Daemon Gates Trilogy 03 - Hour of the Daemon by Warhammer

Author:Warhammer [Warhammer]
Language: spa
Format: epub
Published: 2011-06-03T13:17:29+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

'THIS IS DOTTERNBACH.' Widmer coughed and swung the wheel hard, and the Flying Trout did a strange sideways skip across the water, coming to rest against a long rough-hewn pier. He tossed a thick rope, the loop at the end passing neatly over the nearest raised piling, and then nodded towards the collection of rough shacks, huts, and small hovels clustered just beyond the pier. 'This is as far as I go.'

Dietz peered at the village suspiciously, but that didn't stop him from leaping onto the pier the second the boat stopped moving. His legs buckled slightly, trying to compensate for a roll and pitch that was no longer there, which surprised him, since he never would have expected to grow accustomed to being on the water. Accustomed and accepting were, of course, two very different things. He was delighted to be back on solid ground once more, or at least on a row of thick planks leading to solid ground.

'Not very big,' he said finally, scanning the village again. That was an understatement. Under other circumstances,

Dietz would have called the rude collection of buildings an extended hamlet, and moved on without a backward glance. Alaric nodded behind him, clambering onto the pier. They had little enough to carry, just a pack each, and had gathered those things up this morning when Widmer had announced they'd soon be reaching their stopping point.

'It's not,' the captain agreed, stepping onto the pier beside them. 'Not much up this far to make people want to settle here.'

'You're sure you can't take us any farther?' Alaric asked, and Dietz stared at him, wondering if his employer were addled again. Did he actually want to get back on that watery deathtrap? Fortunately, Widmer shook his head.

The river narrows just past here,' he explained. '1 could sail the Trout up another hour or so, but then I'd have no way to get her back without beaching her and turning her by brute force.' He grinned. 'And she's heavier than she looks.'

'Of course.' Alaric reached into his purse and extracted five gold coins. 'Five gold crowns, as promised, and our thanks.'

Widmer took the coins carefully, his expression showing he was not used to dealing with such sums, then extended a callused hand. 'You've been decent enough, lads,' he told them gruffly. 'If you ever need to sail this river again, I'll take you.'

That'll never happen,' Dietz assured him, but he shook the man's hand anyway. Widmer was a crazy old man, and Dietz, for one, couldn't wait to get away from the grizzled old river captain. Still, despite its strange appearance and bizarre locomotion, the Flying Trout had got them this far safely, even if he still felt as if he'd never slept properly or been able to keep food down for long. 'Good luck to you.'

'Where will you go now?' Alaric asked, clasping the captain's hand after Dietz had released it.

'Oh, back down towards Nuln' Widmer replied, scratching at his beard. 'Mayhap I'll stop off and see Gerta again on the way, for food and sleep.

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