The Dragon God Page 8

  Raina could see the pain in Elsbeth’s eyes as she recalled the event. She had mentioned three elements, but Raina knew there was a fourth, due to Lufra supplying her with Yasooma’s personal journal—the Sky Diamond. “Come, half-sister, you have seen and experienced much to bring this heavy sadness you carry. I will share with you a story of hope about a prophecy, an ordakian, and the Orb of Truth.” They stepped back into Captain Elsbeth’s private cabin and closed the door.

  As El’Korr made his way below deck, taking Rondee to the priest, he wove his way through rows of hammocks swinging back and forth from jumbled ropes attached to wooden columns. Some were occupied by snoring sailors resting before their shift. The stench of old sweat and salty fish permeated the air, and the beating thuds of the ocean against the ship’s hull with every dive resounded in the ears.

  They approached the stern and heard the voice of Anders the Priest conversing with a sailor who had suffered a gaffing injury to his left shoulder. Rondee’s arm hung over his king’s shoulder as he stumbled along. Anders noticed the dwarves approaching.

  “Well sailor, be more careful next time. You could have lost your arm. Now go and get some rest. I will inform Myers of your modified duty.”

  “I can see why the captain named the ship A Pinch of Luck,” El’Korr said in jest as he set Rondee down on a wood chair.

  “It looks like your green friend can use some of my Gut Check remedy, as the boys like to call it.” Anders stood up and spoke to Rondee, “Listen my dwarven friend, if you feel the need to purge then use the bucket next to you.”

  The mere mention of vomiting caused the warrior to lurch for the container, into which he deposited chunks of partially processed food. A strong smell of fish and alcohol assaulted their nostrils. El’Korr and Anders turned away in disgust, their faces sour.

  “Looks like he experienced an old sailor initiation last night.”

  “He was drinking with some of the men,” El’Korr acknowledged.

  “Yeah, well, they weren’t being sociable. It is their way of welcoming a newbie, but he should take it as a compliment.”

  “Let’s not let Rondee know about it. He might not see it that way,” El’Korr whispered.

  They brought Rondee, who was moaning and holding his stomach, to a sitting position. His finger-length beard had vomit residue streaming through and dripping onto his leather hide armor.

  The priest withdrew his pouch and produced a stringy substance resembling tobacco. He stuffed the concoction into Rondee’s mouth, and maneuvered it to rest along his jawline; it bulged out his left cheek.

  “Rondee, make sure you don’t swallow any of the juice. Spit as needed into the bucket. Your stomach will settle within the hour. Do you understand?”

  The dwarf attempted to speak, “Fluffy chuckemba clouds,” and then slumped back into the chair. Anders then began to speak a blessing over him.

  “To the God of the seas and of our hearts—” he began, but then stopped as the strange coughing returned.

  El’Korr squinted and then noted this was the second time Anders had a coughing fit. He suddenly realized that the attacks happened only after the priest began to pray.

  “I could probably help you out with your cough.” Anders put up his hand to keep El’Korr from approaching as he continued to hack loudly.

  “It is my infliction to bare and I am grateful to be chosen,” he sputtered.

  “Chosen? You feel God has given this to you then?”

  Anders cough subsided, “But of course. How is one to have their faith increased if not tested? You being of the cloth should know this.”

  “A father tests his child, yes, but in order to increase the strength of faith. Our God whom we both serve, I do not believe would cast such a burden on one such as yourself.”

  Anders stared deeply into El’Korr’s eyes and said, “Well, to each his own. I have accepted my fate and embrace it as a gift.”

  El’Korr was going to respond but Rondee moaned loudly, holding his stomach, as the ship continued to sway back and forth.

  “Will he be alright?” El’Korr asked.

  “He will be fine and should be back on his feet in a couple of hours. I will watch over him.”

  “Thank you for helping my friend.” The dwarf walked away.

  “That is good Lufra. Well-done,” Xan stated while parrying his sabre.

