Circle of Stone (reprieve)

It has a two year guarantee.

Couple more chapter pics-

Like the piccys, Petty, go well with the story! Tains no ones fool, & witty also isnt he, Of course I have taste & have discretion ! Whether or not I choose to use them is another thing !

how's the forumshire vid going?

I need a bigger pc- by about 1000 times.

{Anyone happen to have a spare render farm? You know lots of farmers Dave- know any render farmers?)

Feeling brave enough for some more Azriel?

ps all going well I will shortly be selfpublishing it as an ebook. But then if folks dont read it here they will have to pay for it. Got to fill the sporran somehow you know.

Oh well done Petty ! Im pleased for yer ! Yeah, please feel free to continue, Il be up till late again tonight, So I can make a start ! Ive enjoyed this up till now, & look forward to carry on reading it !

Cool- chapter one of book 2 will follow shortly- well before 11pm anyway (GMT)

It was gone. Their ship was gone. They could see its sail floating away, a ghost of white in the growing darkness, drifting north upon the wind.

“I will have them all hung for this!” Ironfang roared shaking his fist and stalking right up to the waters edge as if he could reach out the better for them.

Tain nodded to Canthiss and they laid Prince Mekhal gently down upon the packed sand. Tain slumped down beside him, saying wearily, “Now what?”

“There is still Erwin's ship,” the Baron said turning with a glint in his eye, “I doubt there can be many left aboard, I’m certain we could take them.”

“I’m sure we could, if they are still there,” Tain agreed, “But once you’ve finished slaughtering the remaining crew who’s going to sail the thing? Just the four of us?”

The Baron had no immediate answer to this and turned back to face the dark water. Canthiss stood silently beside him also staring out to sea. The Druid was as usual whenever a quiet moment presented itself rummaging about for her pipe and flint. Tain laid his weary head back into the hard sand, cold now in the night air and stared blankly upwards at the legions of stars and listened to the beat of the waves.

“How long until Grande sends a ship to look for us?” he asked from his prone position.

“Our ship should dock with the morning tide,” the Baron replied with a shrug, “He will know then what has befallen us.”

“And when they tell him they abandoned us here, what then?” Tain asked, worried.

“Then Grande will send a ship to rescue us of course,” Ironfang replied.

“No, “ Tain said, “I meant to her crew.”

“They will be punished, as they rightly deserve,” Ironfang replied firmly.

Tain groaned. “Well we may as well forget about a rescue then,” he said, “They’ll most likely say we are lost, probably dead. I would if I were them. And given this islands reputation, which I might add is about to get a whole lot worse when they reach dock, I don't favour our chances of anyone coming too soon to look for us. Do you?”

This was met by a worried silence.

“So we are most likely stuck here then,” Canthiss said eventually.

“Wonderful,” Tain grumbled, “Stuck in the middle of the ocean with a partially real dragon and Erwin’s demented followers.”

“Do you hear something?” the Druid suddenly put in.

“Hear what?” growled the Baron.

“If you shut up you will hear it,” she replied impatiently and stopped trying to light her pipe.

The Baron shut up but all he could hear was the sighing of the wind and the continuous ‘shhhhhh’ of the waves drawing upon the sand and he said so dismissively, “I hear nothing but the waves and the wind.”

“Well I hear more,” she insisted sharply, “I hear oars in the water, and they are drawing nearer.”

She stepped out closer to the waterline, crouching low and drawing her black cloak in around herself. She stayed there for a few moments then still crouching came creeping back to them.

“It is a small boat, with at least half a dozen men in it. It looks very similar in shape to one of ours,” she reported.

“Could it be from Erwin’s ship?” Tain proposed.

“I suppose they could have rowed right around the island,” Canthiss conjectured.

“Whoever it might be let’s withdraw to a safer vantage point, behind those foundation stones,” Tain suggested drawing back to where the roots of what were once the harbour still stood at the top of the bay, “We can wait for them there.”

Quickly and quietly the others retreated behind the cracked white stone. There were more than enough gaps in it created by either catastrophe or the sea or both through which they could clearly see the shore line. Tain and Canthiss had both taken up their bows, arrows ready for the fitting though there was little light under the thin half-moon to shoot by.

Soon they could all hear the clear splash of the oars working against the rhythm of the waves and very suddenly it seemed the boat loomed up out of the dark. They heard the hiss as its hull met the sand and nine men leapt immediately out of it. They drew their boat up the beach and left it beside their own two boats already upturned there. All nine arrivals were armed with crossbows which they held at the ready in nervous fashion.

“Hold your fire!” Ironfang barked out addressing both sides.

Tain peered out of a crack and saw the men freeze in place but they did not lower their weapons immediately. One of them stood forward and Tain caught the gleam of a silver feather in the cap he wore.

“Baron Ironfang?” the man called somewhat suspiciously.

Ironfang strode around the harbour foundations and greeted them warmly, “Just the men we need,” he beamed, “Sergeant Jarel, we have a ship to commandeer.”

Tain stepped out from the cover of the rocks, the others close behind. “Hold on Baron,” he said, “no one has agreed to taking any ship yet. Even with these men we might not be able to man a large vessel.”

“Nonsense,” Ironfang dismissed and turning to the Sergeant asked, “What happened to our ship Sergeant?”

“The crew mutinied,” the Sergeant replied, “When the great light erupted from the Isle the very sea began to froth and tremble. Naturally we went to the Captain to begin a rescue mission but unknown to us the crew had armed themselves against us.”

“They will be punished,” Ironfang interrupted judiciously, “I will see to that.”

“They had the element of surprise,” the Sergeant continued bitterly, “We were given a choice, to return to Port with the ship and say we saw you lost, or to stay and obey our orders. As you see we chose to stay.”

“And I thank you for it and I shall not forget it Sergeant,” Ironfang replied graciously, “But we have much work for you this night. Are your men ready?”

“We stand ready Baron to answer your commands,” the Sergeant replied standing suddenly to attention. Ironfang smiled in reply.

“We don't have any commands,” Tain put I, “we are stuck here.”

“We can still take Erwin's ship,” Ironfang said with a glint in his eye, “and perhaps now we have enough to man her.”

“Maybe,” Tain said a thought occurring to him, “maybe. Remember that thief Ramus?”

“What of him?” Ironfang asked.

“Well when he tried to hire a ship for Erwin its Captain refused, then the very next day just accepted.”

“And?”

“And, I am willing to bet the difference between the two days was a pouch round his neck. Maybe if we can get those cursed things off Erwin's crew they will be as keen as we are to get the hell out of here.”

“Its got to be worth a try,” the Druid put in, “better than just killing everyone.”

Ironfang tried not to let his disappointment show at this proposal but finally he said, “Very well. And even if it does not work we will still at least have commandeered a ship, which is better than sitting here doing nothing all night,” he eagerly drew out his sword and eyed up the blade.

“Just try to remember we’re supposed to be helping these men not killing them,” Tain admonished seeing the glint in Ironfang's eye.

“They are likely to resist,” the Baron pointed out.

“True, but it’s not much use if you only remove the pouch after you’ve taken their head off, is it? We still need a functioning ships crew when we’re finished or we might be going nowhere, remember that,” Tain said standing up.

