Chronicles of the Dragon Pirate (6 page)

“Monsters?” I yelped as Captain Cholula almost pulled me off my feet as she strode up to Alfonzo with me in tow and Karl right behind. She let me go and put her face a handbreadth away from Alfonzo’s. “If you wish to learn of monsters,” her voice grew mocking, “brave captain, I shall tell you. A year ago we came upon the Black Rose, a ship of the Dark Sisters, and boarded her while the sun was high. Despite their sluggishness the fighting was fierce, but we prevailed over the Shadowmen and landed a rich haul, including prisoners.

“Most of them were the way their prisoners normally are: huddled in their cells in mortal fear, but two of them were not. Both had been driven mad, one deliberately, and one by her own choice. The first was a Dragon, a weak soul with hair like flame, who was being forced to merge with the Dark Sister so her mind would shatter, and she would agree to permanently merge with the dragon-ghost.”

“They don’t live long,” Karl said, “but mortals with the power of a dragon-ghost can do a lot of destruction while they do.”

“They’re like a brightly burning fire,” Captain Cholula said, “at least until the wood burns out. The second was their cook. She’d been taken in a raid several years before, and she’d offered to cook for them in exchange for being left alone. She said she knew hundreds of different ways to prepare human flesh. The Dragon hardly knew where she was, but the cook did, and was more than happy to tell me about daily life aboard their ship. Suffice to say the Shadowmen treat mortals the same way a butcher treats a pig, except our blood is like wine to them, and makes them merry. They take sport with the comely women, as you would expect, but they treat them with their own warped sense of courtesy.”

Karl said, “Except for the part about dining upon them if they weren’t enthusiastic enough.”

“Yes, there is that. Shall I go on in detail, captain?” Alfonzo shook his head, looking as horrified as I felt, and Captain Cholula grimly smiled. “Perhaps now you begin to understand us better. They, Captain Alfonzo, are the monsters, and we are the wolves who bring them down.”

“What happened to the two women?” I asked.

“I broke the Dragon so she could regain some of her sanity and become useful again,” Captain Cholula answered, “but then foolishly gave her to another captain. He took on the pirate vessel called the ‘Blackjack Davy’ and lost, losing the little Dragon in the process. What became of her I know naught.”

“I burned the cook,” Lord Marcus said, adding, “although I saw to it she felt no pain, since she clearly was mad, and had given us much useful knowledge. But the free folk in the village around the fortress knew what she had done and they wanted justice. You see,” he said to my confused look, “the Draco Dominus takes in all the unfortunate souls who were once prisoners of the Dark Sisters. We let them return to the outside world when they feel strong enough, but most choose not to leave.”

“Because they feel safe with you?” Lord Marcus nodded, and I took a deep breath. “Is that what you want, to make me a wolf?”

“You already are a wolf,” Captain Cholula said before Lord Marcus could speak, “a wolf who thinks he’s a dog. But I’m going to set you straight.” She grabbed my belt again and pulled me close. “There’s more potential in you than any other Dragon I’ve ever met, and before I’m finished you’re going to be the fiercest sea-wolf the New World’s ever seen. But that’s off in the future.” She gripped my chin with a calloused hand as she looked deep into my eyes. “We’ll need to keep Johanna close, for if aught happens to her you’ll run, the same way I ran from my captain. But in the end it won’t matter. Scribe this onto your heart, Tomas Rios, and transmute it into an Artifact: you belong to me. Run where you will, to the ends of the earth or beyond, and I’ll find you. Dragon-oath or naught, you are mine.”

I was numb. We were outside the fortified church, the soldiers bearing Artifact muskets or the deadly blunderbuss, which shot small pieces of shrapnel in a wide swath over a short distance. The twenty or so soldiers were standing in ordered rows, with Lord Marcus and Alfonzo at the front, along with the silver wolf soldiers and General Montejo. Captain Cholula, Karl the Hammer, and I trailed in the rear. Master Gomez had been asked to remain in the stables, so not to inflame the native’s passion, and he’d readily accepted. The soldiers closest to me had already begun speculating how long it would take him to sneak back into St. Augustine.

