The Legend of Vanx Malic: Book 02 - Dragon Isle (5 page)

“Surely a dozen men can kill a thirty-foot dragon,” Trevin spoke up.

“The black ones spew corrosive saliva that would eat through your steel armor, and then your flesh, before you could take aim at the beast,” the Zythian told them, his wild eyes almost luminous in the dim cabin. “The blue wyrms spit lightning, and the green species blast at you with a hot, steamy fog that’ll drop you dead in your tracks. The red-scaled beasts, such as the one we are after, will char you to ash as they fly by overhead. You’ll die before you know they are even there.”

Darbon shuddered at that, remembering the ashy form of the ogre he had fallen into back in the Wildwood. He then came out with a chuckle. “Sort of makes the Wildwood seem like an orchard.”

“It does,” Vanx sniggered back. There was no real humor in their laughs though, only tension and concern.

“The dragons can fly, sir,” Zeezle went on, stressing his point to the knight. “One moment you are trudging along trying to keep your feet from sticking in the swampy muck; the next, three men behind you are nothing but half-formed puddles of muck. You don’t often hear them coming. You’re the field mouse on this island full of hawks and falcons, and the birds here breathe fire, poison, and vaporized lightning.”

Sir Earlin was quiet for a beat, his expression neutral. Then he gave a slight respectful nod of understanding toward Zeezle.

“I’m sorry, my prince, but I must invoke Liege Law on this venture,” the knight said. “My oath is to the king of the realm and it is to protect you at all costs. You’ll not set foot on Dragon Isle.”

Prince Russet’s eyes grew large and he started to protest, but Sir Earlin set his jaw and shook his head in a way that brooked no argument.

“It’s better this way,” Vanx said. “Zee can scribe up a map. He and I can go after the remedy, and if something happens and we don’t return, another attempt can be made.”

“I’m going, Vanx.” Trevin stood and nearly split his skull on the cabin’s low ceiling. The knock to his head seemed to only sharpen his resolve. “You’ll have to kill me to stop me!”

“You’ll need a good archer, and Trevin’s sword, if we run into orcs, or them spider-eating snakes he told us of,” Darbon added. “And if something happens to one of us out there, the rest of us can continue on.”

“Sir Earlin will accompany you,” Prince Russet said in a voice that showed his disappointment, and something else that was a little more than heartfelt. “There’s something that Quazar didn’t tell Trevin because of his relationship with Gallarael. I…”

“What is it?” Trevin snapped.

“Mind your tongue when addressing the prince of the realm,” Sir Earlin scolded.

“No, it’s all right,” the prince said. “He loves her and I understand. She is with child, though. Even if you get the blood and we sail with Nepton’s full blessing behind us, the whole way back, it might not be soon enough to save them.”

Trevin was as pale as a freshly scrubbed sheet.

“Quazar also told me that his staying spell barely took and that he couldn’t risk re-casting it for fear that the poison would take her in the time between.” The prince sighed and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t clear whether it was a move to hide a tear or just to release some of the emotion he was feeling. “She’s barely alive. They’re barely alive, and we’ve one chance to get this right. I suggest that you all listen to the Zythian and then figure out the approach which will yield the absolute best chance of success.”

Vanx regarded the prince for a long moment. Russet would be a good, if not a great, king one day. It made Vanx feel proud to be half-human, a feeling that he’d never felt before in his whole life.

“If that’s the case, then the knight may be right,” Zeezle said. “A large, well-armed group could get us to the valley quickly and safely. Once there we can see what challenges the Goddess presents us with and deal with them as they come.”

The demon’s horde was many

while the heroes left were few.

But the wizard and his mighty wyrm

made the demon pay his due.

– The Ballad of Orn Spike

T
he group watched on in stunned silence as the
Sea Hawk
pulled her anchor and sped away from the island by way of a powerful magical gust of wind. Dragons had circled at first and then swooped on the ship, but when the summoned wind snapped the sails taut, the winged beasts darted away from her. Their attention quickly returned to the beached longboat and the foot trails pounded into the sand between it and the tree line. One of the dragons, a mid-sized black wyrm, as dark as onyx with a glittery sheen, and a bright pink maw full of dagger-long teeth, landed near the small boat.

