SALAGAR THE GRIM

Chapter One

The Fast Sea
Year 4052 in the Era of Dagnir
Month of Mesc (High Winter)

"Galad," Malina groused yet again. "You are bucking like a new horse under the bridle. Stay still or I will bat your ear. And what is that horrible smell, almost like burning hair?"

I have to admit that I was in a panic. I had just witnessed something more than mere dream, but how and why? What magical portal had opened to let me witness a meeting between evil creatures? Was it Lalaith, Glawar, Ninniach, or the entire bunch? My mind was awhirl with possibilities when a sharp pain stopped all thought.

"I told you to stop heaving like a ship in a storm," Malina said, exasperation penetrating our bond. "That minor flick to your left ear is only a taste if you do not stop. I have braved giant Orod, ship eating creatures, and a seer that told us facts I would rather not know. The least you could do is lay still so that I can get a bit of rest!"

And there my love stood all five fingers of terrible fury. Her purple gossamer wings were rapidly fluttering as she hovered mere inches from my face. Her almond shaped violet eyes were narrowed in anger and her slender figure vibrated with a passion usually only seen when Ninniach waxed. She was about to relay a few more choice words when she paused and sniffed the air.

"By Glawar's magical fist," she exclaimed. "I smell magic Salagar. What happened to your hair, it looks as if it has been burned?"

I was about to respond when a fist began pounding on the stout oaken door leading to our cabin. With a curse that I had not before heard, Malina flew up into the air and screamed, "This had better be important or I am going to give you boils and bad breath to last your miserable life!"

The pounding only increased as did Malina's anger, a seemingly bottomless well swelling up from depths unknown. I could not blame her for we had been through much the past year and all she wished was a night of peace and rest. Before she could fly off and harm the unfortunate man that was relentlessly beating upon our door, I gently seized Malina in an attempt to stem her anger.

"My love," I whispered. "Do you not register the increased swell of the waves? I do believe there may be a good reason for the interruption. Please cease your ranting and put something on, I do not wish the entire crew to see your beauty."

She gave me a feral look and then her rage was gone, as if a candle had been snuffed by a stout breeze. She looked at me, sniffed, flew over to where she had left her silken shift, and covered herself.

"You can let the brute in now Salagar," she said. "I feel the change in the waves; we can talk about the stench in the cabin later." And with that she turned back to the bed and dug under the covers, creating a small nest so that she could continue her rest.

Sighing, I stood and hastily placed a shirt over my head, pants on my legs, and struggled into my magically enhanced boots. Thus accoutered, I moved to the door, which still resounded with fists and an occasional curse.

What I found when I finally opened the door was a disheveled Jared, hair plastered to his head and water dripping from his armor. The telltale blade I had given him those many months before, the Dwarven forged magical blade Numol Grum, was strapped to his back. I looked up at the man, who was seven spans in height, and smiled. He had become a close friend and confidant, his keen intellect balanced with a savage glee when in battle. His brown skin stood in contrast to the silver glint of metal surrounding his body, a suite of armor we had found in the late pirate Haggard's domicile. His expressive brown eyes showed a mixture of fear and something akin to glee.

"It is about time someone opened this door," he exclaimed. "Something is afoot Salagar and we must prepare. Barlow is worried, more concerned than when we braved the maelstrom. He wishes to see you forthwith."

"I see you have had little rest," I responded. "You look exhausted Jared. Have you not received a bit of rest since we left the Scythe?"

"It has only been a few hours since we braved the great barrier and made open water Salagar," he answered. "The swells began to increase only a short time ago and I thought to investigate. What with all that has happened in the past couple weeks, sleep eluded me and so I rose to see what was happening."

"Alright, let us seek out Barlow and see what has him worried." I said. "If he is concerned, then we should all be a bit anxious."

We strode to the poop deck where Barlow stood, near the great wheel, a perplexed look clouding his visage. I could see him conferring with the helmsman, who turned the wheel a bit to starboard and set his feet to hold the new course. Standing next to him was my good friend Perry, the wizard Daedre, and Iskandera. When I reached the deck and turned to Barlow, Perry gave me one of his lopsided grins.

"I reckon this Lalaith-blasted sea doesn't want to give us up just yet," He quipped. "Damn swells are so big now a Halfling can't get a right bit of sleep so I might as well stand here cold and wet instead of in my nice warm cabin."

I looked at my friend and could only smile. He had been a boon companion from the start. He had become a part of my life and I could not think of ever losing his friendship. There he stood, a crooked smile upon his lips, his blue eyes looking out from a lean and tanned face. As usual, his sun-bleached hair was in disarray, sticking up in random tufts.

"There is powerful magic afoot," pronounced Daedre, before I could send reply to Perry. "That storm cloud ahead is not natural, but was conjured by someone or something. I fear we are running into something that may kill us all."

I looked over at Daedre. She was standing next to Perry with a hand on his shoulder. They had come to an understanding not yet two weeks gone by and were now lovers, or so I surmised. I was happy for my friend and a better companion one could not find. She was a powerful wizard and brave as a wolf protecting her cubs. She was also a most beautiful woman, with intense blue eyes, a heart shaped face framed by long red tresses, and alabaster skin without wrinkle or blemish. Completing the ensemble was a long nose that was a bit crooked from a childhood accident.

"Magic you say," I asked. "The clouds do seem a bit foreboding, but sorcery? Who would have the power to create such a mass and right in our midst?"

"I know of no mortal that can conjure such a storm Salagar," she responded. "I have delved into the heart of the maelstrom and it is charged with magic, but of what type I cannot say. The taste and smell of it is strange, something I have never before encountered. I will attempt to provide strength to the ship, band the timbers with powerful strands, but it may not be enough to see us through."

At this last statement, her eyes lost focus as she stared far into the distance, directly into the massive cloud formation hovering before us.

I turned to say something to Barlow when a massive lightning bolt struck from the clouds, multiple strands hitting the roiling sea. A few seconds later, a concussive force rippled over the ship, a power wrought of nature that brought forth awe and a bit of consternation, if truth be told. When my eyes finally recovered from the intense light generated from the strike, Daedre was shaking her head in wonder. Her usually confident expression showed cracks, as would a favored dish used one too many times.