The Day Of The Tempest

by Jean Rabe

  “How? Palin isn’t that rich. He’s already paid for the repairs on the ship, bought us supplies. Paid for —”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “You’ll take care of it?”

  “Don’t ask,” he replied firmly. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He headed toward the wheel to relieve Groller. The money from the dragon’s jewelry was going to be earmarked for supplies for the ship, and it would have lasted a good long while. There were pearls, rubies, emeralds – enough to buy a bigger ship and supplies for it if he wanted. Now Rig made the decision to divide most of it between the refugees, and he’d keep just enough to supply the Anvil for a couple of months.

  Groller joined Jasper below decks. The dwarf was in the cargo hold, checking this bandage, feeling that bump, offering a reassuring word, and in general doing his best to make everyone feel better. Some of the refugees were helping the dwarf. The elf, Gilthanas, was passing around mugs of water. Several in the hold didn’t need much tending. They were simply keeping their friends company or fighting off minor cases of seasickness.

  Fury was busy sniffing everyone and lingering here and there to get his ears and belly scratched. The wolf eventually settled himself next to a young man who seemed to know just where to rub his neck.

  The half-ogre waved to get the dwarf’s attention. Groller pointed to his head with one hand, his stomach with another, and made a sad-looking face. Next, he brought his hands close together in front of his chest, then moved them about three feet apart.

  “Sick.” Jasper translated the first gesture. “Much.” The dwarf grimaced, then his face brightened. “How much? How badly are they injured? Are they very sick?” The dwarf waved his arms around to indicate all of his patients, then he brought a thumb to his breastbone and waggled the fingers of that hand – the gesture for fine, all right, and a couple of other things. Groller got the gist of what the dwarf was trying to say.

  “Allufem be all right,” the half-ogre said. “Jaz-pear good healer. Jaz-pear suhmart. And tard.” The dwarf nodded. He hadn’t slept since the refugees came onto the ship, and using his mystic magic to heal the worst wounds took a lot of energy. Initially he had spent most of his time ministering to Palin – and praying to the departed gods that the sorcerer would pull through. He motioned to Groller that he had to go check on Palin now.

  *

  Palin lay in his bunk, a damp cloth covering his eyes and forehead. His badly sunburned skin stood out against the white of the sheets. Feril sat near him, seemingly studying a spot on the floor. She looked up when Jasper and Groller entered, and drew a finger to her lips, signaling them to be quiet.

  “He’s finally sleeping,” she whispered.

  “No, I’m not.” Palin tugged the cloth loose and opened his eyes. He tried to sit up, but quickly stopped himself. He winced and looked down at his chest, which was partially covered with a thick bandage. It effectively hid the claw marks from the spawn and the arrow wound in his shoulder.

  “You’re going to be hurting for the next few days,” Jasper said. “You were badly injured. I did the best I could, but – “

  “I owe you my life “Palin said.

  “Well, you probably would’ve made it anyway. You’re more stubborn than just about anyone I know.” The dwarf stroked his short beard and shuffled over to examine Palin’s bandages. He poked and prodded at the sorcerer’s shoulder, ignoring Palin’s painful expression. “Hmm. Still bleeding. Was worse than I thought. Must fix that.”

  Jasper had dug out two arrow heads the night before. It was a procedure that the sorcerer thought more painful than getting wounded in the first place. Then the dwarf had cast a couple of curative spells, which had gone a long way toward making certain that Palin would live.

  The dwarf closed his eyes in concentration. He put his hand on Palin’s shoulder and shut out the creaking of the ship’s timbers and the sound of the waves beyond the porthole. He shut out everything until all he could hear was the beating of his own heart.

  “Your heart gives you life,” Goldmoon had lectured him. “But your heart also gives you strength and power.” He remembered her words, heard her voice softly repeat them over and over in his mind. “The magic to heal is inside you,” she had told him, “inside your heart.” It had taken him a few years to discover that she was right.

