The Day Of The Tempest

by Jean Rabe

  “I was worried about you,” she said. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while. And neither had they.” She pointed to the cloaked men moving up behind Her. “The Master brought me here, said he knew you’d be coming for a visit soon. I’m just happy he was right.”

  The Master of the Tower nodded to Majere. “You have news for us?” His voice barely rose above a whisper and was muffled by the folds of the hood of his black robe. The dark-cloaked man was the caretaker of the Tower of High Sorcery, hence his title. Despite all the time they’d spent together, Palin scarcely knew him. The Master kept his past a secret, dressed in somber robes that hid his features, and rarely talked about anything save magic and the dragons.

  Near him stood the Shadow Sorcerer, an even greater enigma. Dressed in voluminous gray robes that effectively masked individual features, the sorcerer could have been a man or a woman. It was impossible to tell. The voice was too indistinct to provide a clue, and though the Shadow Sorcerer had spent much time over the years with Palin and the Master, there was never a revealing slip about his – or her – past.

  Palin had given up trying to figure either sorcerer out. His Uncle Raistlin had been a bit eccentric; many sorcerers seemed to wrap themselves in secrets and puzzles. He knew only that they were able colleagues interested in combating the menace of the overlords. He trusted them and welcomed their counsel.

  “We looked in on you,” the Master began, gesturing toward a crystal ball on the shelf. “We saw you in the Blue’s lair. You were most fortunate that he was not at home.”

  Palin smiled, and nodded his head. “It wasn’t exactly the lair we were looking for, but the trip was valuable nonetheless. We learned how spawn are created.” He continued to regale the sorcerers and Usha with the tale of his escapades in the Northern Wastes while the quartet climbed the stairs to the tower’s topmost level.

  *

  A rectangular ebonwood table stretched nearly the length of the room. Maps detailing where dragons had claimed territory hung on all four walls. Palin sat at the head of the table and steepled his fingers. The climb had taken more effort than he had expected, and he didn’t want his wife to realize that he was winded. Usha, who rarely joined the sorcerers’ sessions, sat next to him, looking intently into his eyes.

  “Khellendros is becoming an increasing threat,” Palin said finally.

  The Shadow Sorcerer brushed by the Majeres and stood in front of one of the room’s windows. “All of the dragons are becoming an increasing threat, Majere. An army of blue spawn? If Khellendros has discovered the secret for making dragonspawn, the other dragons will learn it soon – if they don’t know already. We’ll be facing armies of spawn. But spawn are the least of our worries. Some dragons are gathering human slaves. Now you say Khellendros wants to gather ancient artifacts – magic from the Age of Dreams? If he seeks them, other dragons will, too.”

  “That ancient magic,” the Master cut in. “It is more powerful than any could comprehend. Palin, I believe Sageth could be correct – destroying it might unleash enough energy to increase Krynn’s magic.”

  “But something bothers you about the idea,” Palin prompted. “I can tell by the tone of your voice.”

  “What troubles me is that the Shadow Sorcerer and I had not considered such a venue before. It took a half-mad old scholar from a prison cell to open our minds. Enhancing magic, if it could be done, sorcerers could command more powerful spells, and with them, the dragons could be challenged.”

  “That settles it, then,” Palin said. “My companions and I will search for the artifacts. While we do so, I want you to research the matter. I want to be absolutely certain we’d be taking the right path by destroying the items once we found them.”

  The Master nodded. “Research takes time, and it doesn’t always lead to the conclusion one expects.”

  “Time isn’t something we have a lot of,” Palin said. “But regardless of whether we decide to destroy the items, we need to find them before Khellendros.” He inhaled deeply, looked into the recesses of the Master’s shadowy hood, and then turned to glance at the Shadow Sorcerer. “I recently learned that a piece of the ancient magic sits within this tower. It is a ring.”

  “Dalamar’s ring,” the Master answered, his singularly soft voice even more difficult to hear than usual.

  “You have it?”

  The Master extended his right hand beyond the folds of his long sleeve. A thick band of braided gold encircled his middle finger. The entire piece gleamed with an eldritch light, and Palin felt the waves of its dark energy from several feet away.