“I do not need instruction from the likes of you,” the Baron snarled, “And we will do no good standing here talking about it,” he added, “let us at least go see what we will face.”

Tain shrugged in acceptance and they set off back into the heart of the island.

It was well after the middle of the night when Ironfang, Tain, Canthiss and Sergeant Jarel reached the islands far shore.

They lay flat on their stomachs at the top of the eastern cliffs and peered down. Two hundred foot below them Erwin's ship was moored in the darkness.

The cliffs at this end of the island were steep. When the island had half collapsed and the plateau tumbled down into the sea it had left great spires and crags in the rocks. Natural chimneys were cut back all over into the rock faces and in some were still the ropes left by Erwin’s men from their ascent.

Tain stared bleakly through the blackness to where two small lamps on the prow and stern of Erwin’s ship -though to Tain they were still the pointy and the blunt ends-twinkled and bobbed. It seemed very, very far away. “We’ve three boats in the bay, more than enough for all of us,” he said, “We can row round.”

“That would take too much time; we have no way of knowing how long they will remain here. Whilst we rowed around the island they may depart. Then what?” Ironfang insisted.

Tain peered over the jagged edge, in the dark all he could see of the base was the whites of the pounding waves, “It’s a long way down,” he noted.

“Are you scared of heights?” Ironfang taunted.

“No, sharp rocks. And hitting them at speed,” Tain replied flatly looking down to where the white of the breakers struck the base of the cliffs below.

“We go down where Erwin’s men came up,” Ironfang replied simply, “They have left us their ropes. It is dangerous yes, but not impossible. If you have the courage for it.”

Tain peered again over the edge. At least it was dark he thought, he preferred climbing at night, at night you could not see how far away the bottom was. “All right,” he said eventually, “if we’re going to do it then let's go get the men and get on with it.”


The Druid knelt over Prince Mekhal and drew back one of the man’s drooping eyelids. “Good,” she thought to herself, “the cloudiness is almost gone.”

The poison Erwin had deployed in Mekhal's system had been slow to work and it was slower now to retreat but for the first time she was certain that she did have it in retreat. The Princes breathing was more regular, though occasionally he still convulsed and retched, but that was to be expected. Certainly this Prince would not be going to the ball any time soon. In her estimation it would be at least three or four days before her patient would be up and about without aid. All this moving around was not helping either she thought. And there was definitely going to be a problem when it came to getting him to Erwin’s ship. She was just wondering about this when her companions returned. The soldiers quickly stood and snapped to attention.

“How is he?” the Baron immediately enquired of her.

“That depends on what you expect him to do,” she replied rather cryptically.

“Meaning?” the Baron frowned.

“Meaning if you expect him to climb down cliffs you had best forget about it. With the treatment I have had to give him he will not even be conscious for a day, at least, even longer until he is moving under his own power,” she said firmly.

“Maybe we could lower him down?” the Baron suggested.

"To dangerous,” Tain said dismissively, “It’s far too high. You’ll just have to take him to the bay,” he went on addressing the Druid, “Take one of the men with you to bear him. When we’ve taken the ship we’ll just have to sail round and meet you. As for the rest of us, I believe we’ve some climbing to do.”

The Baron selected seven men and the Sergeant to make the descent with himself and Tain. The soldier he chose to leave to accompany the Druid was named Frel and did not look much out of his teens. He was a tall nervous lad with thick black hair that he wore loose about his shoulders; this seemed to be the fashion, or regulation, among the Port military. To the Druids eye the young man seemed relieved to have been spared the perilous descent, and she did not blame him for that.

When the Baron had finished making his choices he turned solemnly to Canthiss and squared his shoulders as if expecting trouble and said firmly, “You also shall accompany the Druid and the Prince.”

“I would rather remain at your side Baron,” Canthiss replied evenly, “If there is battle to be engaged you may need me there.”

“And I would rather have you there, but the Prince is of more import. If he does not return Kell will seize the throne and all Futura will be lost. That must not be. I need you. I need someone I trust to protect him, someone I know will look after his person as well as they have my own all these years. He must take the throne.”

“Very well,” Canthiss replied in a muted fashion but put up no further arguement.

Tain wondered if Canthiss' recent actions had a part to play in the lack of fight, it was uncharacteristic of the man. But whatever Canthiss mood he accepted his masters orders without further question.

Quickly and silently those who were to attempt the climb disappeared into the night making their way eastward back to the cliff tops. The Druid, Canthiss, the soldier and the unconscious Prince were soon left alone.

“Well, get him up lad,” the Druid instructed the soldier, nodding to the Prince, “Easy now,” she warned as the young man hefted the Prince up on the simple stretcher she had constructed for him, Canthiss assisting at the other end, “What is your name?”

“Petty Officer Frel, Third Garrison Port Command, Madam,” the young soldier barked snapping instinctively to attention and jolting the Prince.

“Frel will do, and call me Madam again and I might just turn you into something unpleasant and slimey,” she replied smiling sweetly at him, “Come with us, do as we say and all will be well,” she reassured, “probably,” she added.

Frel nodded back wide-eyed and they set off back towards the plazas edge.

Even in the poor watery light of the half-moon the tall throng of thorns she had caused to sprout was clearly visible, a dark tangled mass amidst the crumbled, scorched remains of the Circle stones. There were no sounds from within.

They skirted the plazas northern edge under the shadow of the ruined temples; the arched doorways looking in now only upon collapsed roofs and turmoil. Frel seemed particularly nervous as they passed the gaping openings, this was a graveyard of a forgotten God and the impressionable young soldier was keen to pass it quickly by.

With the Prince to encumber them it took nearly an hour to cross the plaza, from here they would have to head for the main gate for although the encircling city wall was much damaged it had remained steadfastly impassable save through its single broken archway.

It was as they were crossing the plaza’s north-western corner that the Druid felt a chill descend upon her mind. She stopped short so suddenly that Frel and Canthiss coming up behind with the Prince very nearly crashed into her back.

“What is it?” Canthiss enquired worriedly.

She did not reply but remained standing stock still as if in shock. She had felt a presence, a sensation unlike any other. It was so strange that she wondered for a moment if it was the Dragon she was suddenly sensing but there was something about this new presence that told her no.

She held a hand up to Canthiss gesturing to him to be silent and to give her a moment and concentrated on this new sensation.

This mind was very real, very solid. It was an animal of some sort of that she was now sure, something natural but completely alien to her. What it was she could not work out; certainly she had nothing in her experience to compare it with.

It was a mighty mind, a large mind in a literal sense and it was sentient, yet it was not human. And it was getting stronger as if it were drawing nearer.

Suddenly she spun around. “I have to go. Take the Prince to the bay and await us there, do not leave under any circumstances. I have to go. We will come for you both I promise, but I must go back, right now,” she said in a whirl of words and turned to leave.

“What? What is it?” Canthiss asked again seeing the agitation shining in her green eyes.

“I have to go back, I have to go back now,” she repeated quite frantically and with no further explanation she hurried away into the dark, back the way they had come.

“Wait,” Canthiss called after her, “I should come with you.”

“No!” she called back as she went, “No, your charge is with the Prince. Keep him safe. Do not leave him,” and with that she was gone into the night her black robe quickly making her invisible to sight.

