The Day Of The Tempest

by Jean Rabe

  “Yes, it is,” Usha agreed.

  “And green,” Jasper added.

  Feril took the lead as she headed deeper into the tropical woods. Her eyes lit on a trillium, a three-leaved dark red flower that grew amid a patch of velvet ferns. The plant should have been ankle-high, the bloom about the size of her thumb, but this one reached nearly to her waist. She moved toward it and ran her fingers over its fist-sized, cone-shaped blossom. Its fragrance was intoxicating. She breathed in deeply.

  “Nuts!” She heard wood snap behind her, and turned.

  “Sorry,” the dwarf offered as he tugged his foot loose from between two protruding roots. “Don’t mean to insult your beautiful forest, Feril. It’s hard to get around in here. Everything’s so big.”

  “You wanted to come along,” Palin reminded him.

  “Only because Gilthanas didn’t want me to go to Southern Ergoth. And only because I wasn’t about to get left behind on the ship again. Look what I missed by not going into the desert with you – elephants and everything.”

  “You could have sailed to Schallsea with Dhamon and Rig,” Usha reminded him.

  Jasper caught up to the Kagonesti. “If you ask me, you should’ve stayed on the ship. Dhamon didn’t look too happy to see you go.”

  Feril frowned. “I wasn’t too happy about it either. But we’ll have time together later. Besides, Goldmoon needs to do something about that scale.”

  The dwarf smiled. “If anyone can do something about it, it’s Goldmoon. Let’s pick up the pace; there’s not much daylight left.”

  Feril smiled down at him. “There’s lots of light left. Just not much of it is reaching down here.”

  “Night’ll be real dark, then.”

  “Like a cave,” Palin mused.

  The dwarf sighed.

  Monkeys chattered and leaped from branch to branch. Birds were in abundance, some screeching shrilly, others singing melodiously. There were plenty of parrots – tropical birds that normally wouldn’t be found here. Lured by the warmth and dense vegetation, they were thriving. Throwing her head back and peering between the branches, Feril could see the orange and yellow feathers of the largest macaws. She pointed them out to Jasper, who seemed only politely interested. Usha, however, was enchanted by them and walked with her head tilted up. She watched them glide from branch to branch, while she held onto Palin’s arm.

  They had traveled for more than an hour when the noise abruptly stopped. Feril was the first to notice the unnatural silence. She stopped and concentrated on her other senses – her elven eyes peering into the foliage, her nostrils quivering, trying to pick up new scents – perhaps a large carnivore, something that might have scared the birds.

  “Palm, look over here. There’s some kind of net on the ground!” Jasper called.

  “Don’t touch it!” Feril called, as she darted forward. Palin and Usha were fast behind her. The Kagonesti reached the dwarf then felt herself yanked off her feet and rising into the air along with Palin, Usha, and Jasper. The net shot high into the trees, biting into their skin. Thorny branches scraped them, tearing their clothes and striping them with welts.

  When it came to a stop, the net dangled more than twenty feet above the forest floor, swaying and causing the branches that held it to groan in protest.

  “I didn’t touch it!” Jasper shouted. He looked down and then slammed his mouth shut, fighting the sensation of his stomach rising into his throat.

  Feril also looked down at the ground, then at her companions, Usha was holding tight to the net, her knuckles white. Palin was trying to move his legs. The sorcerer had a dagger he’d been carrying since the Northern Wastes. Jasper had one too, and a hammer strapped to his belt. Between the two of them, maybe they could cut their way free, swing the net toward a tree first, snare a branch and climb down. Something moved below, skulking from bush to bush, before finally stepping out into the clearing. Feril tugged on Palin’s sleeve, and pointed to the solitary Qualinesti gazing up at them.

  The elf wore a long green dress that nearly matched the shade of the velvet ferns. Her hair was short, the color of honey, and her bright blue eyes peered up at them with curiosity. “Spies of the dragon,” she pronounced after looking them over. “You are dead.”

  More than a dozen elves rushed out of the foliage to join her, several of them with bows trained up at the net, arrows nocked. She raised her hand, signaling them.

