Damien sat in the front of the ship, a conjured fishing pole in his hands, the breeze blowing through his hair. Instead of bait he’d conjured a little viewing sphere and connected it to the rod by a thin line of soul force. It wasn’t really fair to the fish. Whenever he spotted one on his viewing rectangle he sent a blast of soul force through the line. It was a simple matter to pull the dead fish up on deck where the ship’s boy would grab it and run it down to the galley.

Damien spent long hours each day pulling enough fish from the ocean so everyone on board could enjoy a fresh meal at supper time. His generosity had kept the crew in a good mood, but no one would talk to him. He suspected the captain had told them to keep their distance.

Over the snap of the canvas came a creak from the deck boards behind him. Damien glanced over his shoulder to find Captain Velco striding up the stairs to the little raised platform where he sat. Today the captain wore billowing pants that appeared to be made of sail cloth and an unbuttoned leather vest that displayed his hairy chest. Damien shuddered and wished he had a traveling companion as attractive as Lane or better yet Lizzy, to keep him company.

“Having any luck today?” Velco asked.

“I’m halfway through the day’s catch. In my wildest dreams I never imagined this was how I’d be spending my name day.”

“Happy name day. You’re in for a treat. We’re far enough out to sea now. As soon as the lookouts spot a pod of whales we’re going to start the hunt.”

Thank all the angels in heaven. Though it wasn’t his place Damien needed to try one last time. “Are you certain you want to go through with this? I’ve seen what a dragon can do. If your sorcerers have miscalculated you might get everyone killed.”

“Including you?”

Damien smiled at the implication that he was scared. “No, not including me. I intend to fly a safe distance away from the ships when you start your mission. I’m here to watch, not commit suicide.”

“Have no fear, my young friend. Everyone knew what they were getting into when they signed up for this voyage. I have a strong crew and I trust my sorcerers. Rest assured the dragon will die.”

Damien nodded. He’d tried his best. Whatever happened now was on Velco’s head.

“She blows to starboard!” the lookout shouted from up in the crow’s nest.

Stolen story; please report.

Damien absorbed his rod and looked left. The ocean looked smooth and calm right up to the horizon.

Beside him Velco chuckled. “Starboard’s the other way.”

Damien turned right just as a white spout sprayed into the air followed a second later by a tail twice as wide as he was tall. He’d seen drawings of whales, but they paled in comparison to the reality of the beasts.

Shouts from the crew distracted Damien from the display. Sailors ran around gathering supplies. Two of them carried twelve-foot harpoons, their razor-sharp tips gleaming in the sun. Sixteen men piled into two boats a quarter of the size of the whales they meant to hunt. While he didn’t think much of the brains of anyone that willingly signed up to hunt a dragon he couldn’t fault the sailors’ courage.

Velco clapped him on the back. “Sure you don’t want to go along? It’s quite a thrill.”

“No, thank you.”

Velco left him in the front of the ship and made his way back to the wheel, barking orders as he went. Damien extended his awareness out into the wider ocean. If the Leviathan was anywhere close he’d sense it.

The hunters had lowered their little boats and were pulling hard for the pod of whales. As they drew closer one man stood in the front of each boat, a harpoon ready in his hand. It looked like the boats were racing to see who’d reach the whales first.

One of the smaller whales—smaller being a relative term when speaking of hundred-foot-long animals—breached twenty feet from the lead boat.

The harpooner never hesitated. His harpoon flew true, piercing deep into the beast’s pebbly hide. The whale took off, towing the tiny boat along behind it like a toy, the sailors whooping and hollering as the spray blew over them.

At the rear of the Longshot Velco barked orders and soon they were in pursuit. The other ships of the flotilla maneuvered as well. It looked to Damien like they planned to circle the smaller boats with the big ones. Not wanting to get mixed up in whatever was about to happen Damien flew three hundred feet into the air above the ships. His position afforded an excellent view of the maneuvering vessels.

The whale stopped and the small boats rowed closer. The harpooner had a long slender spear in his hand. When the boat sidled up to the exhausted whale he thrust it deep into the beast’s head. The dying creature thrashed and its blood stained the water red. The harpooner continued to push his spear deeper until finally the whale stopped moving. A cheer went up from the men in the two boats.

A spark of corruption drew Damien’s attention away from the slaughter and over to the ships. At the front of three of the larger vessels, sorcerers stood with what looked like black jars held above their heads. A potent aura of corruption surrounded the jars. Those had to be the weapons they planned to use on the Leviathan, but what did they do?

A minute passed, then five, and still no sign of the dragon. Finally, the dead whale was dragged over to Velco’s ship and they began the process of rendering the animal’s fat into oil. A fire was started in the furnace on deck and when it was hot enough chunks of reeking blubber were fed into it. A roiling cloud of stinking black smoke soon wreathed the ships.

The smoke and stench distracted Damien and he lost track of the sorcerers. Before he realized they had moved, the sense of corruption had vanished. The jars must be back in their rooms behind whatever wards they used to keep Damien from sensing their demonic aura.

He needed to let the archmage know what was happening.