SINGED

We sailed into an archipelago and for days there was not a candle in which we were not in sight of islands, some little more than sand bars, others much larger, taking days to navigate.

The air was thick and moist, the sun, when it rose, was merciless and the water upon which we proceeded, transparent. At times, it seemed we floated on air, as we passed over deep grottoes of crimson coral, teeming with rainbow schools of fish, sparkling, as they coursed beneath us, like sunken treasure.

Periodically, we saw movement in the dense foliage of passing islands.

Sal frowned. “We are being watched,” he said.

That night, I stood with the Captain, overlooking the prow, watching the water and watching her. She stared back through her dark locks, smiling faintly.

“We are almost to our destination,” she murmured.

“I am in no hurry,” I replied, and her laughter was like chimes tinkling in the breeze.

“It seems a long time coming for me,” she said. “A very long time.”

“Why do I only see you at night?” I asked. “If I could see you in the day as well I would be content.”

Her stare became intense and it seemed she would tell me some terrible or wonderful secret, but her gaze wandered.

“At our journey’s end, you will see me in the light of day,” she promised after a moment, but she was distracted now, pensive.

It seemed she would say more but turned to look out over the waves instead.

“Then it cannot end soon enough,” I said.

Two full moons lit the sky, causing twilight to linger on through the night. Moonlight reflected on the silver water, outlining the waving palm fronds of a distant island. The sound of the waves lapping against the hull had a hypnotic quality.

I watched her turn, a frown touching her lips. She continued to gaze out over the water, searching the waves.

“Something is coming,” she said, turning back to me, the timbre of her voice rising.“Sound the alarm!”

I rushed to do her bidding, ringing the great brass bell of the watch until I heard the thunder of the crew’s feet pounding up from the hold. Lanterns blazed as the ship came alive. Men clambered into the rigging and weapons glittered in the moonlight.

“Off the starboard bow,” a shout came from above.

At first, I saw nothing. The breeze was faint and warm, and the waves it coaxed from the surface of the deep were slight, defined only by moonlight and stars. Then something sliced through the predictable cadence of the surf, altering it. Something sleek and subtle cut through the dark waters. There, and there it was again. Its presence only revealed by the displacement of the waves.

I strained to comprehend what was rushing toward us, just beneath the surface. The water, which was so clear in the light of day, was clouded by the shadows of night, and made opaque by the reflections of the moons dancing on its surface.

The crew pointed and shouted to each other. As great crossbows were secured along the railings, winches drawing corded drawstrings taught, with barbed spears at the ready, I became aware of what was upon us, and my heart leaped into my throat.

I had not realized the pattern of the watery revelations because I had not focused on a wide enough swath of sea. When I stepped up onto the stairs, the immensity of the beasts became clear. They snaked back and forth like colossal adders, their bulk still mostly hidden as they dipped in and out of the waves. As much of the great serpents were concealed at any given time as was exposed by the silvery moonlight. They undulated, water streaming from their coils as they surged above the swells of the sea, then plunged back beneath its surface, and far off to the side, another coil would rise.

I had misconstrued the mystery movements as a herd, but in truth, there were only two. They rose before us, water cascading down, rushing to reunite with the sea, dark and shining, eyes glowing like great moss-covered lanterns. Advancing, they divided the water with the sharpness of blades.

The crew shouted, surged forward, spears bristling along the gunwales. When the serpents were just outside the range of the ballista though, they veered, one to starboard, the other to port. Salthrust up his hand.

“Aim at their eyes once they are in range. Fire on my mark!” he shouted.

The serpents did not make us wait. I am not sure of their motivation in separating, perhaps to surround us or to disperse the concentration of our barrage, suggesting they were experienced in assaulting vessels. Once they reached opposite sides of the ship, they turned back towards us and dove.

I accepted a harpoon, moving with the others to the rails. The serpents were submerged just beneath the surface, rushing towards us preceded by a great swell, like the bow of an invisible ship. Dimly, beneath the briny drink, their eyes shone, unblinking.