  A soft orange glow radiated from the dwarf’s fingers, left his hand, and hovered above the wound for a moment. Palm’s skin took on a warm sheen, and his chest rose and fell more quickly. Then the healing aura disappeared as quickly as it had come, Palin’s breathing slowed, and the dwarf let out a deep breath, surveying his handiwork. He tossed aside the bandage. The spell had made the bleeding stop, and only a raw red patch of skin remained to remind the sorcerer of the arrow. “You’ll scar,” jasper said.

  “It’s not where anyone would notice,” the sorcerer said. “Thank you.”

  “And you’ll be weak. You lost a lot of blood. Can’t do anything about your sunburn. Yours either, Feril. Or Blister’s. You all should’ve dressed better – going off into the desert like that. Your skin will be peeling for days. Can’t do nothing about the boils on your feet either.”

  “Thank you,” Palin said again. “You’re welcome.”

  Groller tilted his head to the side and laid it in his open hand, then he pointed to Palin.

  Jasper nodded. “Yes, he needs rest. But first he needs to talk to one of the refugees, that old man with the tablet. The man keeps mentioning the Blue, Khellendros, and says he must speak to you. Frankly, the man babbles. I think he’s a touch mad. But if you’ll give him a few minutes, maybe he’ll leave the rest of us alone.”

  Feril looked at Palin. “He tried to talk to you on the way from the stronghold.”

  “I don’t recall much of the trip back,” Palin admitted. With her help, the sorcerer sat up in his bunk and slowly swung his legs over the side. “All right, let’s go see this gentleman.”

  “You’re not going anywhere – Jasper’s orders,” the dwarf said. “We’ll bring the old man to you.” Several minutes later, Gilthanas escorted the old man to Palin’s quarters. The man was grizzled and bent, wearing tattered but clean clothes. He clutched a small clay tablet protectively.

  “This is Raalumar Sageth,” Gilthanas announced. The elf stepped back and let the old man shuffle closer to Palin.

  “Call me Sageth,” he said in a soft, cracking voice. “That’s what my friends called me. But my friends are all dead now. Hamular, Genry, Alicia, all gone – old, dead, buried.” His rheumy blue eyes carefully consulted the tablet he held, and he muttered to himself for several moments about age and wrinkles. “Southern Ergoth. You’re going there, I heard the sailors say. Cold place.” He cackled and wheezed. “Cold now in any event. Right place to go, wrong reason.”

  Palin cocked his head. Jasper sidled over and sat next to the sorcerer on the bunk. “Told you he babbles,” he whispered to Palin. “Maybe this could have waited.” Jasper turned to the old man and said, “What’s wrong about our reason for going there?”

  “Let’s see, let’s see.” Sageth consulted his tablet and chortled. “Ah, here it is. Alicia could have told you quicker. Did I tell you she’s dead?”

  The dwarf and Palin nodded.

  “Let’s see. You mean to fight the White there. Right?”

  Feril stepped up behind him, and noted that his tablet was filled with a myriad of symbols and scratchings she couldn’t hope to fathom.

  “Somebody needs to fight the dragon, any dragon,” Jasper said. “If we don’t stand up to the overlords soon, there’ll be no spot on Krynn left free.”

  Sageth glanced at the tablet again. “I miss Alicia, poor Genry the most. Better use for your energies than fighting. Hamular could have told you that, too. The White has an ally now. You see, some of the overlords are joining forces, the White of Southern Ergoth with the Red near Kendermore.”

  “Malystryx,” Palin said.

  “Yes, the Red Marauder. It
was inevitable.” The old man wheezed and grabbed his side. “The Red seeks to establish a formidable power base. And something dreadful will happen if she is successful.”

  “So killing the White will help erode that power base,” the dwarf said.

  The old man closed his eyes. When next he spoke, his voice was clearer, as if he were putting all of his energy into talking. “Listen to me. Use your energies better. Forget about the White. Worry about magic first, the ‘dragons second. The Blue, Khellendros, the so-called Storm Over Krynn, searches for the ancient magic – magic from the Age of Dreams.”

  Palin grew instantly interested. “What do you know of that magic?”

  “Ancient, more powerful than all of the arcane items enchanted since.” The old man opened his eyes, looked down at his tablet, then peered intently at Palin. “More magic pulses through those artifacts than does in the veins of the dragons. The Storm Over Krynn wants the magic, and because I know he wants it, the knights imprisoned me.”