  “Wait!” Palin shouted. He pressed his face through a gap in the net. “We’re no spies! We work against the dragons – not for them. I’m Palin Majere and —”

  “Majere?” The word rolled off her tongue. “One of the few survivors from the battle with Chaos?”

  “Yes, I fought in the Abyss!” Palin returned. “I’m still fighting!”

  “If we let you live, you’ll still fight.” The woman stood directly beneath the net now. “Apparently the most famous sorcerer on Krynn is tangled up in our net,” she said, looking over at the other elves. She turned to look back up at Palin. “Apparently you must think us complete fools!”

  “No, he really is Palin Majere” said Feril.

  The woman glared up at her. “Kagonesti,” she said loudly. “Fled from Southern Ergoth. Perhaps you spy for the White?”

  “We will not harm you,” Palin said calmly.

  “Oh, I know that. After all, you and your sorcerer friends from the Tower did save our race from the Green Feril. And you still help some Qualinesti escape to safely, when you’re not hanging around in nets, that is.” The elven woman burst into laughter, her companions joining her.

  “You? Stand up to the Green Feril?” one of the archers asked Feril. Those beside him chuckled, their soft laughter sounding like leaves rustling in the breeze.

  “We oppose Beryl, too – and the White in Southern Ergoth,” Feril added. She turned her head and whispered to Palin, “The resistance is made up of scattered groups of Qualinesti linked by a network throughout the forest. I’ve heard they monitor the dragon and strike with military precision against her minions.”

  “We’re trying to stand up to all the overlords,” Usha called.

  “And just how do you expect to fight the great dragons?” The woman’s tone was heavy with skepticism. “Four against the dragons.”

  “There’s more of us,” Jasper finally spoke.

  The elven woman whispered an order to one of the archers. He lowered his bow and slipped into the dense undergrowth.

  “Not here!” the dwarf called. “In Southern Ergoth and Schallsea. Oh, what’s the use? You’re not listening.”

  “What measure of trust do you offer us?” she returned. “What proof is there of what you claim? Speak quickly, or my men will loose their arrows.”

  “This trust,” Palin answered. The sorcerer took a deep breath and told her the truth about their search for the artifacts and their hope to restore magic to Krynn. “We were heading to the old stronghold, the old tower,” he concluded. “One such artifact, a wooden scepter known as the Fist of E’Li, is said to rest there.”

  “A tale, and a good one,” the elven woman said. “And if it is true, you are on a fool’s errand. Only death awaits you in that place. It is a crumbling tower that even our greatest warriors avoid. What matter if we kill you, or if you die there?”

  She again nodded to the archers, who raised their bows. “No!” Usha cried. “Why won’t you believe us?”

  “We believe in ourselves.”

  “You are right to be wary of strangers, and I will ask for no special treatment,” said Palin.

  “Keep me here with you. I am Palin’s wife. I was in the Abyss. I watched the dragons die, too. Let me be the guarantee that he told you the truth. Let him go to the stronghold and try to find what he’s looking for.”

  The Qualinesti leaned her head to the side. “Whoever you are, you are brave.” She pursed her thin lips, running a slender finger across her chin. “But is your offer sufficient?” She closed her eyes and her brow furrowed, as if she wa
s considering the matter.

  “Don’t do this,” Palin urgently whispered to his wife. “My magic...”

  “You’d rather us all die by their arrows?” Usha said softly. “Are your spells quicker than those archers?”

  “We accept your offer,” the elf finally answered, taking note of Palin’s admirable concern. “Sorcerer – it is a long walk to the stronghold – for those who move awkwardly through the woods. Three weeks we will give you for your fool’s errand. If you have not returned to this clearing at the end of that time with proof that all you seek to take from this land is the scepter, we will know that you failed, or that you lied to us and are indeed spies. Your woman’s life will be forfeit. And, if you still live, we will track you down and finish this job.”

  The elf motioned to the archers. They lowered their bows and backed into the foliage. Within a heartbeat, she had disappeared amidst the leaves, too.

