Read The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper Online

Authors: Mel Odom

The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper (51 page)

BOOK: The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper
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“—and since doing this spell is taxing and everything—”
“Give me your hands.”
“—maybe we could just try doing this another time. I mean, maybe the storm, the atmospheric conditions, aren't good for—”
“
Give me your hands! Now!
”
Shaken to his core, remembering how Craugh had once vaporized a whole building just to get someone's attention, Wick handed his hands over. Craugh put him between Quarrel and Bulokk. Then the process was repeated, this time with more favorable results.
Monster!
A
tingling sensation spread through Wick as the candle flame sputtered again. Smoke formed into a sphere that filled with an image. This time the focus was on an elven warder who fought with a mystic golden bow that fired ruby arrows that formed in his fingers every time he drew back the string. The loosed shafts plunged among the goblinkin, blasting holes through their ranks.
Tears slid down the elf's face. He stood above the bodies of two other elven men. Both of them favored him in their looks. Wick knew that many would have thought that just because they were elven, but the little Librarian had drawn enough faces that he easily distinguished one elf from another.
“Sokadir,” someone behind Wick whispered.
Another elf, this one who also favored the elven champion, though not nearly so much, caught Sokadir by the shoulder and pulled at him. Sokadir turned on the other for a moment, pointing one of the ruby arrows at him. Then he whirled again and fired the arrow into the heart of a lumbering jallackdross, one of the huge war beasts Lord Kharrion had brought to the battle.
The war beast disappeared in a blaze of fire. In the next moment, Sokadir gave the two elves on the ground a last look, then fled before the goblinkin army. The defenders were now in full rout.
“That was then,” Craugh said. “We need to know where Sokadir is now.”
Wick stared after the retreating elf. Curiosity rose high and strong inside Wick.
Who were the two men at Sokadir's feet?
So
many died that day, that final day of the Battle of Fell's Keep, that it didn't make any sense. And Sokadir was a trained warrior; he knew that losses on a battlefield were inevitable.
“Think about Sokadir,” Craugh commanded. “Where is he now?”
Wick considered the question. Oskarr had returned to the Cinder Clouds Islands and had begun smithing armor despite the rumors that persisted that he had been the one to betray the Unity defenders. Dulaun had died there on the battlefield, his sword lost and his body never seen again.
But Sokadir—
Wick thought about the elven warder. Sokadir had been from Laceleaves Glen. He'd been a prince there. Had he returned there after Lord Kharrion's defeat? Had he even made it back from the Painted Canyon? Wick didn't know. He wished he'd been at the Vault of All Known Knowledge. There might have been some mention of him in the journals and memoirs that had come out of the Cataclysm.
He knew where at least three histories on Sokadir were, and six books on Laceleaves Glen.
Would he have returned home? Sokadir was an elf. Nowhere else made sense. Most of them died within only a few short miles of where they were birthed. Wick thought of Sokadir going home to get healthy again. It was the only logical thing for the elven warrior to do.
Abruptly, the smoky sphere grew agitated. The clouds of smoke oozed and flowed into each other, then just as quickly, an image formed. An elf hunkered on the branch of a tree. He was lean and handsome, and his profile striking. A large brown bear lumbered under the tree branch, and an owl glided soundlessly to the branch over the elven warrior's head. The forest around him was tall and straight, a shipbuilder's dream.
“Sokadir,” Wick breathed.
“Where is he?” Craugh asked.
Wick studied the forest. In the corner, he caught a blue flash of a stream or river. A moment more and he thought he had it. He focused on the mountain range in the distance, recognizing the Broken Forge Mountains from the time he'd gone there the first time he'd been shanghaied. The area shown him wasn't far from where they'd encountered Shengharck the dragon. “This has to be Laceleaves Glen.”
“In the Forest of Fangs and Shadows?”
“Yes. As I recall, Sokadir was from Laceleaves Glen.” There were other elven communities in the Forest of Fangs and Shadows, of course, but Sokadir was from the Laceleaves sprawl, so it was reasonable to assume he was there. “He was a prince there or something. He took several warriors from there with him when he traveled to the Battle of Fell's Keep.”
