The Dragon's balls, chapter 9. (Patreon)

So here we are at last. Should be caught up with what needs to happen and ready for another poll by the end of chapter ten. Whenever I get that done. Please enjoy.

It was found. We had found it; we had to have found it. Far to the south of the camp, as we had expected, yet farther out than we had known... the ship, filled with elven spooks, a giant hole in its side from something that might not be a rock, sat to rest where the breakers began.

As if it had never tried to navigate the rocks at all, yet sank beyond them while making her way to shore. The dead were close enough to see when on our watery sojourns, yet too far for Grian to soothe.

We would need to close the distance, yet the crafting of the grave must by needs take place on dry land. There was naught for it, but to brave the wreck and spooks alike and carry off what we may.

If we tried, mayhap we could bring them in close enough, and banish such specters as we may. I was not a priest, so I did not know for certain, yet I felt it would be more difficult to do so.

I knew from thinking as a mage, that setting the entire lot ablaze with nice, purifying fire would be most difficult. There seemed to be no other choices as a mage for dealing with the restless dead.

I was certain that this would be a horror which we would not speak of some time hence, yet even so we had found our target, and that was more than the others who had come before us had done. The monks would be pleased.

The site was marked from land, and Grian was marking the mark in his own way, just in case the wind and waves washed our monument away. He had already shown us what he may of the wreck itself, through some magic or other.

We must go and share our results with the others, even now scouring far north of us. There was plenty of time, however, and few places left for Grian to see to along our path. We could make a real difference in the coast today.

Already, thanks to the efforts of Grian and Cumber, the coast was less dangerous. Why none had done as much before in all the centuries this place had been... as it was.

The books which the monks had allowed me to peruse had mentioned this coast being a haven for dark and evil things since elven times. The very ship we were after could well have been the start of it all.

So then, why?

I should ask; Grian would give me his thoughts for the asking.

In a moment. Now was not the right time, there would be a better one. Such a thing required thought. Tact. Not my best or most well known ability, to be sure, yet one which I knew somewhat about. It was not all that different from battle planning, in truth, only with less violence at the end of it.

The sun was out, the winds were mild, the day was almost pleasant, despite the spray across uneven rocks which washed over us from time to time.

We had little to do but meet again. We would need a plan, of course. We had the basics of one. It all depended upon Cumber and Grian of course; the rest of us would support their efforts as a front. Even evil should not be allowed to pass.

I should love the idea of being able to breathe underwater, and yet I was not. The idea left me cold.

Grian seemed to feel none of that. He seemed far more calm than I, walking along without a care in sight.

He had little. He was not cursed by some over-large bead with delusions of majesty.

We both were working, yet his tall frame had the advantage in these sands over my altered body. We both dug in with each step, yet Grian could take farther steps.

The air seemed to beckon, a route over the trapping sands. I could levitate, now.

I could fly, if I were to abandon all caution.

Doing so would be the same as asking to die, and by my own friends. Far better they only see a lizard-man when they look at me. Lizard woman. Lizard girl. A monster as small and weak as possible, worthy of concern, even pity.

"We could hunt," I offered. We might even fish. Some of us might not dare to eat anything dredged up from this sea. Harvold would not, of course; he had told us as much.

Fish were fish to me; tasty things that one could catch with little effort.

Even so, I would prefer another rabbit, or even better, a deer. There were only so many tubers or roots one could eat, and this area was as it was.

Jyle had done his work well, gathering such things from inland, yet even so I was certain we all wished for better than such fare, or what trail rations the monks had given us.

We would have a nice meal to offset the horror, plan while waiting out the nightly storm. Then, with the rise of day, we will make our assault in search of knowledge.

The camp was empty when we arrived to behold it. This was unusual, as someone should be watching our gear. Wither had Lerisa gone? Or if not Lerisa, Jyle?

I could smell no other scents save those of ours and the camp itself; there was no sign of any intruder, not even a spirit. I did not like this.

Grain voiced our shared question: "Where are they?"

Our gear seemed to be present and untouched. The only boot prints I saw at the edge of the sand were those I knew.

A slight sound over the distant waves and I whirled to face it, baring steel.

Lerisa was there, wet and sporting little more than his grin, hands already raised. "You should enjoy the water while you may. It feels most fine."

"You should be watching the camp," my stern words sounded less so coming from my current frame. All we would need would be for someone to make off with the orb while we were away, and both he and I would be doomed.

"I was!" He replied with cheer. "I can do both, I have many talents. Admit it, you did not catch sight of me at all... yet I saw you."

I had not. In truth, lurking out there among the waves and rocks was a perfect place to avoid notice. So long as one did not mind the spirits lurking with them.

We had cleared this stretch of beach days ago, yet I would not call it safe in any way.

