The Dragon Ring (Book 1) (32 page)

“What if a dragon comes searching for the other one?” Bodrin asked soon after.

“In a day or so there will be a new moon. We can use the darkness for cover,” Saxthor said. “Sailing close to land at night, we need to avoid having our silhouette stand out against moonlight on the water. Our voyage needs to be undetected – if possible.”

The chosen day was clear, though the weather outside the Veil of Helshian Mist was an unknown. With the fishing boat tested, watertight and packed, the adventurers again set out on the open sea, sailing south along the Tixosian coast.

*

To sail again through the misty veil was most exciting, as they hadn’t crossed the barrier since the young men’s childhood. The little boat seemed eager to test the waves. When they sailed into open water, the wind picked up. The sky darkened. The Vortex Virax started to churn. Then, noting the boat was coming from Helshia and not sailing toward the island, the roiling abruptly stopped. The current flowed up the coast of Tixos once more. Wind filled the sail putting strain on the groaning mast. The ropes held and the little fishing boat plunged through the whitecaps, sailing south.

“Good to feel the open sea spray again,” Saxthor said.

“Yeah, and the warm sun against the autumn chill” Bodrin said.

Tournak checked the sky from the steering oar. “If the weather holds, we’ll have a good voyage.”

Saxthor studied the water surrounding the boat. “Wonder if we’ll see the dragon fish.”

The young men watched for the sea monster who had assailed them so many years before. The company sailed on south unimpeded, a little disappointed not seeing the magnificent fish again. Once far enough from Helshia, the storm clouds disappeared.

Bodrin propped against the cabin, facing the open water. “It’s as if the years on the island never happened.”

Saxthor came around the corner. “We’ve seen no other ships off western Tixos and shouldn’t until we reach the island’s southern tip.”

Tournak nodded. “Traffic will pick up south of Tixos. The currents and trade winds send shipping east and west between Tixumemnese, Sengenwha, Neuyokkasin, and the ports of northern Powteros. It’ll take many days to cross those trade routes before reaching Olnak again, even if the weather holds.”

They slept most during the day with one person at the helm. At night, all were on deck collecting flying fish. The channel crossing was a good one, with no ships sailing close enough to identify anyone aboard. When they spotted the peninsula’s western shore, they stayed out to sea to avoid inquisitive passengers on passing vessels. Excitement was high. They knew Olnak was only a few week’s sailing east.

“No one has seen us or the boat for years. As there’s been little interest to date, let’s sail up the River Nhy as far as the boat’s draft will allow. She draws too much water to continue up the Southern Nhy to Konnotan,” Tournak said.

“For the present, we need to worry about getting past the customs agents and the watchers who may still be infecting Olnak.”

“I can’t wait to travel up the Nhy again,” Bodrin said. “I hope to recognize familiar territory and old landmarks.”

In the darkness, Tournak’s arm drifted in the current beside the boat. A savage burn stung him, and he jerked his hand out of the water. A box jellyfish clung to his wrist. Tournak slapped the jellyfish out into the darkness, but a stinging tentacle stuck to his burning arm. Bodrin rushed over with his hunting knife and flicked the tentacle off, but Tournak’s limb was already inflamed. The wizard grimaced, displaying his gritting, white teeth. “Box jellyfish.”

“What’s a box jellyfish?” Bodrin asked.

“Death.”

Bodrin looked at Saxthor, who came up beside them.

“What can we do, Tournak?” Saxthor asked.

Tournak struggled to speak, his voice scratchy. “Sail fast and hope we get to Olnak in time.” He washed his swelling, inflamed wrist and collapsed down into the boat. “A brown gigartina seaweed grows in the shallows outside Olnak. I’ve heard a gigartina poultice might neutralize this poison.”

Tournak closed his eyes.

Saxthor whispered in Bodrin’s ear. “Can we make Olnak in time?”

“Tournak is part elf. Maybe elfin magic will delay the toxin. We’ll have to risk the mast breaking. Keep adjusting the sail to catch the wind’s full force. We’ll stay in the stern so the water doesn’t rush over the bow.”

All through the night, the little boat sailed on smashing through the swells throwing spray to the side in a silvery sheen. Tournak slipped in and out of consciousness, groaning and squirming. His whole arm swelled, and he shuddered with fever. Bodrin tucked blankets around the wizard and wiped his sweating brow with a damp cloth between glances to Saxthor at the steering oar.

