Kheda looked to see what incomprehensible disaster had overtaken the ship’s bow. The dragon looked back at him, cavernous mouth agape, its long crimson tongue flickering over those glittering white teeth. It had landed full on the front of the ship, hind legs breaking down the upswept prow posts before seizing a foothold on the brass-sheathed ram, claws tearing through the thickness of the metal. Its massive front feet, with vicious curved claws the colour of old bone, splintered the planking of the bow platform and the downdraught from its outspread wings sent showers of debris to land in the water.
Those swordsmen who hadn’t fallen to death or injury were flinging themselves from the rails into the sea. Some died under a hail of arrows hissing in from the Gossamer Shark and the Brittle Crab, both vessels coming as close at they dared. Shouts of terrified consternation mingled with the screams of the Mist Dove’s stricken crew.
Ignoring the arrows skidding harmlessly off its crimson scales, the dragon ducked its head towards blood oozing through the shattered wood at its forefeet. It paused to lick at a man’s torn leg protruding from the wreckage before scorning it with a rumble deep in its colossal chest. It took a pace forward, drawing in its enormous leathery wings. More of its weight bore down on the hapless trireme. The upper decks buckled and broke, crushing the oarsmen trapped beneath. The ship sank deeper, the rising waters cutting short the screams from the rowing deck.
The dragon looked up at the stern and advanced, step by ponderous step. The Mist Dove levelled out as it sank still further, seas rising to the middle oar ports. The dragon looked down, careful not to let its feet slip into the chaos of bloodied foam, shattered oars and broken bodies. Its heavy, blunt head swept from side to side, forked tongue still flickering over those murderous teeth. Pinpoints of golden fire burned in its ruby eyes as it nosed among the injured and dying men tangled up with the shattered planks. Then it looked up at the four men still clinging to the sloping stern platform. Crimson scales fringing its head and jaw bristled and its great red flanks swelled as it opened its maw. The fire in its eyes burned white hot and it breathed a great gout of scarlet flame.
What hope is there for Chazen now?
When his next breath wasn’t one of searing fire, Kheda forced himself to open his eyes. He wished he hadn’t when he saw Yere and Shaiam being consumed by the flames. The shipmaster threw himself blindly away from the ship, searching for the sea. There was no escape. The malicious red fire that enveloped him kept on burning even after he had sunk beneath the waves. The helmsman burned to a blackened skeleton still clinging vainly to the charred steering oars.
Why aren’t we dead?
Kheda saw the scarlet flames abandon Yere’s contorted corpse to split apart the deck that had been risen above the worst of seas. The wood crackled and disintegrated into feathery ash blown away by the punishing down-draught of the dragon’s wings. But the planking where the warlord knelt was somehow proof against the enchanted flames.
Dev crouched beside Kheda with one palm outstretched, denying the dragon’s fire. Frustrated, the crimson flames crawled around their refuge to reunite behind them, racing up the trireme’s stern posts to devour the seasoned timber like the driest kindling. The sorcerous red fire was burning whatever remained above the water-line. Scarlet flames sprang across the cowering seas to devour wood, cloth, flesh and bone floating helpless in the turmoil.
The dragon roared, deafening Kheda. The blaze all around leapt up as high as the beast’s scaly spine, wreathing the creature in fire. Its scales glowed like molten metal as it breathed another furnace blast straight at the two of them. Dev kept his arm outstretched to deny it as he swept his other hand around to gather a handful of enchanted fire from the burning stem. He flung it at the dragon, a blazing missile shooting straight at the creature’s eye. It sprang up, great wings fanning the flames to even greater fury. The Mist Dove rocked violently, relieved of the massive weight, and water poured over the burning decks. The seas were still helpless to quench the murderous magical fires.
‘Come on!’ Dev dragged Kheda towards the side of the sinking ship. The water was lapping around the hem of his hauberk and rising fast, a cold grip around his thighs.
‘We’ll drown,’ protested Kheda numbly, looking at the impossible distance to the dubious refuge of the shore.
No, we won’t,’ yelled Dev. ‘Do you want to burn to death?’
The deck beneath their feet fell away, leaving Kheda frantically trying to swim, to keep his head above the water. Lumps of wood battered him in the roiling foam. Bodies jostled among the wreckage, arms and legs limp. Kheda couldn’t tell if they were—alive or dead as they appeared and vanished in the chaos. The water was cold but cuts and scratches he didn’t know he had stung like fire.
The weight of their armour dragged both men below the surface. Kheda managed to draw a last, despairing breath before the sea closed over his head. Dev still had hold of his hand, their fingers intertwined. Kheda opened his eyes, trying to prise Dev’s fingers loose with his free hand. Dev held on still tighter. He shook their linked fists, face twisted with anger. Kheda stopped fighting to free himself and they sank together.
The water became calmer beneath the uppermost surge of the waves. Sooty black trails from burning shards of wood followed them down towards the pale ripples of the sea floor. Bodies floated around the still smouldering hulk of the ship, slowly sinking as the curious sea riffled their lifeless hair and clothing. Some were intact, others cruelly maimed and burned. More were caught twisted among the remains of the stricken trireme.
The pain in Kheda’s ears was indescribable. Water was forcing its way up his nose. His eyes felt raw. He looked up, his chest burning. The surface of the sea was opaque confusion, shining like nacre. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes. Everything under the water was blurred and weirdly distorted. Noise filled his ears but he couldn’t make sense of it. He couldn’t tell where any sound in the deafening turmoil was coming from.
Dev tugged at his hand, still kicking to drive them at least some way towards the shore before they landed on the sea bed. They came to rest with a soft thud on the undulating sand. It was hard and unyielding beneath Kheda’s feet. Kheda tugged, panicked, at the neck of his hauberk then realised that he could barely feel the weight of the armour. Before he could make sense of that, an invisible swell nearly knocked him off his feet.
Still holding tightly to Kheda’s hand, Dev let himself drift down to lie almost prone on the sea bed. The warlord saw that the wizard was pinching his nostrils tightly closed with his spare hand. Kheda blew the water out of his own nose and did the same. Somehow that eased the vicious pain in his ears. He squinted at the mage, seeing Dev still blunted and looking oddly bleached.
Stern face demanding obedience, Dev released Kheda’s hand. The warlord half-lay, half-crouched on the sea bed, not knowing what to do. Dev turned and began half-crawling, half-swimming towards the distant beach.
Kheda tried to stand up again and once more a swell knocked him down. He sat on an unyielding ridge of sand for a moment. His chest was a hollow cavern of agony and the strain in his throat was becoming intolerable. Tenor paralysed him like a stone fish’s sting.
I can’t swim for the surface and I won’t make it to the shore. I can’t help it: I’m going to take a breath. Then I will drown. Will it make any difference to Chazen if I die a natural death instead of being burned to ash by the dragon’s fire?