The moon was lower in the sky now and its light lessened as the night drew on.

It was darker than before as Tain leant out over the lip of the cliff, trusting in the ropes left by Erwin's men. They seemed strong enough, well woven and thick.
They were knotted all the way down their length giving good footholds and handholds.

It was a slow descent but not as perilous as he had feared it might be, indeed it was far easier than many other climbs he had made in the recent past. Although there was one tricky moment; the cliff was dangerously cut back at its base where the sea had eaten it out and Tain found himself dangling out in the dark with nothing but the salt tinged air between him and the pounding sea.

He hoped as he descended that Erwin’s men had been smart enough to find somewhere below to secure their boats; he dreaded to think he was making this descent only to find himself at the bottom with no hope of reaching the ship save swimming.

As it was they were in luck, between his dangling legs Tain could discern the bottom clearer now. The ropes led down to a large natural shelf of rock, or so it appeared from this height, that jutted out over the incoming waves below it.
Several boats of varying size were lashed together and secured to smooth up-jutting rocks.

Tain glanced upwards as he lowered himself the last few feet and saw a gleam above him, the Barons armour glinting in the moonlight. Somewhere above the Baron in the darkness, the soldiers followed.

Tain's feet met the rock and he immediately began sliding on its green slimy surface. He fought to gain his balance steadying himself on one of the up-jutting rocks but his boots lost what little grip they had on the seaweed covered ground and he fell heavily, cursing, onto his rear.

He noticed as he carefully got up how smooth the ground here was, how regular and rounded the rocks seemed. A fuller appraisal of his surroundings confirmed his suspicions; this was no natural rock but part of a building that once, long ago, must have been part of the plateau and city that had stood above. He was standing upon an upturned roof, the rocks being the broken tops of its once proud columns.

Before him the waves sent spray over the lip of the roof and beyond that were the lights of Erwin’s ship. It was going to be a hard row he thought then cheered himself with the realization he would not be doing it, the soldiers would, but his cheer quickly subsided at the thought that he was going to have to go back onto the sea again, and this time the Druid was not standing by with a handy sea sickness cure. He just hoped his stomach could face up to the task ahead of it.

The Baron landed behind him, Tain heard the thump followed in quick succession by a curse then crash as the Baron too lost his footing on the wet surface and went sprawling to the ground, armour clanging and a moment later slid right by Tain.

“Ring a bell why don't you?” Tain admonished, trying not to laugh.

The Baron who was already trying to get himself up with much clanking and the air of someone determined not to admit they had slipped snapped back, “I am perfectly fine,” as Tain offered him a hand.

“It's all that armour you insist on wearing,” Tain pointed out, his outstretched hand ignored as the Baron got up, “I don’t even know why you bother, it’s not as if you even need armour.”

“It is the dress of a Baron of Northolt, it would not be seemly for me to be seen going about the kingdom dressed peasant fashion as you do,” the Baron returned glancing up to see if any of the men had been close enough to see his less than graceful landing.

“I’ll have you know this is all quality,” Tain insisted indicating his much travelled garments and opening his cloak to display the lining, “I just like it understated.”

“What is that?” the Baron said suspiciously pointing at the Princes' sword which Tain had revealed when showing off the lining of his understated cloak.

“Oh, I was entrusted it by the Prince,” Tain replied unhooking the embroidered sheath from his belt, it was well crafted, “Nice, but to showy for my taste.”

“That is the sword of the Kings of Futura,” Ironfang said with an air of reverence that quickly turned to anger, “You should not have it. Give it to me,” he ordered.

“It was entrusted to me, and I never breach a trust,” Tain replied steadily.

Just then the first of the men descended, slithering onto the roof, the others close behind; shadows in the pools of darkness beneath the cliffs.

“You are not even born of Futura,” the Baron continued hotly, “It is not permissible.”

“I don’t have to be born here to carry a sword. That’s just stupid, even for you. I swear that you make the rules of this kingdom up as you go along. Besides, you must take me for a simple fool. Do you believe I’d breach my word to help you fill up the coffers of Northolt? I’ve seen your lust for riches Baron, remember that. Forget you ever saw this; I’ll relinquish it to no one but the rightful heir. Get that through your thick head.”

“One day that tongue of yours will get you into real trouble and someone will cut it out for you,” the Baron growled in a poorly veiled threat, not liking being spoken to in such a fashion before the men who were slithering down in undignified heaps behind them as they argued.

“We don’t have time for this,” Tain said reattaching the sword to his belt and drawing his cloak in over it with an air of finality, “Let’s just get moving.”

The Baron reluctantly turned to his men and was gratified to note as the last two descended that they both slipped and fell also. “Find and prepare the largest boat, Sergeant you will man the tiller, four men either side on the oars and I will give the beat. Understood?” Ironfang ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Jarel replied with a salute then turning to the men shouted, “You heard the Baron, get to it.”

The men slithered off to their task as quickly as the green ground and darkness would allow. Tain turned to the Baron saying, “You miscounted, there are only seven men, so you can’t have four on either side.”

“I made no such mistake,” the Baron replied turning with a wide toothy grin, “You are the eighth oarsmen. We cannot have an unbalanced boat.”

“Why can't you row?” Tain demanded angrily.

“As I grow tired of explaining to you I am the Baron of Northolt, and as such I am constrained by my duty and position to act in a manner appropriate to one of noble birth. I suggest you go and find an oar.”

The Druid could have got there much more quickly by transforming but she knew deep down that she had not the energy for it. From a druid perspective the new day began one hour before dawn, when Sha, the beloved star of her people moved into position directly above the oncoming sun.
It was that hour she longed for now, for its power would renew her. As it was she was going as quickly as she could on two legs, her robe hitched up around herself, scurrying through the broken streets, making for the cliff tops as fast as she could manage. But the nearer she drew the more ominous and powerful felt the presence in her mind.

The boat rocked violently side to side and Tain could feel his stomach heaving but this was not his most pressing problem. His most pressing problem was with keeping time with the other men, all long acquainted and adept in the techniques of rowing in perfect unison. Tain was increasingly of the opinion that his efforts were more of a hindrance than a help but whatever his actual input was they were never the less cresting the waves and fast approaching Erwin’s ship.

The waves were large and seemed to just slop in over the side rather than break against them. Tain's boots were in several inches of water already and he was soaked through. He hoped they were not going to sink. The rest of the men seemed unperturbed by having water on the inside, instead of it being on the outside, where Tain felt in a well ordered world it aught to be, so he was not going to panic about it, just yet.

The hull of Erwin’s ship loomed up high before them as they simultaneously plunged down the inside of a wave crest. Tain could hear the wood creaking over them as the Sergeant skilfully manoeuvred them alongside. No one seemed to have marked their approach as the decks above were still wreathed in darkness and silent save for the constant protests of wood against sea.

“Oars up,” the Sergeant hissed from the tiller and all the men swung their oars till they were pointing straight up in the air, Tain did likewise, slightly out of time.

The edge of their boat squealed against the wood of the bigger vessels hull. The Baron stretched out a strong arm and grasped a rope lashed over the side and the boat came hard alongside with a thump.

“I will hold her in place and tie her off,” Ironfang said over the waves, “Follow Tain.”

