The drake thrashed about, spitting bolts of red lightning and snapping at the crew as the hot sting of bullets bounced off its scaled hide. When the first volley subsided, the drake leaned back on its hind legs to swipe with fore claws. Realizing the small annoyances were outside its grasp, the beast sniffed the air experimentally, tensed, then lunged at the largest knot of them — only to find its left foot tangled in the steel mesh of the starboard lightning net. Anger turned to surprise, then to panic when the drake realized it was securely caught. Frantically it jerked, tore and clawed at the mesh, until finally the rope that had kept the mesh stowed, gave way. With renewed vigor, the drake stalked forward onto the deck in search of the closest crew, dragging the ruined steel mesh behind it.

“What be the beastie after?” Mr. O’Fallon called out over the storm.

Krumer reloaded his sidearm, “If it were food, there is easier prey than a ship. However, this could be its hunting grounds.”

“Supposedly they kin be hearin’ the buzz o’ the lightning in the batteries an’ it be aggravatin’ them.”

“Tall tales,” the first mate scoffed. “If that were true, there would be drake attacks all along the shipping lanes.”

“Either way it’s a threat to the crew and ship,” Hunter declared flatly. “Cannon will get rid of it, but the body would tangle up things worse. Pistol and rifle shot will chase it off or kill it eventually but it’ll make a mess of the rigging by then.” He looked at his first mate, “Krumer, get one of those Daniell cell barrels up here.”

Krumer gave Hunter a measuring look before he spoke, “Right away captain.”

“Be havin’ a plan Cap’n?”

“That I do. It’s a bad one more’n likely, but I’m all out of good ones.”

“Well, at least it’ll be interestin’.”

Moments later, Krumer shoved one of the brass and rubber barrels up through the cargo hatch to Hunter and O’Fallon. The two men dropped the barrel to the deck while Hunter waved a hand at a storage locker near the quarterdeck’s steps.

“O’Fallon, haul out a length of rope from storage. We’re going to use this to knock that drake loose and maybe knock some of the fight out of her.”

“Aye!”

Hunter turned his eyes back to the drake while it shook its head angrily at another volley of pistol shot. For a moment, a stray thought nagged at him. He frowned, trying to remember what it was, but it eluded him. He wiped a sheen of rainwater from his eyes as Krumer emerged from below.

“Krumer, that vampire we tossed ashore, Broggins. Did anyone get a look at that ‘personal’ cargo he had?”

“Not I.”

Just then, O’Fallon raced back across the deck through the driving wind and rain.

“O’Fallon! What of you? Get a look at that odd cargo we got fined for supposedly having?”

“Tha’ damn vampire’s? Nae so to be recallin’ it, but Ah be rememberin’ a peculiar symbol stamped on the small crate. Looked mostly smudged but Ah could be makin’ it out in part. It looked tae be a bow an arrow on a compass.”

Captain Hunter swore viciously. “Wayfinder’s Guild. Among all else they do, they study unusual creatures, like lightning drakes.”

Krumer and O’Fallon exchanged a confused glance while Hunter shook his head in disgust.

“Damn that man, I bet he did. Well, never mind all that, I’ll explain later. Now tie me off, I’ve got to get that barrel close to that drake. Once close, I’ll cut the lines that have the mesh fouled to its leg. Krumer, hold fast the rope; and O’Fallon, shoot the barrel at one of its connections, once the drake is free and the barrel close by. It’ll spark and that’ll make the drake spit lightning. That much lightning at once will blow that barrel sky high and hopefully knock the beast free.”

O’Fallon looked shaken at the idea, but nodded nonetheless. “Aye, Cap’n.”

“I should go.”

“Krumer, we don’t have time to argue. I need your strength here keeping this rope secure. Of the three of us, you’re the strongest. O’Fallon is the better shot.”

The first mate turned that idea over and found he liked it no better than he did the first time. When he could not come up with an alternative, he frowned, and then lashed one end of the rope to the mast and the other end to Captain Hunter.

“Spirits watch you.”

“I hope so; I’ll take any help I can get.”

The sound of screams and the snapping of wood stopped the conversation short. Across the way, the drake snapped at the ship’s gunner, a stout dwarf named Flick, whose aim with his twin Colt pistols was too close for the drake’s comfort. It missed the dwarf by inches but not the mast, which took a sizeable crack as payment. Angered at missing the small figure, the drake sidestepped and shook loose rainwater from its hide. The motion rippled along and was just enough to dislodge the steel mesh from the reptile’s leg.

“It’s free! We’re out of time!”

Tags: Brass Griffin, Red Lightning, Steampunk