Had I been myself, I would’ve appreciated the organized way the order of Draco Dominus prepared itself. They fully expected the encounter to go peacefully, since the native shaman had merged with their dragon-ghosts, and the warriors were keeping their weapons out of their hands. But the three Elders had retreated to Sebastian’s ship, anchored next to Captain Cholula’s I’d heard, and the crews of both ships had been put into a ready status.

I noticed these things only in passing. Within the space of a day my life had been turned upside down, and not only mine but Alfonzo’s too. He was withdrawn, listening to Lord Marcus give him instructions and nodding when the older man asked if he understood them. His eyes pointedly avoided meeting mine.

Suddenly a familiar voice spoke in my ear. “Hey, Swamp-rat, why the long face?”

Dragon-ghosts were often territorial, not about areas but people, and I knew Smoke had fought several who’d thought to take her place. I hissed, “What are you doing here? You could be killed!”

“it’s okay; Shadow-viper’s given me sanctuary, which means if another of my sisters attacks me while I’m around her, she’ll come to my defense.”

“Do you think any of them will?”

“Are you jesting? This the politest group I’ve ever seen.” I smiled, some of my despair abating as Smoke whispered in my ear. “We’ll find a way to get you out of this. You aren’t a wolf like them; you’re something stronger, and you’re going to become it on your terms, not theirs.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. You’ve got one ally you can count on, I told myself as I heard a soft patter behind me and turned around. I stifled a yelp as I jumped back. An Artifact golem of a wolf was trotting towards us. It resembled a real one, except the head was larger, with two long fangs on top meeting two long fangs coming out of the lower jaw. Its paws had long claws, now retracted so it could walk, and it seemed to grin at me as it stopped in front of us and looked up. Captain Cholula grinned herself at my reaction. “I designed the golem myself. Shadow-viper, stay beside Tomas so you don’t make the warriors nervous.”

“But I’m supposed to heal the chief’s son,” I said, confused.

“Lord Marcus is going to do it in your place.” I stared at her in surprise as she went on. “Neither of us are taking any chances until I’ve got you fully trained.” Turning towards the front, she raised her voice. “All’s in readiness, sir.”

Lord Marcus nodded. “Then let us proceed and get the business of the night accomplished.” He led the way toward the village, Alfonzo now beside him, General Montejo and the soldiers all marching in step as they followed. Captain Cholula’s hand on my arm got me moving with her, Karl on her other side, while the black Artifact wolf-golem trotted obediently beside me.

Ahead of us, the village was ablaze with light. A large oval space ringed with rocks separated the village proper from the Spanish part, a large fire burning merrily in the stone-lined fire pit directly in the center. Looking past the soldiers, I saw the far half of the ringed space was taken up by native men with torches. Many of them were bare-chested, wearing deer-hide trousers and shoes, while others wore painted vests, some with interwoven pieces of black bone. A few wore pieces of European clothing, including an older native who stepped out from the crowd wearing a red gentleman’s coat and tall hat.

Strangest of all were the five shaman. They were tall and very heavily muscled, none of them bearing torches as they stood in the front rank of the crowd with their arms crossed. Each shaman wore the entire skin of an animal, clearly cut and sewn to fit them, the paws covering their hands and feet while fur wrapped around the rest of their bodies. Stern faces looked out through snarling animal heads. Four of them were wolves from far in the north, unless I missed my guess, while the one in the center was a black jaguar.

As we entered the ceremonial space and I touched the stake used in the ball game for good luck, I realized the five strange shaman were on the captain’s mind too as she put her head close to mine. “Have you ever seen the shaman wear skins like these do?”

“Never,” I replied, trying to keep from flinching away from her. “It’s too hot to wear anything like that. Anyways, I’ve met most of the shaman within a week’s ride, and none of those five are from around here.”