Even so, this close I could see the iron and steel upon the thief and taste the gentle tang of magic upon them, even as mine were. No simple spook could kill our thief should he be vigilant.

I might worry that now I could seemingly taste magic as well as see it, yet my woes were far more immediate. I would worry about what seemed to be a recent change once I had those books in my now scaled hands.

They must hold the answer, or the location of the answer, at the very least.

"So, you brought some fish?" Trust Lerisa to think with his belly, even now. It seemed even worse since he became a man with the cursed orb.

Grian shook his head with a smile. "Even better. We found it. The true location of the wreck we seek."

Lerisa 's eyes brightened. "That is great! Now we can go plunder it and leave this cursed place behind! Well, on the morrow."

Indeed, none alive should want to enter those waters at night. It was good to see our thief showing some sense at last.

"So, what shall you cook for us?" Lerisa asked, leaning down and placing all her weight upon my shoulders.

I shrugged her off. "I have no plan. I caught no fish. I have naught to make, save if we want another stew."

Lerisa lunged upright, as if she had not fallen: "A stew? Made with a base of dried beef no doubt, as before. I shall pass on such fare."

"Do you have better then?"

Lerisa shook her head, wet hair pelting Grian and I with drops. "Of course not. I shall depend upon the skill and kindness of our hunters."

I could hunt. Yet I have not been allowed such by our circumstance. The thought rankled.

When I regained my form, I would hunt for an entire season. Boar, deer, even the humble rabbit.

Ah, the humble hare. I should like some now.

Lerisa again closed, her face inches from my own. "Your mouth is watering. Dreaming of rabbit again?"

"Am I truly so easy to discern?"

Lerisa stopped cold, her eyes boring into my own.

"What?"

"You used a word. A wizard word," Lerisa accused. I had not, of course.

Grian nodded as I looked to him. "You did. Discern is a wizard word. I have heard Cumber say it with my own ears."

Had I used the word 'discern'? I could not remember... if they both said I had, then I had, and yet... no, I knew it. I knew what the word meant.

The idea left me cold. "No I didn't."

My two friends stopped again. Then both shook their heads. Grian sighed, and Lerisa muttered something best left unsaid.

"Are you certain?" Grian pressed.

One must be firm, even with such small things. "I am. I am not turning down such a dark path."

Grian sighed again, yet both went silent.

Where were the others? They seemed to be late. I checked the sun again. Yes, they were not very late, yet even so, they should be in view any minute.

My own news and firewood delivered, I wandered to the beach. The storm was only just beginning, and there was still some time left to enjoy the water while it was clear.

My boots off, I wiggled my toes in the water from my rocky perch. The tail, my tail, forced me to sit leaning to a side, and my balance was at risk. Even so, the water was as pleasant as I'd been told; slightly chilled, yet still warm enough and wet enough to enjoy.

The sun began to light the water afire in earnest. Now they were late, of a certain.  Why? What could have happened?

Lerisa came to me, with a cloth: "Come, dry your feet, we must go."

I would waste no time with words. I quickly dried and replaced my boots. I had enough of my gear to go; I was ready.

Lerisa took my hand, and I allowed him to do so. Yet I pulled him along; there would be no gentle gait. We would move with all speed possible.  

Grian would stay here. He was neither quiet nor swift, and while he could fight as well as many, that might avail us little here. He would be our camp watch and last hope of any needed rescue.

We charged forward, as near the tree line as we could so the sand would not bog us down, yet using the clear area for what speed we might muster. As such, we would have as much as double the distance in as much time as our missing.

I was concerned that Lerisa might not last, yet I need not. Our companions were little more than a league from us, already rushing to camp themselves, racing the dying light.

I saw them first, making their way along the beach and not the border, as we were. They did not see us until we were close enough for a shout. There seemed to be no pursuit, no danger of any kind.

I would have answers. "What kept you?"

Cumber briefly soured as he answered, sinking ever so slightly in the sand. He was muddy, with more dirt on him than the man liked. Briefly I wondered why he had not bespelled it away.

For his part, Horvald kept his counsel. He was spackled in dirt himself, yet little rose past his knees.

"We journeyed into the forest to the north, searching for the wreck," the mage started, then sighed deeply. "On our way back, I fell into a hole."

What? "A hole? A... deep hole?"

"A sinkhole," Cumber answered. I slid some ways into a cave, and might have drowned save for the swift actions of Horvald, who anchored a line and tossed it down. The cave was full of shallow water, yet linked to the sea itself, and so it likely filled with the tides."

Interesting, yet a mystery for another day. I resolved to ignore the muffled guffaws from my rear, even as my two beset companions resolved the same: "Well, your troubles may well be over, at least for that. Grian and I found the wreck."

Two faces brightened instantly. "That is great news!" Cumber shouted, all caution fled from the thought of our goal at last being near.

