Dhamon glared. “Don’t you move, ogre. Stay put until this is done.” He snapped up the great sword in one hand and hefted the glaive in the other. Both were two-handed weapons, but despite his wounds he felt agile enough to wield them both.
“There’s no reason to kill them,” Maldred repeated.
I’ve no intention of doing so, Dhamon thought. He pounded across the ground, rushing toward the fishermen.
“Monsters!” the half-elf shouted. “Two of them!”
Dhamon shuddered at being called a monster.
“A pair of draconians,” the one named Eben cried. He waved his long knife in the air and rushed up to the half-elf’s side. “Such creatures are dangerous, my friends. Worse than lizardmen. On your toes!”
Ragh brought the long sword up to parry the gaff hook, then gripped the pommel tight and twisted the weapon while bringing up a clawed foot and kicking the half-elf in the stomach. The half-elf fell back into the water, stunned and disarmed.
“Don’t…” Dhamon started to admonish.
“I wasn’t planning to kill them,” Ragh answered as he ducked beneath the sweep of Eben’s long, glittering knife, “though I think their intentions are otherwise.”
When the fishermen saw Dhamon, registering his scaly appearance, one of them whirled and headed back toward the boat, nearly knocking over the half-elf in his rush.
“Captain!” Dhamon shouted, sweeping the glaive menacingly just above the water. “Drop your knife!” Dhamon gestured toward the other armed man. “You, too.”
Both men hesitated.
“We could easily kill all of you,” Dhamon threatened, “and I think you know it, but we’d prefer to let you live.”
When the captain hesitated another moment, the half-elf made a move for the abandoned gaff hook.
Ragh was quicker, grabbing the makeshift weapon and hurling it a few yards away. The half-elf didn’t quit, pulling a knife from his belt.
“We won’t hurt you, I say!” Dhamon continued.
“Damn draconians,” the captain spat.
“That one’s a spawn,” the half-elf said, indicating Dhamon.
“Drop the knife, Keesh, William,” Eben advised the fishermen. “We’ve no choice.” He lowered his own knife. “My fault, men.”
“We shouldn’t’ve come in to shore,” the half-elf said with angry eyes fixed on the captain. “You knew it was a trap. You’re a fisherman now, remember? You’re not a Knight anymore.”
“I had no choice,” Eben repeated.
“Drop the knives,” Dhamon warned again. He pointed the great sword at the captain. “I’m in a considerable hurry, and I’ll not ask politely again.”
The older man shook his head. He thrust the knife in his belt. His two companions copied the move.
“Good enough,” Dhamon said. “We’ll not hurt you. I give you my word.” He looked to see the retreating fisherman climbing on board the boat. “Keep that one from leaving, Captain.”
“If you want to live,” Ragh interjected.
“Spawn, giving their word?” the half-elf raised his upper lip in a sneer. “I think you’ll kill us anyway.
I think—”
“The woman,” Eben said, hushing the half-elf with a wave of his hand. “What do you intend to do with the woman…?”
“We intend to get help for her,” Dhamon answered, “but it’s a long story and too long to tell you.”
Behind them, they heard the noise of a chain, the anchor being pulled up. Dhamon was angered that Eben had not ordered the man to stay.
“What we need is safe passage. That’s all. Across the New Sea and to the coast of Throt.” Dhamon nodded to Ragh, glancing at the fishing boat.
Ragh waved the long sword threateningly at the half-elf, then brushed by him, sloshing toward the boat. The frantic fisherman was fumbling with the sail now and had managed to get it half-way raised before the rigging became tangled.
“Passage for us. Then you’re free to go about your business.”
“You’ll not harm my crew.”
It wasn’t a question. “No, I’ll not harm any of you—if you cooperate.”
Ragh was climbing up the side of the boat, as the fisherman edged to the other side of the deck, knife flashing. “Just passage, and perhaps some of whatever food and water you’ve on board.”
“For the two of you?” Eben gestured to Fiona. “And her?”
“Her name’s Fiona. Aye, the two of us, Fiona, and one more passenger.” Dhamon glanced over his shoulder. “Ogre! Bring Fiona, we’ve got a way to Throt!”
There was not much wind, and so they didn’t reach their destination until a little more than two days later. It was twilight when they arrived, and the pale purple sky striped gray with bands of clouds, took some of the harshness away from the stark land of Throt. The grass of the uneven plains that stretched before them was dry and brittle, and the bushes that grew in clumps had shed most of their leaves. There was a stand of pines that looked a little out of place, the trees all relatively small. To the east, and running almost straight north and south, was a jagged chain of mountains. The shadow dragon was there somewhere, if the magic in the crystal ball spoke true. The mountains were not particularly impressive or high or what Dhamon imagined a dragon would choose for its lair, but he had the impression they looked like the spikes on a dragon’s back.
It won’t be long now, Dhamon thought. The village near Haltigoth, where Riki and his child were waiting, couldn’t be too far. If they pushed, they should reach it by sometime tomorrow. He was slightly familiar with Throt, having been in a few skirmishes in the country when he served in the Knights of Takhisis in years past. Admittedly he had not spent much time on the ground, as he was fighting from the back of a blue dragon named Gale, but between his memory and the crystal ball, he was hopeful they would find their way.
He had not hurt the fishermen, as he’d promised. It turned out Eben was a former Solamnic Knight who had left the order more than a decade ago when he was seriously injured during a skirmish with hobgoblins. The man still had a pronounced limp from the encounter. Dhamon considered leaving Fiona with him and telling him she was safe with the Solamnics, but he had the notion that the mad Knight might find a way to overpower the fishermen and come after him again. Better that he take Fiona into the village and leave her with Riki and Varek until the shadow dragon was dealt with. Then he’d return and take her to some Solamnic citadel, provided he had enough time left in his life.
“You had no right, Dhamon.”
Maldred’s harsh tone roused Dhamon from his musings. Dhamon gave a curt laugh. “What? No right to give up your big sword to the fishermen? Aye, ogre, I had every right.”
Maldred’s eyes became slits. “My father gave me that sword.”
Dhamon waved to the captain of the fishing boat. The boat was pulling away from the rocky shore, aiming for the deeper waters of the New Sea. The grinning Captain Eben waved the sword.
“We needed to pay for our passage, pay for those fishermen’s time and discomfort. We cost them a few days’ work and no manner of worry. We ate their food and drank their water and spirits. They were all so nervous I don’t think one of them slept the entire time we were on board. It was fortunate for us the sword was valuable.”
Maldred snarled, his lower fangs protruding from bulbous lips. “Valuable? That sword was worth more than their entire boat, Dhamon, and you well know it. He could buy a large new boat with that prize, two or three in fact, and hire more men. Very charitable of you.”
Dhamon couldn’t help but smile.
“There was an enchantment about my sword. You could have given them that damn glaive—tainted with Gold-moon’s blood. Or Fiona’s sword. My father gave me that sword.”