The Day Of The Tempest

by Jean Rabe

  “Get Groller away from the trees!” Ulin called to Gilthanas. The younger Majere crouched in the snow, mouthing the words to an enchantment he’d been discussing with his father, and keeping his eyes on the boughs of the pines. “If this worked against the Knights of Takhisis’s ship, it’ll work against pine trees!”

  The half-ogre spotted the other three closing in on him, and he backed up a few steps until he was against the trunk of one of the thicker pines. The creature directly in front lunged forward with the spear, and Groller didn’t sidestep the attack. Instead, his hands shot forward, dropping the belaying pin and closing about the haft. The half-ogre’s muscles tensed, and he just barely managed to keep the spear tip from its target. Then he tugged upward, wrenching the spear away from the walrus-man. The other three closed, and Groller used the spear to parry their weapons, alternately defending himself with it, then striking out

  Fury howled behind him, then sprinted across the snow, launching himself against the weaponless creature in front of the half-ogre. The frenzied wolf began tearing at the walrus-man’s folds of blubber. The creature flailed about, trying desperately to dislodge the animal. The wolf, though wounded, nimbly dodged the creature’s tusks as it darted in closer. Blood soaked the snow, looking rosy beneath the pale moon.

  “I can’t get Groller’s attention!” Gilthanas cried as he scooped up the dragonlance and started toward the half-ogre.

  “Stay back!” Ulin called. “Can you shield him?” Ulin’s hands were glowing faintly red and he was angling his fingers, thumbs touching and pointing toward the tree that Groller stood beneath.

  The Qualinesti closed his eyes and shrugged the fur cloak off his shoulders. He felt the wind whip about his body, felt it as if it were a living thing, a lover caressing his skin. He beckoned to the wind, urged it closer, tugging the energy from each gust The energy pulsed through him, not warming him, but giving him magical strength.

  He tugged more, and his lips began to tremble from the cold. Gilthanas felt ice forming under his nose, though he continued to coax the energy. His fingers and toes grew numb. He felt himself shivering uncontrollably, but finally the wind was his to control, and he cupped his hand in front of his face, mimicking a shield.

  “Finish, Ulin!” the Qualinesti shouted as he tried to hold his concentration. “I can’t keep this up forever!”

  As Gilthanas’s words died, Ulin released his spell. Instantly the large pine Groller stood against turned into giant kindling. Its trunk and limbs were suddenly coated with brilliant red-orange tendrils of fire. Flaming needles fell from the branches and coated the creatures. None touched Groller, however, as the wind formed a dome around the surprised half-ogre, effectively insulating him from the magic.

  The creatures, unaccustomed to the heat, writhed on the ground as more needles and bits of branches fell on them and caught their fur cloaks on fire. The air was filled with the scent of burning wood and flesh, and the stench from the dying creatures was overpowering. Groller watched in fascination and horror, glancing toward Fury. The wolf was just beyond the circle of destruction and continued to tear at the remaining walrus-man, whose struggles were becoming increasingly feeble.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” Gilthanas shouted above the wind as he picked up his cloak and wrapped it around himself. He hefted the lance over his shoulder. “That fire can be seen for miles!”

  “The White,” Ulin breathed, realizing he might have made a terrible mistake.

  “Frost might notice it” Gilthanas replied, as he started from the clearing. “And if he sees us – unless I’m very, very lucky with this lance – we’re dead.”

  All that was left of the large pine was a black silhouette that creaked in the wind. The fire had left almost as quickly as it had come, and Groller carefully edged away from the tree. Fury, his muzzle red with blood, followed. The trio stared at the wolf. The wound from the spear had healed in the passing of a few minutes.

  “No time to wonder about that now!” Gilthanas shouted, pointing at the wolf. “Let’s move!” Groller and Fury took the lead, cutting toward the edge of a canyon. It stretched like a deep scar across the land, the moonlight hitting the edges of it and filtering down to the snow-covered floor far below.

  They descended the terrain for hours, and dawn found them at the bottom of the canyon. They rested there, sleeping in shifts to keep watch for more of the creatures and ice bears.

