 Raid on Pyandonea, Book Two |
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| Added by | Tamriel Data | ||
| ID | T_Bk_RaidPyandoneaSHOTN_V2 | ||
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Most of their guests didn't have much to say. One was a drunk who had been wandering around the docks looking for whatever High Elves drink, one was in charge of numbers, or something, and had been speaking to the third captive, a sailor from one of the crystalline ships docked in the harbor. The fourth refused to speak at all, so he died first, thrown overboard to flail in the water, handless and hapless. The one in charge of numbers died second, for he knew nothing about Pyandonea, and the drunk died third, thrown overboard after telling the Atmorans some incoherent story about the Sea Elf King Orgnum marrying a princess from a city called Sunhold. The sailor was actually helpful, though, so he got to live the longest.
He spoke of the Sea Elf raids that came to the his Isles so often. He spoke of their ships with bug-sails and bug-hulls and serpent skin for rope. He spoke of their tactics, and of the many ways they were known to board ships, destroy ships from afar, and trick unwary Admirals. He spoke of the sea serpents themselves, who only came with the strongest of the Sea Elf fleets, the fleets led by Orgnum. In battle, the serpents would dive underwater and rise beneath High Elf ships, wrapping around them and crushing them. He told the Atmorans, too, of the mists that the Sea Elves commanded.
They conjured mists wherever they liked, cloaking ships and distracting enemies. They even had a Mist-Veil3, which cut their land from the rest of the world; it separated Pyandonea from the Isles, from the big continent, and even from the vague land called Aldmeris.
The Mist-Veil loomed ahead. It blocked any view of the true horizon, and stretched to the right and left farther than even Kehlet's eyes could see. It was impenetrable, impossible, colossal. With all their magic, the High Elves had never pierced it, and as of today, they never have.
The Atmoran fleet stayed its course, unshaken.
"Mist-Veil's ahead! Thu'um-Thanes, clear the skies and clear our path! Mumblers, mutter us some full sails, to compensate for the wind we're ripping out of them!"
And all the men on all the ships of Dreadmund's fleet heard his booming Thu'um, for the Thu'um was always the quickest way to relay orders to a [sic] an entire fleet, and they scrambled to obey. The muttering of his Mumblers became a babbling stream and the Thu'um-Thanes ran to the bow of each longboat and the ports and starboards of the fleet's sidemost and Thu'umed a chorus-like-thunder. As one, the great fleet cut into the Mist, and was soon engulfed by it. The Clear Sky Thu'ums warded off the Mist, lending the fleet a bubble of clear air and allowing the Atmorans some breathing room. The Atmorans pushed onward, with nothing but endless Mist in sight.
"We're coming out of this Mist!"
Dreadmund, aloft over the Snow Whale, looked overhead and saw the sky and sun for the first time since they had entered the Mist-Veil. Since then, the sun had climbed halfway to its zenith. He cast his eyes downward and saw it his objective just ahead. Pyandonea; hostile cliff faces jutting from the sea, each crowned by abundant green, jagged, unwelcoming rocks that warned sailors away and strange, obscuring mists that hid much of the land from sight. And speaking of sight, not a single safe harbor or kind beach was in sight. It looked like they'd have to do a little searching.4
Kehlet approached and echoed Dreadmund's thoughts. "Captain, shall we search for a place to drop anchor, and maybe establish an outpost?"
"Go ahead."
Kehlet rushed off, barking orders at the Snow Whale's crew. Dreadmund grinned. This land seemed hostile, but Dreadmund was certain that he could tame it, or at least some of it for a time, as he had so many other lands.
And then a fleet of strange ships shot from behind the closest islands. Their hulls, which were of myriad colors from blacks to greens to garish rainbows to yellows to whites, seemed to be the unbroken shells of massive beetles, and the sails seemed to be the wings of the same, a single pair of rising from the deck, straight up with a slight tilt. The decks were built of green-tinted wood, probably with rooms built of the same below deck. The rigging and other ropes were the white, tightly coiled skin of whatever sloughed off of the Pyandonean serpents, as the Sea Elf had told them. The fleet announced its presence with the bugling of Pyandonean trumpets, like a snake's hiss but sharper, shriller, piercing.
And then Dreadmund's grin became a smile, and his smile grew wider and wider until it became like that of a hungry shark, teeth long and sharp and ready to devour, and he laughed aloud. "Get ready for battle!"
The strange fleet - the Sea Elf fleet - was preceded by a vanguard of serpents of all colors, some mounted by elves, some not. The multihued glimmer of not only the scales of the serpents, but of the iridescent beetle-shell hulls and insect-wing sails of the ships, made the Sea Elf fleet seem as much a rainbow as a threat. The elves even wore bright, colorful dress, distracting the eye from the dismal pallor of their skin, as white as pure snow.
Suddenly, the line of serpents charged forward, ripping through the water.
One serpent, a blue one which matched the color of the sea and wore short, curved horns, sped ahead of the rest, spanning the distance between the fleets in the space of a hiccup. It dived under the waves, and a moment of eerie stillness passed before the creature shot up from the water, writhing and coiling itself around the Snow Whale two times over. It reared its head and bit at Dreadmund, who caught hold of its fangs, both twice the length of a horker tusk. Dreadmund tore out the right fang and used the other as a lever to push the serpent's head to the deck. He stomped his foot onto the creature's lower jaw to keep it steady and drove the serpent's loose fang into its right eye. It shrieked, shaking planks and weapons and teeth. Kehlet, with his Quick-Ears, passed out.
"Jahson, Hjaloc, Lunghaem, Savage! Chop this thing up while I've a hold on it, and clear the deck!"
They jumped at his command and began hacking. It spasmed against the deck, and tightened its grip on the Snow Whale in its pain. The ship groaned as the serpent shrieked again and again. They cut through where its coils came to the gunwale and the serpent's shrieks grew louder again, earsplitting and dizzying. As coil after coil was severed and pushed over the gunwale, the serpent's cries subsided. The last thing it saw was Dreadmund's horned shadow playing across the deck. Dreadmund shoved its now bodiless head off the deck.
The rest of the Atmoran fleet hadn't fared so well; though the blue serpent had been the swiftest, it certainly hadn't been the strongest. While Dreadmund and his crew had been fighting, the strongest serpents had been tearing apart ships, and even forcefully dragging them down.
But Dreadmund did not have time to help them. The Sea Elf fleet was fast approaching, and the groaning, injured Snow Whale turned to meet it.