“I mislike this,” she said to Karl as she straightened up, all of us coming to a stop as Lord Marcus bid the soldiers to halt. They formed themselves in two staggered lines, the second rank dropping to one knee with their Artifact muskets resting on their thigh while the first rank, who carried both Artifact muskets and blunderbusses, held their weapons in their hands or rested the musket’s butt stock upon the ground. Meanwhile, Lord Marcus and Alfonzo walked toward the native wearing the coat and tall hat, who was standing near the ceremonial fire. General Montejo and the two silver wolf soldiers stood to the side of the soldiers.

Thinking about the strangeness of the shaman, I whispered to Captain Cholula, “I could get Smoke to find my best friend among the Timucua, Dancing Bear. He might know if anything’s wrong.”

She looked at Karl, who nodded, then back at me. “Have her find him quietly.”

“Smoke,” I whispered, “did you hear that?”

“I’m on it, Swamp-rat.” A moment later I saw two of the shaman in wolf skins look up then back behind them, before looking forward again.

Lord Marcus and Alfonzo had reached the old man, and I listened as Alfonzo began speaking to him in a clear voice. Captain Cholula leaned in close again. “Can you understand what they’re saying?”

I nodded. “Right now it’s just polite talk about how sorry everyone is...I think Alfonzo just called Master Gomez a piece of owl Shitte.” Karl remained stoic as Captain Cholula grinned. Then the old man began to speak. “The old man...crave pardon, the chief of the Tequesta, says his son’s already been healed by the shaman in the black jaguar skin, but the honor debt still needs to be paid.” I gasped as I heard the chief’s next words. “He wants me to go with them!”

“Over my dead carcass,” Captain Cholula snarled. Karl made a ‘lower your voice’ gesture with his hands as Alfonzo translated for Lord Marcus.

The chief began speaking again and I translated as I listened. “He says it’s only for a couple weeks, that he wants me to do some healing for the tribe, which Master Gomez has to pay me for.’

Smoke’s voice suddenly hissed in my ear. “Tomas, it’s a trap! The jaguar shaman is from some place called the Yucatan, and he wants to take you there with him. Dancing Bear says he’s part of the plot, and that his part’s to get you to go peacefully with the shaman. But ‘Bear wanted you to know what they’re planning. He says he will go with you to the Yucatan to study...”

Karl drew his weapons. “We need to leave now.”

“Agreed,” Captain Cholula said, but how...” She raised her voice. “Crave pardon, Lord Marcus,” she said, everyone looking towards her as she continued, “but all this excitement has turned Tomas’s bowels to water. There is a garderobe in the stables; we shall be but a moment.”

If I could’ve sunk into the ground right then from embarrassment I would’ve. But to my surprise, the jaguar shaman stepped forward and spoke to me in flawless Spanish. “If your bowels have turned to water, I suspect the flux.” He gestured with his hand. “Come here, boy, so my spirit-companion may examine you.”

Captain Cholula pulled me with her as she began stepping backwards. “I’ve got dragon-ghosts of my own who can examine him. We’ll return him in a bit.”

From across the field Lord Marcus gave us a calculating look. “If the boy is ill, then this parley is over until we determine the nature of his illness.”

The two silver wolf soldiers started towards Lord Marcus as the jaguar shaman looked at him and smiled. “As you wish...then let the dancing begin!”

His skin began to ripple. Time seemed to slow down for me as the black skin of the jaguar became part of his skin, the man’s flesh flowing like wax as the shaman began turning into a jaguar-man creature while the other four began turning into man-wolves, the remaining natives drawing their weapons as they began to shout. They had clubs for the most part but axes too, a few of them readying gunpowder muskets and pistols.

The order of the Draco Dominus responded. Gunpowder muskets began to explode as dragon-ghosts set off their gunpowder, several native men screaming as the exploding powder horns hanging from their belts set them on fire. General Montejo gave orders in a calm voice. “Second row ready,” he called out as the natives charged. “Fire and fall back!” The kneeling second row took aim and fired, their musket’s strikers hitting wads of frozen quickfire which shot musket balls out with a loud flash-bang. Charging warriors screamed and went down as the second row stood and hastened backwards to reload while the first stood and the general said, “First row ready...”