Trip elbowed Mik. “What’s she up to?” the kender asked.
“Trying to keep us out of prison,” Mik replied, though he wished that he felt more sure of the sea elf s impromptu plan.
Lord Kell strode from the bridge to where Ula and the rest stood in the bow of the dragonship. In his left hand he held his long coral lance clutched tight. He took up a defensive posture beside his sister.
Misa Kell’s gaze narrowed, and her brow furrowed with anger. She stared unblinking into the sea elf s green eyes.
“This is absurd,” Benthor Kell said. “The law is clear, Ula Drakenvaal. You-and the rest-must accompany us to Berann.”
“The Code of Honor is older than your order’s laws,” Ula said, never taking her eyes off Misa. “If you’ve abandoned it, say so.”
Benthor Kell’s rugged jaw tightened, and he frowned. “We would no more abandon honor than we would the law.”
“Then I demand my rights,” Ula said.
“Very well,” Lord Kell replied, hefting his lance. “Clear the decks!” he called. “We will give this elf her trial.”
“No, Benthor,” Misa said. “It is I who was challenged-and I who will accept.”
“But, sister-” Lord Kell began.
“Ula challenged your sister, not you,” Mik improvised. “Only the challenged can accept. To do otherwise is to forfeit the challenge.”
Lord Kell glared at Mik, and then at the sea elf. Mik smiled, knowing the lord was trapped.
“If I win,” Ula said, “you will release the castaways to me and take us to Darthalla. There my people will judge our worthiness to stay in the Dragon Isles.”
“And if you lose?” Mik whispered.
Ula winked at him. “Then we all go to Berann and stand before the Order.” She turned to Lady Kell and in a louder voice said. “Do you accept the terms of the challenge?”
Karista Meinor looked from Ula to Lady Kell. She seemed to be weighing her options, but said nothing. Trip clapped gleefully in anticipation of the fight.
“I accept,” Misa Kell replied through gritted teeth. “Clear the deck and we’ll settle this.” She loosened her brass-handled sword from its scabbard and tossed the sheath toward the stem deck.
The crew moved away from the center of the trireme’s midship platform, leaving the women plenty of room to fight. Ula glanced at Mik. “Have Shimmer make sure they play fair,” she said loudly.
Mikal Vardan nodded, as did bronze knight. Ula turned back to her opponent, spear at the ready.
With a snarl of rage, Misa charged forward. She swung at Ula’s head, but the sea elf ducked out of the way.
Ula flipped her spear and clouted the brass-armored woman in the lower back. Misa staggered and barely ducked aside in time to avoid Ula’s follow-up thrust. Lady Kell brought her sword up against the spear’s haft and turned the weapon aside.
“You fight well,” Misa snarled, “for someone dressed like a camp follower.”
Ula laughed. “So do you.”
Misa chopped at Ula’s midsection, but the sea elf stepped back, her bare feet moving gracefully over the ship’s smooth wooden deck. She pirouetted, spun her weapon, and clouted Lady Kell on the side of the head with the spear’s butt. Misa reeled from the impact.
“She’s fast!” Trip whispered, admiring Ula’s grace.
“She’s used to fighting in the pressure of the deep,” Mik whispered back. “Above water, she’s much quicker than any of us. Stronger, too, probably.”
“Stronger than Lady Kell, I hope,” Trip replied.
Misa Kell waved her sword before her as she staggered back. The brass weapon turned aside two of the sea elf s thrusts-more by luck than design. Ula stabbed at her again, and this time the blow got through, tracing a long cut down Misa’s pale ribs.
“That scanty armor is just slowing you down,” Ula noted. “You should design your next set for protection rather than show.”
“Elf witch!” Misa snarled. “Stand still and fight!” She lunged forward suddenly and got her sword under Ula’s guard. Ula turned Misa’s blade aside, but they crashed together and the two of them fell to the deck in a heap.
Their arms and legs tangled as they wrestled across the deck, each trying to position her weapon for a telling blow. Misa smashed the pommel of her sword into Ula’s hip. The sea elf grunted and clouted the brass lady on the chin with her fist.
Blood spurted from Misa’s mouth. She tried to grab Ula’s arm, but only ended up with a handful of jewelry from the sea elf s sparse clothing. A few tiny gems rolled across the planking and briefly settled onto the deck before finding their way into Trip’s pockets.
Ula rammed her knee into Lady Kell’s exposed gut. The air rushed out of Misa’s lungs and Ula rolled out from under her. The Dargonesti quickly scrambled to her feet. Bloody-faced, Lady Kell did the same.
Panting, the two women regarded each other across the blood spattered deck.
