The mariner was aiming the large crossbow, shooting bolts at the great sea dragon. He was unaccustomed to the weapon, but after a few shots he had already begun to aim it better.
Now, several dozen yards out from the retreating Narwhal, Dhamon trod water and held the sword above his head as the dragon rose above the surface, then slammed down. A spray of hot water coated Dhamon. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. The beast’s head rose again, his eyes fixed on the man in the water. His jaws opened and released another searing blast of steam.
Dhamon dove just in time to avoid the brunt of the blast. The water was achingly hot, and he fought to stay conscious and to keep hold of the weapon.
Determined, the knight held his breath and kicked forward. Closer! Dhamon screamed to himself. Closer! There! He jammed the sword into the dragon’s neck with all of his strength. The blade found its way between green-black scales and drew blood.
Stung by a man! Brine howled in astonishment. The sword hadn’t truly hurt; it was more of an annoyance. Yet the dragon howled in fury that something so puny would challenge him. Another man was swimming this way. This man was larger and would be eaten first.
Brine sank lower, even as the first man pulled the sword from his throat and stabbed again. The dragon angled his head, then his neck shot forward, jaws opened wide.
On the deck of the Narwhal, Blister worked the wheel, turning the bow of the ship away from the dragon, even as Rig swiveled the ballista in the mount for a better shot.
Jasper was behind her on the deck, grasping the Fist and staring at the dragon. “Can’t swim,” he said. “I’ll sink like a stone. Groller!”
The dwarf spotted the half-ogre. He was holding onto a spine on Brine’s back, sword in hand, stabbing at the beast. Rig saw Groller too and spun the ballista about.
“Blister!” Rig shouted. “Steer toward the dragon!”
“I thought you wanted us to get away!”
“Change in plans!” Rig shot back. “Get us closer.” Groller forced the change in plans, the mariner thought. Rig wouldn’t risk his life for Dhamon Grimwulf; he wouldn’t put the ship in jeopardy for that man. But Groller was another matter. “Closer!”
Usha and Fiona ran up from below deck, arms laden with spears from the armory. A dozen men followed, similarly burdened.
“The dragon,” Usha murmured in disbelief. “We’re heading toward it, not away.”
“Easier to hit if it’s closer,” the Solamnic said. She stood by the rail, her feet planted, hefting a spear in each hand. “One at a time,” she said to Usha. Then the spears flew from her hands toward the great sea dragon. Usha passed her two more spears, while readying another pair.
The others joined her, futilely trying to wound the beast. “Uh-oh,” Jasper said.
The dragon was rising up again in the water, preparing for another dive. Its massive form disappeared below the waves in a great rush that sent a shower of boiling water across the Narwhal’s deck.
Beneath the surface, the sea dragon’s body writhed, flinging the man away. The dragon roared, furious, turning his head and breathing a gout of steam in the half-ogre’s direction, just as Groller surfaced near the ship. Brine heard the small cry of the man, caught on the edge of the blast. He allowed himself a moment of anger that the man was not close enough to be killed by the heat, then felt another stab at his neck. The man with the black hair had returned. The dragon dove deeper.
Dhamon’s sword was lodged in Brine’s neck, his hands tight about the pommel.
The man would die now, Brine knew. He did not have the pointed ears of the Dimernesti and could not breathe water.
The dragon headed for the sea floor. Dhamon desperately hung onto the sword that was still buried in the creature’s neck.
On the surface, Rig, at the railing of the Narwhal, extended a pole to the battered half-ogre. Groller reached a hand up and grabbed it, allowed himself to be pulled back on board.
The mariner eyed his friend.
“I’m all ride,” the half-ogre told him. He was scalded and bruised and had come close to death, but he was alive. “Dried do help Day-mon.” He brushed the saltwater out of his eyes, then saw Fury and Jasper approaching. “Jaz-pear good healer. Jaz-pear, fix me again.”
“Where’s Dhamon?” Rig muttered. “Where’s the damn dragon?”
Below the waves, Dhamon struggled to stay conscious. His lungs ached and his head throbbed, but he forced his hands to pull the sword free one more time, to stab the sea dragon again. Brine was larger than Gale, his skin much thicker, but Dhamon had been hammering at the same spot over and over. He had pierced the scales and finally drawn a significant amount of blood. Black like the shadow dragon’s blood, it pooled about him, clouding his vision.
He drove the blade in deeper, and the dragon recoiled. He raised his neck, then slammed it down against a coral ledge, pressing Dhamon between its body and the coral. The last bit of air rushed from the knight’s lungs, and his hands lost their grip.
Brine raised his neck and felt pain where the sword was lodged. The man lay unmoving, ready to be devoured. First the dragon would sink the ship. Then he would return to deal with this man— and the vexing woman with the crown.
He’d destroy the ship first, before it could sail away. The dragon would kill all of those on the ship, devour them one by one, savor the taste of their insolent flesh. Brine pushed off and shot toward the surface, clearing the waves several yards from the Narwhal.
“There’s the dragon!” Rig bellowed. “Hard to port, Blister. Now! Hard to port!”
The kender complied.
“Good healer,” the half-ogre said. He was propped against the base of the ballista.
The dwarf had used his healing magic to ease the pain of the blisters on Groller’s skin. The wolf hovered over the half-ogre, pawing at the deck and glancing from Groller to the dragon.
“No,” the half-ogre told the wolf. “Won’t go zwimming again.”
“We might all be going swimming!” Rig shouted. “Unless Blister can get us farther away! Port!”
“Trying!” the kender called in as loud a voice as she could muster. “But the dragon’s pretty darn fast!”
Brine reached the side of the Narwhal and raised his head above the deck to eye the men crawling about. Fiona and the others continued hurling spears at the beast, but nearly all of them bounced off the creature’s thick hide.
“The dragon’s much too fast! And much too big!” Blister squealed when she got a closer look at the wyrm.
The dragon’s tail curled up over the railing, gripping it and tipping the Narwhal. The move threatened to spill Fiona, Usha, and the crew into the water.
“The mast!” the Solamnic knight called to Usha and the others. “Climb to it! Hang onto it.” Before Usha and the others could reply, Fiona reached for her sword and began slashing at the section of the dragon’s tail that was within her reach.
“Come on!” one of the former slaves urged Usha. He helped her climb up the steeply tilting deck, where she accepted a hand from Jasper. The dwarf and Groller were holding to the rigging and helping the others find things to grab onto.
Fury did his best to keep on his feet, but he was sliding toward the rail. Usha grabbed at the wolf and lost her own footing, just as Groller pulled her and Fury to safety. The wolf rubbed against her side, and all of them watched the dragon.
“I didn’t think it would end like this,” Usha whispered, “so far from Palin.”
“It’s not finished yet,” Jasper said. “Time for me to join the fight.” The dwarf swallowed hard and released the rope he’d been holding. He slid toward the rail, the Fist of E’li gripped firmly in one hand.