  They’d found tracks of the latter just before they started down the ridge, and at the bottom they had found nine additional sets of boot tracks.

  Then they spent days wending their way through the canyon, which had the advantage of offering considerable protection from the wind. They could hear each other without shouting, and Gilthanas passed the time asking Ulin questions about his magical training. They diligently tried to follow the boot tracks, jumped at every unusual sound, and contemplated what was so extraordinary about Fury that had made him heal so easily.

  A three-day blizzard slowed their progress to a crawl, completely covered the boot tracks they’d been following, and had them wondering if they would die before reaching their destination. But finally the blizzard broke, and the sun made a rare appearance.

  “Three weeks. At least I think it’s been that long,” Ulin said as they neared the end of the canyon. “Closer to four,” Gilthanas returned.

  “It seems like we’ve been here forever.” The mouth of the canyon widened, opening onto a vast plain of ice. “You said a month right?”

  “My best guess,” the elf replied. “Decades ago, when this was all scrub, it would’ve taken me two or three weeks to traverse this ground. So I guessed a month given all the snow.”

  “I think you were being optimistic,” Ulin said. “I wonder if my father has found the scepter yet. He’ll probably be safe and sound with Goldmoon at the Citadel of Light long before we ever locate the tomb “

  “And warm,” Gilthanas added.

  “I can’t remember what warm is like.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not much farther. A few more days from my recollection” the elf replied. “It’s just past the plains.” He shook his hands. His fingers were numb beneath his gloves, and he could barely feel his frozen toes. He and Ulin had taken turns complaining about the cold for the first week or so of the journey. Now the Qualinesti kept all the complaints to himself. He glanced down at the ground, and sucked in his breath. Just ahead, there were traces of crimson in the snow. Frozen, it was impossible to tell how fresh the blood was.

  “Ize bear!” Groller hollered. The half-ogre spun and hurled the spear he’d appropriated from one of the walrus creatures. A large ice bear, easily a dozen feet tall, was poised to strike a little more than a dozen feet from them. Nothing but white fur against all that snow and ice, it had been difficult to see. Only its black eyes and nose had given the half-ogre an inkling. The spear sank into the bear’s stomach, but the bear didn’t move, and it didn’t growl. It remained frozen and unblinking, with the spear protruding from it.

  The wolf’s hair stood in a ridge along his arched back. Fury hunkered low in the snow, his nostrils quivering and his tail straight out

  Groller stood puzzled as Ulin shuffled toward him. The younger Majere wished he would have paid more attention when the half-ogre was teaching the Kagonesti and the dwarf some of the hand signals he employed for words. Ulin tugged on the half-ogre’s furry sleeve, then balled his gloved hands and vigorously shook them in front of his chest. It was the gesture for cold, frozen. Ulin pointed to the bear and repeated the gesture, trying to explain to Groller that somehow the bear had died frozen in that position. But the half-ogre shook his head.

  “Dno,” he said to Ulin. “Ooo-lin wrong ’bout bear.” Groller sniffed the air and plodded toward the bear, pulling loose his spear and gazing beyond the unfortunate creature. Ulin and Gilthanas followed him, but Fury held his position, refusing to go any closer and growling all the louder.

  “In the name of Paladine,” Ulin
whispered.

  Groller brushed away some of the snow along the wall behind the frozen bear, revealing a thin sheet of ice that cracked quickly after the half-ogre pounded on it several times. Also revealed was the entrance to a massive cave. Inside were more frozen bears and dozens of seals. A whale, looking like it somehow had beached itself upon the cave floor far from the sea, was also there.

  “Here, over here.”

  At first Ulin thought it was the wind whispering, but the sound repeated itself, with a little more volume this time. Glancing deeper into the massive chamber, Ulin spied nine figures – eight of them wearing the mailed armor of the Knights of Takhisis beneath their furry cloaks. The ninth, a young woman, was clad in the silver-plated armor of a Solamnic Knight of the Crown. Frost covered her exposed face and hands, but her eyes blinked.

  “Here!” one of the Knights of Takhisis called.

