by Jean Rabe
“There are only four of them,” she whispered to Palin. “Two knights and two blue-painted brutes. I think they’re lost. They’re not going in a straight line. The path they’re making looks like a snake.” She knew it was easy to get lost in a forest this dense. “We should catch them by sundown.”
“About the time the draconians come out of their tower,” Jasper said.
Feril let her senses stay with the earth for a few more moments, relishing the sensation and the perceptions, before almost reluctantly drawing her attention back to her companions. She hesitantly rose and started to brush the dirt from her fingertips, then stopped herself. “This way.”
The Kagonesti flitted through the underbrush, as Palin and Jasper struggled to keep up. Neither asked her to slow her pace, however, as they knew how important it was to reach the scepter while it was still light.
They were weary by the time the shadows were thick and by the time they caught up with her, thrashing ahead of them. The meager sunlight was tinged orange, and hinted that soon the forest would be plunged into darkness and the draconians would begin their hunting. They crouched behind an immense, velvety fern and parted the leaves. The two knights were in the lead, using their long swords like machetes to hack at the plants and clear a path. Feril cringed at their careless brutality.
The shortest brute, a stout man of perhaps six feet, carried a leather sack over his shoulder. A wickedly spiked club was clenched in his left hand. The other brute was a foot taller, and was busy scanning the greens all around, alert for trouble. An uneasy expression shrouded his chiseled face. His wide nostrils quivered, and Feril knew he had already smelled them.
She touched the fern leaf in front of her and addressed the plant. “Join me,” she whispered. Her senses easily slipped into the leaves, the stems, then flowed into the roots. The enchanted forest made her nature spells come practically effortlessly, and her mind quickly touched the other plants around the knights and brutes. She felt Palin crouch near her.
The tall brute stopped and whirled toward the fern where the trio was hiding. Jasper stood, his hammer hefted in his right hand. Judging the distance between himself and the man, he hurled the weapon. It spun over and over, until it struck the man, thumping hard against his abdomen and knocking him backward.
Palin had begun his own enchantment. One of the first spells he’d taught his son, it was a clever use of heat, and it would produce no actual flame to threaten the forest. As the last words to his enchantment ended, the knights dropped their swords and cried out, tearing at fastenings on their armor. Their metal had grown hot, and was progressively becoming hotter, their skin sizzling.
Meanwhile the tall brute had struggled to his feet. His companion dropped his leather sack and hefted the spiked club to his shoulders. He spied the dwarf, charged toward him, and quickly fell face first into the velvet fern. Vines had slithered across the ground and wrapped themselves about his ankles. More vines were encircling his wrists and neck, flowing like water over his body and holding him tightly in place, nearly smothering him beneath their leaves.
Other plants were grabbing at the tall brute. He fought against them as Jasper darted forward, picked up his hammer, and waved it threateningly. The brute broke free and glared at the short bearded man.
Palin and Feril stepped toward the knights, picking up their swords and kicking away pieces of the discarded armor. The heat did not affect Palin, and he watched as the moss and the vines spread to obscure most of the discarded mail and helmets. His eyes widened when he spotted a lord knight’s insignia on one of the breastplates.
The knights were down to the padding they wore beneath the mail. They wisely made no move to attack Palin, but they couldn’t help but glower at him.
“Don’t make us kill you,” the sorcerer said. He studied the men’s faces. “Lord Knight Breen,” he recognized the older man, Middle’s heir-apparent, “we’ve more than enough blood already on our hands. If I were you, I’d leave this forest quickly.”
Palin saw that the lord knight looked relieved, believing that his life and the lives of his men had been spared. The Knights of Takhisis didn’t know the draconians would likely find them, and that the draconians had no intention of letting them escape. “No witnesses,” Palin remembered the old Aurak saying.
“It’s in here!” Jasper said. The dwarf glanced in the leather sack, then returned his gaze to the tall brute and flourished his hammer for emphasis. Softly, he said to Palin, “The knights will follow us, you realize. If a lord knight’s involved, they’ll not give the Fist of E’Li up. Probably wait until we’re sleeping, or...”