  “My father taught me a few things before the curse killed him.”

  “Now let’s work on your defense.”

  “I’m ready; show me what you’ve got,” the energized boy readied himself.

  Xan didn’t hesitate to come in swinging with his longsword. He gave Lufra two easy swipes to block, setting him up for a swift, harsh, swat on the rear by the flat of his blade. The teenager reached quickly for his rear-end, rubbing it, and his face contorted from the sting. Several sailors laughed heartily at the elf’s education for the child.

  “I’ll have to remember that one,” Lufra stated.

  “It’s all about feeling and instinct, not memory. You have to know your opponent’s next move before he does.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “It takes time and practice. Lots of practice.”

  “How long did it take you to learn?”

  Xan chuckled, “A good hundred years.” The elf swung his blade again and Lufra jumped back out of the way.

  “I don’t have a hundred years Xan.”

  “Then you had better learn quickly,” the elf smiled and moved into the proper posture again. As the brilliant orange and pink sunset pushed aside the light of day, the metallic clashing of steel against steel continued to ring from the deck of the galleon.

  “Trillius,” a female gnome whispered.

  “Shhhh. Stop using that name. Someone might hear it.”

  “Sorry, Silly Samuel. Is that better?”

  “Shhhh. I’m trying to listen through this damn creaky wood,” he responded.

  No taller than a barrel, the gnome had his ear against the ceiling planks, focusing on the muffled voices coming from the captain’s quarters above. The silver-eyed creature mashed his face into the ceiling while balancing on the thin, makeshift scaffold inside a storage room. His dark hair lay in wisps around his tiny ears, and his rotund grey nose was smooth like lamb skin. The sniffer was the pride and joy of all gnomes, like the beard on a dwarf, and this gnome had much to be proud of.

  “They mentioned Pirate’s Belly,” he said softly.

  “Good, that is where we can get off and disappear.”

  “Wait! Ah, dammit, I missed the next place they were going. It’s your fault, Sugar, if we miss something good.”

  “Don’t call me Sugar. And you know I don’t care for all that thieving stuff you do.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re a nature-gnome.”

  “We need to get off at Pirate’s Belly. This is our chance to escape and leave your—”

  “My what, Rozelle?” he focused in on her meaning.

  “I was just referring to your past is all. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Yeah, right. Are you sure you’re a gnome? I’ve never heard of one taking up the druidical profession.”

  “Well, let it be known, that I’m trying to change the profiling of our race to a more noble impression.”

  “Somehow I don’t think saving nature is gonna change anything.”

  “I don’t share your—”

  “Shhhhh. I hear the mystic talking now with the captain.”

  Rozelle held her breath. She was the same height as Trillius. Her rosy cheeks brought out the beige color of her large nose. Ashen locks weaved in and out of her long, birch bark colored hair, complimenting her attire. She wore a green skirt and soft velvet green blouse. Brown boots and a belt finished off her ensemble.

  Trillius plucked his ear away with a smile on his face.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Have you heard of something called the Pearl of the Deep?”

  “
No. Why?”

  A mischievous grin and a raised eyebrow alerted Rozelle.

  She glared back at him in understanding, “We are not getting off at Pirate’s Belly, are we?”

  On the third day out to sea, the routines on board A Pinch of Luck kept their journey moving smoothly. Xan continued to train Lufra in the art of swordplay, and the boy showed natural skill and growth. Raina shared many stories with Captain Elsbeth; her half-elf counterpart offered more historical background, explaining some of the time Raina spent as a captive inside the Burning Forest. Rondee the Wild was learning the ropes, literally, from the crew, who at one time jokingly hoisted him into the rigging high above the deck. El’Korr noticed Anders the Priest seemed to be avoiding him whenever he approached. Some of the more superstitious sailors associated Anders coughing spasms with strange happenings aboard the ship and became spooked. Several men reported that some of their small trinkets and belongings, like single socks, or mementos from past voyages, had gone missing. First Mate Skath and Second Mate Myers began an investigation.