The black dragon strutted on hind legs, with outstretched wings, as it came down. It took three slowing strides and then fell forward on all four of its wicked clawed legs. It folded its wings back and its upraised neck shot forward like a striking snake. At the same time, its long tail extended backward for balance.

The wyrm was easily forty paces from head to tail, and its elongated form left no doubt as to why earlier generations had nicknamed the creatures wyrms.

A long, forked tongue flickered forth, tasting the air around the longboat. Vanx was amazed at how pink the tongue was until the creature’s head turned, its gaze following the trail. Its luminous amber eyes met Vanx’s and all his curiosity melted away like a snowball in a forest fire. He only knew one thing in that moment; one emotion overcame him so completely that he nearly lost control of his bodily functions. The fear was so intense that a weaker mind might not have been able to recover from it.

Dark, vertical slits scanned the tree line and then shiny black lids shot up from the bottom of those narrowed orbs as the dragon blinked. The slits turned to slivers as it found and focused on the group. Its head was wide like a viper’s, but long and snouted like that of a horse. Bony platelets formed brows and cheeks. It had no ears that Vanx could see, but a pair of sharp horns jutted up and back in their place. A few tendrils of thick, ropy hair dangled from its chin like a beard, and a row of sharp, triangular protrusions ran down its spine.

Vanx felt a sensation akin to that of being in close proximity of working magic. Oddly, it was a clean sort of magic, similar to Quazar’s, all natural and pure. Vanx sniffed, searching for that ozone-like quality that usually accompanied the hair-raising sensation, and regretted it immediately. Apparently, one or more of the men with them had lost control of their bowels. A long, hissing intake of breath from the dragon showed that it smelled the stench, too.

Before Vanx could even think, the dragon started forward like a scrabbling mongoose. It was fast, as fast as lightning, as it came across the beach. Its body was too big for it to charge all the way into the trees, but that realization didn’t stop a few of the men from pushing away from the trunks they were hiding behind in order to flee. There was a gasping chorus from the men when the dragon’s head struck into the forest like a snake. Then came a muffled scream.

Vanx wanted to look away but couldn’t. The dragon took a step back from the tree line, raised up its long neck, and chugged down a good portion of one of the seamen it had snatched. He couldn’t help but gawk at the steadily shrinking lump that moved down the dragon’s neck toward its body.

The wyrm leapt forward then like a frisky hound, unfurling its wings as it went. By the second leap it was in the air and a series of deep thumps carried it away from sight. As Vanx watched it go, he shuddered when he realized it was only one of the score of wyrms circling like buzzards in the sky.

“You’ve my apologies for ever doubting your word, Zeezle,” Sir Earlin said after a long silence. “Never in all my life have I seen a thing of such size and power.”

“Where’s the other sailor gone?” Zeezle asked Yandi, who was still bear-hugging the trunk of the tree between the beach and him.

“You didn’t see what happened?” This was from Trevin and in a voice that seemed fairly steady considering what had just taken place.

“Not that one,” Zeezle said as he peered back into the swampy jungle. “One of them ran past me into the marsh.” For a long moment no one even tried to respond.

“We’ve no time to waste on absconders,” Trevin said. “What supplies do we have among us?”

“We have enough food and most of the weapons,” Sir Earlin said from the pile of gear through which he was going. “My good armor and the climbing gear are still on the longboat, though.”

“Are they gonna come back?” Darbon asked.

“The dragons never left, lad,” Sir Earlin said. “They’re still out there circling, so we have to move.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Darbon shook his head. He was pale and trembling, but otherwise recovering from his fear. “The ship, Prince Russet; are they coming back? Or are we stranded here?”

“They’re coming back, Darby.” Vanx forced a laugh. “They just had to clear away from the shore.”

“If the beasts fired the sails or killed the crew, then we would be trapped here,” Trevin said. “They just moved out of harm’s way.”