Tain silently cursed the Baron for making him go first but gritting his teeth he reached up for the nearest rope, just then the sea swelled and he missed it by several inches, falling backwards into the boat. Several strong hands steadied him and he tried again.

This time he timed it with the swell so that it actually aided him rather than hindered him and he got a good grip, quickly swinging himself up onto the side of the ship and finding a foothold in the trim that ran along her side. The water splashed against him and his stomach did flips –both from the ships motion and the sense of fear that was building at the imminent encounter he expected with the ships crew- he clambered up the short distance to the railing at the top.

He peered over but could see no-one in the dark. All he could see was a wooden balcony with a mop and bucket leaning against it. As the boat rose and fell the bucket skidded back and forwards repeatedly over the same few inches of deck, making Tain queasy so that he had to divert his eye away from it. He could see no sign of the crew as yet in the gloom. There were no lights on deck.

He swung himself over and drew out his sword, crouching low to the planks and keeping beneath the height of the top of the balcony in front. He scuttled forwards. There was a sound to his right, turning he saw a silhouette of a man walking along the deck towards him.

The man did not seem to have noticed him, crouched in the shadows. From the rail behind he could hear the soldiers quickly ascending. Very soon the man would spot them and raise the alarm. Fighting would then certainly ensue and Tain wanted to give the man a fair chance. Sheathing his sword and instead taking his bow from his shoulder and fitting an arrow to it Tain stood up and stepped out into the pale moonlight.

“Surrender your weapons please and you’ll not be harmed. You’ve my word on that,” he said.

The man stopped, a dark swarthy silhouette against the lighter sea behind, then with a bellow of “Boarders!” the man drew a short curved sword and charged.

Tain heard feet hitting the deck behind as the soldiers clambered over the railing. Somewhere in the dark a bell began ringing. Lanterns were uncovered and Tain could see in their light more of the ships crew gathering on the main deck below, others were already trying to surround them by coming up shallow stairs either side. There were maybe fifteen in all.

But Tain had little time for counting; the charging man was hurtling towards him still bellowing. He had not the time to switch bow for sword but he was too agile for the man and sidestepped the sword thrust, ready to use the bow if need be to strike him across the back of the head. But he never got the chance. The Baron leapt over the railing, stepped forward and with a savage thrust of his sword passed it clean through the man’s stomach.

“We’re not supposed to kill them!” Tain yelled at the Baron as the man noisily died at their feet, “Try to remove the pouches round their necks,” he shouted to the men.

“He would have killed you,” the Baron pointed out in argumentative mood.

“Let me worry about that,” Tain replied, “Just get those pouches.”

Two burly sailors leapt over the balcony right in front of them and one of Ironfang's men went down before them. With a roar of rage the Baron swept in towards them, Tain close behind.

Tain swung at his opponent trying to knock the man to the ground rather than kill him but the man was quick and deflected it. Tain circled to the left in what little room to manoeuvre that he had, trying to find an opening to strike, but as he darted to the side the second sailor saw an opportunity to strike at him from behind.

Foolishly, in focusing upon Tain, the second man had turned his attention from the Baron and Ironfang wasted no time in drawing his dagger, stepping quickly forward and cutting the cord around the man's neck. The pouch fell to the deck with a thud.

The man fell to his knees instantly, shrieking and screaming like a demented animal, clutching desperately at his own body. Marks, like black burns in long lines were appearing all over him. They tore open into gashes out of which thick, dark smoke rose, bubbling out from under his skin. The agonizing gashes expanded in ever greater number and size until in a moment the man was lost amid a black cloud from within which screams emanated. There was a blinding flash of white light and a roaring heat.

When Tain could see clearly again where the man had been there was only a pile of ash and some blackened bones, one of them looked like the cracked top of a skull.

The Baron turned to Tain grim faced, his skin blackened with soot and ash, “Remove the pouches you said.”

“Oh come on,” Tain protested, “How was I supposed to know that’d happen?”

There was another bout of shrieking and a flash of light quickly followed by two more. When it was over Tain said wearily to the Baron, “You can tell the men to stop removing the pouches now.”

There was a further series of desperate screams abruptly ending in a flash after which the Baron cheerfully replied, “I rather think the men are enjoying themselves.”

The cliffs were just ahead of the Druid now, just a little further up the grassy slope. She wondered what hour it was, it was either very late or very early but her internal rhythms told her it was not yet near enough to the hour before dawn and she badly needed to regain her spirit.

She reached the top of the cliffs and lay down near the edge to see what could be seen. Below her was darkness and far away the white of the waves catching the fading moonlight. Erwin’s ship was a dark outline on the already dark sea, only the lights at stern and bow betraying it.

Suddenly there was a dazzling flash on the ships deck followed shortly after by many more. At first she could not make out what was going on, the light was almost pure white and did not illuminate so much as blot out.

There seemed however to be figures on the ship, fighting. She guessed rightly her companions had successfully boarded but what the flashes were she had no idea. The light was not her concern at present; she could still sense the alien mind. It was much stronger here, the closer to the sea she had gotten the stronger it had seemed.

She relaxed, regulated her breathing and tried to engage with whatever was out there.

It was an odd sensation, a bit like probing a rotten tooth with your tongue; it was intriguing and though she sensed at any moment it might lead to pain she went ahead and did it anyway.

This other mind was cold, cruel and singular. It was definitely a creature born of this world but something had happened to it, something which had imbued it with a cunning and intelligence not natural to its species, whatever that species might be. It was as if its natural abilities had been somehow magnified.

She reasoned that if it were intelligent enough, as she suspected it was, then it could be communicated with. Weary as she was she tried.

Her cry of pain was so loud it brought to a halt the activities on the ships deck far below.


“What was that?” the Baron said shocked staring upwards to the dark cliff tops.

“More importantly, who was that? Did it sound like a woman to you?” Tain asked concerned.

There was another flash of light from near the stern and then Sergeant Jarel approached saluting the Baron, “We can find no one else on deck sir. But I recommend a thorough search of the ship just to make sure.”

“I do not think these men are of the hiding type Sergeant, and we are short of time, secure the deck and prepare to set sail as soon as possible,” Ironfang instructed.

“Were there any survivors among the crew?” Tain asked already suspecting the answer.

“None,” came the affirming reply.

“Can we sail this thing with the men we have?” Tain enquired looking doubtfully at all the rigging and the massive furled sail.

“We can master her back to the Port I would say, yes, so long as the weather stays with us,” Jarel replied.

“And if it doesn't stay with us?” Tain asked.

“We can master her back to the Port, if the weather stays with us,” Jarel repeated darkly.

“Thank you Sergeant,” Ironfang said dismissing him. The Sergeant saluted and went to organize the crew.

“All goes well,” Ironfang commented.

“Does it?” Tain said in surprised tones staring in disbelief at the Baron, “What was that scream from the cliff top then?”

“Whatever it was it is safely stuck on the island,” Ironfang replied in what Tain considered to be an offhand tone.

“And so are the Druid, Canthiss, the Prince and one of your men,” Tain said shaking his head in disbelief at the Barons particular brand of callousness.

“That is why I have given the order to set sail at once, without further delay,” Ironfang said impatiently.

A cry went up from the crows’ nest which one of the soldiers had already clambered up and into, “A ship. A ship. Dead Ahead!”

