Tighter. Grow.
The grass stretched, blotting out all traces of Brine now. Then in the span of a heartbeat it withered and died. Feril stared as her heart hammered. The dragon had found the strength for one more ferocious breath and wiped out all the plants around him.
The great dragon’s eyes narrowed, and again he shot toward her. Feril turned and cut toward what she believed was east, away from where she knew the Narwhal was. She couldn’t risk running to the ship for safety, not when the dragon would easily destroy the small ship.
She used the crown to force jets of water away from her legs and arms, working to buy time. Then she felt herself propelled forward, not by her own means, but by Brine. She was hurled, somersaulting through the water, toward a coral outcropping. Feril fought to slow herself, then struck the reef. Her eyes closed.
The dragon eyed the unconscious elf. Not blue, like the Dimernesti, but an elf, and a powerful one. One from the surface? From a ship?
Dhamon spotted another swell and trained the spyglass on it. Something about it was different. It was dark green, perhaps black. Maybe a whale. The swell flattened and he lost track of it. A whale, especially a large one, could pose problems if it got too close. It might even capsize the Narwhal.
“Where are you?” Dhamon whispered. “Where?”
The ship’s bow rose suddenly, riding up high until the ship was practically perched on its rear rudder. Dhamon grabbed onto the rail. His feet flew out behind him as a spray of incredibly hot water hit him in the face.
A handful of the freed slaves who were on the deck slid toward the rear of the ship, their hands scrabbling for anything to grab onto.
“No!” Jasper tumbled head over feet when the ship lurched. Usha, at midships, reached out to grab him and the scepter. At the last moment her fingers locked around the polished handle, while her other hand managed to catch the dwarf’s pant leg. But the material ripped, and Jasper fell headlong. Then Usha felt herself sliding, as well. She heard the ship’s timbers groan, heard startled cries from below deck. She careened after Jasper, and they both struck the capstan.
“I’ve got you!” the dwarf yelled. He wrapped one stubby arm around Usha’s waist, clamping the other one onto the capstan. “Don’t drop that scepter!”
She opened her mouth to reply, but instead gave a scream of surprise. The front end of the ship crashed down, slamming against the water and jarring her and Jasper loose, eliciting pitiable cries from the former slaves. The dwarf was on his feet first, helping Usha up.
“What was that?.” Usha asked.
“Don’t know.” He shrugged and clutched his stomach as a wave of nausea began to overwhelm him. “But I intend to find out.” The dwarf steadied himself against the capstan while looking about. “Dhamon!” Jasper glanced toward the bow, where a drenched Dhamon, his face red and blistered, was struggling to his feet.
Dhamon thrust the spyglass in his pocket and drew a long sword that was strapped to his waist—one of a dozen weapons he and Rig had unearthed below. He was edging backward, keeping wary eyes on the water. “Rig!” Dhamon hollered. “Rig get up here!”
“Untangle the rigging,” Jasper instructed the freed slaves, as he and Usha hurried toward Dhamon. “And brace yourselves. I think we’ve really found trouble this time.”
The dwarf took the scepter from her. “What is it?”
“I thought it was a whale,” Dhamon said. He brushed his free hand at his face, scowling when his fingers touched the blisters. “But I don’t think so. I think...”
“Dragon!” Usha shouted. She was pointing off the port side. “It’s a dragon!”
“What?” It was Rig’s voice. “A dragon?” Fiona was behind him, Groller towering next to her.
“What happened?” Blister scooted around them. The kender’s hair was blue. Her face was smudged with blue flour, and some gooey yellow mixture was evident on her tunic. “Did we hit something?”
“Dragon!” Usha repeated.
They all saw Brine then, as his head broke the waves. His jaws were longer than the Narwhal, his teeth as big around as the ship’s mainmast. His blue eyes locked onto the ship. The dragon rose higher.
His serpentine neck, shimmering green and black in the morning sun, looked oddly beautiful. He craned his head about, opened his mouth, and blasted the Narwhal with a gout of steam.
Fury howled. The wolf had just come on deck and was rushing to the rail when it caught the first of the steamy breath. It was knocked off its feet, howling, and tore free large clumps of hair.
“Brine!” Blister yelled as she pawed at her pockets, searching for her sling. “I said I wanted to see a Dimernesti, not a dragon,” she muttered to herself. “I didn’t want to see a dragon at all. No, no. Not at all.”
“If that thing gets close to this ship, we’re all done for!” Rig yelled. He plucked daggers from his waist, holding three in each hand. He steadied himself by the port rail, waiting until the dragon came within range.
Dhamon was at the mariner’s side, a leg thrown over the rail. “It’s going to try to take the ship down.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Rig stared as Dhamon slipped his other leg over the rail.
“Taking the initiative and giving you a chance to get the ship under sail. I fought a dragon before, remember? Get the Narwhal out of here.” Then without another word, Dhamon dropped into the water and began to swim awkwardly toward the dragon, holding his sword in his hand. Rig was too astonished to say anything.
Dhamon had fought Gale, the great blue dragon which descended on the Anvil when it was moored in the Palanthas harbor. That was the battle that cost the life of Shaon, the mariner’s love. Rig had blamed Dhamon for Shaon’s death and had said that if Dhamon had stayed with the Knights of Takhisis and remained partnered with Gale, Shaon would still be alive. But Dhamon had indeed fought Gale. Rig had watched him battle the dragon over the Palanthas hills, had watched Dhamon and Gale plunge into a deep lake.
“These won’t do anything,” Rig muttered as he threw the daggers at the dragon. Only one of the six managed to lodge in the dragon’s neck, the rest falling into the water. The mariner suspected the small blade was no more than a pinprick to the beast. “Jasper! Up anchor! Fiona, drop the sails!” He called to the former slaves to watch the rudder, keep the rigging tight, and to warn the men in the hold.
The mariner dashed toward the bow, seeking the Narwhal’s lone ballista. He opened a chest affixed to the deck, and began pulling bolts from it. “Daggers didn’t hurt you, but these might,” he yelled.
At midships, Fiona unfurled the sails with Usha’s and the ex-slaves’ help. The ship budged, then caught, held by its anchor. The women glanced toward the stern, where Jasper and Groller were busy pulling at the anchor rope. “Hurry, Jasper,” Usha urged.
“Yes!” Fiona cheered, as she watched the anchor rise from the water. Then she shook her head. “No!” she called to the half-ogre, knowing he couldn’t hear her and that even if he could her words wouldn’t dissuade him. Sure enough, finished with the task, Groller did the unthinkable. He plunged into the water, his long arms taking him toward Dhamon and the dragon.
“What does he think he’s doing?” Usha gasped.
“Helping Dhamon,” Fiona solemnly replied, as her hand drifted to her sword. “He knows there’s only one ballista, and Rig’s using it.”
“But he’s committing suicide.”
The Solamnic knight nodded. “And I’ll be joining him in the great hereafter unless we can find something else to shoot at the dragon from a distance.”
“In the hold,” Usha urged. “There are spears.”
“Then let’s hurry.”
“Blister!” they heard Rig bellow as they made their way below. “Forget your sling. Useless! Get on the wheel! Get us some distance!”