The trawlers and merchantmen bobbed high and low on the rugged currents, the harsh winds buffeting their wooden bodies with arrogant but graceful force, like the hand of a jealous lover. The merchant fleet moved up and down with the waves in chaotic disunity, no two vessels ever remaining at the same horizontal position for more than a second or two. The wind howled unnervingly, the sea threatened. The wooden shells creaked and buckled under this threat, but did not give way. The men hiding deep in the underbellies of their unsteady wooden monsters had faith in the planks of rugged oak that kept them safe against the violence outside. Those planks had been sanctified by God and man. Holy Men had prayed over them. Women had baptized them with tears of grief and sorrow. The hulls of these ships had been made holy; indeed, holier than the crews, who had been damned to Hell countless times in countless lands. This did not worry the men, for their voyage was not to find Salvation. They quested for gold that night.

The lead merchantman, the Dariusian Wind, was piloted by Captain Nathaniel Sholberg. Sholberg was a capable seaman to command the voyage, being the King's third choice to lead the adventure. The first choice, the legendary Captain Solomon Meiggs, was missing and presumed dead after his ship never returned from an attempt to round the infamous Cape Doom. The second choice was a notorious pirate, Jak the Whip, and the King knew better than to choose a known outlaw to head a Crown-sanctioned voyage, no matter how good a seaman he may have been. Then there was Sholberg, a retired privateer and veteran of the Mercenary Wars. Sholberg's orders were straightforward: sail a merchant fleet eastward in the rumored direction of the fabled Mast Head islands, chart the position of the islands, commit landing parties to explore them if possible, and return home.

No one really knew if the Mast Head islands even existed, but they had been the subject of legend for centuries. It was said that gold grew out of the earth there. When the gold was extracted, great mounds and pillars of the stuff would rise to take its place. It was also said that the local natives, a benevolent and peaceful people who held no reservations about parting with this vast wealth at their feet, clad themselves in golden ornamentation from head to toe.

The legends of the Mast Head islands were some of the greatest pieces of folklore in the land. The King bad scoffed at the legends before Sholberg was brought in, but now His Majesty faced a possible war with the Orc tribes migrating from the west, and knew that he would need surplus gold to finance his armies. The King decided to act on what be had heard about the islands, and announced the Royal funding of Sholberg's mission. The Merchant Guild, who stood to gain quite a lot when or if the Mast Head islands were discovered, were glad to donate the merchant fleet that would be used to sail in search of the islands.

Struggling to stay on his feet on the rocking deck of the Dariusian Wind, Nathaniel Sholberg wished that he bad never been chosen for the voyage. His crew was composed mainly of criminals, pirates, and other dregs of the prisons back home. They were competent sailors, but Sholberg could not put the feeling out of his mind that a mutiny was imminent. They bad been at sea for nearly a month, and still the islands did not present themselves. It was said that the Mast Head islands could be spotted easily by the crew of an approaching ship, because the mounds of gold in the ground created a shimmering golden halo around the islands that could be seen from a crow's nest a mile away. Sholberg considered the Mast Head islands to be nothing but a mere myth, and privately questioned the King's decision to take a wives' tale seriously enough to fund the voyage.

And then there were the Sea Dragon rumors.

Certain men aboard the ship had been putting fear in the hearts of the other crew members by telling them that the fleet was sailing into the domain of the infamous Sea Dragon, a water-bound beastie capable of tearing the mightiest war galleon to shreads. The morale aboard the ship was not good because of the fear of the Sea Dragon, and Sholberg bad been forced to order the flogging of some crew members who violently demanded a rerouting of the fleet to "safer" waters. Sholberg had come to the conclusion that legend and folklore were at the root of all his problems at that moment.

Captain Sholberg heard a voice behind him on the deck.

"Have you a troubled conscience, Captain, subjecting your men to the wrath of the Sea Dragon?"

Sholberg spun around. It was the old sorcerer Jesmond, clad in a violet robe and clutching his gnarled oaken staff.

Sholberg scowled. "Jesmond, you old fool, your hocus-pocus beliefs are the reason why the crews' morale is so low. If you would dispense with that Sea Dragon story, perhaps I could carry out this mission without fear of being strung from the forecastle by my own crew."

Jesmond laughed heartily. "Ha! You will not be needing my help for that, Captain."

"Jesmond, I brought you along only because the presence of a wizard calms the gullible minds of the men, but I see you are having the exact opposite effect. If you do not announce to the crew that this Sea Dragon myth is just that, I swear I will have you cast overboard, and in that case you bad better dream up a spell to make that staff of yours float."

Jesmond came close to Sholberg, looking into his eyes. Sholberg would never admit it, but the strange glimmer in the old man's eyes made him think that Jesmond did indeed hold the power to alter and change the elements at his will. Sholberg had always been more of a believer in a well-honed cutlass at one's side than sorcery and witchcraft, but the grizzled old man made him nervous.

"Captain," Jesmond growled, "you think I'm joking, don't you? I tell you now that I may have the power of escape, but you, your crew, and perhaps even the fleet itself are in serious trouble. The Sea Dragon has made meals out of larger expeditions. What do you think happened to Captain Meiggs?"