“He was a prince,” Craugh agreed. “Upon his return from the Battle of Fell's Keep, he withdrew from the fight and stepped down as prince of his people.”
“Why?”
“He lost two sons in the Painted Canyon when the goblinkin overran the
defenders. Most assume it was because he was grieving. As I understand it, he's stayed aloof from his people ever since.”
“Rootless,” Wick said, and the word sounded harsh and cruel in his ears.
And I'm not even an elf.
He watched the elven warrior for a moment as he stood in repose. Without warning, Sokadir turned to Wick, lifting the bow into the air and taking aim.
“Who are you?” the elven warder demanded, gazing at him with his purple eyes.
Watching him, Wick saw Sokadir's lips move, but he also heard the man, speaking like he was in the galley next to him.
“What are you doing spying on me?” Sokadir demanded.
“I'm not spying,” Wick answered. With all the accusations he faced from Frollo, he'd learned to first deny all wrongdoing.
Rage mottled the porcelain skin and tightened the purple eyes. Quick as a striking snake, Sokadir released the string without firing the arrow and reached for Wick through the smoke sphere.
Wick was hypnotized by the action (he still couldn't believe the elven warder could somehow see him) and tried to dodge away too late. Sokadir's hand extended past the smoke sphere and caught the front of Wick's shirt.
Yelping in surprise, Wick found himself dragged from his seat. He caught Sokadir's wrist and tried to pull the elf's hand from his clothing. But it was to no avail. The elven warder had a death grip on him. Wick was lifted bodily from his seat and hauled toward the smoke sphere.
Craugh barked a single word. The sphere lost its shape and floated up to the ceiling. Sokadir vanished and Wick dropped back into his seat.
“What happened?” Bulokk asked.
“Didn't you see that?” Wick asked, adjusting his shirt.
“What?” Quarrel gazed at him intently. “All we saw was you rising from your seat and sliding into the smoke.”
Wick looked at Craugh.
“I didn't see anything,” the wizard said.
“It was Sokadir,” Wick exclaimed. “He saw me. He
grabbed
me!”
“Impossible.” Craugh frowned.
“I didn't yank myself off that bench.”
“No,” the wizard admitted, “you didn't.” He rubbed his long nose with his forefinger. “It only means that Sokadir has his magical defenses in place.” He nodded to himself. “And he's stronger in his powers than I'd believed.”
“He doesn't want anyone to bother him,” Wick said. “I understood that well enough.”
“Unfortunately, Sokadir doesn't have a choice in that matter. If we don't get to him first, Ryman Bey and Gujhar will.”
“We also need to get our ancestors' weapons back from them,” Bulokk added.
That was another part of the puzzle. They still didn't know why Gujhar's employer wanted the three mystic weapons the champions had used at the Battle of Fell's Keep.
One-Eyed Peggie
staggered sideways without warning, heeling over hard to
starboard. The candle tipped over and would have gone sliding across the table, but Wick's quick reflexes snatched it from the air. Pots and pans hanging from the galley hooks and in cupboards set off a ferocious racket.
“By the Old Ones,” Cap'n Farok exploded, shoving himself to his feet with the aid of his crutch, “what was
that
?”
No one had an answer.
A moment later, the pirate ship heeled over again, this time to port. Timbers cracked somewhere below.
One-Eyed Peggie
righted herself with difficulty, knocked off balance by the blows and now struggling between the troughs of the stormtossed waters.
A burst of crimson, blue, green, and yellow feathers burst into the room. Critter flew into the room screaming at the top of his voice,
“Cap'n Farok! Cap'n Farok!”
“I'm here, blast ye,” Cap'n Farok replied. “Right here in front of yer eye, I am.”
Dropping to a table, Critter stood with his wings spread out around him for balance. “Oh,” the rhowdor said. “There ye are. By my lights, ye can be hard to find when ye're not in yer cabin.”