“Slippery as a scavenger eel,” Misa growled.
“And with twice the bite,” Ula countered. “Submit. You’re outmatched.”
“Never!”
Ula lunged forward, stabbing at Lady Kell’s midsection.
Misa parried, but that was exactly what Ula wanted.
The sea elf allowed the shaft of her spear to skid up Misa’s sword blade. Ula heaved hard, pushing the sword to the left, then thrust right.
She drove the spear point up, into the unprotected flesh just below Misa’s shoulder guard. Lady Kell gasped. Her eyes grew wide, and her sword went limp in her hand. Ula gave her spear a final twist and thrust her opponent to the floor.
Lady Kell slumped to her knees. Ula pulled her spear out of her opponent’s shoulder and stepped away. Misa gasped once and then collapsed on the deck, unconscious and bleeding.
Mik knelt down, tore off the sleeve of his shirt, and pressed it over Misa’s wound. “Get a healer,” he said, glancing up at Ula. The satisfied smile on her face sent a shiver down his spine.
“Get away from her, freebooter,” Lord Kell said, pushing Mik out of the way. A woman dressed in white stepped forward and knelt beside her lord and lady. She began to minister to Misa Kell’s wound.
“The wound is deep, my lord,” the white-robed woman said. “It will take all my skill to stop the bleeding.”
Fire blazed in Benthor Kell’s gray eyes. “There was no need for you to wound her thus,” he said, glaring at Ula.
“Ula gave her the chance to withdraw,” Mik said.
“This was no game she and you entered into,” Ula said, her green eyes flashing. “If you two weren’t prepared to pay the price, you shouldn’t have challenged my rights.”
Lord Kell stood and drew his sword. Ula took a step back and aimed the bloody point of her spear at his chest. The two of them glowered at each other across the crimson stained deck.
“I should gut you where you stand,” Lord Kell hissed through clenched teeth.
“Is this how you honor the laws of combat?” Ula asked. Shimmer took up a position behind her.
“It was a fair fight,” Mik said, stepping between Kell and Ula.
Kell lowered his sword. “I will honor our word,” he said tersely. “You and your friends have won the right to be judged by the Dargonesti.” He turned toward the whiterobed woman, “How is my sister?”
“Her injury is grave,” the healer replied. “My power is not what it was before the gods departed. It will take a long time to heal.”
“Take Lady Kell to her cabin and tend her there,” Lord Kell said. He pointed to several brass-armored warriors and said, “Help the healer carry my sister.”
The warriors nodded and assisted the healer in taking Misa Kell below deck. They moved slowly and deliberately so as not to aggravate the lady’s wound. Lord Kell, his manner stem and formal, turned back to Ula.
“We sail for Darthalla,” he said. “The others will go with you, all save the kender.”
“Unacceptable,” said Mik.
Ula shot him a stem glance.
Kell ignored the sailor and addressed Ula directly. “You know the laws concerning his kind. The code of your people is no different than ours. He must be taken to kendertown on the isle of Alarl.”
“My people can take him to the city of Perch as easily as yours,” Ula said.
“I think not,” Kell replied. “Besides, we both know kender are slippery and hard to hold onto. Better he should stay with me-unless you’d care to dispute my claim… ?” He arched one auburn eyebrow and smiled wickedly.
Mik stepped forward, but Ula held him back. “Don’t,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to let him take Trip,” Mik replied.
“You can’t defeat him,” Ula said. “We’re both tired now. Kell would best either of us easily-which is exactly what he wants. Don’t give in to him.”
Mik glanced at Trip, then at Kell. The lord practically glowed with eagerness to fight. Mik felt the weariness within his own bones. He had barely slept in two days. Ula was right; Kell would win easily.
“We don’t find the treasure without him,” Mik whispered to Ula.
She nodded. “If you insist,” she said. “We can pick him up later-after we’ve escaped Kell’s clutches.”
Ula turned back to Lord Kell and smiled. “As you say, Lord Kell, there’s no point in fighting over a kender.”
Trip jumped up and kicked Ula in the shin. “Hey!” he said. “I was rooting for you!”
Mik stepped forward and grabbed Trip by the shoulder as the kender reached for his daggers. “Belay that!” Mik whispered. “Hold your weapons! I’ll explain later.”
The captain reassured the kender with a look, and Trip stopped struggling.
Ula rubbed her leg and laughed. “He’s given me better than the lady of the ship,” she said with a wry smile. “You keep him, Kell. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
Mik kept his hand firmly on Trip’s shoulder. “I won’t have you mistreating him,” he said to Kell.