  The Shadow Sorcerer pushed himself back from the table. “And just what other secrets do you have?”

  “Perhaps as many as you.” The Master withdrew his hand back into his sleeve.

  “How did you come into possession of such a ring?” asked the Shadow Sorcerer.

  “Dalamar studied in the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. It was one of the items he left behind, and I rescued it before the tower was destroyed many years ago.”

  “And Dalamar was a Wizard of the Black Robes, just as Raistlin was. And Raistlin would have known just where Dalamar left the precious ring.”

  “I have no qualms, Shadow Sorcerer, about surrendering this ring to Palin,” the Master said. “It is a very powerful artifact. But first I would prefer to conduct the research he requires. I would prefer to know that my sacrifice of the ring will not be wasted. I’ll review Raistlin’s notes. Certainly they discuss the ancient magic. Raistlin knew how.”

  “Raistlin,” the Shadow Sorcerer hissed. “Not even he could have hoped to stand against these dragons.”

  “You don’t know that,” the Master argued. “He was powerful. His books and tomes are filled with —”

  “Words and suppositions about the arcane,” the Shadow Sorcerer finished. “But do what you will. Maybe you will find something of use amid his musty ruminations.”

  The Master glanced at Palin. “Sageth spoke of needing four artifacts. When you’ve gained three, return to me. Then you can have Dalamar’s ring – the fourth.”

  “Such a noble sacrifice,” the Shadow Sorcerer whispered. “But then it’s no greater sacrifice than any loving uncle would make.”

  Palin cleared his throat. “I’ll return to the Anvil We’ve people on board to find homes for. We’ll be stopping in some of the coastal cities on our way to Southern Ergoth.”

  “Fine,” the Shadow Sorcerer said. “You’ll go sailing. The Master will delve into Raistlin’s books; one of us studying the ancient magic is sufficient. I will busy myself with a more crucial task – looking in on the great Red to the west. I think she is far more of a threat than your Storm Over Krynn and more important than your artifact chase.”

  The Shadow Sorcerer returned to the window, looking out at the stars and at the surrounding orchard. “Tomorrow I will scry the Peak of Malys.”

  “I will leave in the morning,” Palin said. “So soon?” the Master asked.

  “I didn’t tell my friends I was coming here, and if they find me missing on the ship, they’re liable to think I fell overboard.”

  “This time I’m going with you.” Usha’s voice was firm and invited no argument. “So am I.” The speaker stood in the doorway. His eyes were golden, like his mother’s, and his hair chestnut brown, just like his father’s was many years ago. “It’s past time I involved myself in all of this.”

  Palin smiled and nodded a greeting to his son. Yet the sorcerer was taken aback to see Ulin – he expected his son to be in Solace with his wife and children. “Very well, I welcome your help. I’ll take us back to Flint’s Anvil shortly after dawn – after we’ve thoroughly stocked up on food.”

  Chapter 9

  SEEDS OF ATONEMENT

  “We found no survivors, Lord Khellendros.” The Knight of Takhisis removed his helmet and knelt respectfully before the great Blue Dragon. His four fellows stood at attention behind him, their heads bowed.

  Khellendros sat at the
cave entrance to his northernmost lair and silently scrutinized his nervous pawns.

  “The stronghold was in ruins, the brutes and knights all dead. Some had been trampled by elephants, others slain by weapons or poisoned by scorpions. All of the prisoners were gone.” He looked up at the dragon. “It couldn’t have happened more than a few days ago, judging by the condition of the bodies. We tried to track the ones responsible, but the wind had erased all signs of their footprints.”

  “The Sivaks?” Khellendros asked.

  The knight shook his head. “Dead, too, my Lord.”

  The dragon snarled, the sound causing the desert floor to tremble beneath his massive body. The knight felt the tremors, but showed no fear. There was no point – Khellendros would either slay him and his fellows or not. Being frightened would not change the situation.

  “The Sivaks,” the knight added, “they provided the only clue. In their office we found two chained men – identical. They looked like Palin Majere, son of Caramon and —”

  “I know who Palin Majere is,” Khellendros said. His growl deepened, and his belly rumbled. Overhead, clouds started to gather, mirroring the dragon’s dark mood. The wind picked up.