Horvald just grunted, even as his smile spread.

Lerisa mastered himself. "Come, we should go. We need to race the sun, and can jaw at each other along the way."

A good point. The light was waning, and already the fog could be seen.

The mage and warrior both kept to the sand, preferring the tug at their heels to the potential hazard they had found earlier, without a doubt.

I could not blame them, I myself would keep somewhat closer to the tiny grains.

In the end, we made it safely as the last rays of light dwindled and lost their fire. It made our camp's fire easy to spot, as well as the form of the others. Jyle had joined Grian.

I could, as the wind blew to us, smell a hint of something savory roasting.

We came in boldly, hands up and seen, as those of the camp may not be capable of beholding us in the light. The last greeting any of us wanted was an arrow twixt our eyes, and should Jyle feel threatened, he might be able to down three of us before any could so much as shout.

Shouting was a good idea, in fact. "It is us!"

"I know!" came the reply, just over the now howling wind. "Get in here!"

We needed no second invitation; the camp was warded against what spirits may still be, and the fire was an inviting respite from the now creeping cold. As always, the setting of the sun heralded great and terrible changes here. A fleeting worry that it could spread further, dismissed as quickly as it came: the darkness here would or would not; we had already done as much as we might to stay it.

I could feel the difference as I passed the border meant to separate the living from the restless dead; a ripple which evoked a shiver. Even the heat from the fire seemed more than before, just a single step inside it. Which was welcome in my thoughts. Jyle sat before the fire, stirring a pot of stew. It was clear from a glance that he had caught what lay within, yet I could not readily place the poor creature that was to become our meal. It was not rabbit; it lacked the smell. Some form of ground hog mayhap.

Lerisa wasted little time claiming her spot by the fire and the goodness within.

I would take my spot beside him, and so leave room enough for Cumber and Horvald. Yet where was Grian?

"Where is Grian?"

"Here."

The priest was sitting in shadow near one of the tents, just beyond the fire itself. His symbol was in hand, and he appeared to be performing his nightly prayers, beseeching his God for aid on the morrow, no doubt.

I should have to watch that; the fire had blocked both old and new vision most completely, hiding the man in the gloom. It might be too large, these flames, yet would any of us complain about such? I would not. If anything, I would pile the wood higher.

Cumber sat with all the delicacy of a court lady, while Horvald plunked himself down with a groan, much as the rest of us might: "When will it be done?"

"A half turn of the glass," Jyle answered steadily enough, even as we all heard the rumbling of the big man's stomach, loud over the crackling fire. Any louder and such a sound would clearly draw the spirits to us.

Lerisa pulled his ropes out, inspecting them. It was these ropes in which our hopes may soon rest, after all, and frays or breaks would not do.

I took one from the pile and began myself. I could not repair rope, not properly, yet from bitter experience, I knew what to look for. Lerisa flashed a smile, one of his customary, which seemed odd to his new form. Of course, I would not tell him so. Not now.

Much of the plan depended on Horvald, whose knowledge of boats and ships and of the sea itself was second to few, if any. His people were a hearty and fierce warrior people, on water as well as land. Justly feared for their prowess.

His ancestors would no doubt spin in their own graves, far from here, at the use that knowledge would be put to, yet we would use it all the same, and while Horvald would grumble come the morrow, he would do his best. Even if he did not wish to be here. Even if he wished to be home, rather than helping us.

I did not wish to be here either. I did not wish any of this. Yet here we are, and here we would stay, until fate was finished with us. Fate was another word for doom, as all adventurers knew.

Jyle tried the stew carefully and pronounced it done at last, then began spooning bowls for us. We passed them around, of course. It was better that all may have their fill without moving about and bumping into each other. The warmth was welcome on my hands, and I was loathe to pull my spoon from my pouch and eat it away.

Of course it cooled, as all hot things must, and at last I ate. Slowly, savoring what I may. I would have one bowl while Horvald was on his third. We finished together; he burped long and loud, a compliment to the cook. I did not.

The others had long since finished, and their bowls were stacked to the side. We would wash them at first light; already, the fog had deepened so that the beach could not be seen. There were shadows among the mist, as there had been since we arrived at this cursed place.

There did seem to be fewer than before, our hard work paying off mayhap. I stacked my bowl with the rest and turned to the tent. I would have watch in the early morn, so I should rest as I can.

I divested of my armor and boots. We were not safe here by any means, yet I had grown weary of sleeping within them both.

I heard the noise, a soft sound. I did not need to look in order to know what - or who - it was. As before, Lerisa curled up beside me, an arm thrown around my middle. I knew from recent experience that she would stay so the entire night, even as I kicked or moved around. She - he would not utter a word of complaint.

His boots were already off, and no armor was to be felt. At least he kept his clothes on.

As had I. There were limits, after all.