“Even kender are treated fairly by the Order of Brass,” Kell replied haughtily.
“I’ll take that on your honor,” Mik said. “We’ve had a long and difficult journey. We’re all tired and hungry. Any help you could give in that regard would be welcome.”
Kell turned to a deck hand and said. “Bring them food and drink.”
“I could use a clean bandage for my leg,” Trip said. “Please.”
“Have our healer tend the kender’s leg when she has a spare moment,” Kell added. “As to accommodations, you may sleep on the deck with the rest of the crew. We will, however, provide blankets.” He nodded at the deck hand, who had stood awaiting the end of Kell’s orders.
The hand nodded in reply and left to fetch provisions for Mik and the rest.
Lord Kell went to the ship’s rear platform and gave their new heading to the helmsman. The ship’s drum-chanter set the beat and began the rhythmic singing that Mik and his friends had first heard when Kell’s galley emerged from the fog.
Kell took up his seat in the triarch’s chair at the boat’s stem. He made a tent of his fingers and glowered at Mik, Ula, and the rest.
The deck hand soon returned with five skins of water, a small flask of weak wine, some dried meat and bread, and a few light blankets. Shimmer declined to eat anything, though he drank some of the water.
Mik, Trip, Ula, and Karista ate as though they had not eaten for days. They savored each drop and morsel, and soon began feel themselves once more.
Solemnly, Mik offered a toast to their d$ad comrades. Even Ula joined in as they passed the wine and everyone told a brief story of Bok, Marlian, or some other lost crewmate.
Mik raised the wine flask again. “To the death of the dragon who caused all this!” he said.
Trip, Ula, and Karista murmured their assent and drank.
“I’ll share that toast,” Shimmer said. Mik handed him the skin and the bronze knight said, “To the end of Tempest and those who follow her!” He drank, then handed the flask back to Mik.
Morning slipped into afternoon under the steady rhythm of the oars. The crew tirelessly pulled the mighty trireme through the placid ocean. Mik and his friends spent much of their time leaning on the gunwales watching the scenery.
The sea around the Dragon Isles shone brilliant blue. The clear water allowed the travelers to peer into the depths below. Mik marveled at the varieties of colorful fish and strange sea plants. Turbidus dolphins and gray-striped porpoises, sleek “sea tigers,” gamboled in the trireme’s wake.
Small green atolls surrounded the larger islands, like schools of fish attending to monstrous turtles. The isles had a pristine quality, as if human beings had never actually lived here-though, occasionally, Mik saw small fishing boats plying the shorelines. Two kinds of waterfronts predominated: white sand, or forbidding rocks. Many game animals roamed the shores, but only a few people.
The clear morning sky gave way to puffy clouds, darkening toward a storm in the west. Blue and purple sea birds filled the air near the shores, diving for fish or hunting for prey along the beaches. Sometimes an albatross, a pelican, or some other sea-fishing bird would fly over the trireme.
Less frequently, they spotted the glint of sunshine off metallic wings high above the isles. Mostly the dragons were far away, and seemed to be tending their own business. Several times, though, a large brass dragon swooped near the galley.
“Tanalish,” Shimmer said.
“Keeping an eye on us for Thrakdar and the Order,” Ula added. She tightened her grip on her spear. “They’re probably wondering why we’re not headed for Berann.”
“Let them wonder,” Shimmer replied. His face remained hidden behind his bronze helmet, but they all got the impression he was smiling.
Mik leaned on the rail and sighed. “I wish that Poul were here to see this,” he said. “He would have liked the dragons.”
“Aye,” Trip replied. Karista merely nodded.
Just before nightfall, the healer came and sterilized Trip’s wound with alcohol. She put a few stitches in, then wound an new bandage around the kender’s leg. She chanted a spell for quick healing, but no one seemed to believe this would do any good.
Lord Kell stayed away from the group. Mostly he kept to the triarch’s chair, though he went below regularly to check on his sister. From the vague murmurings of the crew, Mik gathered that Misa wasn’t doing very well. All of Kell’s crew avoided Ula.
As the sun sank behind the clouds in the west, they passed into the vast channel between Berann and Jaentarth. Berann, the western isle, housed the headquarters of the Order of Brass. The galley’s crew gazed at it longingly when they weren’t working their shifts at the oars.
To the east lay Jaentarth, whose cloud-capped peaks were home to many silver dragons. Lush jungles tumbled down to the isle’s rocky shores. As the trireme swung northeast, skirting Jaentarth’s western cliffs, Ula stood in the bow and gazed east. A thin line of concern between her slender eyebrows marred her perfect face.