“A ship?” Ironfang growled.

“Could Grande have sent a rescue this fast?” Tain asked as they hurried to the stern.

But the Baron did not have to answer the question. The ship before him was unlike any Tain had seen before and certainly unlike any he had seen moored at Grande’s Port.

It was very wide and to Tain it seemed dangerously low in the water. It was long too, with three masts, the central of which was the tallest. And it was very tall. Even as it appeared before them its great red sails were taken down leaving the masts bare, looking like three mighty tree trunks from some ancient forest. The hull was a deep red, dim in the night but bright where her swinging lamps struck her paintwork with their light. They could see no sign of her crew.

The great ship slowed and then came in only with the swell of the tide, seeming now adrift.

On their own ship, to a man, they all stood agape at this sight, only coming to their senses when it seemed possible this newcomer might actually drift right into them.

From the very rear of the ship one of Ironfang's men hung forward and cried as loud as he could, “Haallllloooaaaaaaaa,” several times, his voice carrying eerily on the water in the stillness of the late night, there was no reply.

“What do you think we should do about her?” Tain asked the Baron.

“Board her of course,” the Baron replied with a grin.

The Druid opened her eyes. The stars were before her, no, she was lying on her back. Why was she on her back? She sat up and as she did so it all came flooding into her head. She had tried to communicate with the unknown mind.

It had tossed her back out without any effort. But it had been long enough to gain some knowledge. The mind had natural magical capabilities; the force with which it had rejected her was proof enough of that. There were many creatures in nature which took advantage of magic, indeed on her voyage from Motol to Futura she had witnessed sea birds capable of generating small amounts of magic which they turned into small lightning bolts; they used this talent to stun their favourite fish which swam near to the surface in the heat of the day.

This mind however was as far beyond that sort of instinctive use as the Druid was herself, further maybe. She had been outmatched, it was as simple as that and she knew of no wild creature capable of doing that. The deliberate use of magic in a controlled manner was the providence of sentience and it always came with a price, a price paid to one of the divinities.

It seemed that Astagoth was banished but not gone, not from where this mind came from at least.

It had been a futile struggle, it was foolish really to have tried at all. She had known instantly she lacked the strength in her to compete, maybe if it had been when she was stronger she could have matched it, but she was uncertain of even that. Either way what little power she had left to her was now gone. She would be empty until the rejuvenating rising of Sha.

Yet even the short violent interaction of minds she had established was communication of a sort, for a brief moment in time she had been in there, in its mind. For an instant she had felt what it had felt. It was far from home, it was far from any other of its kind. It was lonely and it was very, very angry about something.

Moving lights on the sea far below momentarily distracted her. She had not noticed proceedings down there since she had recovered; overwhelmed by her experience as she was. Now she stared in fascination and growing dread.

There was a second ship down there; it was painted red with three tall masts, her sails down. A small boat had pulled up against her and two figures were boarding her, they both carried lanterns and even from up here she could see the occasional glint as the lantern light struck what she was certain was Ironfang's armour.

Something like a cold tremor ran up from the earth and through her spine and a thought crystallized in her mind, “I know why it is angry,” came the thought, blossoming in realization, “It is angry because it has been confined.”

She looked back down at the ship and the figures moving carefully over her deck.

“Oh, Elhonna!” she thought fearfully, “It is inside that ship!”

cool illustrations, now all you need is snogging and its perfect.

I refuse to reveal if there will eventually be snogging at all, or between who for that matter. You will just have to read it to find out Mrs Figg.

*gulp*

Great start Petty ! enjoyed that, Im off to bed now, Ive had "one of those days" & I need a good nights sleep of fantasizing to help me face tomorrow ! Look forward to next instalment !

No probs Azriel- Ill probably put up the rest of this chapter and you can read it tomorrow night and leave off posting again until Friday.
Its one of my favourite chapters, at least to write as all the main thinigs are established in book 1 and I could just have a bit of fun with it as it were.

“There’s a body over here,” Tain whispered as loud as he dared. The decking was smooth and highly polished, cut from the wood of an unknown tree; there were trails of blood and dark pools dotted all around it. It was following one of these trails which had led Tain to the body.

“There are a dozen more over here,” the Baron called back much louder from further down the dark deck, “These corpses are very fresh. Still warm.”

Tain peered around, holding his lantern up high. “Great,” he said, “my first time at sea and I get marooned then the rescue turns out to be a Ghost Ship. What are the odds?”

There were maybe as many as thirty corpses upon the broad deck.

“Are they all dead?” Tain said incredulously not believing the evidence of his eyes.

“HHHHEEEEELLLLOOOOAAAAA” the Baron roared, his voice bouncing back and forth off the cliffs, there was no reply, “I would say so.”

Something somewhere below them thumped against the hull.

“What was that then?” Tain demanded.

“Cargo in the hold?” Ironfang suggested, “Moving with the swell and striking the sides I would hazard. Worth investigating, but for now we should focus on what has happened to these men, and where they come from. I have never seen a ship of this size or construction before. Three masts! Incredible!” he said staring up at the closest of the three which towered over them, “How was it made?” he wondered aloud, “And what would its worth be?”

Tain edged along the ship towards another body slumped at the foot of the ledge that ran all around the main deck. He bent down beside the dead man who was laying face downwards; long silky dark hair spread around the head glinted in Tain's lantern light. Gently Tain rolled the man over. There was a heavily engraved dagger sticking from the chest, the right, gloved hand was grasping the hilt. The man had clearly inflicted the fatal wound himself.

There was something about the blade of the dagger which fascinated Tain though in the poor light he was not certain what. With a certain grizzly determination he unclasped the still warm hand from the hilt and drew out the blade from the man’s heart, blood trickled out onto the deck. Tain wiped the blade clean and took in the dagger at closer inspection, the blade seemed to shimmer in the thin light of the fading moon, as if it were deeply engraved all over in some fashion he had never seen before. He carefully tucked it away in his belt.

He looked again at the dead man, taking in the features of the face this time; long black hair framing an elegant long face with a rich olive colour to the skin. He knelt down beside the cooling corpse and drew back one of the dead man’s eye lids. The eye beneath was a vivid green.

“Baron,” he called, “You’d better come and take a look at this.”

The Baron crossed the deck, stepping over several bodies as he did so.

“He’s Elvish. Isn't he?” Tain said indicating the corpse, “They all are. Does this ship belong to Duke Ela-Gor?”

“These men, this vessel, do not belong to the Duke. I can assure you of that. Yet this crew are indeed Elvish,” the Baron mused kneeling by the man.

“Where do the Duke and his people come from?” Tain questioned.

“Who knows, it was so long ago I doubt any truly remember,” the Baron replied.

“Maybe the came from across the sea?” Tain mused, looking out southward over the waves into the darkness, a thought accorded to him and bending down to the dead man he checked around his neck and under his collar.

“What are you looking for?” the Baron asked.

“A pouch. He doesn’t seem to be wearing one,” Tain stood and went over to another body and checked it also, reporting, “Nothing on this one either. That means they took their own lives, as an act of free will,” he stared at the bodies littering the deck, “Why would they sail all this way, get within sight of us then kill themselves? That doesn't make any sense.”