  Rozelle lobbed a shard of a pearlescent shell at Trillius, “Why do you continue to steal this worthless stuff?” she chided.

  Trillius, who was sitting on top of a bag of grain, caught it, looked it over, and mumbled, “I don’t know. I’m bored.”

  “Stealing is a sickness, and you’ve got it.”

  “I’m not sick. Being cooped up in this hell-hole ship with Nature-girl is more than a manly-gnome can take,” he countered as he jumped off his grain perch.

  “Don’t give me that. You love the fact that you have two Horn Kings looking for you. All that attention. It’s all about Trillius,” she jabbed.

  “Stop using my real name,” Trillius said through clenched teeth.

  Rozelle snapped, “Why? Are you afraid someone will come down here and find they have the Great Trillius?!” She narrowed her eyes and tightened her jaw, hurt by his sharpness toward her.

  After a long pause to assure himself that no one heard her outburst, Trillius smiled and said smoothly, “You are kind of sexy when you get angry.” As he spoke, Trillius walked seductively toward Rozelle.

  She smirked, “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?” He moved closer to her.

  “That silly walk.”

  “Oh, you mean this?” He laughed and spun around on one heel, placed his hands on his hips, and gyrated from side to side.

  Rozelle giggled, “Stop it, silly.” A blush spread across her face.

  Trillius had her right where he wanted her. He slowly shuffled closer, but before he could take her in his arms to kiss her, she stiffened and said, “Did you hear that?”

  “Unbelievable. No, what is it now? Last time you needed to check on that old man’s garden that wasn’t being attended to properly.”

  “It’s…singing.”

  “I don’t hear anything except my hope being squashed, again.” Trillius leaned against a barrel, crossed his arms, and pouted.

  “What are you talking about? I hear women singing.”

  At that moment, they heard the muffled call of the sailor on watch in the crow’s nest yell out, “Ahoy, approaching the Singing Rocks!”

  Captain Elsbeth studied the cathedral-like rock formation jutting up above the ocean’s surface, situated starboard of the galleon, from her place on deck. Towering swells of water formed into waves and engulfed the many reef outcroppings, sending mountains of furious white frothy foam high into the air. The booming bombardment of breakers assailed the ears of the crew as shifting tides receded, revealing the barnacle covered black rock and numerous alcoves and caves. Then the sea rushed in at a greater speed than it had earlier subsided. Above the din, a melodious choir of female voices carried by the wind encircled the vessel.

  “What causes this?” Raina asked, joining the captain.

  “The legend of the Singing Rocks comes from the Unknown Age. The story speaks of a Beruvian slave ship and its captain being infected with the Sea Fever. The captain went mad and slaughtered the female elven slaves, thinking they were spies. His ship crashed on the rocks at this very spot and everyone aboard died. The legend tells of how the elven spirits sing their story to passing ships.”

  El’Korr nodded, “Very interesting, Raina, do they sing in your language?”

  “I can’t make anything discernible from it, but it is beautiful. It does remind me of home.”

  Elsbeth added, “There is another facet to their song.”

  “Oh, what is that?” El’Korr asked.

  “Hidden within their history is a warning. The fallen elves sing an alert to the captains of passing ships, of spies aboard their vessel. I have personally never had a spy aboard to confirm—,” Elsbeth froze and then suddenly frowned, “It appears there is a first time for everything.”

  “What is it?” Raina asked.

  Elsbeth called out, “Skath, Myers, follow me!”

  The first and second mates hustled by her side as she strode to the stairway leading below deck. Raina, El’Korr, Rondee, Xan, and Lufra followed. Elsbeth seemed to know exactly where she was going as she walked rapidly to the unknown destination. She kicked open a wooden door and stepped into a small storeroom. In a swift fluent action, she withdrew her rapier. Skath and Myers followed suit and drew sabers, waiting for her command. The room showed no movement amongst the stacked barrels and bags of grain. There was a long pause as the three surveyed the room, the creaks of the weathered galleon were the only discernible sounds.