  Feril walked over to face Sageth. “Imprisoned you? Why didn’t they just kill you if they thought you were such a threat?”

  “I’m no threat,” the old man cackled. “My bones are old and brittle. Only what I know is a threat. But I think the knights would have killed me eventually – if you hadn’t come along. I’d be seeing Alicia and Genry. Hamular, well, I don’t know if I’d want to see him. See them soon enough anyway. I’m old.”

  “Just how do you know what Khellendros wants?” Feril persisted. “How did you learn the dragon seeks the ancient magic? Why should we trust you? Believe you? Why should we even bother listening to you?”

  He sadly shook his head. “Ah, Alicia and Genry were more believable than me. They had a way with words and could make people understand. No one has listened to me yet, only the knights, and when they heard my dire warnings, they put me away in the desert.”

  He made a soft clucking sound and shook his head at Feril. “Dear elf, I was a scholar at the library in Palanthas. The contents of the building were stolen by a mysterious force more than thirty years ago, on the very day the Tower of High Sorcery collapsed. Alicia died in the attack; Genry and Hamular died years later of who knows what. The dragon wanted something there – in the library and in the tower, and I began to research just what that might be. I figured something important to a dragon, something that cost the lives of my friends, might also prove important to men.”

  Feril’s expression softened. “So this ancient magic, what does the Blue intend to do with it?”

  “He wants to keep the magic out of the hands of men because he believes destroying ancient artifacts would raise the level of magic permeating Krynn. And with that magic, men can maybe stand up to the dragons again.”

  “What?” Jasper blurted. “When the gods left after the Chaos War, they took magic with them. Most healers and sorcerers can cast only simple enchantments now. It would seem that truly powerful magic is beyond everyone.”

  “Powerful sorcerers can cast harder spells,” Palin said.

  The old man nodded and grinned. “There is so much power in the artifacts from the Age of Dreams that if several of those artifacts were destroyed at the same time, the energy released would permeate Krynn, would raise the level of magic to what it was before the gods left. The gods created those artifacts, after all.”

  “Goldmoon has such an artifact,” Palin said, “One will not be enough,” the old man cautioned. “You will need at least three, four to be certain according to my research. And you will need to gather them soon. Time is crucial. With each passing day Khellendros moves closer to gaining the ancient magic.”

  “There are so few artifacts remaining from that age,” Palin said.

  “Precisely,” Sageth continued. “That is why you must beat the dragon to them. There is little time, and I doubt the dragon knows exactly where to look. This is a race against time, and you must win it if Krynn is to —”

  “If you’ve researched what the dragon wants, then you must have some idea where we can find the artifacts,” Feril interrupted.

  Again the old man consulted his tablet. “Some such remnants from the Age of Dreams are more powerful than others. These, I believe, are what the Storm Over Krynn will seek. According to my studies, and mind you some of this is cryptic, one can be found about the slender neck of an old woman who lives at the base of an ancient, glistening staircase.”

  “Goldmoon’s medallion of faith,” Palin whispered.

  “Another is a ring, once worn by the sorcerer men called Dalamar. It sits about another’s finger now, hidden and polished and in a building that calls no land home.”

  Palin’s mind whirled. The building – the Tower of Wayreth? Did one of his associates possess Dalamar’s ring?

  “Another is a jeweled scepter that rests in an old fortress in the heart of a murky forest, a realm where elves once walked peacefully. The scepter is called the Fist of E’li, and it was once wielded by Silvanos himself. It lies within a realm that is overgrown, corrupted by the Green Feril.”

  “The Qualinesti forest, Beryllinthranox’s realm” Palin said. “I have scryed the dragon before, and I am familiar with the land; I know of the fortress.”

  “The fourth is a crown that lies far away beneath the waves. Elves once held sway in this land, too. Now they are prisoners, trinkets on a watery shelf.”

  “He’s talking about Dimernesti, the sunken land of the sea elves,” Feril said.

