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Vailret, peering through the smoke with his mechanical goggle-eyes. "We must
swim to shore. By the sound of those engines, the _Nautilus_ might explode."
Vailret cried out, choking. " -- reef!"
As Paenar stuck his head out the hatch, a powerful blow struck the
ship, throwing him back to the floor. Vailret half-caught the other man,
keeping him from dashing his head against the instrument panel. A black elbow
of rock punctured the hull of the ship. The _Nautilus_ groaned to a halt.
Paenar clambered to the hatch again as foamy water spurted into the
compartment. He peered outside, wiping sea spray from his goggles. "We've
caught on a reef. It will be tricky going, but I think we'll be able to walk
to shore."
Vailret coughed and struggled out of the hatch, dropping to the rugged
rocky shelf. Choppy water washed over his boots. Rokanun lay not far from
them, but a careless blow from an incoming wave could easily sweep them away.
"The Dragon Siren!" Paenar scrambled back into the ship. Vailret
crawled back to the top of the hatch, leaning inside. He urged the other man
to hurry and helped him lift the Sitnaltan device out of the hatch. Paenar
tossed up a coil of rope, and Vailret caught it, wondering how the other man
could be calm enough to think of such details.
Panting, they struck out as fast as they could, dodging the crashing
waves on the slippery rock, lugging the Siren between them.
With a small explosion, the engines of the _Nautilus_ started
themselves again. The powerful screws drove the armored ship relentlessly
forward, ripping open its side against the rough rock and sending it plunging
into the deep water again. Vailret turned, watching as gouts of smoke spewed
into the air from the open hatch and the breaches in the sides. The heavy hull
split wider, and the _Nautilus_ slipped beneath the waves, struggling to right
itself, like a dying prehistoric beast. Then it vanished completely from
sight, leaving only a circle of froth, like a wound on the water's surface.
Vailret and Paenar heaved themselves up on the rough and rocky beach,
panting. The crashing waves knocked both men to their knees as they tried to
scramble out of the surf. They somehow managed not to smash the Dragon Siren.
Vailret shook out his stringy blond hair and looked up at the huge
cinder cone looming over them. He coughed and spat warm seawater out of his
mouth. "Look how far we've come."
Paenar turned to him, but didn't quite look at the young man. The
expression on his face was plaintive and forlorn. "You'll have to describe it
to me, Vailret."
He tapped his goggles, but the lenses hung dead in the colorless oils
sandwiched between the thin glass. "The _Nautilus_ was not the only mechanical
thing here. I'm afraid I am quite blind again."
Tryos dared not swallow, afraid that he might send one or two gold
coins into the furnace in his gullet. He flew steadily, leaving the zigzagged
outline of Rokanun far behind and striking out over the honeycombed surface of
the world. The dragon kept his eye on the different colors of the hexagons
below, trying to match it to his dim memory of the route. But often he forgot.
He struck out over land, flying south until he stumbled upon the ocean
shoreline again. He followed the shore until he came upon the mud-choked delta
of the Barrier River, frothing and still cutting its channel through the
forests and plains of the south. He thought he remembered the river, but the
surrounding landscape did not look familiar.
The dragon continued westward. His wings felt tired enough to drop off.
Anger and discouragement bubbled up inside his chest. He had tried to ask the
little humans for detailed directions before he departed, but they had kept
him from speaking. Were they anxious to get rid of him?
Tryos snorted because his laden mouth would not allow him to voice the
comments he had in mind. He swung around. He'd just have to ask them for
directions again. Though he could not find the Stronghold, he was not lost.
Dragons could always find their way home.
After only five hours of flight, Tryos flew back toward the volcano on
Rokanun.
--------
*14*
Battle on Rokanun
"RULE #13: All monsters were created during the old Sorcerer wars. Each
monster has its own set of limitations, its own vulnerabilities. Some may be
obvious, some may be well hidden. No monster is invincible, but its weaknesses
can be very difficult to find."
-- _The Book of Rules_
Vailret and Paenar worked their way up the volcano's steep side. In
places they had to crawl on hands and knees over the broken-glass terrain of
lava rock, cutting and scraping themselves. Darkness fell, making things
worse. The stars scattered tricky light on the uneven ground. The two men
climbed higher, hauling the Dragon Siren after them.
Paenar's mechanical eyes flickered on and off intermittently. "They
function only about one fifth of the time, I would guess." He turned to
Vailret, then stopped. "There they go again."
He set off, taking the lead, but Vailret caught up to him and walked
alongside.
"I can see flashes of the landscape. I'm used to it now. I just
memorize what I see during that instant and keep going until my eyes flicker
back to life again."
Vailret didn't know what to say.
"I can endure it, so long as it doesn't ruin my chances of fighting the
dragon." Paenar shrugged, but did not look at anything. "I have to strike at
least a symbolic blow for all those times when I refused to do anything."
They had traveled two thirds of the way to the lip of the cone when
Vailret heard a whooshing sound in the silence of the dark sky. Paenar wedged
the Dragon Siren beside a massive outcropping. Both men took cover under the
overhang, hiding in the shadows.
Vailret looked up at the star-spattered sky and saw a black shadowy
form swoop low over the mountain -- immense pointed wings, a long tail, a
jagged reptilian head. Orange-tinted smoke from the volcano drifted into the
night, swirling when Tryos flew through it and descended into the yawning
mouth of the cone. The shape of the dragon ducked out of sight below the rim.
Vailret's eyes glinted wide in the quiet starlight. "He's going to be
very upset if he finds Delrael and Bryl in there!"
Instead, the dragon was upset because he did not see them.
Tryos sat back, his mouth full of treasure in the dark and humid
chamber. He grunted, trying to call to Delrael and Bryl. He sniffed but found
the human scent was cold. He plodded deeper into the cavern -- the scent of
the men disappeared into the narrow tunnel leading up and out of the mountain.
Then he looked frantically around: one of his treasures was missing,
the daughter of Sardun, the last remaining Sorcerer woman -- more valuable
than any of his baubles. Tryos let out a roar of rage and betrayal, spraying
the gold jammed into his vast mouth in a molten starburst on the grotto walls.
"Tricked! Tricked!" the dragon roared. In his fury he intentionally set
fire to one of the stolen Sorcerer tapestries. He forgot how Delrael and Bryl
had led him to Rognoth, he forgot how they had shown him a vast new land. The
only thing that mattered was their trickery.
Tryos surged out of the grotto and into the night sky. He wheeled
around to the opposite side of the cone, picturing in his mind how he would
make the two men writhe as he crisped them with his fire.
Delrael, Bryl, and Tareah traveled two hexes by night fall, when the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]