Jean Rabe - Dragons of a New Age

Shaon had arranged for four crew members, three of whom were busying themselves making final adjustments to the rigging. The fourth came on board while Jasper was arguing with Shaon about cabin assignments. The new crew member walked with a wolf at his side.

“No animals,” Dhamon said brusquely.

The wolf stood about three and a half feet tall at the shoulder and had thick red fur and golden eyes. The man stood twice as tall. He was tanned and burly and had rough features—a wide forehead, a puglike face and wide-set black eyes. He wore a vest without a shirt beneath it and the rest of his clothes were worn and tattered. A gleaming gold hoop that dangled from his right ear looked to be the most valuable item he owned.

“Half-ogre,” Jasper muttered.

“The wolf goes,” Dhamon called.

“Dhamon, meet Groller Dagmar,” Rig returned. “I’d return the introduction, but he can’t hear you. He’s deaf. And next to me and Shaon, he’s the most competent seaman you have. I want him, so he stays—and that means his wolf does, too. Unless, of course, you want to find yourself another captain.”

Dawn arrived with a slight breeze, barely enough to coax Flint’s Anvil out of the harbor. By late that afternoon the wind was gusty and billowed the sails enough to make the masts creak. They were making good time. Rig was at the wheel, and the half-ogre, Groller, was with him. There was no sign of the red wolf.

Dhamon and Jasper were doing their best to get acquainted with the ship as it weaved across the bay. And the dwarf was trying hard to get accustomed to the constant pitching.

“I feel horrible, like my stomach’s climbed into my throat,” Jasper grumbled. “Never been on a ship that rocked so much.”

“That’s only because you’ve never been on a ship when the wind was blowing this strong,” Dhamon returned. “I’ll grant you the waves are pretty high, but it could be a lot worse. You’d better prepare for the Gale.”

“It was always calm on the way to Schallsea,” the dwarf said wistfully.

New Ports was far behind them now, and Dhamon leaned over the rail and strained his eyes to the north, hoping to spot Port O’ Call. All he saw was the turbulent water. He idly wondered how many weeks they’d be at sea and what they’d find in Palanthas. “Evil breeds there,” Goldmoon had told him. Would finding that evil be difficult? Or might the evil find them?

Jasper ran his hand along the rail, as if he were judging the quality of its carving and determining how it had been routed. Perhaps he was trying to keep his mind off the constant motion. A soft tinkling noise interrupted his inspection. He turned and frowned.

“Interesting name you chose for her, Jasper,” Shaon observed. “Let’s hope she’s sturdy enough and doesn’t sink like one.”

“It was called Melancholy Morkoth before I bought it. I didn’t like the sound of riding on a ship named after an ugly sea monster, so I renamed it after my uncle.”

The dark-skinned woman shook her head. “Never cared much for relatives.”

She was wearing a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned halfway to her waist, and tight black pants she’d bunched up to her knees. She was barefoot, and a thick gold chain she wore around her right ankle sported a double row of tiny bells that jingled merrily when she walked.

“I cared about Flint,” Jasper muttered. “I cared enough to make a promise to him in a dream, that I’d help his friend Goldmoon, study from her too. Didn’t figure being on a ship would be part of it.” The dwarf gripped his stomach as the ship surged over a tall wave. His complexion was pale, and he grabbed the railing to steady himself. He stared at the water for a moment, closed his eyes, and turned around so his back was to the sea. “What’s that?” he asked Shaon as he pointed at a taut rope.

Dhamon smiled. “Most people call it a rope,” Shaon replied.

“Oh.”

“But sailors call it a forestay. It’s the line that runs from the mainmast to the bow. And you have to make sure it doesn’t fray.”

“And this?” The dwarf glowered and waggled his fingers at the mast.

“Well, the whole thing—the mast, boom, and gaff—is called a spar.”

“This isn’t so hard,” Jasper grumbled. “Forestay, mast, spar, starboard, stern, rudder, rigging, keel, kender.”

“Kender?” Dhamon turned away from the rail and followed the dwarf’s gaze. He scowled as he spotted Raph and Blister climbing up the ladder from below deck. “I thought you two stayed in New Ports!”

“I wanted to,” Blister sputtered, as she balanced herself on the rolling deck. “But Raph insisted on tagging along. I couldn’t talk him out of it, so I figured I’d better come, too. Someone has to watch out for him and keep him out of trouble.”

Dhamon groaned and strode toward the bow, away from the gathering.

Raph immediately spotted Shaon’s ankle bracelet. He shuffled closer for a better look, the half-dozen pouches tied to his waist clinking and rustling as he went.

“How come you wear bells?” the kender asked.

“Rig gave them to me. Gold from Karthay.”

“Why’s your hair so short?”

“So it won’t blow in my eyes.”

“Why—”

Jasper positioned himself between Shaon and Raph, his back to the kender. He was still careful to keep one hand on the railing to help his balance. “Where do you think you and Rig’ll go after you leave us in Palanthas?” he asked.

“We discussed it quite a bit last night. Rig didn’t sleep much. I think he was excited to have his own ship. It’s something he’s always wanted. We might take her up and around the Northern Wastes and eventually back to the Blood Sea of Istar. That area’s home for us.”

Blister nudged her way into the conversation, and Jasper sighed in resignation and strode away, lurching toward a collection of crates near the capstan. The dwarf sat on the lowest one and grabbed his head as the ship rose over another swell.

“I’ve been there,” she said. The kender was wearing an unusual pair of gloves this morning. They were green leather, and had small hooks on the thumbs.

Shaon glanced over her shoulder and stared dreamily at the water. “That’s where I met Rig Mer-Krel—on a big carrack on the Blood Sea. The ship I was sailing on hit a reef. We took on water too fast, and a lot of men were trapped below deck and drowned. Sharks had already taken more than half of the rest of the crew when the Sanguine Lady pulled alongside. Rig was second mate on the Lady. He fished me out of the water. Those of us who lived signed on.”

“That sounds exciting,” Raph said. “You two married?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. But he’s not looking elsewhere, so I’m satisfied.”

“Why’d you end up way over here? The Blood Sea’s practically a world away,” the kender prattled.

“Shaon!” Rig looked sternly at the foursome. “Enough chatter. It’s your turn at the wheel.”

Rig drew Shaon aside, while Groller took the helm. Blister spotted Dhamon at the bow and headed toward him. Left alone, Raph became curious about the water barrels at the ship’s stern.

Blister and Dhamon stood quietly for a long time, listening to the water breaking against the hull and the snapping of the sails. The sun was edging toward the horizon. It would set soon.

“You know, you never told me what brought you to the tomb, then to Schallsea,” said the kender, finally breaking the spell.

“No, I didn’t.”

“And you’re not going to, are you?”

Dhamon fixed his eyes on a large swordfish that arced above the water, then disappeared.

“You know, Mr. Grimwulf, if you’re not going to tell the truth—or tell anything, for that matter—you better learn how to lie. I don’t think you’re very good at it.”