  The net jerked violently, then plummeted like a rock.

  With no room to maneuver in their hemp cocoon, the quartet couldn’t brace for the landing. The ground rushed up to meet them, and they hit with bone-jarring impact. Feril crumpled on her shoulder, her arm pinned beneath her, and Usha on top of her. Palin landed partly on his stomach and partly on Jasper.

  The sorcerer unsheathed his dagger, and began cutting at the net. Several moments later, they were free. They gingerly moved their limbs to make sure nothing was broken.

  Palin held his wife close. “I should stay, not you.”

  “I’ll be all right. Don’t worry. You’re the only one who’s been to the tower before.”

  “That was years ago, when I was helping Gilthas try to find Beryl’s lair. The place has changed so much. If only I could visualize it enough to summon us there...”

  “Really, I’ll be all right. Just don’t dawdle.”

  He stared into her golden eyes, as he’d stared into them years ago before he had ventured into the Abyss during the Chaos War.

  “There’s no sign of them,” Jasper said. He looked about on the ground, seeing no footprints and noting that the trampled grass was already beginning to spring back up.

  “They’re here, watching us,” Feril said.

  Palin cupped Usha’s chin with his trembling hand, kissed her, and took a last lingering look into her eyes. “We’ll be back in time,” he promised.

  “Then let’s move,” the dwarf said. He looked about, an uneasy expression on his wide face. He couldn’t see the Qualinesti, but he knew Feril was right. A prickling feeling on the back of his neck told him they were being watched. His tunic was muddy and grass-stained, his face striped with red where the net had pressed against it And his companions looked equally disheveled.

  Palin pointed to the east. “This way.”

  *

  A week later they found the stronghold – barely. They had passed by the area twice, and only Palin’s insistence that it was somewhere nearby kept them from moving on and looking elsewhere.

  The tower was wedged into a crevice in a moss-draped,. rocky hillside. It was as if the forest and the land were trying to swallow the structure, not wanting a work of man to mar this place’s primitive beauty. What little bits of stone were visible were tinted green with moss and looked as if they were part of the hill. Thick patches of well-established ferns grew all around it, and a riot of vines stretched from the base of the tower to its crenelated top more than fifty feet above the forest loam. More vines grew from the top of the hill to the bottom, practically blanketing the structure.

  Spider monkeys cavorted up and down the vines, and dozens of the orange and yellow parrots had made nests within niches. Several thick vines had pulled away from the top of the tower, as if something too large, like an ape or gorilla, had tried to use them for climbing. A shadowy recess covered by a draping of ivy strands marked the doorway at the base.

  Feril and Palin stared at the structure, while Jasper struggled through the bushes that barred easy access. “You two coming?” The dwarf pulled at a stubborn, broad leafed plant, not noticing the Kagonesti hesitate.

  The wooden door, warped from moisture and age, stood slightly ajar. “Someone’s been here,” Feril whispered.

  “Maybe the elven resistance,” Palin speculated. “Maybe the woman lied about her men avoiding this place.”

  “Or maybe the dragon’s been here,” Jasper wondered aloud. Palin took a deep breath, parted the leafy curtain, and tugged on the rusted latch.

  The old door swung open with a gentle groan, revealing shadows and blackness. A pair of glowing yellow eyes peered out from the darkness beyond.

  Chapter 20

  TOWARD SCHALLSEA

  “Thinking about her, aren’t you?” Blister stood at the ship’s railing, looked up at Dhamon, and repeated the question more loudly. She gave him a pouty face when she received no reply. “Well, I’d certainly be thinking about her if I were you. She’s beautiful and smart, can talk to all sorts of animals. She has tattoos, and she obviously is in love with you. I’d be thinking a lot about her, especially after the past few days.”

  He finally nodded. “Yes, I am thinking about her” He was staring at the coast of Abanasinia, at a city called Zaradene that they were swiftly approaching. Rig planned to stop there for the better part of the day to have the mizzen sail replaced and to pick up some fresh water and fruit before heading on to the Silver Stair on Schallsea.

