Most importantly, Skharr noted an area in the cliff face where it seemed like they had tried to dig tunnels into the rock, only to have it cave in on them. It seemed probable that all attempts were abandoned thereafter.
They were raiders and pillagers, not engineers.
Brahgen chuckled when he noticed the same thing. "Bring in a team of my kin and they would have a small city built into the cliff face before six months had passed."
"Who would bring dwarves to this kind of place?"
"You."
The barbarian frowned for a moment, then nodded. "Well, you're right about that, I suppose."
The ship finally completed its slow approach to the dock and they were both pulled into the work required to move everything off the ship and unload it onto the beach while the Dragon Followers watched them with their weapons close but not at the ready. They clearly did not expect a fight to ensue, not over a ship that was taking water on by the bucketful.
It was hard work, and only once this was completed was it moved to a dock on the far side, where a rudimentary system had been created to draw it onto the beach at high tide. When the tide receded, the vessel would remain out of the water and repairs could be done.
Even he hadn't expected the damage to be so extensive. Massive chunks of the hull had been ripped out and more along the back and the bottom, where the creature had suctioned fast. Divots made by huge, spiny teeth were visible on the bottom as well.
"It'll take you a while to repair that," Skharr commented to Graves, stating the obvious.
"Aye, but she's seen worse, the old gal."
"Worse than a kraken chewing on her from behind?"
"Sure. Not while I was captain, of course, but you can see the scars in a ship that show exactly what she's been through."
The barbarian narrowed his eyes at him. Either he knew exactly what he meant or he was simply talking through his ass since he could see none of the scars he had mentioned. Perhaps a barbarian didn't have that kind of eye for ships.
"Will you remain here with us?" Graves asked. "Or do you have other plans in mind?"
"I need to take the dwarf to his family."
"In that case, you'll need to negotiate with the clan leader. When I was here last it was Neera Reed—and there she comes."
Skharr turned to study a lean woman who approached with a confident stride. Her hair was cut short and the right side was completely shaven to reveal a web of tattoos that traced down the left side of her face as well. He could see the burn scars the tattoos were covering and noticed that the flames had seared half of her right eyebrow away as well.
"Captain Reed," Graves called and moved to meet her. "I apologize for the suddenness of our arrival."
She smirked and didn’t slow her approach, although she kept one hand on the saber she carried on her hip. A little taller than Graves, she was leaner too and walked like she was constantly off-balance. He recognized it as how folk tended to move when they were so used to moving on the sea that a lack of rolling waves under their feet felt unnatural.
It almost made it look like she was drunk.
"We saw the storm last night," she answered and her gaze focused on Skharr almost immediately. "And we assumed a few ships would come in for repairs. Although I didn't expect you to arrive, Thatch. I thought you were smarter than that."
"The storm struck a little too quickly," Graves admitted. "And the kraken equally as quickly. The weather would have been a breeze by comparison if the bastard hadn't found us."
"They follow the storms," she muttered and shook her head. "Godsbedammed scavengers. And sometimes, they cannot wait for the storms to sink their prey and choose to attack.” She had not moved her attention from the barbarian. “This one is not part of your crew."
"He needed passage on my ship," Graves answered. "And I fear I will not be able to take him and his companion to his destination."
"I'm a sound sailor," Skharr explained. "And a good fighter. If you could provide us with passage, your crew would benefit from another skilled hand among them."
Reed looked at the other man. "Is this true?"
"I've not seen his like as a fighter," he answered. "As a sailor…well, he has some experience, at least."
"A ringing endorsement," the warrior muttered.
"I've heard many say that none are their equal as fighters," Reed answered. "I haven’t seen it proven once."
"And you’ve seen many fighters, have you?"
"More than you could count, barbarian. I’ve killed my fair share of them too."
It wasn't a boast or at least didn't sound like one. She carried herself with a quiet confidence that made him wonder how many she'd killed and which of them had left her with the scar on her face.
His careful study revealed others. She wore light clothing and more than a handful were visible on her arms, shoulders, and legs. Her right hand was missing a finger as well.
And she didn't look like she could be a year older than thirty.
"You won't take Thatch's word, then?" Skharr asked. "We could probably trade our way out of here if you prefer."
"Do we look like a trading post to you? All those who board my ships must sail them and fight for them on equal standing. As for Thatch's word…well, I'll say his standards for fighting and sailing differ from my own. And my boys are in need of a little entertainment today so if you don't mind?"
She raised a hand and motioned for him to join her as the others began to follow them into the trees with the roots that kept them off the sand. They were high enough that even he could walk through them and they wandered to a small clearing where a small arena had been erected, supported by the roots.
"Wait here," Reed snapped and jogged lightly up the seats of the arena to where he could see a hut. It was built into one of the trees as well. She didn't bother to knock and simply pushed inside.
"I think they want you to fight," Graves said when shouts issued from the cabin. "I would say that is where their finest fighter lives."
A couple of women rushed outside the dwelling as the yelling continued, mostly from Reed.
"They want me to fight him?" Skharr asked as she exited the cabin again and looked angry.
"Yes," she answered.
"I wouldn't suggest it," he stated. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of a fighter."
"If you're injured, we haven't lost anything."
"Aye. And if your man is injured?"
"We haven't lost much of anything either. Did you think we would have you fight to the death?"
He regarded her with open curiosity. "Yes… Yes, I suppose I did think that."
"I don't gamble lives lightly, barbarian. A little fun and pain are all you have to fear from this."
Skharr focused on the cabin as the occupant exited. A tall man with broad shoulders, it was clear he was a skilled fighter, although he walked with bowed legs.
He did not appear to have just woken up and he seemed ready for a fight. Reed's shouting had no doubt riled him sufficiently and he had a freshly painted bright blue “X” on his chest. With barely a glance at the newcomers, he marched to the center of the arena.