At daybreak, Tournak appeared pale and drained. Weakened, he moved less and less.

“Any idea when we’ll reach Olnak?” Bodrin asked.

“No. It’s been so long since we sailed through here. This far from shore, I can’t recognize any landmarks.”

Bodrin leaned toward Saxthor. “Tournak can’t fight off the poison much longer. I hope we find the right seaweed for a poultice.”

Saxthor shook his head then noticed Bodrin was looking past him behind the boat. “What’s the matter now?”

Bodrin pointed. “That looks like a mighty large bird flying this way.”

Saxthor glanced behind him and saw a dark figure off in the distance, approaching from the northwest. The wingspan was unusually wide, but Saxthor couldn’t make out more detail.

“It’s coming from Helshia,” Bodrin said, “and fast too.”

Saxthor continued to look ahead, steering. “Nothing that large on Helshia. Some bird off course from Tixos maybe.”

Bodrin stood up in the boat, his eyes squinting. “Saxthor, I don’t think it’s a bird.”

“What else could it be?” Saxthor’s stomach turned seeing Bodrin’s jaw drop.

Bodrin mumbled. “There was only one thing on Helshia that large.”

Saxthor jerked glaring back at the approaching unknown. He started to stand and sank down on his seat. “It can’t be. I killed him.”

Bodrin sat beside Tournak. “It’s the dragon, Saxthor.”

“What’ll we do?” Saxthor asked, staring at Bodrin, who mopped Tournak’s brow. Bodrin’s downcast, glazed eyes and resigned tone sent a chill down Saxthor’s spine. Bodrin glanced up at his friend. “There’s nothing we can do out here on the open sea.”

Both stared back at the fast approaching reptile whose features were becoming clear. The bat like wings whipped the air with such ferocity that the massive beast jerked up and down bearing down on them.

Crackle’s head snorted flames and smoke glaring at them. The men froze when Crackle screeched an ear-shattering roar.  He climbed, spiraling up in the air, and dove down, aiming for the little boat cutting through the swells.

As if the new terror wasn’t happening, Bodrin dipped his cloth in the cool sea and rung it out to mop Tournak’s brow a few last times.

“Careful, Bodrin, we’re sailing through a massive school of box jellyfish now.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bodrin said his low tone even and hollow. He glanced at the diving dragon.

A tingle shot through Saxthor. He turned facing the dragon as Crackle drew in his wings increasing his dive speed.

“Box Jellyfish! We’re not dead men yet! Move Tournak inside the cabin.”

Saxthor was grinning. He plunged a bucket into the sea and threw water over the boat and men. Tournak winced. Bodrin recoiled. Saxthor doused himself too with seawater. The boat’s contents were all wet when flames fanned out across it.

Crackle’s head whipped around after the attack. He screamed his victorious screech and circled back around over the steaming craft. The beast shot a quick, intimidating burst of flame.

This beast savors his invincibility, thought Saxthor. He lusts for torture and the slow kill. The need for revenge has pushed aside caution. I remember his carelessness when he killed the witch.

The dragon’s sneer showed he savored his impending vengeance, circling over his intended victims. Saxthor studied the beast’s still-enflamed side with the missing scales. Confirming Saxthor’s analysis, Crackle lowered his head, whipped his great wings, and came at them, skimming just above the water. The focused, yellow eyes fixed on the straining little craft cutting through the sea’s resistance. Ominous smoke streamed from Crackle’s nostrils.

Make him madder, Saxthor thought. Rage invites recklessness. This young dragon can’t control his anger. If I can increase his fury, he’ll wish to do more than incinerate us. He might fly closer to snatch and chew me for lingering, painful revenge.

“What are you doing?” Bodrin asked.

Saxthor jumped up by the steering oar and grabbed Tournak’s bow. He shot an arrow at the dragon’s left eye. Crackle’s head jerked to the side, avoiding the strike, but the move prevented a flame blast. Before the dragon could adjust his flight trajectory, Saxthor shot again. The attacker soared over the boat, and the arrow struck his eye.

The dragon veered away screaming. He shook his head.  A foot slapped at the shaft knocking it from the eye, but the oozing socket told all. The beast flew at an angle, whipping his wings to gain altitude for the next strike. As Saxthor had hoped, his perception was out of alignment.

He’s blind in one eye. His mind can’t adjust for the lack of cross vision focus, Saxthor thought.

Bodrin’s eyes bulged. “He’s coming back, you just made him madder. What did that accomplish?”

