Then a giant scaly head rose above the boat. For moment, Darcy could only think that a dragon had somehow come after him, but the long sinuous neck of it told him otherwise. This was a sea serpent.
Horror rose in his throat as a giant tail coiled around the other side of the boat. This was the end. He was going to drown in the Channel, his mission over before it had begun. He would never hold Elizabeth in his arms again, never meet their child.
She would never even know what happened to him. Nor would the War Office.
This was one place where magery could not help him. Neither an illusion nor invisibility could keep him from drowning – but was there a chance he could get word out? He slipped his hand into his inner pocket and rubbed the dragon scale between his fingers. It was the wrong time. Elizabeth was no doubt asleep, but he had nothing left to lose.
Simple. Keep it simple. And so he sent the very image before his eyes, the sea serpent looming over the boat. But there was no connection, no sense of Elizabeth at the other end. He redoubled his efforts. If this was the last thing he would ever do, he might as well use all his power.
The giant head swung in his direction. Huge, gold-ringed eyes shone in the moonlight, seeming to stare straight into him with a piercing curiosity. Had it sensed what he was doing? Or could it smell the dragon scale?
Lady Amelia had said the serpents were cousins to the dragons. Darcy scrambled to his feet, pulling energy through his link to Pemberley and sending it towards the serpent.I am a friend to dragons.Images of Elizabeth and Cerridwen. Of himself in the Nest, of his meeting with the Eldest. He held up the dragon scale with one hand.
A familiar hypnotic sensation entered into his urgent fear, like the time when the dragon had read his thoughts. This time Darcy opened his mind wide, showing anything that could possibly convince the giant creature to spare him.
I come to stop Napoleon, who forces the dragons to fight, who has made serpents attack ships.
Bafflement. Perhaps the serpent did not speak English? He tried again in French, with no better results.
The timbers of the ship creaked loudly around him, the crew shouting in despair.
Darcy gave up on words and scrambled to put his plan into images. Napoleon. Wanting to protect the dragons. His determination to stop the carnage.
Approval flowed toward him. The serpent understood. Darcy took the first deep breath he had managed since the creature had appeared, but water was already rushing into the ship. Once more he held up the scale, even more desperately.
Then the captain shouted, “Stop him! He is in league with the beast!”
Pain exploded in his head and all that was left was darkness.
Darcy awoke to a pounding headache, as if artillery were firing inside his brain. His eyes refused to focus. He was somewhere dim, his back resting on something hard and uneven. As his vision gradually improved, he made out the walls of what seemed to be a cave, one whose walls reflected a rainbow of colors and an odd green glow.
At least he was not underwater. Or drowned.
He remembered the sea serpent. His dragon scale – what had happened to it? He had been holding it in his hand. Was it now at the bottom of the Channel? Had he lost the one tie he had to Elizabeth and England before he even had a chance to use it?
Desperately he reached for it, but it was not in his pocket, nor in the leather bag hung around his neck. Every movement hurt, but he forced himself to sit up and feel the rock around him. And then he saw it, gleaming, beside his boot.
He grabbed it and held it tightly, its warmth reassuring. But now his head was swimming as well as stabbing with pain. Then a rush of magic scoured through Darcy, making him break out in a sweat.
Suddenly his head no longer hurt, and he could see clearly. He reached back to touch the back of his head. There was not even a bruise there.
What had happened? Where had that power come from? Darcy struggled to his feet and turned in a slow circle. The chamber he was in appeared to have only one exit, but if this was like the dragon Nest, there was no telling what might be an illusion.
He had to find an exit so he could complete his mission. And then a way to escape from France afterwards, now that the smugglers were no longer an option for returning to England. But he was alive, which was more than he had expected when the serpent had crushed his ship. He even still had his satchel, for what little good that would do him.
He set off into the next chamber. It was no different, but the following one was filled with deep pools of water separated by a wide pathway. The air was fresh, with a slight breeze, not cold and dank as he would have expected. His footsteps echoed in the empty space.
The third chamber was different. Not in appearance, though it was darker, and he struggled to see the far end, but in its presence, heavy, weighted with magic, and deeply familiar. He had sensed something similar in the Nest, in the presence of the Eldest.
It was like dragon magic, but with a different flavor, like the tang of sea air. And it was full of grief.
A giant figure waited in the back. Its head rose above a coiled body, part of which rested in a pool of water.Who are you, friend of dragons?
So this sea serpent could use words, unlike the one on the boat.
Yes. I chose to bond to human sailors so I could exploreall the seven seas.
Had the serpent heard his unspoken question? And how could he answer without either lying or revealing his name? “I am an Englishman, traveling to France. My wife is a dragon companion, and I am descended from other dragon companions.”