Another impact struck
One-Eyed Peggie
and heeled her hard over to port. Critter slid across the table, unable to dig his claws into the wood, and flapped his wings in an effort to recover, beating Quarrel and Bulokk till they covered up. He squawked fearfully.
“What is happenin' to me ship?” Cap'n Farok bellowed.
“We're under attack, Cap'n,” Critter said.
“By who?”
“The monster, Cap'n. It's found us again.”
Although the Blood-Soaked Sea was filled with monsters, only one of them actively hunted
One-Eyed Peggie
.
At Cap'n Farok's orders, the crew ran up the stairwell, then he hobbled up himself. Wick trailed after, aiding the old sea captain when he could, which wasn't something Cap'n Farok would often allow anyone to do. But he had a soft spot for Wick.
Another impact shook
One-Eyed Peggie
, battering them up against the walls. Cap'n Farok lost his footing and would have gone down except for the aid Wick gave him. The old captain took a moment to gather himself, then once more pressed onward.
“Gettin' old an' feeble isn't good, Librarian Lamplighter,” Cap'n Farok said. “No one should have to endure such a hardship.”
“It's the price we pay for wisdom,” Wick replied, holding onto the old dwarf's elbow. Personally, Wick looked forward to his elderly years as a Librarian. A
First
Level Librarian, of course, so much more of his time was his to command.
Water slopped onto the main deck when Wick stepped outside with Cap'n Farok. The storm had made the night darker, though that was alleviated from time to time by the whip-crack of lightning. Thunder exploded overhead, sounding as if it were right on top of them. The ship rode awkwardly in the sea, tipping restively as she was caught in crosswinds and waddled through the troughs. Canvas cracked overhead, and Wick knew the sheets strained at the rigging.
“Where away, Zeddar?” Hallekk cried from the stern castle near the ship's wheel.
“Off to port now. Two points.” Zeddar was aloft in the crow's nest. He hung on for dear life, swinging wildly from side to side as the ship plunged over another tall wave.
Wick stared through the darkness, searching for the monster. He'd seen it before, but it was always incredible to witness. From
One-Eyed Peggie
's present descent down the other side of the wave, it looked like they were sailing straight to the bottom, that the incoming wave would swamp them and send them to the depths below.
The crew played lanterns over the black sea, searching for the creature.
Bulokk and the Cinder Clouds dwarves came on deck, but Hallekk bawled orders at them to stay out of the way. With only a little show of resentment at being ordered about, Bulokk and his warriors lined the stern cabin, holding their ground as best as they could.
Quarrel stood only a few feet away from Wick and held Alysta in her arms. The cat had her head flattened and kept twitching her ears against the rain.
Then Wick saw the monster as it swam through the sea and came at them at amazing speed. Although
One-Eyed Peggie
was a large ship, capable of carrying tons of cargo, the monster dwarfed her, being more than twice her size in length. The creature resembled a whale at first glance, but it possessed a horny carapace on its head and back that protected it from attacks from above. Six twenty-foot tentaclelike legs equipped it for grappling with prey. On a few occasions, the creature had managed to grab hold of longboats with hapless pirates and take most or all of them to the bottom of the sea.
“Brace yerselves!” Zeddar cried in warning. “It's comin' in again!”
Cap'n Farok grabbed hold of the nearest railing. Wick did the same. He watched in fear-filled fascination as the creature cut through the sea so fast it sprayed a steady stream of water into the air, as if it were slicing through a layer of the ocean and peeling it back.
The huge head was visible for just a moment above the waterline. The jaws were large enough to open wide enough to swallow half a twenty-foot longboat in a single gulp. The hard ridges of bone had proven a number of times that they could crunch through wood. Oval in shape, the creature's head had whiskery projections that stuck out in all directions. In daylight they were deeply purple, fitting well the wart-covered wattles of purple and black skin that sheathed the onyxcolored head when it withdrew it to safety. The empty eye socket remained a mass of pestilence and had never healed. Wick could only imagine the pain that must have blazed through the creature with its constant immersion in salt water.
BOOK: The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper
10.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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