The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare (57 page)

Neritz stood at the flagship’s helm, trying to steer by eye around the rocky projections he feared could be their demise. Swirling, thick mists were not making the task any easier, and he had to move forward at a veritable crawl to be comfortable that he was being cautious enough. The other ships followed behind, holding formation and using his wake, where they could see it, as a guide. Still no visible sign of structures anywhere on the horizon, but then, they could barely see each other in the fog. Neritz had just skirted a nasty-looking group of sharp-edged boulders when he glanced up ahead. He sighed with relief to notice a dense patch of fog drifting off to the side, but when he saw what the lifted mist revealed dead ahead, Neritz turned white and his mouth went dry. “Oh, ye gods…” he could barely whisper, his eyes frozen on the enormous wave which hung poised to fall on his head.

What he had no way of knowing was that the rocks and mists that so terrified him were but figments of Tvrdik’s imagination, while the tidal wave stirred up by Ondine and her friends was real. The flagship, and four other ships just behind it, got the worst of the initial fall; tons of water smashed onto their wooden decks, knocking many sailors down, and washing a few overboard. Neritz himself stopped his careening journey over the edge by grasping a metal loop in the floor, meant to guide ropes. Much of the water cascaded below decks and threatened to weigh down and capsize the boats. Soldiers and sailors scrambled in desperation to bail and pump water out of the hold before things reached a critical tipping point. To make matters worse, behind the vanguard of Drogue’s attack fleet, the sea reared up in response to the first wave’s fall. It carried the rest of the fleet high into the air. Eight ships bobbed about on the giant crest like so many cork stoppers, and then dropped like boulders through the empty void left by the receding wave. One fell broadside, tipping its passengers and crew into the deep, and smashing timbers in its flank beyond all hope of recovery. The other ships, many damaged by water and impact themselves, raced to the rescue of the men floundering in the sea, well aware that they had better be out of the area with all on board at the moment the capsized vessel chose to sink. But, though the giant wave had passed, the sea was still dark and roiling, tossing the boats about willy-nilly and hampering all of their rescue and salvage attempts. There was no wind, no rain, but the little fleet struggled for dear life in the foaming waters as if the storm of the century was upon them. Every ounce of sea-wisdom and experience, every sinew and fiber of the strongest sailors aboard were strained to the utmost as the crews fought for survival.

Neritz dragged himself upright, soaking wet and terrified. The flagship had righted itself and seemed to be intact, due to the quick thinking and hard labor of the crew. Gargan came sliding across the slimy deck, screaming at him in fury, “Forward, man! Take us forward. They are fighting us with sorcery.”

Neritz swallowed hard, wiping the salty brine from his eyes. “Are you insane? We have only just barely escaped ruin. I have no desire to drown in this god-forsaken wilderness. I am giving the order to come about.”

“Coward!” Gargan screamed over the chaotic noise on deck, then drew back a muscular arm across his chest and lashed out with such power that he knocked Neritz clear off his feet again. Taking control, he urged the flagship, and any others that were still whole enough to follow, forward once again.

Jorelial Rey breathed a silent prayer of thanks to Ondine and her compatriots for coming through in the nick of time, though it was awful to watch the devastation her action had wrought out at sea. Thank heaven, the force of the great wave and the turbulence of the waters now seemed all to be directed outward at the invaders – there was no backlash onto the shores of the kingdom, no damage to the sea wall or the beach before it. She could still catch a glimpse now and then of the tiny naiads leaping and gamboling in and out of the water at the river’s mouth, weaving their own special brand of ancient magic. Tvrdik had been right that it was unwise to underestimate the sheer power of the little creatures; she was very glad to have them on her side.

As the Lady Regent scanned the chaos of what had been the enemy fleet, however, she found herself hoping that no one had perished in the great wave the sprites kicked up. Their mandate had been to do no harm, as far as that was possible. But how were they to defend the palace without killing anyone? Especially given that her adversaries would have been ruthless in their own pursuit of conquest. Several of the talking birds had remained near her where she stood on a high parapet, in order to carry messages and instructions. She sent one of them now, with a missive to the white dragon, who seemed to be leading the saurian contingent today in Tashroth’s absence. A moment later, a pronounced nod and a shriek in her direction from the pale beast perched on a high turret across the courtyard, told her that the message had been received, and would be acted upon.

But in the next instant, the Lady Regent was looking down in disbelief, to see Drogue’s flagship, and two or three others regrouping and attempting to plough forward once more toward Theriole. Had they not had enough? If they did break through the illusion and realized where they were, she felt confident her forces could hold their own against such a compromised force. But they would have to resort to traditional fighting – exactly what they were hoping to avoid. Perhaps her bag of tricks was not yet empty. She shifted her gaze to the beach, where a dozen unicorns had been standing poised in a tight semi-circle, their horns all pointing up to a spot in the center. She saw that Wynne had also seen the approaching ships, and was shaking his head up and down, as if giving some signal. The unicorns all arched their necks, stepped in and lowered their horns until the points met together, and from that convergence exploded a burst of light so bright she had to step back and look away, all the way up on the top of the castle. The brunt of that beam had been aimed well out into the harbor, straight toward the advancing ships.

