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The Pyandonea Expedition, Continued
After Neramo set the lizard bull on fire, the trident-wielding monstrosity charged. The Wereshark ordered us back onto the shoals, where the lizard beast's footing became treacherous. The Snowclaw twins filled the beast with arrows but could not bring it down, and I wished desperately for some of Hard-Scales's deadly poison. That's when Vimy sprang into action, sprinting so fast I could hardly follow.
The beast swung at her with its trident, but Vimy slid under the strike and vaulted herself onto its back with no more effort than mounting a horse. Moments later the lizard bull had knives sticking out of both eyes. Blinded, all it could do was roar and swing its trident as Neramo set it once more aflame.
With a fierce cry, the Wereshark called us to action. He and the Snowclaw twins fell upon the beast with axe and blade as I called down spells to aid and heal them from afar. Blinded, burning, and exhausted, the beast fell, but not before a blind swing tossed Baldor Snowclaw across the beach. Fortunately, the blow only hit his head, the hardest part of a Nord, and I ensured he didn't bleed for all that long.
Beast dealt with, the Wereshark ordered us to search the huts one last time. We found absolutely nothing of value, just those egg shell fragments, and so the Wereshark wisely ordered us back to the boats. The growling hadn't stopped, which meant more massive lizard bulls lumbered through the trees.
An island filled with empty huts and lizard bulls was not the place to risk our lives. There were other pearls to be clutched. We returned to the beach to await the others, and when we reached it, we found an army of glistening Sea Elves. They surrounded our boats and had Hard-Scales, Bugnose, and the Cliff Racer survivors hostage. I learned later the cat-hating bastards gutted One-Eyed Bahzi for sport.
Cloaked from view, the Wereshark took our counsel. We couldn't leave Hard-Scales and Bugnose in chains, and besides, the Sea Elves had our ships. A Maormer warship was just visible anchored between the Pale Spirit, the Silver Arrow, and open sea, which would hinder our escape even if we did manage to somehow return to them. After a moment of consideration, the Wereshark made his decision. We would "negotiate."
He ordered us to wait in the shadows and to attack only if he shouted "Stendarr's Blood!" Understand, dear reader, we are pirates, and all pirates know the fate of one taken by Sea Elves. Any of us would gladly embrace a death gutting those knife-ears over being carved up as a storm sacrifice. If the Sea Elves refused to negotiate, the Wereshark promised, more than a few of them would be floating home.
The moment the Wereshark announced himself, over four dozen Sea Elves drew blades and bows and turned to him, milky eyes wide, but my captain sauntered toward them as if strolling down any crowded street in Abah's Landing. He kept his hands visible and away from his sword hilts, and the Sea Elves let him come. No doubt Hard-Scales had told them of our captain's many exploits, as instructed.
When they moved to disarm him, the Wereshark made no protest as they removed his swords, and then the daggers from his boots, and the dagger from his belt, and those up his sleeves. That was when the slimmest of the Sea Elves, a pale-faced fool in golden armor that glinted in the sun, approached my captain and backhanded him across the face. The Wereshark spit at his feet and grinned wide.
I glanced at Vimy, who rolled her eyes. Not a good start to the negotiations. Mighty Flicka chose that moment to charge from the forest with her Nords, all howling like a pack of enraged welwas.
Eight trident-swinging lizard bulls rushed the beach after them, chased by a gleeful Galena Two-Scars.