"It is a joke among humans that dwarves don't like to travel on the open sea," Skharr noted cheerfully. "And it’s interesting to see that a few rumors of your people still hold true in you."
"Fuck off."
He grinned and raised the sail. The dinghy moved faster than the barge and they sailed rapidly out of the delta toward the island, where the waves began to increase in size.
Skharr had been at sea in smaller craft before, but Brahgen didn't seem to react well to the way the dinghy was buffeted by the waves.
"Dwarves…were never meant…to be on water," the dwarf muttered and shook his head. His face had taken on an uncomfortable shade of green.
The barbarian could understand and so quelled the instinct to mock him for the moment, at least until they were on dry land.
The waters calmed somewhat as they approached the island, and as the sun continued to rise in the sky, it became more difficult to see it due to a thick mist that seeped slowly over the area. The wind calmed to the point where the sail no longer propelled them any farther, and with Brahgen still trying to keep his stomach contents down, it fell to Skharr to row them through the mist-covered waters.
Eventually, his companion recovered somewhat and his gaze flicked around to inspect their surroundings.
"I didn't see this mist when we were coming in," the dwarf commented after a while.
"Me neither. It might have been a reaction to our arrival."
"Magic?"
"Possibly. Or it could simply be that the island is plagued by mists coming in over the sea."
It wasn't a pleasant situation to be all but blind, but he still had a rough idea of where they were going, if only from the movement of the sea around them. They now approached dry land, and when he peered into the water, he could see the bottom rising gently with each stroke of the oars.
The dinghy stopped suddenly and he whipped around. It felt like they had struck a rock, and while the jagged edges they had hit might have seemed as hard as stone, it was suddenly clear that it was wood reinforced with steel.
He snapped his hands to his weapons, but he could see movement on the ship they had collided with and bows strung with arrows already pointed at them. The fact that they hadn't been fired at yet was an interesting development and it meant they needed to be incredibly careful how they acted over the next few minutes if they wanted to survive.
"Raise your hands and make no sudden movements," he told Brahgen quietly.
Contrary to his instruction, the dwarf leaned over the side of the boat and heaved loudly.
Skharr closed his eyes and waited for the twang of bowstrings that would indicate their imminent demise, but none came. Instead, a loud clanking was heard as hooks caught on the side of the dinghy and began to pull them around.
Once they were dragged to the port side of the ship, a rope was dropped for them.
"I don't think I can climb that," the youth declared weakly.
"I'll lift you," he answered and after a few attempts, he managed to heave the dwarf up the side without tipping the dinghy. The fact that he still couldn't hear any sounds of violence coming from those on the vessel meant they hadn’t encountered a tribe that intended to kill them out of hand.
He climbed up the rope, pulled himself carefully over the side, and immediately raised his hands to show no sign of aggression. There were at least a dozen crossbows pointed at both him and his companion, as well as numerous spears. The orcs on board looked larger than their kin from the deserts and wore garments in dark-green shades that almost helped them to disappear in the mist.
The ship itself was larger than Skharr had thought at first—at least twenty paces from bow to stern with oars positioned on the sides and a mast that was currently lowered along the deck. How they had managed to move so silently along the water was a mystery he had no time to ponder.
One of the orcs stepped forward. She was taller than her sailors and wore intricately designed mail armor. A sturdy steel helm also set her aside from the others, who mostly wore padded armor if they wore any at all.
She carried a heavy scimitar on her hip but it wasn't drawn when she approached and she tapped her tusks gently before she made a few quick gestures with her hands.
He narrowed his eyes as she repeated the series of motions.
"Are…are they speaking to us?" Brahgen asked.
"Yes. I think so. How did you know?"
"They look like the hand signals that imitate a spoken language." The dwarf grunted.
"Do you understand it?"
"More or…yes. She's asking us…I think why we are not…in fleet waters?"
Skharr tilted his head in some confusion before it became clear. Orcs didn't like to speak any of the common tongues since the words felt uncomfortable in their oddly shaped mouths. It appeared, however, that they understood what they were saying from the nods he could see from a handful of those who held the crossbows.
Not all, however.
"I think they have an agreement of some kind with the fishing villages," Skharr answered. "Fleet waters suggests the fishing fleets, which means these waters belong to them, yes?"
Another smattering of nods followed and the orcs grunted between themselves in their guttural language, likely translating what he had said to those who didn't understand the common tongue.
The chieftain made the gestures again and grunted firmly to demand an answer.
"We are not with the fishing fleet," the barbarian explained.
Her eyes narrowed and another series of gestures ensued.
"What is she saying?" He turned to Brahgen.
"She asks…if we were banished because of…the sick one? Do they think you're sick?"
The chieftain shook her head, pointed at the dwarf, and indicated in a way that even Skharr could understand to refer to his small stature and the fact that he threw up.
"No, he's not sick," he stated quickly when he realized that they were afraid of having a sickness spread among their tribe. "Being on a boat over the water unsettles his stomach."
That brought a ripple of what he could only describe as laughter among the tribe members. As the translation spread, more laughter followed.
"Well, let's see how they handle being under the ground for years at a time, then we can laugh," Brahgen muttered and rolled his eyes.
Once the laughter died down, the chieftain made another series of gestures.
"She asks why we are here."
"We are…" Skharr paused and looked at the group before he continued. "We are not with the fishing fleets. We are here to raid the dungeon on the island. There has been word of monsters spreading from it and we are here to kill them."
Her eyes narrowed as she focused on him specifically. She appeared to assess him critically, unsure if he was capable of doing what he said he would do. It was an unsettling moment but he steeled himself, very much aware of the crossbows and spears all around them like they were prickling into his skin.
After a few moments, she shrugged and uttered what sounded like a chuckle before she gestured for the tribe to lower their weapons, which they did without question. Skharr's eyes narrowed as she began to speak in the sign language again.
"She…she says that they'll take the boat in exchange for safe passage through their lands to the dungeon," Brahgen translated. "There…are monsters on the path, and we might need help on the way in."