Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles by Stephen D (v1.1) Sullivan Page A

tiller.
                The sea elf shouted a defiant curse.
She let go of the steering pole and seized a boathook from a rack near the
rail. With all her strength, she threw the iron-tipped spear at the dragon.
                 The
weapon’s forward lance pierced the dragon’s cheek, and the trailing hook caught
in her lower eyelid. Tempest roared in pain and surprise. She reared back her
head and belched scalding steam over the deck of the kingfisher.
                 Karista
ducked as the boiling cloud thundered over her head. Ula screamed as the
blistering steam hit her. She turned and dived over the side, disappearing into
the swirling deep.
                 Tempest
reared up, raising nearly all of her massive form out of the surging seas. Then
she crashed back into the ocean, head first, smashing into Kingfisher as she came.
                 Kingfisher's spine broke in half as the
dragon surged into the depths. In an instant the hold filled with water,
smothering the cries of the crew still struggling below deck.
                 The
center of the ship sank first, and with it the broken mast, the rigging, and
the shroud-like sails that had smothered Mik and Trip.
                 Karista
screamed until there was no air left in her lungs. She scrambled up the stairs
to the bridge, knowing that doing so would only buy her a few more moments of
life.
                 Thunder
boomed in her ears. Sharks, Turbidus leeches, and razorfish swam through the
heaving waves, picking through the bodies of Kingfisher's crew. The wails of the dying mingled with the howl of
the wind, the echoes of the thunder, and the deafening crash of the waves.
                 Wreckage
from the ship dotted the ocean all around. Some pieces of Kingfisher were burning, though Karista couldn’t imagine how they’d
caught fire. The aristocrat scrambled to the aft end of the bridge, near the
tiller, as waves greedily devoured the rest of the ship.
                 Terror
threatened to overwhelm her mind, but her body remained determined to stay
alive as long as possible. She had to try, had to fight! Then she remembered:
Her magical seaweed! She always carried some in the pouch at her waistband.
                 Chewing
on the seaweed allowed her to breath underwater—when
the magic worked, which wasn’t always. Underwater, perhaps she could avoid the
dragon and the frenzied predators. She could hide beneath the waves until the
danger had passed. It was a slender chance, but far better than she had on the
surface.
                 The
water to starboard began to bubble and roil, the waves crashing higher every moment.
                 The
dragon!
                 The
dragon was coming back!
                 Karista’s
hands fumbled across her waistband, faying to find the needed pouch. Her nails
caught in the water-soaked crevices of the sash at her waist. Her fingers got
knotted in the fabric.
                 Nearby,
the long fins atop the dragon’s head broke through the surf. Tempest’s yellow
eyes lit the waves, like huge lanterns lurking just below the chaotic surface
of the sea.
                 Sweat
poured from Karista’s brow. Her body shook and shivered in the driving rain.
The surging waves lapped over her feet as the last of Kingfisher 's deck submerged. She lurched forward, pulling her
fingers free and grabbing onto the rail just in time. She stabbed her right
hand toward her pouches, all the while clinging to the wreckage with her left.
                 She
found the pouch and tore it open, thrusting her hand inside. Frantically, she
pulled out the contents.
                 A
sudden flash of lightning lit the crumpled-up handkerchief in her palm.
                 Not the magical seaweed, just a ratty
handkerchief— like nothing Karista Meinor had ever owned.