“Oh,” Darbon managed and then reached for a bow. After he strung it, he took two quivers of arrows and hooked them to his belt. Then he grabbed a dirk and a short sword as well.

“Our tents and the vat of poison are still on the longboat,” Trevin said from Sir Earlin’s side. “But we’ve a bundle of torches here, two lanterns, and a flask of lantern oil.”

“We’ve no waterskins here, and only two of the watered wine,” Sir Earlin gave the tally.

“There’s fresh, clean water available on our way,” said Zeezle. “At dusk I will venture out and get us some more bladder skins from the longboat.”

“We’re not waiting here until dark, Zeezle,” Vanx said flatly. “I have a flask and I know the sailors do as well. Those and the two skins will keep our thirst quenched if we are frugal.”

“So be it.” Zeezle nodded his agreement. “I guess we should sort this gear out and get moving then.” He looked up, judging the position of the sun through the almost solid canopy overhead. “We can get across and out of the mire before full dark.”

“This doesn’t look much like a swamp,” Darbon told Yandi, who had recovered from his terror enough to begin loading a shoulder pack to carry. The other remaining crewmen joined him.

“That’s because we’re not in the marshes just yet. The tide is out,” Zeezle explained. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and started to yell. He stopped himself long enough to ask Yandi what the fled seaman’s name was.

“We’re moving inland, Bernald. You’re to stay here and watch the longboat. Don’t go near it, save for at dusk and dawn.”

“Don’t be thinking about creeping out of here without us, either,” Yandi managed to yell without his voice faltering. “Them dragons will pluck you right off the sea if you aren’t got no heathens aboard to repel them.”

Vanx looked at Yandi and nodded with a grin of approval showing on his face. He knew there was nothing in the world as superstitious and suspicious as a seaman. If Bernald thought that it was Vanx’s or Zeezle’s presence that had kept the dragons at bay as they rode to shore earlier, all the better. It wouldn’t do to risk their lives on the island to get the dragon’s blood only to return and find an empty beach.

“I’ll not be going out of this forest,” Bernald called from some distance. “With or without ye, sand’ll never take the print of my boot again.”

“We’ll leave you some food,” Sir Earlin barked. “But if you want a drink, you’ll have to go get one of those skins from the longboat.”

“I’ll drink me own piss before I go out yonder,” Bernald’s voice returned. It hadn’t grown any closer.

“That’s up to you, man,” Sir Earlin replied, more to himself than anyone else.

“I have three-to-one odds that he will have passed out drunk on those wineskins that are still out there when we get back, Reen,” Yandi said to his man.

“I’ll put a silver on that,” Reen said shakily. “If he saw what happened to Oskey, he’ll not leave the forest, like he said.”

“It’s a bet then.” Yandi handed him the pack he’d been loading and started filling another. “Let’s just hope we live to settle it.”

“Come on,” Zeezle ordered. He slung the pack Trevin offered him over his shoulder and started inland, swinging a short, wide blade before him to clear a path. Taking loaded crossbows and hip quivers as they passed Sir Earlin, the seamen followed him. Darbon had the longbow, so he didn’t take the more powerful but less accurate weapon the knight offered him, but Trevin took one. Trevin also took the huge, two-handed sword they had brought along. Vanx helped him get the over-the-shoulder scabbard rig on and indicated that he’d take up the rear. Vanx had selected a long, narrow-bladed sword earlier and it was already strapped at his waist. Like Darbon, he preferred the accuracy and range of the longbow over the crossbow’s power. He knew he could release three arrows by the time a crossbow could be cocked and reloaded.

Sir Earlin, clad in gauntlets, steel-shinned boots, and a knee-length shirt of chainmail, took up one of the two huge battle axes. He already had a formidable array of weapons strapped to him. Apparently the knight had no use for a bow. Vanx figured that in full armor it was next to impossible to manage one. As an afterthought, as he took up the rear behind the jangling knight, he snatched up the last quiver of arrows. Unlike a sword or an axe, a bow could become no more than a stick if the fighting got heavy and arrows ran short.