The Seadrake in Danarchis

From the deck of the royal galleon Neela’s Favor, the new ruler of Danarchis, King Sephron, watched the descent of the sun beyond the horizon. Amongst the sun’s orange path over the waves, hundreds of fishing yachts trailed their nets behind them searching for hidden schools. War galleys, flying the Danarchan crest, drifted along the perimeter of the fishing fleet. The day had been a hot one and the crew appeared relieved at the cooling of dusk. Sitting lackadaisically at their posts, three sailors held sail lines and passed a decanter of Sel kai rum outside the view of the royal entourage. The crew and the royal servants slumped from heat and fatigue and either sat on crates or leaned against portions of the ship. A bard, who sat on the bow ramp, played his reed pipes quietly, keeping time with the rhythm of the waves.

The three Changrami monks, who stood erect around Sephron’s couch, appeared as rested as they had when they had stepped on to the ship during the early morning hours. The two Danarchan Changrami, a male and a female, stood one on each side of the king, their heads shaved except for the long braided topknot which ran from the back of their skulls across their shoulders and down the small of their backs. The third Lokarian Changrami towered behind King Sephron. He stood over nine feet tall; the swords at his belt appeared dwarfed against the size of his torso. All the monks wore the symbol of their station, red jerkins and kilts embroidered in gold with the arching dolphins of the Darnachan royal guard.

The great moon Orhan stood at its zenith. Its brother moon, Varin, hung low on the horizon and reflected the orange pallor of the sun. Sephron gazed at Orhan through the rigging of the main mast and pondered his gambit with Shaal. Much had been sacrificed so that the nets could be dropped on this day. In the influence of the two moons tides shifted this day like they would not do again in a years time. Millons of fish rose to hear the moon’s call. More importantly the breeds of fish that rose all had very valuable magical qualities. The skin of the Blue-backed Jimbala would guarantee one male offspring, eating the flesh of the Silver Razor Carp over an extended period would grant decades of longevity, the bones of Reef-Dwelling Yarals could be ground into an ointment and allow one to see miles down into the sea’s depths. Many had powerful healing properties. All were extremely sought for by the Sel Kai markets.

The only problem with Danarchis harvesting this rich bounty so close to it’s shores was the Law of Shaal. It was forbidden to drop nets on this day.

“My Lord.” The fishing fleet’s master sergeant Arland approached. His skin was darkly tan and weathered. He wiped his hands across the front of his tattered, black and red kilt. “The catch goes well. The seas are gentle and will remain so into the night.”

“Excellent. Surely Shaal drank well the sacrificial blood and has been appeased. He is smiling upon his Danarchan children.”

The royal advisors nodded and whispered their approval, but the sailors showed no such enthusiasm.

“If I may, my liege?” Arland interrupted.

“Speak Arland.”, Sephron spoke with irritation. “The sun has leeched away my patience for your feeble attempts at formality.”

“The appearance of the Seadrake still may occur. The day is sacred and…”

“Enough. Andorn is dead. He lived out his human years. The priests read his passing in the sea foam. It is written that Y’kin ships off the coast of Tanara flew the Sea Drake death banner years before I was born.”

The bard Hexil at the front of the ship stopped playing. “Tis true, I saw the flags with my own eyes when I was a child. In fact I wrote a verse on that sad day. I will sing it if you like.”

“Perhaps in a bit.”, smiled the King. Hexil groomed the saliva off his gray mustache with his fingers and resumed the sonorous notes of his bamboo pipes. “No Priest has been seen again. It is a legend now to be sang by bards and studied by Loremasters.”, dismissed Sephron.

“Yes my lord.” Arland bowed and started towards the back of the galleon.

“Arland,” the king called after the captain. “Relax. Shaal has been satisfied. Enjoy Neela cradling us in her bounty.”

The veteran seaman did not turn, but only responded, “Yes my lord.”

The king turned his attention to the Lokaran behind him. “Garath, are you not studying to become a Loremaster?”

“Yes,” a deep voice broke the Changrami’s hours of silence. He did not redirect his gaze away from scanning the horizon.

“What is your area of study?”, questioned the King.

“Drakes, my liege.” answered the Changrami.

“How beautifully fitting.”, laughed Sephron.

It was the Changrami Garath who first saw the moon lit sail come over the horizon. Immediately, the two other Changrami noticed the dark ship coming toward them and adjusted their stance. The ship was a single masted sloop of Jaiman design. Sailors ran to the side of the ship to gaze more closely at the on coming vessel. Arland called out orders to prepare the sails in case of crisis. Several of the war galleys jibed to intercept the craft, in their haste almost colliding with several small fishing yachts. As the ship closed Garath began to make out the design of the sail. It was a Drake, similar to many he had studied in the library at Nomikos. The dragon’s wings were outstretched as if to take flight and it’s maw agape in a silent challenge. The movement of the wind caught in the sail as well as the glimmer of orange and white light from the brother moons gave the dragon sail life. It surely seemed at any moment the beast would leave the tethering of the mast lines and descend upon them. Suddenly the sail dropped and the ship halted several hundred feet away from the Neela’s Favor.

A single figure appeared on the bow of the ship. He looked out toward the royal galleon, dove into the sea and disappeared. When he arose, all were aghast to see that the man stood upon the waves. Where he stepped the area of the surface calmed and waves broke again as his feet moved away. Garath moved forward to the edge of the bow to shield the king from this threat as well as gain a better look at the figure’s appearance. Through the darkness the identity of the man was not clearly defined, but the man struck Garath as being human. He had a small beard and auburn hair. In his hand he used a long glaive as a walking stick to steady himself through the waves. That instant it struck Garath that this man appeared as a simple shepherd would, showing no more care or concern as one gathering his flock in for the night. This made Garath even wearier and he put his hands on the hilts of his swords.

Sephron came to the railing and the figure halted. “I am King Sephron of Danarchis, Disciple and Servant of Shaal. I…”

“You are a manipulator of Shaal, no servant,” the man interrupted. “Do not mock me with your false titles. Do not speak again, but listen, and I will forestall Shaal’s wrath long enough for you to return to Artha.”

The figure drew the tip of his glaive blade across the water as he spoke.

“You have cut into the lifeblood of Shaal with blades of greed and pride, so shall your favor with the sea be festered until this day is held once more in sanctity. Use well that which you have pilfered on this night, for no more will be taken. I am the SeaDrake. On this night I am Shaal’s messenger. The next time my sails are seen in Danarchis I will be the Destroyer.” The figure suddenly dropped into the water and vanished. A large tail of some unseen creature splashed once and was gone. A moment later the figure reappeared at the stern of his ship. The sails of the SeaDrake raised and the sloop turned and sailed back in the direction in which it came.

Garath looked back upon Sephron. The king’s face was held in horror. It had lost all the color gained from the day outing in the sun.