Lord Kell smiled.
“Damn this storm!” Jerick the Red bellowed. “Secure the hatches and trim the sails. Watch your feet, there! We won’t be stopping to fish anyone out of the drink!”
Torrents of rain spattered Red Wake. Wind ripped across her sails and surging waves tossed the galleon up and down. The ship rocked precariously, but her seasoned crew was well used to squalls.
Mik slogged over the waterlogged deck to Trip and Ula, standing near the bow. The joined key shone faintly at the sea-elf s belly, making the other pieces of jewelry in her web-like attire glitter. Trip clung fast to the gunwale, enjoying the feel of the wind and rain on his small face.
“We should all get below,” Mik said. “Red doesn’t need our help on deck. We’ll only get in the way.”
“And miss this great show?” Trip asked, disappointed.
Mik ignored him and spoke directly to Ula. “I’d hate to have that bauble washed overboard with you.”
“That would defeat the purpose of my wearing it,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.
“Perhaps we should trust each other,” he said. “At least a little.”
She smiled; even in the rain she looked lovely. “Perhaps a little.”
Shimmer appeared beside them.
“What’s keeping you?” the bronze knight asked. He kept his helmet closed against the rain. “We should get below and let the captain’s men do their jobs.”
Ula smiled again and leaned against the rail. She looked nearly as comfortable in the downpour as she did underwater. “The minnow and I are in no hurry. We like the storm. You and Mik go below if you like.”
Mik glanced from her face to the incomplete key at her belly. “We’ll wait,” he said.
“Light off the stem! Light off the stem!” the ship’s lookout cried.
Jerick cursed. “Where away?”
“Ten degrees to starboard,” came the reply.
“What kind of ship?” Mik called.
The lookout peered into the storm. “Sea’s too high to he certain. Yellowish galley, I think. Closing fast.”
Jerick cursed again. “Let’s hope that’s not Lord Kell.”
“It’s Kell, all right,” Ula replied. “Only a fool or a fanatic would follow us into this storm.”
Mik took Ula by the arm. “Now would be a good time to go below, I think,” he shouted over the storm. Ula nodded, as did Trip and Shimmer.
The four of them had taken only a step toward the hatch, though, when the ship heaved and pitched them all to the deck.
Ula swore and untangled herself from Mik. The two of them rose unsteadily to their feet. Shimmer got up more slowly, leaning against the gunwale and clutching his left shoulder. Trip, still sitting, pointed and cried, “Look!”
They turned as a large brass dragon streaked out of the clouds. The dragon dove straight for the deck of Red Wake. Jerick’s crew shouted futile cries of warning. Mik grabbed his sword, and Ula stooped to retrieve her spear from where it had fallen. Shimmer grunted and heaved himself to his feet.
In an instant, the dragon shrank smaller, darting between the galleon’s masts like a huge metallic bird. Terrified sailors leaped out of the way as she passed; several fell to the deck with bone-cracking impacts.
The dragon extended her claws.
Mik brought up his sword and slashed at her, too late. The creature crashed past the sailor, toppling him to the planking before he could make a second cut. Trip stabbed at the dragon with his daggers, but the wyrm’s armor turned the tiny weapons aside. A slap from a brass-scaled wing cast Shimmer over the rail of the ship. The bronze knight splashed into the dark, heaving waters below.
The dragon seized Ula in her hind talons and yanked the startled elf off the deck before Ula could even raise her spear. The impact knocked the weapon from the Dargonesti’s hand, and it clattered to the deck of Red Wake. Growing to full size again, Tanalish dragged her captive into the torrential sky.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Ula!” Trip cried, peering up at the rapidly disappearing sea elf.
“Knight overboard!” Jerick called. “We can still reach him if he hasn’t been swept away!”
Mik staggered to his feet. He glanced from Ula to the place where Shimmer had fallen over the side. The sea elf was too far away to help. “C’mon, Trip!” he said, shouting to be heard above the storm.
The two of them skidded up next to Jerick at the rail, where Shimanloreth had gone over. Luckily, the bronze knight had seized a frayed rope dangling over the side. He dangled in the waves, grunting with every impact as the surf battered him against the hull.
Mik, Trip, and Jerick grabbed the rope and pulled, but the three of them made little progress.
“He’s heavier than he looks,” Mik said.
“Where’s Ula?” Shimmer called. “Is she safe?”
“The dragon took her!” Trip called back before Mik could stop him.
The knight howled in anguish. “I have to save her!” he said.
“How can you save her?” Mik said. “Worry about saving yourself! Climb up the rope, blast you!”
“Stand back!” the bronze knight snarled.
He reached up and the tips of his bronze-gloved fingers grew long spiky nails. Digging his claws into the side of the ship, he climbed relentlessly up to the rail, growing larger as he came. The gunwale splintered under his grip.
Mik and the others backed away as Shimmer heaved himself aboard.
The bronze knight stood nearly twelve feet tall, and was still growing. He threw back his head and screamed as curving horns sprouted from his helmet. Thunder crashed, echoing his agony.
“What’s happening to him?” Trip cried.
Shimmer’s back bulged inhumanly, his huge muscles rippling and changing beneath his armor. Bronze spikes sprouted from his shoulders, at his elbows, and along his back. His metal-shod feet split into long, sharp talons.
He grew even larger. His body stretched and became more monstrous with each passing moment. The spikes at his shoulders shot outward and split into segments, like hideous, skeletal hands. Inhuman webbing knitted itself between the long, thin fingers.
His jaws thrust forward and his orange eyes bulged out of the eyeslits in his faceplate. He screamed, and the pointed snout of his face ruptured open. Shimmering light escaped from his mouth along with his terrible, tortured wail.
Striations ran along the length of his body as his armor cracked. Between the fissures, his bronze skin bulged in scaly, ragged lumps.
The ship seemed in danger of capsizing under his massive weight. Red Wake’s gunwale tottered toward the crashing waves. With a parting glance at Mik, Shimanloreth threw himself over the side once more.
Mik, Trip, and Jerick raced to the splintered rail and gazed over the stormy sea. They did not find their friend in the whitecaps below. His transformation complete, Shimanloreth was rising awkwardly into the sky as a large bronze dragon.
“I was wondering if he might do that,” Jerick said.
“You knew?” Mik asked, incredulous. “You knew he was a dragon and you didn’t mention it?”
Jerick shrugged. “Everyone in the isles knows the tragic story of Shimanloreth.”
“What’s wrong with his wing?” Trip asked, gazing in awe at the transformed knight. Shimmer’s left shoulder and wing looked scarred, deformed.
“The dragon overlords crippled him,” Jerick replied. “He can’t fly very well-from what I hear. I think his injuries hurt less when he’s in human form.”
“Which is the only way we’ve seen him,” Mik said thoughtfully.
“But couldn’t the good dragons heal him or something?” Trip asked.
“If you want to ask them why they didn’t, be my guest” Jerick said, “assuming you can find them.”
“The other dragon is larger,” Mik said. “Can he beat her?” “Shimanloreth’s toughness is legendary,” Jerick replied, “but Tanalish is one mean dragon.”