s probably fake rope for a fake shipwreck though. Only synthetic rope could sit here for decades and not rot away. The shipwreck blended into the shadow under the wharf. You couldn’t see it in the dark.”
“Thanks, but I figured that one out.” Jack took the oar, and set the raft in motion. Cautiously, he sailed through the wreck and up to the wharf. Looking back, the shipwreck was clearly visible against the stars. He stayed in the wharf’s shadow and steered for shore.
He beached the raft under the wharf.
The wharf continued over the beach and buried itself in a dune. The piers were tall, thick, and black. The cross-beams were heavy. The deck was twenty feet off the water, and forty feet wide.
“Under the wharf,” Jack pointed the way, “It’s the only cover.” They disappeared into the pitch black.
“Shotgun?”
“Here.”
He risked a bit of light, and cast a dim blue ball. Shotgun was already lying on the sand. Their raft was the only man-made object on the beach between the wharf and the nearest spit.
“Shotgun, you rest, I’m going to hide our raft.” A snore answered him.
He returned to the raft. He pushed it into the water, and propelled it farther under the wharf and up the beach. Don’t want it giving us away! He took a rope and lashed the raft to a beam.
Walking back to where Shotgun slept, he saw a shadow jiggle. The shadow was a mound three or four feet long. He froze. Is it a wolf or a giant slug?
Alarmed, he narrowed the distance to the slug like thing. He stopped several feet away and stared at the shadow. It jiggled again. He risked a dim blue ball again. Cusped in his hand, the tiny light nearly blinded him. It hardly illuminated the mysterious creature.
He dropped the light ball and rolled it up to the slug. He guided the globe up and down the creature. The creature rippled and emitted an annoyed grunt. He sighed. It was just a miniature manatee. He doused the light.
Careful not to whack himself with a beam, he returned to Shotgun. He checked the sand with his light. Assured nothing creeping or crawling was in the vicinity, he stretched out on the sand. He checked his watch. The hour was late, but the night was still young. Satisfied, he set the alarm for the third hour and hoped for the best. Knowing not what else to do, he asked the universe for luck and fell asleep.
