The Dragon Isles

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.”

“Do you have a how you could lend me?” Mik asked, trying to gauge the distance through the storm.

“They’re out of range, mate,” Jerick said. “There’s nothing we can do but watch.”

Shimmer rose quickly through the blinding storm toward Tanalish. Lightning flashed all around them, and thunder shook the heavens. The wind swirled and gusted, smashing the driving rain into the metallic bodies of the dragons and the form of the struggling sea elf.

Ula twisted in Tanalish’s iron-thewed claw, but she couldn’t even reach her dagger to fight back. The gemstone key pressed sharply into her belly, but her web of jewelry held it in place. Lances of pain shot up her spine as the dragon squeezed her. “Let go of me!” she yelled.

If Tanalish heard the elf, she made no reply. Rather, the brass dragon wheeled to face the oncoming menace. She opened her mouth and belched a burning, sulfurous blood-red cloud. The cloud sparked and sizzled, billowing large despite the wind. The toxic vapors fanned out across Shimmer’s flight path.

“A warning, Shimanloreth,” Tanalish hissed. “Keep back. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Ula concerns me,” Shimmer rumbled. “She’s my friend. You have no right to take her.”

“She’s a thief, an enemy of the Order of Brass and a threat to the isles,” Tanalish replied.

“Fish oil!” Shimmer boomed. “Give her back or you’ll regret it.”

A smile creased the brass dragon’s scaly lips. “You’re no match for me, Shimanloreth. Your wing is crippled, almost useless. Fly back to the ship and lick your wounds.”

Shimmer didn’t reply. Instead, he lunged forward, extending his jaws toward Tanalish’s long neck. The move surprised the brass, and she barely jerked her head aside in time.

Shimanloreth’s fangs raked across her throat, and his powerful hind talons seized the leg holding Ula.

“Let go or I’ll drop her,” Tanalish hissed. She snapped at Shimmer’s face, but he ducked out of the way.

“You don’t dare,” Shimmer said. “Kell wouldn’t allow it”

Tanalish tucked her wings and sent them into a frenzied spiral. She coiled her tail around Shimmer’s and continued to bite at his face. Shimmer fought back, fending off her foreclaws with his own and counterattacking with his horns.

Red, oily sweat began to bubble up on his bronze carapace. He panted with the effort, his breath sounding like huge bellows.

Tanalish laughed and brought one armored knee up into her opponent’s belly. She jerked away, disentangling the two of them. Ula’s guts jumped as the brass dragon lurched upward again.

Momentarily falling, Shimmer lashed up with his head. One of the long spikes behind his horns slashed across Tanalish’s cheek, close to her eye. The brass dragon screamed.

“Son of a fetid egg!” she howled. “You’ll pay for that.”

Turning, she lunged straight at Shimmer’s eyes. The bronze dragon ducked aside, but it wasn’t his face Tanalish aimed for. Throwing her jaws wide, the brass dragon sank her long fangs into Shimmer’s left shoulder, right where it joined his crippled wing.

“Look at them go!” Trip said, using one hand to shield his eyes from the wind and rain. The battling dragons looked like metallic birds high up in the storm. “I wish they were closer, so we could see better.”

“So do I,” Mik added, hefting Ula’s fallen spear.

“Thank the gods they’re not,” Jerick the Red growled. “We’ve enough trouble as it is.” He was rallying his men to secure the sails before the storm ripped them to tatters.

Mik ducked out of the way of a loose line whipping over the deck. “Ship to starboard!” he cried, pointing. “Ship to starboard!”

Over the top of a huge swell surged Lord Kell’s trireme, its brass ram aimed straight at Red Wake’s hull.