Dragonlance: Dragons of a New Age, Book 01 - The Dawning of a New Age by Jean Rabe

Author:Jean Rabe [Rabe, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7869-2842-2
Publisher: Fanversion Publishing
Published: 2015-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Shortly after midnight, the storm suddenly caught up with Flint’s Anvil.

Shaon tied herself to the wheel, both to keep herself from being tossed over the side, and to make sure there would be someone steering. Rig worked the sails, which were alternately billowing and sagging from the erratic wind. The masts, groaning in protest from the constant battering, threatened to snap.

Dhamon and Blister were on the lines. Roused from below decks by the excessive yaw and pitch of the ship, they did their best to follow Rig’s instructions, but the howling wind often drowned out the mariner’s orders and they had to guess at his words.

The rain disguised Blister’s tears, as the kender closed her gloved hands about a broken line and tried to draw it taut. The rope, like everything and everyone else on deck, was slippery with salt water. It resisted her efforts. Needles of hot and cold pain pulsed into her wrists and up her arms, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Move! she commanded her fingers. No matter how much it hurts, please, please move! At last she was rewarded—and punished. An agonizing jolt shot from her fingertips into her spine, but her hands held firm—and she was able to tie off the errant line.

The waves surged high and encompassed the bow of the ship, threatening to pull the Anvil to the bottom. Blister wrapped her arms about the base of the capstan as another wave washed across the deck. She winced as she had to move her fingers to seek a better grip. She wished she could huddle below deck as she had done during their voyage through the Gale, but she knew she was needed.

Feril scrambled up to the deck just as a breaker cut across midship. The water struck her and sent her skidding to the port side. She flailed about, trying to find anything to grab onto, before her fingers closed about a length of rope. Another wave buffeted her, and the rope flew from her grasp and whipped her face. She felt herself being pushed across the deck, and her back slammed hard against the railing. Air rushed from her lungs, and a sensation of dizziness swept over her. She locked her arms around a spoke in the rail. Again the water pounded her, but she managed to hold on, barely conscious.

From somewhere ahead, toward the bow of the ship, she thought she heard a cry. It was so difficult to pick out the words amid the howling wind and snapping sails.

Then she felt the Anvil list, and she had to concentrate on her own survival. The ship lurched until it was nearly turned on its side, and the rail she was holding onto was practically riding on the water. She closed her eyes and coaxed a spell to mind—words that would trigger an enchantment to let her breathe water. But the waves lashing her broke her concentration, and she gagged on the salt water that filled her mouth.

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