Palin motioned to the dwarf and Feril, and backed away from the men, following the path the knights had carved back toward the draconian’s tower. “If you’re right” Palin told the dwarf, “and they follow us, the Aurak’s assassins will find them that much quicker.”
When they’d put some distance between themselves and the knights, they darted behind a fragrant bush and waited. “Of course I was right,” the dwarf smugly whispered. “See?” A moment later the brutes thundered by. The knights followed, weapons outstretched.
Palin was disappointed to see the dwarf proven right. After all, Steel was a Dark Knight, but he had acted honorably – escorting Palin’s dead brothers home, praying over their graves, facing execution without excuse when Palin had escaped.
Feril motioned Jasper and Palin north, leading them toward the clearing where they’d left Usha. She talked to the plants as she went, coaxing them to cover up their trail. They pressed on even when the blackness settled around them, and she continued to use her keen elven senses to guide them.
More than a week later, and only one day shy of the Qualinesti’s deadline, they found Usha in the company of a half-dozen elven archers.
Jasper pulled the scepter from the sack and held it up for them to see. It looked like a small mace made of polished wood. Its haft was trimmed with alternating bands of silver and gold, and its bulb-shaped top was encrusted with diamonds, garnets, and emeralds.
“So you were successful,” the tallest elf observed, his eyes mesmerized by the glittering gems. “We are glad. We are only sorry that we were not able to help you as you have helped the Qualinesti, Palin Majere.”
Usha ran to embrace Palin. “You’re all right!”
“Your wife convinced us of the error of our ways. You spoke the truth, but we would not hear it. We hope you will hear our apology.”
“She can be very persuasive,” said Palin, smiling down at her. “No harm has been done. We have the scepter, and I have my wife back.”
The tall elf nodded, and the band of elves quickly and silently melted into the foliage.
Usha kissed Palin deeply, then pulled back, wrinkled her nose, and looked closely at her husband.
Like Jasper and Feril, the sorcerer was exhausted and filthy, and smelted strongly of sweat. Usha, however, looked as fresh as if she’d just gotten up from a long nap.
“Ankatavaka isn’t far,” Palin said, grimacing when he noticed some of the grime of the forest had rubbed off on Usha. “New clothes, a bath, and when we’re rested, I’ll transport us to Goldmoon’s Citadel.”
“Win?”
“He hasn’t contacted me,” the sorcerer replied. “I’m hoping he does so by the time we reach Ankatavaka.”
Usha inhaled sharply. “I must believe he’s all right.”
“Of course he is” Jasper offered as they walked toward the coast. “He’s a Majere, isn’t he? And Majeres are made of very stern stuff. He’ll be back with us in no time. Now, about those clothes...” He opened the leather sack, so Usha could look inside.
The brutes, who had climbed the tower wall, had stolen more than the Fist of E’li from the draconians’ treasure room. Also inside were handfuls of rubies and sapphires, and strings of pearls.
“New clothes, some dwarven ale, a side of beef for Fury, maybe a nice necklace for Goldmoon since we’re going to need her medallion, and...”
<
br /> Palin and Usha walked hand in hand, she softly telling him of her few weeks with the elves.
Feril shut out the dwarf’s musings and the Majeres’ conversation and concentrated on the beautiful sounds of Beryl’s forest. I will come back here, she told herself. With Dhamon Grimwulf.
Chapter 22
RED HANDS
Dhamon had kept to himself during moat of the journey. He ate sparingly, having little appetite, and he slept only briefly, feeling little need for rest and preferring to stay awake and forestall any further dreams. The few hours of sleep he grabbed here and there were filled with images of a red dragon made entirely of flame. Sometimes the dragon was ringed by erupting volcanoes and surrounded by red-scaled spawn that breathed streams of fire. Sometimes there were legions of goblins, hobgoblins, and Knights of Takhisis behind her – all of them made of fire, crackling and hissing malevolently.
The dreams became less and less frequent as Flint’s Anvil neared Schallsea Island, then one day they vanished all together. When the Silver Stair came into view beneath the full, pale moon that illuminated it – the Citadel of Light where Goldmoon made her home – Dhamon felt relaxed. The ship dropped anchor in the bay, and Dhamon, Blister, and the mariner took the longboat ashore. After two guards admitted them, they passed by a large number of Goldmoon’s students before making their way to her chamber.