  Ulin and Groller rushed forward. Gilthanas stood at the cave entrance, swallowing hard. “Gellidus’s larder,” he whispered. “Ulin” the elf said a little louder, “If we’re going to try to free anyone alive, we’ve got to do it quickly. We can’t afford to stay here. Who knows when the dragon will get hungry and come back here looking for something to snack on?”

  Ulin and Groller chipped frantically away at the ice. Only two of the eight Knights of Takhisis lived – and the young Solamnic, though just barely. The other Knights of Takhisis had been smothered by ice that covered their entire forms. Practically all of the other creatures in the larder were covered with ice, too, and in some cases the coating was an inch or more thick.

  “The White,” the first Knight of Takhisis to be freed said. He wobbled, unable to stand on his frozen legs. “He came upon us in the valley. I thought he meant to kill us all there.”

  “But he wanted to save you for later,” Ulin surmised. The younger Majere helped the Solamnic Knight, while Gilthanas and Groller each supported one of the Knights of Takhisis as they hurried from the cave.

  It wasn’t until they were well away from the valley that they stopped and interrogated the knights. “Fiona Quinti,” the Solamnic introduced herself. She took off her helmet and a shock of curly red hair cascaded out. “I’m new to the order at Castle Eastwatch on the westward side of Southern Ergoth.”

  “You were headed to Huma’s Tomb,” Gilthanas said in a hushed voice. “What did you want there? And what were you doing in the company of Knights of Takhisis?”

  “I was with four others, hunting for deer, when the Dark Queen’s men came upon us. They slew my companions, kept me alive.” She cast a sullen look at the Knights of Takhisis.

  The younger of the two knights glowered at her. “We needed at least one alive,” he hissed. “To carry the lance.”

  “For Khellendros,” the older knight added. “We couldn’t have safely touched it. She posed the least threat, was the easiest to handle.”

  “Are you going to kill us now?” the younger asked.

  “I’d like to,” Gilthanas replied. “But I suspect Ulin and Groller might object. They seem a little more kind-hearted than me.” The elf looked at the ground, remembering his time spent as a prisoner of the Dark Knights. His brow furrowed, and he looked to the knights standing before him. He let his gaze drift from the knights to the sky above. He was still more than a little worried about the White Dragon.

  “And if you had managed to get Huma’s lance?” Ulin pressed.

  “We were to deliver it to the dragon,” the older knight quickly answered.

  “And then?”

  “We would have received other orders, been sent elsewhere.”

  “Are there more knights searching for other magic?”

  The older knight shook his head. “I don’t know. I was only privy to our unit’s orders. I will not speculate on what the Storm Over Krynn desires.”

  Ulin turned his attention to the young woman and noticed that she had dark green eyes. She seemed so incredibly young. “There are other Solamnics at Eastwatch?”

  “Yes, nearly two dozen of us,” she answered. “We protect the elves and humans there. I’m certain my brethren are looking for me. My senior knight won’t rest until she knows what has happened to me and the others.”

  “When we’re finished here, we’ll find a way to get you back home.”

  “My thanks, stranger” she replied.

  Ulin introduced himself, Groller, and Gilthanas. Fury was quick to make friends with Fiona, settling next to her while they rested, then walking at her side when they resumed their trek toward the tomb.

  Indeed, by the end of the following day even the Knights of Takhisis had agreed to join the quest, vowing to leave their Order. To return to the Blue empty-handed would be to invite death, and to return to their commander would invite nearly the same thing.

  Ulin believed, however, that the knights accompanied them solely for the chance of finding the lance and salvaging their mission. He kept a prudent eye on them, and noted that Fiona was doing the same.

  *

  The heroes quietly passed by the stone ruins of a small keep as they entered Foghaven Vale. They slowed their pace as they descended a treacherous, snowy slope, and then the thick mist that hung over Foghaven Plain enveloped them.

  “Stick together, and keep heading north,” Gilthanas directed. “The tomb is somewhere straight ahead.”