Enraged, Crackle flew low over the water bearing down on the boat.

“He’s closing in to snap me in his jaws,” Saxthor said, his tone inexplicably confident, matter of fact. He focused on the dragon not even glancing at Bodrin.

“What have you done?”

Crackle’s claws creased the sea; his wings smacked into the swells. Just at the boat, as the men held their breaths, Saxthor suddenly ducked down and thrust up an oar. Crackle jerked, his vision and balance were off center. His left wingtip sliced the water. At his speed, the strike jarred him. Adjusting for the jolt caused his right wing to slam into a white-capped swell beside the boat. The great beast summersaulted into the sea.

Saxthor jumped up with Sorblade in both hands and brought the blade down on the dragon’s wing. They sailed on leaving the thrashing dragon in their wake.

Bodrin leaped up. “Jellyfish! He’s covered in jellyfish.”

Tournak regained consciousness and propped himself up on his elbows. “They’re all over the wound on his side.”

Crackle’s head whipped above the whitecaps belching screams in the froth. His wings smacked the sea, struggling to climb out of the water, but the broken wing tip hung like a ribbon. The dragon spun in a circle, drawing more jellyfish to his exposed tissue. As the little boat sailed on, Crackle tired. His thrashing and screaming weakened then stopped. For a moment, he bobbed in the ocean. The great beast’s head whipped back one last time before he sank unobtrusively beneath the waves.   

Bodrin scrutinized the sea as if expecting the reptile to emerge. “You killed the dragon.”

“One day they’ll call you Dragon-Slayer, Saxthor,” Tournak said. He then slumped down and into unconsciousness.

“Saxthor,” Bodrin said, “Tournak is dying. We have to get him to Olnak soon or no herbal poultice will save him.”      

At dawn, Saxthor pointed behind Bodrin who turned around to see the faint blue-gray hump on the horizon. Land…Neuyokkasin was finally visible in the distance after seven years.                                           

*

As they approached the primary Neuyokkasinian port of Olnak, the fragrance of fish frying, green timber, tackenbeck, herbs, and other smells from the harbor drifted over the boat. The aromas brought back a flood of memories. Saxthor steered left and up along the coast, searching for brown shading in the coastal shallows.

“Tournak said the seaweed he needed was brown, right?”

“Yeah, but we don’t know what else it looks like.”

“There,” Saxthor pointed at thick brown seaweed strands drifting like fringe back and forth with the tidal current.

Bodrin dove overboard, plunging into the water and coming up with a handful of the slick, chestnut colored seaweed. He tossed it in and pulled himself up over into the boat. As Saxthor held the wizard, Bodrin cleaned Tournak’s festering wound. He mashed the seaweed in a mush and plastered it over the tissue with care. Tournak winced at the touch and made a weak groan.

“Is it enough?” Saxthor asked. “Were we in time? Was this the right seaweed?”

“How should I know?” Bodrin glanced at Saxthor, his frustrated face crinkled.

“Put some in his mouth. Maybe if he eats it’ll neutralize the poison, too.”

“Good idea.”

Saxthor gently lifted Tournak’s head in his arm. Bodrin laid a strand of the seaweed on Tournak’s lips. The wizard first licked the plant and then chewed a bit, swallowing with difficulty.

“Give him more,” Saxthor said.

“He’s barely conscious. You want to do this?”

Both settled down and Bodrin prodded Tournak to eat several small mouthfuls of the herb before the wizard settled back unconscious. The men drifted for an hour while Saxthor redressed Tournak’s wound, noting each time the inflammation lessened. By nightfall, Tournak regained consciousness and was able to sit up on his own. He ate more of the plant. The boys tied up in the shallows for the night and ate dinner. The next morning, Tournak had recovered.

*

Their vessel sailed past a heavily laden freighter outbound for Tixos. Saxthor steered through the ship’s wake, careful not to let it swamp the boat or cut the wind from their sail. The returning exiles worked their way across Olnak harbor. Traffic was lighter than expected for autumn, and the soldiers on the battlements of Castilyernov Fortresska appeared glum.

“Gloomy everywhere,” Saxthor said.

“We don’t know the mood in Olnak,” Tournak warned. “As a port town, the inhabitants are open to strangers in hopes of trade. These are leaner times than when we sailed for Tixos. We should keep a low profile, sell the extra dried foods, and leave as soon as possible for Hyemka.”

“It’s worse than Memlatec let on,” Bodrin said.