Jean Rabe - Dragons of a New Age

“Where do we find the lance?” Dhamon asked Palin.

“It’s waiting for us here in the city. We’ll retrieve it after you’ve reported to your friends on the ship.”

Shaon reached the slip where the Anvil was anchored. Her feet slapped across the creaking boards as she closed the distance, and her hands held her skirt above her knees to keep her feet from becoming tangled in the luxurious violet fabric. “Rig!” she hollered excitedly, as she and the red wolf climbed the plank that stretched to the deck. “Rig?”

Fury sniffed the railing and threw back his head with a howl. Though half the length of the waterfront separated them from Shaon, Dhamon and the others could see her darting about the deck and hear Fury’s cries.

Dhamon whirled and thrust the walnut box into Palin’s hands. He drew his sword and rushed toward the ship. Had the creatures been here, too?

He raced down the dock and onto the ship—just as Shaon’s head disappeared below deck. “Rig?” she kept calling, her voice becoming softer the deeper she went. Dhamon added his voice, but still there was no reply.

“No one’s on board,” Palin observed, as he, Feril, and Blister approached the green carrack, bringing up the rear. The sorcerer closed his eyes, concentrating. “There hasn’t been anyone here for a few days.” Glancing over his shoulder at a knarr, a small cargo ship moored nearby, he saw an old sailor leaning on a weathered rail and caught his eyes. The sailor shook his head sadly.

Blister and Feril climbed onto the Anvil, while Palin turned back toward the old man.

“Groller’s,” Dhamon whispered, as he bent and snatched up a belaying pin and showed it to Feril. She sat the spawn jar by the mainmast, and started searching about.

“Rig!” Shaon shouted one last time as she clambered up from below. “Dhamon, he’s not here!”

Dhamon put a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, he might be in town.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Fury pacing nervously, the wolf’s agitation silently undercutting his words.

“You don’t understand!” the sea barbarian insisted. “No one’s here. Not the deck hands. Not Jasper. Not Groller. Rig wouldn’t leave any ship unattended, let alone his. I know him. And there’s other things missing. My jewelry, for example.” Her eyes were wide and glistening. She glanced at the belaying pin Dhamon had found and sucked in her lower lip. “I half expected the ship to be gone, that Rig wouldn’t wait for me. I didn’t expect the ship to be here without them. Something terrible must have happened.”

“Aye, girl. Something very bad’s happened. T’were beasties.”

Palin was leading the stumbling old sailor onto the deck. “Saw ’em, I did. Nobody ’lieves me, though. Big beasties. Late at night they came.”

Shaon towered over the newcomer, and he took a step back, intimidated. He stared up at her, his rheumy blue eyes blinking over a bulbous red-veined nose.

“What are you saying?” she demanded to know.

“Beasties—I told ye.” The sailor stroked his stubble-covered chin and grinned and winked at Feril, who’d come up behind to join the sea barbarian. “Took yer men. Got lotsa men. Nobody ’lieves me, though. But I’m still here—if ye need a man.”

Shaon inhaled sharply. “You’re drunk.” His breath and clothing reeked of ale, as much as if he’d mopped up a floor of a tavern with his body.

“Aye, girl. S’why nobody ’lieves me.” He punctuated the remark with a loud burp. “But I sees’em, drunk er no. I was layin’ on the deck of The Hunter over there. Me face hangin’ over the side ’cause I’d had me a mite too much to swallow. They sailed right in, bold as ye please, an’ started haulin’ men off ships. Didn’t want me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Shaon growled.

“Where’d they take the men?” Dhamon interjected.

“Sailed right out agin.” The old sailor swayed, and Feril stepped in to help prop him up. “Took ’em out to sea, the beasties did. Sailed ’round the point over there. Probably ate ’em. Beasties eat men, you know. They each had three heads and lotsa arms. Their feet were as big as anchors. An’ their hair was seaweed. Their eyes glowed like fire, like they came from the Abyss.”

Shaon shuddered. “I don’t believe you.” But part of her had to. The sea barbarian had seen some strange things recently—an empty village, spawn, buildings that suddenly appeared. Monsters—they were not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“I can find out if his story is true.” Feril sat on the edge of the deck, near a section of rail with deep scratches in it. Claw marks, perhaps, the Kagonesti thought, as she reached into her bag and pulled out a lump of clay. She worked it with her fingers as she hummed, rocking back and forth. Within moments, it resembled a small boat.

She stared over the side of the ship, the still water reflecting her tattooed face. She drew her lips into a straight line and hummed louder. The magic was difficult today, the spell seemed to tease her from afar. Still, she persisted, her mind groping for the connection to the energy.

Finally, Feril’s mind located the energy and found the strength to draw out the enchantment. The water below her shimmered and rippled, and a mirror-image of the Anvil appeared. Groller was on the deck—surrounded by a foursome of ugly ogres. They quickly subdued him, then went below and kidnapped the others. The whole scene played out on the water as all of the companions watched.

“Thems what I saw,” the old man said blusteringly, waving his hand at the water. “’Cept they were big as life, the beasties were, not pictures on the water. Mean looking, too, they were, and with eight eyes each and lotsa teeth.”

Shaon gripped the rail as the water calmed and Feril returned the clay to her pouch. “They might be unharmed,” the Kagonesti offered. “They’re tough, Rig and Groller, and Jasper seems resourceful. The boats seem too small to be sea vessels. Therefore, the ogres would’ve had to land somewhere nearby. They couldn’t last long out on open water.”

“Why would these ogres be kidnapping sailors?” Blister wondered.

“Ogres keep slaves,” Palin answered. “Sailors are strong and would make good laborers. But the ogres won’t have them for long. We’ll get them back.” If they’re alive, he added to himself. He pointed to the belaying pin Dhamon still held. “Perhaps I can try some of my magic to track them down.”

The sorcerer handed the walnut box to Shaon. “Guard this with your life, as the lives of many others might depend on it,” he said. Then he took the belaying pin, held it in the palm of his right hand, and concentrated his gaze, as the others watched.

The words Palin spoke were distinct, though they were of a tongue unknown to the others on deck. As they fell from his lips, the belaying pin quavered and took on a different shape, looking like a doll-sized replicate of Groller. Beads of sweat dotted the sorcerer’s brow. His hands glistened with moisture. The words continued to spill from his lips, faster now. Then they abruptly stopped and the image of Groller became the belaying pin once again, though it had two imprints, or scars, where the doll’s eyes had been.

Palin inhaled deeply, shook his head, and hefted the pin.

“This will act as a magnet and lead us to your friend. He knelt and called to Fury. The wolf dutifully trotted over and sat patiently while Palin tugged the sash free from around his waist and looped it several times around the wolf’s neck. He stuck the belaying pin beneath the makeshift collar.

“Fury! Find them!” Palin commanded. The sorcerer watched the wolf’s gold eyes sparkle with an unusual light. Then Fury barked loudly, and took off loping down the plank. Palin rushed after him, leaving the old sailor staring mutely at him and the others while weaving precariously on the Anvil’s deck.