The former knight had decided to show Goldmoon the glaive and tell her about the bronze dragon Shimmer. Perhaps she would have a clue to the weapon’s origin and how the dragon came by it. But first she needed to look at the scale imbedded in his thigh. Though it had caused him no pain since it was first put there, he feared it might be the true source of his nightmares.
*
The stars winked down on the Peak of Malys, and a single pale moon that hung low on the horizon. The Red raised her head to the heavens and roared. Flames leapt into the sky, a burst of searing heat that helped to vent her great anger. She roared again, the sound so intense this time that it made her mountain tremble. In response, the volcanoes that ringed the plateau belched sulfurous gouts of black smoke.
A rumble started in Malys’s belly, and the volcanoes thundered in chorus and began to erupt anew. Thick streams of lava raced down their sides and pooled at the Red’s taloned feet. Their smoke continued to rise to mingle with her flames and to blot out the stars and the moon.
Her link with Dhamon Grimwulf had been tenuous, but as he neared the cursed Isle of Schallsea, it seemed to disappear entirely. The Red knew of the healer, one of the most powerful Heroes of the Lance, and she knew it was the woman – deity-touched – who was interfering with her influence.
“I will have the man and the weapon,” she hissed. “I will not be cheated of so great a prize.” There were other exceptional magical items to be had, Malys had learned – a lance wielded by a man named Huma, a crown that rested beneath the waves with the Dimernesti, a ring languishing on a mysterious man’s hand. Still, the Red sensed that none of those things could surpass the glaive.
Her fire continued to fill the sky, the lava surged about her claws, and Malystryx the Red closed her eyes and summoned all of her arcane strength.
*
Usha Majere stood on the outskirts of Ankatavaka and stared into Groller’s eyes. The half-ogre reached out a big hand, trying to provide some comfort. His other hand firmly grasped Huma’s lance. He offered her a smile, but didn’t offer her any words of explanation or understanding. Words weren’t needed – there were plenty of them on the parchment Palin was reading for the second time.
The red-haired wolf sat at Groller’s feet, and Fiona Quinti, the young Knight of Solamnia from Castle Eastwatch, stood nearby, clutching Rig’s dragonlance.
Ulin and Gilthanas hadn’t appeared when Palin magically summoned them from Southern Ergoth. Neither had Ulin offered a clue as to what he was planning when he had contacted his father more than an hour ago and asked for the summoning enchantment.
Palin’s spell brought only Groller, Fury, and Fiona – and the parchment on which Ulin sought to rationalize his and Gilthanas’s absences.
“I came to help explain their decision “Fiona began. “I was given leave to join you for a time. I realize I cannot replace Ulin and Gilthanas, but my sword is yours.”
“Do you know anything of this gold dragon? Sunrise?” Usha asked.
Fiona shook her head, glancing at Palin.
The sorcerer was visibly rattled by the words on the parchment. His eyes watered as they met Usha’s. “Ulin is a grown man, with a wife and children. But to think he would abandon them – for who knows how long – to study magic with a dragon. He and Sunrise have also gone to the Dragon Isles to tell the good dragons about Takhisis’s imminent return. He feels it a mission of great import.”
His shoulders slumped. He couldn’t control his son’s life. He didn’t want to and wouldn’t dream of trying. “But the twins are so young. He has a family. How can he do this – what I did too often to you?”
Usha released Groller’s hand and moved toward her husband. “He can do this because he is your son and because he is tied to magic. Magic was always at the heart of the reason why you left me.”
“I always came back.”
“Ulin will, too.”
But will he? Usha wondered. She knew her son better than Palin did. And she knew that magic was Ulin’s passion, perhaps even more so than it had been his father’s.
Palin crumpled the parchment in his fist. Usha wrapped her arms around her husband. “We will travel to the Tower of Wayreth,” he said softly into her ear. “This matter of Takhisis...”
“And if it is real?” Usha asked.