The Baron took in the ship again, “We should try to locate the Captains quarters,” he suggested, “We may find charts or a log. Maybe they will yield some answers.” He eyed up the three tall masts, thinking to himself what a prize this vessel would be to sail into the Port.

They cautiously made there way aft but when they had reached the centre just under the shadow of the tallest mast the Baron stopped, scrutinizing the deck.

“What? What is it?” Tain asked looking around worriedly but seeing only the dead crew, which was worrying enough in itself.

“This ship is low in the water. Yes?” Ironfang said slowly, still looking around himself.

“Yes?” Tain conceded.

“And this means she is heavy, most likely with her cargo. Yes?”

“Yes,” Tain said impatiently, thinking the Baron was perhaps treating him deliberately as a fool, “What’s your point?”

“There is no hatch for the hold. Have you even seen a ladder or steps? I cannot discern anywhere on this upper deck which leads below deck. Look, from here it is possible to see the main deck all the way to the forecourt, and no hatches, no stairs, no ladders. Nothing. No visible sign of any way inside this ship. Does that not strike you as unusual?”

“Well it does now,” Tain replied sharply, “So the next logical question is, if this ship is full of cargo, how’d they get it in there, and if there’s no hatch how’d they intend to get it back out?”

“I do not know,” Ironfang replied simply, striding over to the base of the mast where there were various implements stacked among the ropes. He returned with a large hatchet and knelt on the deck, “But I am going to find out what they are carrying.” He raised the hatchet and with all his might struck at the dark wooden planks of the deck.

The Druid did not know what to do. Lighting a fire might distract them but would they know it was a warning? If only she could transform she could be down there in a moment but the hour was still not yet near enough.

She could feel within that if she were to attempt anything she would not hold the shape for more than a fleeting moment before plunging to her death. She could climb down but something told her there was not the time, besides her robe was a hindrance, she vowed she was going to change her attire when she got the chance, when she had chosen a robe as a convenient item of clothing in which to conceal her many herbs and potions she had not thought she would be doing the sort of things she seemed to have spent the last few weeks doing. But she had to do something. She had to get them off that ship. And now.

The two bright specks of the lanterns winked momentarily out of view as they passed behind the first of the tall masts. They moved slowly on, bobbing across the deck. Something awful was about to happen, she could feel it, but could think of nothing she could do to prevent it.

She looked on feeling hopeless and redundant, hoping for some inspiration and saw the lights stop at the centre of the ships deck. One of them moved off and disappeared again, hidden by the central mast, when it returned her green eyes could discern from the glints that it was Ironfang. What was he doing? Kneeling down? She could not at first tell, the Baron was only a speck in the gloom even to her eyes, but the answer came from an unexpected source - she felt the alien mind explode in a new thought so strong that whether she wanted to hear it or not there was no way to prevent it invading her own mind.

The thought was simple and overpowering, “A chance to be free!” Whatever signal the mind had been awaiting it had received it. She could feel it mentally uncoiling, preparing to strike.

She stared down in helpless desperation at the figures on the deck, unknowing of their plight and sought desperately for a solution. But suddenly she knew there was only one.

She strode over to the edge of the cliff and stood there, perfectly straight. She stared unthinking, gazing fixedly and directly ahead towards the horizon. She took a deep breath.

There came times for every druid when you found out just how much trust in Elhonna you really had. She had not the power to transform, but she was needed below and she could sense, knew, with every fibre in her being that she was involved still in something much larger than its constitute parts seemed. And it had something to do with Gods.

Miracles happened all the time; she knew that, the knack to performing a miracle was to be in the right place at the right time. Somebody up there had to need you and you had to trust in that need.

It was time to test her faith in her Goddess and in herself as one of Elhonna’s chosen emissaries. She jumped.

The Baron had hacked a large enough hole through the decking that they could both see inside.

What they could see was nothing.

It was pitch black, even when the Baron held the lantern over it. Tain knelt by the edge of the hole to get a closer look putting his hand down onto a piece of broken planking cast aside by the Baron, but instinctively withdrew from it on contact; the wood had an unusual texture.

He put his lantern down beside the small pile of smashed decking and picked one of the larger pieces up. Its underside was coated in several inches of hard black material, rough to the touch.

“What do you think this stuff is?” Tain said handing the wood to the Baron, “Looks like some sort of pitch to me.”

The Baron examined the dark substance then with a grunt he set it down and bending down almost flat on the deck stretched his right arm through the hole. He withdrew it a second later reporting, “It feels like all the underside of the decking is coated in it.”

“Why’d anyone coat the inside of their ship in pitch, the outer hull yes, makes sense, but that thick in a cargo hold?”

“Maybe we can get down and find out,” Ironfang suggested and with his huge hands took a hold of an edge of planking and managed to rip a sizeable chunk of it up, impressing once again upon Tain just how strong the Barons condition made him.

When the hole was big enough he held the lamp down into it and peered in, “I still cannot see anything,” he reported and laid down flat upon his stomach edging forwards until his head and shoulders had completely disappeared beneath the deck. Tain watched anxiously.

“It is full of water,” the Baron shouted up, his voice sounding oddly hollow in the space below.

“You mean we’re sinking!” Tain asked worriedly.

“No, I mean it is full of water. I think the pitch is to keep it in here; I am guessing the whole interior is coated with it. It is a watertight hold. Like a great tank. I have never heard the like.”

“Why’d they sail all this way and kill themselves if all they wanted to do was give us some water?” Tain asked.

A sound to his left made him turn his head just in time to witness a small gull sweep down out of the sky flutter momentarily and twist and wretch itself into the Druid who looked somewhat stunned.

“I am alive! Blessed be Elhonna!” she said immediately in an amazed voice and fell to her knees in prayers of thanks.

“Would you please stop doing that right in front of me!” Tain pleaded, feeling the need to rub his eyes which always felt itchy after witnessing one of her transformations.

The Barons head shot up out of the hole, “Who are you talking to?” he demanded then caught sight of the Druid, “How did you get here? Where are the Prince and Canthiss?”

“There is no time for explanations,” she insisted anxiously. She stood up and seemed to take in for the first time just what it was they were doing, “You are trying to break in?” she finally managed, stunned.

“It’s a ship full of water, mysteriously enough,” Tain reported.

“Is it sea water?” she demanded urgently.

“I do not know,” the Baron replied then bent his head back in.

“No!” the Druid shouted horrified but it was too late, the Barons head had disappeared again beneath the deck. It reappeared a moment later, one hand was wet and there was water on his lips, “There is nothing to fear, it is just an empty hold filled with water, and yes, it is seawater,” he reported, “Maybe we have a leak after all.”

“No, it lives in sea water, of course it does, how else would they expect it to survive?” the Druid mused half to herself, “And it wants out. By Elhonna, they encased it; they built this ship around it. No wonder it is so angry. We must go.”

“What exactly are you talking about? What lives in sea water? Who’s angry?” Tain demanded, “And what is inside this ship?” he said sharply suddenly realizing exactly what she was implying.

“We do not have time to talk about this here. We have to go, while we still can. Come,” she said urgently and turned to leave indicating that they should follow.