  “The last I am aware of is a weapon, perhaps the most powerful weapon ever crafted. It was intended all along to fight dragons. Find it in a grave as white as the land that surrounds it, a resting place sealed with ice and legend.”

  “Huma’s lance.” Gilthanas had remained silent to this point. The elf stepped forward. “I know exactly where the tomb lies – in Southern Ergoth. I was to meet someone there years ago. I was... unable to make the journey. We should go after the lance first. It is the closest. I can lead you there.” He directed the last statement at Palin. “Helping you is the least I can do. You saved my life and the lives of all the other prisoners.”

  The old man studied Palin and Gilthanas. “I had not thought there were any on Krynn who would believe me, let alone have the courage to attempt this. But perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps fate led me to be imprisoned so I could be rescued by you. If you can attain these artifacts, I will help you destroy them and return magic to the world.”

  The sorcerer made a move to rise from the bed, but the dwarf put a strong hand on his shoulder. “You must get some rest first,” Jasper said, waggling a stubby finger at Palin. Feril and Gilthanas helped the sorcerer lie down again. “Now, Feril, Gilthanas, Sageth, the three of us have some planning to do. Southern Ergoth, eh? I’ll bet it’s pretty cold there.”

  *

  It was dark when Palin awoke. He was feeling much better, practically as good as new, he tried to tell himself. But he felt weak, felt older than his fifty-four years. He slowly dressed and took a few steps toward the porthole. Krynn’s single moon hung low in the sky, sending a dazzling display of pale white light dancing across the choppy water. Palin realized he had slept the day away.

  The Anvil creaked softly. Palin heard the faint snap of the sails. The ship was heading west. When it was beyond Palanthas’s harbor, which would be in a few more days, it would round the tip of Tanith and start toward Southern Ergoth and Huma’s Tomb.

  “But will the old man’s plan work?” Palin mused aloud. “I would like to be certain, to know that this isn’t some goose chase, a waste of precious time. Perhaps my associates will know.” He stared at the moon and pictured a tower sitting atop the water in its place. “The Tower of Wayreth,” he whispered.

  Palin was a master at transporting himself from place to place. Though magic was no longer easy, this spell – particularly when he traveled to and from the tower – came easier than all the others. Perhaps it was the tower’s own residual magic that powered the enchantment. The ancient structure moved about at the behest
of its occupants, calling no single place home.

  “... in a building that calls no land home,” Palin recalled Sageth saying. “Has one of my fellow wizards been hiding something from me?”

  Palin focused his thoughts, and the moon appeared to shimmer and turn as insubstantial as fog. In an instant an image of the Tower of Wayreth sat on the horizon in its place. The moon was not truly gone, nor was the tower truly there, but visualizing the building at the edge of his sight helped him to cast the spell. Dark, mysterious and illuminated only by the faint starlight from overhead, the tower beckoned.

  The sorcerer steadied himself, closed his eyes, and felt the gently rolling deck of the ship turn to solid stone beneath his feet.

  “Palin!”

  “Usha?”

  She was in his arms in a heartbeat, hugging him fiercely and causing his mending wounds to flare up with pain. But the sorcerer didn’t mind. He returned her embrace and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her lilac perfume. After several long moments, she edged away from him, a slight frown on her unblemished face.

  “Where have you been? Look at your face!” She ran her smooth fingers over the short beard he’d grown. He hadn’t shaved since he’d left the Anvil to journey through the desert.

  “I think it makes me look more distinguished.”

  “Liar,” she tsk-tsked at him. “You’re not a young man anymore, Palin Majere, but you’ve been running around Ansalon like one. And you’re so sunburnt.”

  He smiled and stared wistfully at her, glad that his clothes covered his bandages so she wouldn’t fuss over him. Usha Majere was only a few years younger than Palin, though she could pass for a woman nearly twenty years younger than that. Her silvery-white hair fell in soft curls about her shoulders, framing her face and her golden eyes.

  Palin thought she still looked very much like the girl he had met more than thirty years ago. His love for her grew stronger with each passing day.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. He raised his hand, and cupped her chin. Her skin was soft and smooth and unblemished by the years. “It’s not that I’m not glad to see you. I certainly am. But why aren’t you in Solace?”