“Wait until they sound,” Sal called.

I stood, frozen, spear half raised as I stared. An undeniable kinship with our attackers swelled in my heart as the sea swelled and boiled with their assault. These were water drakes, one of the closest relatives of Great Wurms, although, a mature Great Wurm in its true form would rival the size of drakes. Though they were just beasts, having failed to receive whatever blessing gave Great Wurms their vast intelligence, I could not help but wonder if we shared the same basic instincts and urges.

Yet dragons are not sentimental. I could feel territorial instincts that we perhaps shared supplanting any empathy I felt for my cousins. They threatened my ship, my crew and my Captain. Dragons do not negotiate. They take what they want, even from each other, especially from each other.

I looked upon the unblinking lantern eyes with a growing dread. They were indeed dumb animals, without a flicker of recognition in those great pale orbs as they rose to strike, pupils dilated with hunger. They did not see us as a threat. They came to feed.

In my current form, I seemed not even an annoyance, much less a threat. They did not know what I was or care. My growing terror, however misdirected, considering the dire straits into which we sailed, came from my dawning awareness of how primitive the simple minds were ofmy closest relatives. As intimidating as their size might be, they were little more than giant lizards.

What change had occurred within my species to transform the great wurm into the Great Wurm? Why were we, alone among dragon kind, the sole possessors of intellect? Yet I had no more time to reflect. My precious spark of enlightenment was about to be snuffed out by my dimwitted relations.

“Fire!” Sal cried, and fiery javelins lanced out across the dark waters.

The water drakes evaded the flaming barbs, which fell, hissing, into the waves. Slow witted though they may be, they were swift to respond, weaving back and forth between the waves, their sleek bodies cutting effortlessly through the water. They changed direction with startling speed, dodging this way and that, and ever they drew nearer, despite the circuitous route.

Why were they attacking? Water drakes are not man eaters by nature. Great Wurms are more likely to feed on men than drakes. Fisherman, I knew from the memories I had borrowed, follow the burbling call of water drakes in the early morning before the sun rises. They are said to be good luck and promise a bountiful catch. This direct assault was unnatural. Something had happened to condition them to attack a ship.

Instinctively, I looked beyond the drakes, scanning the shoreline of the nearest isle. Something flashed in the tree line. Yes, something, or someone, was controlling them, I was sure of it. I looked at the Captain, but she looked through me her eyes wide and distant.

Then the first serpent was upon us, its long neck rising out of the sea like a mammoth diving bird. Perhaps the likeness was why they are called drakes instead of wurms, I thought, adrenaline isolating my thoughts, causing detached ruminations, even as my taught muscles prepared to leap into action. It struck like a viper, snatching a sailor, screaming, from the deck, shaking him like a dog would a rabbit, instantly snapping his neck. His scream ended abruptly.

The drake attempted to swallow his limp, broken body whole as several blazing spears finally found their mark, piercing its slick, shining skin in a cluster. It recoiled, as I threw myself after it, with harpoon extended, over the rail. I watched, in a slow-motion trance, as its green luminescent eyes oriented on me, still descending beneath me, as it escaped into the dark waters with the remains of my crew mate dangling from its mouth.

“My crew,” I growled.

The impact vibrated through my arm and shoulder, as I drove the harpoon into its left eye, causing the glowing orb to go dark, as the water closed over me, enfolding me in its cool embrace. The drake was plunging into the depths, drawing me with it, as I clung to the shaft of the harpoon. Its massive tail whipped past me in the gloom, I could feel the shock wave of its passing. For a moment, I thought it had lashed out at me and missed, then I realized it was propelling itself backwards like a giant lob-claw.

I was being pulled into the depths, but I knew if I let go, the drake would snatch me in the darkness and reunite me with my lost mate. would snatch me in the darkness and reunite me with my lost mate.

The drake was only a spear length away in the shadowy waters, vaguely illuminated by the dim glow of its remaining eye, but I wasn’t afraid. I was hunting. I had it. It would not escape. It was my prey and I would not let it go.