  The mariner slowly steered the ship toward one of the deep-water docks. It was a sizeable town that obviously relied heavily on sea trade. The docks were nearly full of ships – two-and three-masted schooners primarily, and several caravels. It took big ships to brave the treacherous waters between Southern Ergoth and Abanasinia. A couple of massive merchant galleys were anchored out in the harbor, their longboats in the process of transporting some of the crews ashore.

  The smaller docks were filled with local fishing vessels that ran the gamut from large boats in good repair, newly painted and with several hands on board, to scows with warped wood that seemed to barely stay afloat.

  The shore was busy this late afternoon. Fishermen sold their wares to all manner of customers, from men and women picking out a fish or two that would be their evening’s main course, to inn owners buying barrels full of them. Young women in multicolored dresses danced, entertaining the sailors for a few coins. And the street was thick with urchins looking for handouts from sympathetic travelers and keeping an eye out for bulging purses that could be easily snatched.

  This would be a fair place to live, Dhamon thought to himself. Perhaps he and Feril could find a measure of happiness in a cozy stone cottage in a town like this, he mused – after they made their stand against the dragons. And if they lived through such foolhardiness.

  Spaced evenly along the city’s shore and along its southeastern boundary were numerous towers, atop which stood men with spyglasses pressed to their eyes. Some scanned across the water to Southern Ergoth, Frost’s realm. Others looked to the far south where Beryl held sway. So far the White had stayed put on his icy domain, and Beryl’s forest hadn’t grown any farther north in the past decade, hinting that the Green was content to lord over the Qualinesti homeland.

  Rig said he’d heard from sailors in the last port that seers here were constantly asked to consult their bones and tea leaves in an effort to learn what the dragons were doing, and that occasionally patrols were sent to Ankatavaka and the forest beyond to learn what the Green was up to. The patrols never went too deep into the forest – at least not the ones that were lucky enough to come back.

  Zaradene’s waterfront businesses looked like they were thriving. Most were one-and two-level stone buildings with gaily painted trim and placards advertising the specials of the day. A few were made of wood with thatched roofs, and these appeared to be of newer construction. One sizeable wood building, painted light brown with ivory and pale blue trim, had a large glass window. It caught Dhamon’s eye. He squinted to make out a few dresses on display.

  �
�I bet you’re thinking they’d look pretty on Feril,” Blister said, following Dhamon’s gaze. “But I don’t think she likes long skirts. I could help you pick something out for her. She seems to favor green. Maybe she’d wear a dress if it was green and —”

  “I don’t have enough steel left,” he replied. He’d spent most of the coins the mariner gave him on clothes and boots for himself.

  “Well, I’ve a few coins, and an old friend’s collection of silver spoons,” she offered. “We could guess at her size and...”

  He shook his head.

  “So you’re not going into town with me and Rig?”

  “Not this time.”

  “That’s ‘cause you’re worried about her, I bet.” Blister fussed with her braid. She had on a pair of pale blue gloves this morning that matched her shirt and the trim on her dark blue leggings. She was wearing the gloves because she was going into town and didn’t want strangers staring at her scarred hands. The kender hadn’t been wearing any on the ship, and had explained to everyone at least three times that a vision of Goldmoon made her realize she could move her fingers without pain. “I guess I’d worry too if I was in love with —”

  “No reason to worry. Feril can take care of herself.” The voice was Rig Mer-Krel’s. He’d turned the wheel over to one of his mates and had moved silently up behind the pair. He laughed and patted the top of Blister’s head. His eyes narrowed when he looked at Dhamon. “Feril will probably end up taking care of Palin and Usha – and Jasper, too.”

  The kender smiled. “You never worry about anything, Rig”

  “That’s not true,” he said. The ship eased up to the dock, and he frowned when the hull scraped softly against a piling. “I worry about the Anvtt. And I worry about the dragonlance. Dhamon said I could keep it for now, and I went and loaned it to that elf. Gilthanas better bring it back to me – without a scratch on it.”