  “I know you are here. Reveal yourself,” the captain demanded.

  Raina spotted a blurry shift to her left. She cast a spell, pointing her staff, and releasing a command word, “Voshnu.” In an instant two gnomes appeared. Raina had dispelled their chameleon-like illusion. Skath and Myers moved to apprehend the intruders.

  “Not them!” Elsbeth said. Her eyes were focused straight ahead. “The gnomes are stowaways, not spies.”

  Suddenly, a once unseen, two-foot-tall creature with a tail, became visible on top of a barrel. The shimmering magic faded as it dove behind a crate.

  Skath turned to the gnomes and barked, “What did you bring aboard our ship!”

  Trillius stepped forward and began to weave his story, “Well, that hideous beast captured us and forced us onto your ship. We are so thankful you rescued us. We’ve been stuck in here for days, and—”

  “Shut it gnome, before I cut out yer tongue!”

  “Skath, hold your position!” Elsbeth commanded. “I can sense that thing is still behind the crates. Advance.”

  The wild dwarf tossed the wooden containers aside. He spotted the reptile-like tail as it hurriedly slithered away. Rondee pointed out the direction, and Skath maneuvered to the other side and began tipping crates.

  “You have it pinned,” Elsbeth cried.

  Everyone stood at the ready. The tension mounted as the barrels were moved aside one by one. When only two remained, Rondee nodded to Skath, coordinating their next move. Together they snatched a barrel away from the wall. Immediately, a large rat screeched, darted between their legs, scurried through a cracked opening, and disappeared into the hull.

  “It’s only a rat,” Skath shrugged.

  Rozelle stepped forward, “That’s no rat, it’s a shape changer. Trust me, I know. I’ll get it.” She instantly morphed into a large rodent and chased after it.

  “Rozelle. No!” Trillius pleaded.

  “What is that thing?” El’Korr exclaimed.

  There was no response as they listened to the hurried scratching claws of the metamorphic animals battling within the walls of the ship.

  The two creatures scampered through the narrow, damp, and moldy hull. A strong musty scent filled the passageway. Rozelle moved with ease as she stayed on top of the spindly tailed intruder. There was a slight turn, and then suddenly there was nowhere else to run; a wide and reinforced beam cut off access from going any further. The spy turned on Rozelle, hissed, revealed its sharp fangs, and glared with g
lowing red eyes. Rozelle skidded to a halt.

  “You have nowhere else to run,” Rozelle squeaked in her new rat language.

  It screeched back a response, the tone stronger, “They will smell your rotting body inside this ship for days, druid.”

  “I’m not looking to harm you. I just want to talk. Let’s work out this misunderstanding.”

  The vile rat lunged for Rozelle. They tumbled together. She extended her legs and claws to try and keep the feral animal’s distance. One of its claws raked across her stomach and then grabbed hold of her neck with its razor sharp teeth. Screeches of pain echoed through the ship.

  Rozelle morphed once again, this time into a large snake. She wrapped her new, long and slithering form around the rat, attempting to squeeze the life from it. Growls of pain came forth from the rodent at Rozelle’s surprise counterattack. It managed to scratch its way free from her grip. She quickly coiled into a defensive posture.

  It attempted to get around her, but Rozelle snapped and pushed it back, blocking its escape. Feeling trapped, the mangy rat attacked relentlessly, and Rozelle was unable to react quickly enough in her snake form to defend each strike. Rozelle knew she couldn’t defeat this creature as a reptile.

  The spy hissed as it lunged in with its claws but was surprised once again by the clever druid as she morphed into a black cat—the clear rival to the entire rodent family. Startled, it backed away from the vicious feline retaliation. Rozelle confidently approached in her new body, her feral yellow eyes glowing in the dark. The fur on her back rose and she hissed, revealing her sharp, white teeth.