“I get the impression,” Mik said quietly to Shimmer, “that she’s not looking forward to going home.”
The bronze knight didn’t reply.
Night passed under a tapestry of stars. Mik and the others slept on the deck near the bow. The blankets given them were thin, but the night was warm. At dawn, the former captain found himself wedged between Ula and Karista. He gently extricated himself, rose, and went to the rail.
The morning wasn’t so bright or clear as it had been the previous day. Thunder clouds still threatened in the west. However, by rowing through the night, the ship had stayed well ahead of the stormfront.
Mik admired the discipline of Kell’s crew. They pulled at the oars tirelessly, working in shifts, never stopping. When not rowing or servicing the ship, the brass warriors frequently fished with lines or tridents.
Sometimes they even stripped off their armor and swam in the stern wash for a while-as Ula had done on Kingfisher, what now seemed so long ago. Kell’s warriors always held a rope line when swimming, otherwise the trireme’s relentless pace would have quickly left them behind.
Mist surrounded the galley during the early morning horn’s. Mik wondered if this was some kind of natural effect, peculiar to the area of the ocean and the boat’s brass-coated construction, or if it was magic. Certainly the boat covered great distances in a very short time. Whether this was due to enchantment or to the dedication and training of the crew, Kingfisher’s former captain could not fathom.
Lord Kell treated his “guests” cordially that day, all save for Ula, whose gaze he avoided. Whispers among the galley’s crew told the fugitives that Lady Kell’s health remained in dire straits. Both Kell and the crew blamed Ula for this. “Unnecessarily brutal,” the crew whispered, but only when they thought the sea elf wasn’t listening. Mik suspected that the warriors applied different standards to “outsiders” than they did to the Order of Brass.
The dragon overflights continued during the second day. Most of the time the brass dragon watching them was Tanalish, Kell’s dragon escort. Once, though, Shimmer identified their “guardian” as Thrakdar-sponsor of the Order.
“Probably wondering what’s taking Kell so long,” Mik commented.
“I’m sure he wants his pet warriors back,” Ula said slyly. She glanced toward Kell, sitting in the triarch’s chair.
A quick-moving squall blew through that night. It tossed the galley about and smashed lightning into the sea far too close to the brass-scaled ship. Lord Kell watched the storm carefully, and the crew on deck worked without their usual brass armor.
The soaking annoyed Mik and his friends. Shimmer and Ula appeared not to notice or, at least, not to care.
“I expect they’re used to being drenched, living underwater,” Trip said.
Mik, Trip, and Karista huddled close together for warmth under their thin blankets that night.
A spectacular golden sunrise quickly dried them the next morning. They rowed for several more hours, until Lord Kell finally had the crew back oars, bringing the trireme to a halt.
“This isn’t Darthalla,” Ula said, scanning the ocean to the east.
“Darthalla would take us too far off our course,” Kell replied. “My sister is failing, and needs better attention than we can give her aboard ship. I will loan you a ship’s boat, and you and your companions may continue on your own. Darthalla is not far, and you should be able to row there by day’s end.”
“That wasn’t our agreement,” Ula said.
“It will serve for honor’s sake,” Kell said. “My sister’s welfare is of more concern to me, at this moment, than you are.”
“Will you be going to Jaentarth, then?” Shimmer asked.
“Our course beyond this point is not your concern.”
“Send Trip with us, then,” Mik said. “We’ll make sure that he gets to Alarl, if that’s your custom.”
Lord Kell gazed carefully at Mik’s bearded face, then shook his head. “I do not think that will serve,” he said. “I will take him to Perch on Alarl, as soon as my sister is tended to.” He turned to Ula once more. “If you like, I will send rowers with you, to ferry you to Darthalla.”
“The four of us can handle the oars,” Ula said. “Just the boat and some provisions will be fine.”
Benthor Kell nodded and motioned his men to make the skiff ready. They had the small boat provisioned and hanging over the side, ready to launch, in less than fifteen minutes. Trip stood at the rail, looking forlorn.
Mik kneeled down so he was face to face with his friend, and said in a low voice, “We’ll pick you up as soon as we can.”
Trip nodded and extended his hand for Mik to shake.
Mik pressed the diamond artifact into the kender’s palm. “Keep it safe until we come get you,” he said.
Trip’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Mik,” he said. “I won’t let you down.”
Mik stood and clapped him on the shoulder. He slung his leg over the rail and climbed into the boat with Ula. Shimmer followed him. Karista stood at the rail, glancing nervously from the tiny boat to Lord Kell, then back again.
Jumping forward, she drew her borrowed sword and, with one mighty swing, hacked through the ropes supporting the skiff.