  Ulin turned to cast a wary glance at the group of Knights of Takhisis. It was going to be hard to keep an eye on them in all of this fog. “How long is this going to take?” he asked, rushing over a few small snowdrifts in order to catch up with Gilthanas. “About an hour,” answered the elf, quickening his pace.

  Meanwhile, Groller, who along with Fiona and Fury brought up the rear, seemed particularly troubled about having another of his senses hampered. He took slow, heavy steps, his feet often breaking through the snowdrifts to the ground below. “See,” he asked Fiona repeatedly, “see?”

  Fury darted in and out of the fog nervously, disappearing for a few moments, and then reappearing at Groller’s side. The half-ogre, unable to hear the wolf approach, jumped a little each time Fury materialized out of the mist.

  The group slowly made its way across the plain, pausing when it game to a bridge. Made of marble, the wide arch rose over bubbling water that gave off steam and coated the bridge with a sheen of ice.

  “The fog is created when the hot springs on the right side of the valley and the cool lake on the left side run together,” explained Gilthanas. “We’re going to cross over their meeting point now. Of course, thanks to the White the fog is even thicker because both bodies of water now mingle with cold glacial air.”

  One by one, the adventurers crawled across the slippery span on all fours. They had all gathered together on the other side of the bridge when the fog slightly parted to the north.

  “Look! Right up there!” cried Ulin. “It’s the White!” A great dragon emerged from the swirling mist, its massive, rock-solid body wrapped in undulating gray and white vapors.

  The group quickly disbanded, some rushing forward to attack, others retreating to the bridge. “Hold it! Hold it!” called Gilthanas, waving his hands and laughing. “That’s only a statue! That’s

  Dragon Mountain! It’s not moving, see?” The giant carved visage disappeared behind a veil of fog.

  Ulin relaxed his defensive stance and then sighed. “Anything else you forgot to warn us about?” The group fell back into line, and Gilthanas trudged ahead, still chuckling to himself. He stopped suddenly, then straightened. “Now that you mention it...”

  Directly ahead of them a dark figure rose out of the fog. It stood in their path – solid, glistening black and unmoving.

  “This is a guardian,” said the elf, gesturing to the dark form, “we are very near the tomb.”

  Groller pushed his way through the assembled adventurers and moved forward to regard the nine-foot-tall, obsidian statue closely. He turned to look back at Ulin, beckoning the young mage forward. The half-ogre repeatedly pointe
d to his own eyes and then to the guardian.

  “It’s a nice likeness of your father,” said Gilthanas.

  Ulin joined Groller in front of the statue. “Father? Why?”

  “We see Palin Majere because we have only good intentions in coming here. Because we bring no evil to this place, we see this guardian as a friend, a loved one, and we can pass by it easily.”

  “This guardian?”

  “There are more; carved pillars ring the entire tomb. But enough of likenesses, let’s get to the real thing.”

  The group formed a line and began to move past, giving the large statue a wide berth. But it wasn’t wide enough.

  The Knights of Takhisis were overcome with fear, and could not pass by the pillar. They scrambled backward, colliding with Fiona and Fury.

  The red wolf snapped at their heels, urging them forward. Fiona struggled to get them to cover their eyes but their hands inexorably slid away from their faces. They could not look away, could not stop staring in terrified fascination at the guardian. They could not move. It was as if they had become statues themselves.

  In frustration, Groller finally tromped back to where they stood. One at a time, he scooped them up and carried them past the pillar, their bodies rigid, their heads turning to continue staring at the statue as they moved by.

  None of them noticed the figure flying overhead, the dragon whose immense form briefly darkened the snow beneath its sparkling white wings. The dragon craned its neck so it could better see the tiny figures below, then it started to circle.

  The group assembled in front of the tomb. The small rectangular building sat upon an octagonal base against which snow had drifted. A great deal of the obsidian structure was covered in snow and ice, but sections of its smooth black exterior were visible where small avalanches had slid down its sides.

  “There are stairs under here somewhere,” said Gilthanas, gingerly climbing up the snow covered base of the building and toward its shiny, ice-encrusted brass doors. He reached the top of the platform, and a crack spread down the center of the icy doors. They swung open silently.