Gargan crashed to the deck, his hands over his face, shrieking like a wounded boar. All around him on each of the advancing ships, others were howling and writhing in similar distress. Some of the men even lost consciousness, or ran about the decks in confusion. The flash had come out of nowhere, brighter than anything any of them had ever before encountered, and anyone who had been turned in its direction was blinded by its intensity. Neritz, who had been lying face-down on the deck where Gargan had flung him, picked himself up and took in the scene of chaos and destruction around him. All thoughts of conquest and joyful victories fled from the stage of his mind as he simply attempted to calculate his best chance for survival. Everyone else within earshot was standing or lying on the deck, sightless, and whimpering in pain. He couldn’t turn the ship around by himself. He stepped over Gargan’s hulking form, and staggered over to the helm, still worried about being dashed to bits on the jagged rocks. It was then that an unfamiliar sound drew his eyes upward, a knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. Dragons! Huge, angry dragons emerging from the mist – dragons of every size and color, swooping and flapping their enormous wings, breathing flame, and fastening their wicked eyes on him. This new development was one disaster too many for the hapless lord, who fell in a heap on the deck of his battered ship, folded his arms over his head in a pitiful attempt at protection, and sobbed like a baby, shaking and shuddering.

In truth, the dragons were sent to frighten the intruders, rather than to do any actual damage. After centuries of experience, they were all extremely gifted at inspiring fear in those who understood them the least. Six of them played at wheeling and swooping, breathing flames, and uttering hair-raising shrieks, while the other six flew in close to the water, instructed to search the waves and the wreckage for any seamen in distress – those who might be clinging to bits of flotsam, or were struggling to keep their heads above water. They were scooped up, or plucked up, one by one, in the dragons’ very sensitive claws, and deposited with care on the decks of the least damaged ships, in daring pass after pass. Many a sailor in Drogue’s fleet owed his life that day to a dragon’s sharp eye, and many told the stories of their incredible rescues again and again to their grandchildren, for years into the future.

One purple dragon got carried away with his own playfulness. He had taken to grasping the tops of mainmasts in his claws and rocking the ships back and forth while roaring at them, like so many toys in the bathtub. It was a harmless enough prank, and quite terrifying to the men on shipboard. But one mast, already damaged in the tidal wave, snapped off in his claws, and hung poised in the rigging, useless and threatening to fall. Embarrassed, and wanting to seem responsible, the great beast grabbed the broken piece, pulled it up, seared through mainsail and tangled ropes with his fiery breath, and flung the offending splinter far out to sea. That ship might not make it home under its own steam, but at least no one was hurt. The crew however, completely misread the purple dragon’s helpful intentions, and ran about the decks screaming, convinced their vessel would be torn apart a piece at a time right out from under them.

“Use the mage-fire on them!” Gargan shouted, having regained his sight just in time for an eyeful.

“How, sir?” a miserable yeoman responded. “All the components are soaking wet, and we have nothing to set it alight.”

“Get out of my way.” Neritz roared at Gargan, having finally found his backbone. “I’ve had enough of you. We are leaving this cursed place before we all perish.” He barked out orders to those in his crew still standing, and had them relayed by semaphore to the other ships. With a heroic effort, the battered fleet, or what was left of it, turned itself around. Any ship that could sail headed back out to the open sea. Those that were too damaged, but still afloat, were secured by tow ropes to the strongest of the others. Men were posted at all the railings to scour the waters for anyone still floundering overboard, but the dragons had done their work well. There were injuries and scarred psyches, but as far as anyone could tell, no one was lost at sea – a veritable miracle. In shifts, so as not to give themselves away, the dragons broke off their theatrical attacks, and one by one rode the air currents back through the make-believe mists to their various preferred perches at Theriole. By the time the last of them had returned, it was obvious to everyone in a position to be watching that the only intention of the naval force that had come to conquer them, was now to escape the vicinity as soon as possible. A spontaneous cheer erupted from the crowds that had for so long held their tongues – indeed, had barely breathed – while their fate hung in the balance. But Boone’s men, mindful of their orders, hushed the joyful eruption mid-shout. The danger might not be entirely past.

Back on Drogue’s flagship, Gargan was arguing again, “But, I tell you, I heard it, clear and plain. Voices. From back there. It sounded like hundreds of people cheering for just a moment…”

Neritz narrowed his eyes and looked straight at the sullen big man, “Those must have been the voices of souls trapped in
Hell
, which is where we have been, and what I am very thankful to have only just escaped by a hair’s breadth! I will brave Lord Drogue’s wrath before I even
think
of going back to that horrible place again, and if I ever even
speak
of putting to sea again for any reason whatever, you will know that it is time for me to be put away, because I shall have
lost my mind
!” He turned his back and strode to the other end of the ship, while the fleet entrusted to his care limped back toward its origin, gray mists closing behind them.

A little while longer the denizens of the palace kept still and watched, as the ships shrank in the distance, and disappeared at last over the horizon, to even the sharpest eye. Looking around for a cue, everyone still waited a maddening interval just to be certain they would not be heard. And then, almost as if the entire company were one body, with one corporate perception of the perfect moment, every soul in Theriole cried out at once – man, woman, child and beast. The cheer that arose was deafening. There were cries of, “Long live the King!” “Hail our Regent!” Even, “Thanks to our wizard!” The dragons lifted up their wings and roared. And both the talking beasts and those who were not so endowed, bellowed, howled, barked, brayed, and neighed themselves senseless. Soldiers beat their swords against their shields. The unicorns sported and frolicked on the beach, tossing their beautiful heads, while all the naiads cavorted and splashed about in the shallows.