I waited, though my lungs ached like they would burst. The moment it slowed to turn, to strike, or to dislodge me, I do not know which, I surged forward with a mighty kick, thrusting with all my strength against the spear shaft. I felt it slice deeper into the impaled orb of the drake’s eye.

The drake’s neck extended, jaws snapping with a force that nearly shook me loose of the spear, but it was only a spasm, as its whole body went rigid, then, slowly went limp. Its remaining eye dimmed further and went out, leaving me in complete blackness.

Just like that, it was dead. It was sinking away into the depths, its dense flesh drawing it to the bottom. Finally, I let go, kicking up through the dark currents which had grown warm with my exertion, until I burst, gasping, through the surface, amid the glassy swells

I was halfway to the isle from which I had seen the flashing light. I turned back, propelling myself with powerful strokes, kicking off my boots, which had become an impediment. from which I had seen the flashing light. I turned back, propelling myself with powerful strokes, kicking off my boots, which had become an impediment.

The ship blazed with light and, as I drew nearer, I could tell it was burning. In the chaos, the sails had caught fire. More flames leaped up from the deck below. I gasped. Things had gone horribly wrong.

The other drake could be seen, its long neck and spear shaped head darting, snake like, amid the glow of the flames. It had heaved its great hulk part way up onto the deck and the ship was listing dangerously to port, rigging hanging in disarray from the mast arms.

I redoubled my efforts, thinking only of the Captain. Bits of flotsam and jetsam became visible, bobbing in the water. There were faint shouts and I could see torches being thrust up at the sea serpent out of a veil of smoke obscuring the decks as I drew near.

There was something floating in the water near me. I could see pale silk in the moonlight, clinging to slender arms which limply embraced the sea. A tangle of dark hair drifted, awash in the waves. I rolled her over, supporting her head, and sighed when she choked up a mouthful of brine, gasping, eyes fluttering open for a flicker of a flame, but she was barely conscious.

I grabbed a splintered wooden beam, part of a railing, and gently wrapped her arms about it to buoy her up but she was too disoriented to hold it. When it slipped from her grasp, she flailed for it feebly, sinking beneath the waves until I took her again in my arms. I held her, watching as the serpent, heaving against the main mast, separated it from the hull with an ominous crack like thunder. Its lamp like eyes seemed to turn balefully towards us but there were victims aplenty between here and there.

I had been fortunate in dealing with the first drake. I would be a fool to confront this one as I drifted in the water with it towering above me on the deck, and I could not leave the Captain. She would slip forever beneath the waves without me to hold her.

I laid back, supporting her head on my chest, and began to backstroke away from the sinking vessel, towards the shadowy isle, with one arm. It was almost amusing as I struggled not to paddle in circles. After a time, she could cling to me, freeing my other arm to right our course. Still the going was slow.

The moons traversed the sky as we crawled away from the devastation. I watched as the ship foundered and sank. Finally, both the vessel and the serpent vanished into the sea.

Until then I had come to relax somewhat. The ocean was warm and the waves mild. My endurance was much greater than a mortal. Even though I carried the weight of two and the distance to the isle was further than it seemed, I was almost enjoying the swim until I realized I no longer knew where the serpent was. When it had been lingering to finish off the ship I could make out its long swaying neck above the burning wreckage. Now it could be anywhere.

Surely it was sated. Had it not devoured half the crew? Time slowed so that each heartbeat seemed an eternity. I began to imagine shadowy movements beneath us, phantom fluctuations in the currents. Could there be other starving serpents searching for scrapes? Might there not be sharks and other things better left unmentioned teeming hungrily below? There was blood in the water from the carnage.

It was with great relief that I heard waves crashing on a distant beach and, as the sky grew pale with the coming dawn, we reached the shore. I carried her clutched in my arms up onto the soft sand, stumbling with weariness. There I laid her down and, collapsing beside her, fell into a deep sleep.