Tain looked to the Baron who was still lying by the hole. Ironfang, who was slower on the uptake than Tain did not seem in a hurry to arise but just shrugged his shoulders making his armour rise and fall, unfortunately the shoulder plate clipped the lantern he had set down knocking it into the hole.

“Damn,” the Baron cursed looking down and hearing a splash and a hiss.

“I told you that armour was nothing but a nuisance,” Tain said.

Ironfang opened his mouth to reply but a huge writhing shape, long and shiny, rose swiftly up out of the hole coiled sinuously around him and hauled him downwards, head first, face wide in surprise. He was gone in a moment.

There was a mighty splash and a fountain of water shot up out of the hole cascading back down onto the deck soaking both Tain and the Druid.

Tain gasped, both from the shock of the coldness of the water and from what had just occurred. He spun round to the Druid whose robes hung heavy with water, “What was that?”

“The thing I came here, risking my life, to warn you about,” she shouted.

“Well you didn't do a very good job of it,” Tain shouted back then spun back to face the hole, “And what about the Baron? Could this thing actually kill him?”

“How should I know? Can he breath under water?” she retorted, “We must go now. While we still can.”

“What, and just leave him?” Tain said, trying to ignore the voice in his head which was screaming at him, ‘yes.’

“He left us to Erwin whilst he went treasure hunting remember that?” she responded, “look there is not a lot we can do for him now anyway, even if we wanted to,” the deck rocked sickeningly and the ship swung violently over to the starboard. There was a huge thump against the inside of the hull and a cracking sound followed by a gurgling, watery roar. “Tain, come on. We have to go,” she insisted tugging on his arm.

Just then there was a renewed splashing at the hole and they both turned to it, a figure was emerging, soaking wet and hairy. It shook out its coat in a circular halo of droplets and snarled violently and turned its penetrating eyes upon them.

“Oh no,” Tain moaned, “not again. Where’s Canthiss when you need him?”

“Run?” the Druid suggested. Tain did not have to be asked twice.

Behind them Ironfang glanced up at the fleeing figures, he was hurt, wet and angry but now there were targets to be chased and killed, he liked to chase. He liked to kill.

But just then the deck exploded all around, sending splinters and wood fragments spinning in all directions. The Baron howled in pain and was knocked sideways, skidding across the soaking decking and crashing into the base of a mast.

A writhing mass of silver-grey limbs emerged out of the hold. The Baron struggled back onto four legs and focused his intentions onto the lashing limbs thrusting from the ships innards. His claws scrabbled for purchase on the wet and slanting deck then he catapulted forward sweeping passed the closest tentacle, ripping it open in four long gashes that bled a thick black blood. The wounded limb recoiled and withdrew to an accompanying angry bubbling from within the hold.

The deck under Tain and the Druid was rocking incessantly from side to side as they ran desperately for their small boat. Being the faster runner, especially when running from things, Tain reached the outer railing first. Beneath him their small boat was being steadfastly held in place by ropes, three soldiers and the Sergeant. Tain glanced down at them, they looked terrified but at least they were still there. He steadied himself and then swung over and began clambering down the ropes, the Druid right behind him.

There was a rending sound as of a great tree being felled and the Druid whose head still poked above the railing saw it was the massive central mast collapsing over in the crushing grip of several long tentacles. Fortunately it fell away from them, smashing down into the deck at the head of the ship.

The rear rose sickeningly in response dragging their small boat up with it and taking it clean out of the water. All Tain and the Druid could do was cling on to the ropes and hope as they rose slowly upwards. Water streamed down from the exposed hull.

The ship seemed to reach the apex of its rise and they hung there for a terrifying moment, quivering in the night air. Then it fell sickeningly back down towards the rushing sea.

The wood shrieked in protest as it re-entered the water and the splash that was thrown up very nearly tore Tain and the Druid from the ropes they clung too.

Tain looked down, expecting to see ruin but was surprised and relieved to see instead that their boat had miraculously survived. Her occupants looked stunned and were drenched but they had grimly held the boat to the ship and she had stayed righted because of it.

There was a series of cracking and squealing noises from above. Where the limbs of the creature were not under attack by Ironfang they were tearing at the decking or hammering at the ships sides. Tain wasted no more time but vaulted down the final foot or so into the boat, the Druid followed slower, cursing her water logged robe.

“Where is the Baron?” Jarel demanded when it was apparent no one else was descending.

“Forget him,” the Druid replied bluntly, “We must go or we will all be killed. This ship is going to sink. It is tearing its way out. Row!”

“We go nowhere without the say so of the Baron,” Jarel replied adamantly.

There was a tearing crack. It sounded like at least one of the remaining masts going over on the deck above. The ship heaved over away from them again and the small boat, still attached to it by the ropes, rolled along with it, bashing off the ships hull.

“We will be dead if we stay here, it is madness,” she insisted when the boat had become more stable again, “The Baron will not be joining us no matter how long you wait. He is gone,” she shouted, grabbing an oar.

The soldiers exchanged glances among themselves but then with a reluctant nod from the Sergeant they cast the boat off. Tain was not sure if they believed her or if their fear had finally overcome their loyalty but they began rowing nonetheless.

It did not take long to pull away from the foreign vessel. Though the men did momentarily halt to stare in stunned horror at the demented thrashing tentacles on the decking, before Jarel, recovering himself ordered them back to their labour.

They were less than half way to their own ship when with much tearing of abused wood the red ship began to go down. They rowed with their backs to the direction in which they were going so they got a clear view as she went down.
Her stern rose dramatically up out of the water, tentacles writhing around it, and then the hull partially collapsed under its weight as the whole mass went down with surprising speed and finality into the sea. One long glistening limb remained pointed out above the water as the sea foamed madly around it and then slowly it too sunk down beneath the water. Debris spun on the surface. There was no sign of the Baron in the darkness.

Their own ship loomed up before them but just then there came a voice, loud above the turmoil of the waves calling, “Haaallllooaaa.”

“That’s the Barons voice,” Jarel shouted, “You said he was dead?” he snapped at the Druid.

“I thought he was,” she protested, “He should be,” she reflected, unwittingly adding to the Barons mystique amongst the men.

“We must go back for him,” Jarel said with no room in his voice for argument, “Bring her round,” he ordered.

“It is not safe,” the Druid intervened, “That creature is still alive and well. It lives in the open sea.”

“Our safety is not our concern. But our duty is,” Jarel replied loyally.

The soldiers expertly turned the boat about and began striking out back the way they had come. Tain and the Druid did not row this time but sat at the prow looking anxiously ahead, Tain for sight of the Baron the Druid for the beast.

There was no sight of the beast but they quickly discerned the Baron because he was waving his arms in the air, splashing and hollering at every opportunity.

Tain called out to him and pointed him out to the soldiers who brought the boat round to bear for him.

The Druid could still sense the creatures mind, its cunning. It was planning something. It felt very, very close. With a sense of growing dread she slowly turned her eye straight downwards over the side of the boat and there, shimmering only a foot or so beneath the surface was a large shiny black eye staring knowingly back up at her.

She cried out in shock and the eye shot away forwards, a huge grey mass followed. It was swimming directly beneath them and straight for the Baron.

She cried out in warning to Ironfang, still some hundred yards or so ahead and the men pulled strenuously at the oars but to no avail. A huge gleaming tentacle swept out the water and came crashing down upon Ironfang sending him under the water with a strangled cry.