  “We can assemble a unit and search for him,” the knight continued. “We will contact our brothers and our spies along the coast. He is called the most formidable sorcerer on Krynn, so he is widely recognized. Sooner or later, someone will spot him, and alert us.”

  “I shall find Palin Majere, and I shall slay him.” Khellendros raised his head and closed his huge yellow eyes. The clouds grew heavy with rain and lightning flashed. “The son of Caramon and Tika Majere – Kitiara’s enemies – shall be mine alone to deal with. Do you understand?” The wind began to whistle, stirring the sand about the kneeling knight and finding its way into every crevice of his black mail armor.

  “I understand, Lord Khellendros.”

  “I have a mission for you,” the Storm began. “Take one of your dragon-prowed ships and sail to Southern Ergoth.”

  The knight looked quizzically at him. “The White Dragon is there. Southern Ergoth is his territory.”

  “And if you wish to live and serve me, you would be wise to avoid him,” Khellendros continued. “There is a place called Foghaven Vale. Somewhere between a ridiculously large carving of a silver dragon and a ruined keep, there sits a simple building made of black glass. You must search for it somewhere amid all of the fog of the valley and all of the snow and ice Gellidus has created. Inside this black box is something I want. You shall retrieve it for me.” The dragon went on to describe the item in great detail.

  The knight nodded and rose. Fine sand stuck to the sweat on his face, but he didn’t brush it off. He replaced his helmet and stepped back to form a line with his brethren.

  “You shall need to take someone with you,” Khellendros added. “Who you select is unimportant, just so he is moral and upright, of sterling character – a human idealist. What I want you to retrieve might burn your skin, perhaps be impossible for you to touch, but it should pose no threat to a pious man. There shall be other trinkets to gather, but first I must discover where those trinkets lie.”

  “We shall begin with this one, Lord Khellendros. We will not fail you,” the knight spokesman stated.

  Khellendros was pleased with himself. He was clever, indeed. Now he had both Fissure and the knights searching for the ancient artifacts. “See that you don’t fall. Success shall help your order atone for your brothers’ negligence at the stronghold.”

  *

  “I’ve seen enough.” Mirielle Abrena stepped back from a crystal bowl filled with water, on the surface of which were images of the knights and Khellendros. She nodded to the sorcerer who hovered nearby.

  “Very good, Cover nor-General.” He twirled a gnarled finger in the water, chasing away the picture. Mirielle paced the length of the room, a richly appointed library filled with furniture made of dark wood. Her boot heels clicked harshly against the polished floor. She selected a high-backed chair and sat, steepling her fingers in front of her. “Tell me, Herel, if we were to acquire some of this ancient magic that Khellendros is looking for could you use it? To our benefit?”

  The sorcerer pulled back his hood, revealing the craggy visage of a man in his late middle years. A scar, similar to the thorny vine embroidered on the front of his robe, ran down the left side of his face. “My dear Governor-General, I am most accomplished. Yes, I could use them, would thank our departed Takhisis for such an opportunity, and, most certainly, I could use them to advance our aims. But what will Khellendros do if he discovers his knights are trying to gain the items for themselves?”

  Mirielle smiled slyly. “He won’t catch on. The knights assigned to the Blue Dragon will do exactly as commanded. If they get to this magic first, so be it. But if my handpicked men discover some other examples of this ancient magic.. “She let the possibility hang, and her eyes bore into the sorcerer’s. “Khellendros is sending his knights to Huma’s Tomb. We’ll not bother with that quest, for it’s a race we cannot win. You will endeavor to find out where more of this ancient magic lies, and we will direct our efforts there.”

  “But Governor-General, some of the old magic has been buried, hidden. Who knows where —”

  “Not impossible for one so accomplished,” she returned. “Not for someone who wants to please the governor-general of the Knights of Takhisis, and who will use any means necessary to serve her wishes.”