Sholberg responded confidently. "He was lost at sea while rounding Cape Doom. It's common knowledge."

Jesmond shook his head. "No, my friend. It is now known that Meiggs' fatal mistake was to choose this route on his return from Cape Doom. He was warned not to tempt the Sea Dragon, but, like you, he insisted on being stubborn and did not listen to the advice. Oh, Meiggs rounded the Cape all right, but the Sea Dragon prevented him from ever telling the tale."

Sholberg shook his head, as if trying to shake off Jesmond's words. "Nonsense." He turned his attention to the operation of the ship. Sholberg moved around the deck, nervously barking orders to the men. He suddenly noticed that the storm had receded and the waters had become calm. He went to the starboard side of the ship and looked over the railing at the distant horizon. The seas had stilled themselves; an eerie silence hung in the air.

Jesmond came up behind Sholberg as he gazed across the sea. "It is said that a calmness of the waters precedes the coming of the Sea Dragon."

Sholberg turned and grabbed the mage by the collar of his violet robe. "Listen, old man, I have had about enough of your wizardly prophesies. I suggest that you keep your mouth shut."

There was suddenly a loud cry from the crow's nest. "Captain! The Sea Dragon approaches!"

There was chaos on the deck. Crewmen were running in every direction, shouting in panic. Sholberg released his grip on Jesmond, running to the base of the mainmast. He shouted up at the man in the crow's nest. "What say you, sailor?! What do you see?!"

The man called back in a frantic voice. "By all the fury of the gods, Captain, the Sea Dragon approaches from the port side!"

Sholberg heard the same panicked cry being uttered by several crewmen, running in a dozen directions. "The Sea Dragon approaches!"

The Captain knew that there was no hope of maintaining order aboard the ship. He removed his cutlass and held it in the air to maintain some position of authority, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Stay in order, men! Do not panic, I command you in the name of His Majesty!"

The men were not listening. Most of the crew were gathered at the port railing, and Sholberg followed them. He pushed through the crowd to come to the edge of the railing. He looked across the water, seeing two things, both of which he refused to believe.

The first thing Sholberg saw was the splintered and rapidly sinking wreck of the Finback, the merchantman commanded by his second-in-command, Captain Fitzwald. Fitzwald's ship was broken completely in two, the fore and aft sections of the ship having been torn apart as if at the hands of a creature with godlike powers.

The second thing Sholberg saw was an enormous, dark shape in the water, moving away from what was left of the Finback and towards the Dariusian Wind. As the thing glided closer, the men began to run to the starboard side. Some were not stopping at the starboard railing, casting themselves overboard and swimming to the closest vessel, a trawler moving alongside Sholberg's ship. Sholberg could hardly find his voice, but when he did it came out in a fearful bellow. "Crossbow crews at the ready! We're going to kill this thing if it's the last thing we do!"

Within seconds, three dozen crossbows were readied and aimed at the creature, which was cutting through the water with unnatural speed. The Sea Dragon snorted and groaned as it moved toward its next kill, and Sholberg could see the glimmering green scales as it knifed through the currents after his ship.

As the creature came within mere yards of the Dariusian Wind's port side, the water parted as it raised its mighty head high into the air. It towered above the ship, the crow's nest meeting the creature at eye level. Sholberg did not see a monster, but a series of disjointed images: immense fangs; angry, piercing eyes; a snout snorting fire. Sholberg refused to accept what he was seeing, but managed to scream one final order to his men.

"FIRE!"

The Sea Dragon's immense chest showed itself off the port railing of the Dariusian Wind, providing a target that could not be missed. Over 30 crossbow bolts were released at the monster within a two-second period of time. The Sea Dragon made angry, guttural roars as the bolts struck home, but the volley did not seem to slow the creature down at all.

Sholberg was frozen with fear. All he could do was watch in horror as the creature reached out a giant claw and punched a tremendous hole in the side of his ship. The crossbowmen began to abandon their weapons and jump overboard, until Sholberg was one of the few remaining on deck. The thought registered in his mind that he had always morbidly wondered how it would feel to be aboard a sinking ship. He would finally get the chance to find out.

Within minutes, the fleet was reduced to a mass of splintered planks floating on the surface of the calm waters. The Sea Dragon roared. If someone would have been there to hear it, they would have sworn that it was an almost triumphant sound.

The King never heard from the Sholberg expedition again. Sholberg's ill-fated voyage was not in vain, however. It was assumed that the disaster that had befallen the Sholberg expedition was related to the route he had chosen, and when a second fleet was eventually sent in search of the Mast Head islands, the King ordered its captain to take a different route. The ships returned with the good news two months later: the Mast Head islands did indeed exist, and were all that they were rumored to be.

The leaders of the voyage had a particularly strange oddity to report: living in apparent harmony with the natives of the islands was a mysterious old man. To the best recollection of the men who had seen him, he wore a violet robe and carried a gnarled oaken staff in his hand...