The Druid held her head in her hands and gasped; she had felt a force, a mental strike, even though it had been aimed not at her but at the Baron. That was she realized how this creature used magic; like the seagulls, to stun its prey. But somehow that ability had been greatly amplified. The force of it was enough to numb her sitting this far away, who knew what it had done to the Baron?

Ironfang resurfaced, they were maybe only fifty yards from him now. He was dazed, floundering in the water. He managed to half drag himself out of the water onto a broken piece of decking that bobbed on the surface where he slumped seemingly into unconsciousness.

The Druid felt the mind move again, closer once more. “It is coming back,” she warned, she spotted its huge bulk shimmering beneath the waves as it swept towards them.

“It’s coming for us this time,” Tain yelled as it streaked right at them, a v-shaped wave crest forming behind its mass. He stared in fixated horror, ten feet away, six, three, two, one.

He winced in anticipation, nothing.

He spun round and saw it pass directly beneath their boat, small in comparison to the beast’s great shadow, its immense tentacles trailing out behind it as it swam, a hundred foot at least end to end. It sped on not deviating from its line, heading straight for their ship.

Tain turned back to Ironfang, he was still unconscious, even the Baron it seemed was not immune against this creature. As he watched the Baron began slipping from the broken decking back into the sea.

“Damn it,” Tain cursed, standing at the front of the boat and removing his cloak and his sword belt. He dove in.

He involuntarily gasped as he hit the water, its coldness sharp as knives. He broke the surface and orientated himself with the boat then to where he had last seen Ironfang, he had to wait while the surge of the waves lifted him to see over their crests before he could spot the Baron. He was not far away but seemed very near to falling back into the water. Tain swam towards him impeded by the waves.

Eventually he was close enough to seize Ironfang by the hair just as the Baron was about to slip under the water.

Tain had barely enough strength to hold on, he began to swim dragging the mighty weight of the Baron behind himself; the Baron was naked and in this water must be near to death from the cold. Tain redoubled his efforts.

Fortunately the boat had greatly lessened the distance between them and soon it was bobbing alongside, if it had not been so close Tain doubted very much that he could have dragged the immense weight of the Baron much further. Ironfang was hauled over the side and Tain followed shivering and gasping. The Baron lay sprawled on the boats bottom, he was completely naked.

“I 've h,had a b,bad e,enough d,day, I didn’t n,need to s,see that t,too!” he chattered in horror, “S, someone cover him with their cloak,” Tain pleaded, stuttering with the cold.

“Use your own cloak,” the Druid replied.

“I’m n,not having that inside m,my cloak,” Tain protested vehemently.

In the end the men, with puzzled expressions, stripped off their cloaks and wrapped the Baron in those. He was slowly coming round, his unique physiology dealing with his condition rapidly.

“Where’d that thing go?” Tain asked once he had dried himself and was changing into a warm woollen tunic from his pack.

But he need not have asked for at that moment there were cries from their ship and the splinter of wood, four tentacles had snaked up the ships starboard side and were tearing at the hull.

“Not our ship too,” Tain moaned, “We’ve only just got the damn thing.”

The Druid suddenly felt a wonderful surge of familiar energy and instinctively she turned to the spot on the horizon where she now knew, in an hour’s time, the sun would rise, and yes, there was Sha. Bright above the horizon.

She could feel Elhonna, she could feel Her blessing restoring her as she bathed in Her splendour, feeling now closer to Her than she had ever done before and knowing that she was one of those chosen to walk a path for Her, and that the path would be hard and uncompromising. She opened her mind to Her in acceptance of this.

At the same moment a great roar went up from the island and out of the thinning darkness the Dragon came swooping, made real by dusk and the pre-dawn light, it had come to defend its territory.

It circled the ship, seeming to size up its opponent then it rose high till it was little more than a speck. There, invisible in the darkness it folded its wings close in about itself and dropped like a stone.

It struck the water absolutely cleanly and disappeared in a split second beneath the waves.

“Row,” Tain ordered to the stunned men, “Row for the ship.”

The Dragon suddenly reappeared, exploding upwards in a fury of spray out of the sea, beneath it the water was thickening with a black blood. It roared and beating its great wings hovered a moment in the air and shook its magnificent horned head free of water. Tentacles rose up to snatch it from the air.

The Dragon turned its great black eyes downwards in what seemed like studious concentration, and then it uncurled its long, sinuous neck and with a flick of its tongue let out a great blast of fire that scorched and blackened the grey limbs below it and made the sea boil and steam.

“Now that’s not a sight you see every day,” Tain commented looking out on the scene.

The Druid slumped over to one side, bumping into Tain, “Are you all right?” Tain said concerned, steadying her.

“I feel its pain, it has a powerful mind, but it cannot control strong emotions, they just erupt from it. It is a bit like being slapped, hard,” she replied weakly.

“Is it dead?” Tain enquired, the creature had slunk beneath the waves safe from the Dragons’ fire and Tain could catch no sight of it.

“No, I can still feel it, but it is hurt. It is moving away. For now.”

The Baron stirred and his eyes opened, “Where am I? What has happened?” he demanded.

“Welcome back,” Tain said as the soldiers brought their boat up against their ship, immediately ropes and a ladder were slung over to greet them, “You fought the bad monster and lost.”

“It is not a monster, it is a natural creature,” the Druid corrected.

“You fought the monster,” Tain said pointedly, “lost. And got yourself temporarily shipwrecked. And then you nearly drowned.”

“Drowned?” the Baron queried, “I remember nothing after the creature attacked me.”

“Yes that’d be because after that you were drowning, and I saved you,” Tain beamed at him.

“And,” here the Baron lowered his voice to a whisper and bent in close to Tain's ear, “Did any of the men, see the wolf?”

“Not unless that’s your secret name for your privates then no, we told them we thought you were dead to prevent them going back for you and seeing anything which might disturb them, or your, reputation,” Tain whispered back in Ironfang's ear, “Well, that and we thought you were dead.”

“Ahh, good,” the Baron said seeming to struggle for words.

“But you might need to come up with a good explanation for why we found you naked,” Tain smiled.

“Yes,” the Baron said in serious tones.

“Anything you want to say to me? For saving your life perhaps?” Tain went on, now grinning from ear to ear, “maybe with the words, 'thank you' in it?” he prompted, smirking in just the sort of way which absolutely infuriated Ironfang.

The Baron stood up in the boat and squared his broad shoulders. Tain met his eye still grinning.

Ironfang hesitated a moment then in the most grudging tone Tain had ever heard anyone speak in he said with the utmost curtness, “Thank you,” and grasping the ladder pulled himself up towards the deck as Tain exploded in laughter behind him, turning the Baron red with rage.

“And you forgot to add, 'I owe you one',” Tain called up after him.

There was no reply above the sound of the Baron grinding his teeth.


End of chapter one!

loving it,Petty ! bloody loving it !

Thanks Azriel- book 2 was more fun to write as all the hard ground laying work was done in 1 so I could just let the characters bounce of each other in every situation, which was unashamedly good fun to write.

I bet it was ! Its like everything really, once youve got the foundations laid then its chocks away ! Have fun writting Petty, cos Im having fun reading !!