  The sorcerer visibly paled. “I will attend to the matter right away, Governor-General”

  “See that you do,” she replied evenly. “I believe time is —”

  A sharp rap at the door cut off Mirielle’s words. The sorcerer hurried to the door and placed his hand on the dark wood. “Lord Knight Breen awaits beyond, Governor-General.”

  “Show him in – and not a word of this to him, to anyone.”

  The sorcerer slipped out and hurried away as the big man entered. Gleaming black plate covered his large chest, and a black cloak, the shoulders of which were festooned with medals and bars, hung in thick folds behind him. His steely eyes fixed on Mirielle as he bowed slightly.

  “Governor-General, our forces have taken four more ogre villages. We suffered considerable losses during our last advance. The village was large, and they were ready for us. Still, I believe Sanction will be ours before the year is out.”

  Mirielle nodded. “Anything else?”

  “You asked for a report on our recruits, Governor-General. Youths from cities in Neraka and Teyr are flocking to the Order, and we are recruiting good numbers from Solamnia and Abanasinia. Our measures of persuasion are yielding a good harvest this year. Would that Takhisis were here to note our progress.”

  “We are stronger than ever before.” Mirielle rose and glided toward Breen. “Select a dozen of your best men from the city and send them to me. I have an errand of considerable importance.”

  Lord Knight Breen cast her a brief, curious look, and opened his mouth to question this mission.

  “Dismissed,” Mirielle said.

  Chapter 10

  THE SHADOW DRAGON

  The dragon was huge, black and featureless, as if it were a silhouette cut from a piece of velvet and hung in the early evening sky. It hovered several yards above the twisted body of a green dragon, studying it. Then, like a child growing bored with a plaything, it banked away until it was but a tiny spot on the horizon. Then the spot vanished altogether from view.

  “What do you make of it?” The voice was the Master’s. He stared at the dead green dragon, at the blood that formed a spreading, dark pool about the body, and at the olive-colored scales that were scattered like fallen leaves over the ground.

  The Shadow Sorcerer stirred the water in the large bowl in front of him. Instantly the dragon’s corpse and the scene that had played out on the water’s surface disappeared. “In the Dragon Purge, the dragons killed each other and absorbed their essences, grew more powerful. This dragon is mo
st likely doing the same.”

  “The dragon is black, but it is not a black dragon,” the Master commented. “It did not breathe acid upon the young green. Its breath was like a suffocating shadow, a cloud of darkness we couldn’t see through. I believe it to be a shadow dragon.”

  His colleague nodded. “They are rare on Krynn, but not unheard of. I first sighted it several weeks ago. I watched it kill a young red. I have noticed other dragon corpses – a white and two blacks, and I am wondering if this shadow dragon is responsible.”

  “Perhaps, though we will likely never know for certain,” the Master replied. “It has no scales, no talons. It claims no land like the dragon overlords. I would deign to study it longer, as it has captured my curiosity, but I must continue my research on these ancient artifacts – and quickly. I agree with Palin that time is urgent Perhaps I erred by taking even these few moments to spy on this creature.”

  “I would like to study this dragon as well, but I must devote my energies to Malystryx. The Red amasses a larger army of goblins each day. However, this shadow dragon seems not to threaten people, and so study of it can be postponed.”

  “But not indefinitely”

  “No.”

  “Then let us agree that when our respective investigations are done, we will give this shadow dragon our attention.” The Master moved away from the bowl and over to a bookshelf that covered an entire wall in the room in which they now stood, a chamber high in the Tower of Wayreth. The shelves stretched from floor to ceiling and were filled with thick tomes and yellowed scrolls. “These are Raistlin’s notes and journals. I have been looking through copies of them, trying to gain information about magic from the Age of Dreams.”

  “Raistlin again,” the Shadow Sorcerer whispered. From beneath the mage’s hood, smoldering eyes took in the Master’s every move. “You know your way through the sorcerer’s writings very well.”

  The Master stopped before a section of black leather-bound books, turned his back on the Shadow Sorcerer and gazed up at the tomes. “I have read his words often.” He reached up and tugged at a thick volume in the center of a high shelf. It resisted his first few attempts, but finally fell into his hands. “Yes, this is the book.”