“We’ll gain Dalamar’s ring, and rejoin the others at the Silver Stair. The overlords are threat enough, but if the Dark Queen aids them, the danger is tenfold.” He felt a lump rise in his throat and thought briefly of the Chaos War and all the death and destruction it had brought. Takhisis and the overlords could wage a battle that Krynn probably wouldn’t survive – at least not the world’s races of humans and demihumans.
“You’ll send the others to Goldmoon’s?” Usha interrupted his musings.
Palin nodded. “Yes, now. I suspect Goldmoon is waiting for them – as the Master and the Shadow Sorcerer wait for me”
*
“They’re coming “Goldmoon said to the air. She stood at the window, looking up at the stars. “Yes, Dhamon is with them. I was so glad to learn he lived. I sensed he was the one, dear Riverwind. I’m still certain of it. What’s that? Oh, yes, the mariner is with him, the one Palin trusts. And Blister as well. There is hope yet for Ansalon.”
Her fingers fluttered over the surface of the medallion she wore. “Of course I will give this up,” she said, her eyes fixed ahead. “Yes, it does mean a lot to me, husband. But they think it will return the gods’ magic to Krynn. Do you remember when we worked so hard to bring back clerical magic to the world? We were so young then, and the task seemed impossible. But we succeeded, and it seems like it was only yesterday. You were here and —”
“I think she’s got company.” The kender’s voice drifted up from the curving stairwell. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything important. Wonder who’d be visiting her this late at night?”
Blister was in the lead because she was tired of getting left behind. Her short legs carried her up the twisting staircase that seemed to wind itself through every vacant room and alcove of the crystalline dome. She was sticking to the middle of the stairwell so Rig and Dhamon couldn’t squeeze around her and with their longer legs leave her behind. Eventually they reached an oval chamber at the top, where Goldmoon seemed to be conversing with someone. Rig and Dhamon emerged from the stairwell behind the kender.
“Guess she doesn’t have company,” Blister decided, as she took in the immaculate room. “Must have been hearing things.” The room’s polished, curved white walls and its marble floor reflected the starlight and made it seem as if a dozen lanterns were burning.
“Guess I was imagining her talking to somebody.” Gauzy curtains hung here and there, more for decoration than function. The pale birch furniture, though sparse for the size of the room, appeared newly made and delicate.
As Goldmoon stepped away from the window and faced Blister, the healer’s lips edged upward in a smile.
Though she was over eighty, she didn’t look quite that old, nor as old as Dhamon remembered seeing her long months ago when he had first answered her summons. Her blonde hair streaked with silver rested in stray curls about her shoulders. Her blue eyes were pale, but not dull and cloudy as he recalled. Jasper once told Dhamon that his faith colored what he saw whenever he visited the famed healer. The moonlight revealed the lines on her face, and Dhamon could see that the flesh on her arms and along her jaw sagged.
Blister saw a different image, however, one full of life and promise, with sparkling clear eyes and no trace of lines or stooped shoulders. “Your faith indeed colors what you see,” the kender whispered.
Goldmoon glided toward the trio, carrying herself with a quiet grace. There was a stately demeanor about her, a feeling of quiet power. “It does truly gladden my heart to see you, Dhamon Grimwulf.”
She took Dhamon’s hand, and nodded to the mariner, offering him a smile. Then she winked at Blister.
Rig was awed to be in her presence, but kept silent. One of the Heroes of the Lance. She was the stuff of numerous tavern tales he’d heard throughout the many nations he’d visited. He suddenly wished Shaon was here to share this moment with him.
“It’s good to see you, too. I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but my leg “Dhamon began, “there’s a red dragon scale on it, in it actually, and —”
“In a minute,” Blister interrupted. She trotted up to Gold-moon, turned her face up to stare into the healer’s brilliant eyes. “Your medallion. You said when I came to the Silver Stair that you’d give it to me. Well, to us really. Palin and Feril and Jasper are looking for a scepter, and Ulin and Gilthanas are with Groller and Fury looking for Huma’s lance. I hope they’ve found everything by now, or else some of them will be very, very cold. There’s a ring, and Palin said he’d take care of that. But —”
