by Jean Rabe
The half-ogre pulled his friend away from the area. The mariner could see that Palin, Jasper, Feril, Fiona, and Fury – all of them were also running away. The patch of quicksand was growing, racing outward to engulf them.
Fiona charged forward, her long sword reflecting the lightning as she skirted the growing pool of quicksand.
Palin held something in his hands and recited arcane words. Feril was doing the same, but their words weren’t coming fast enough – the sand was going to overtake them. It swelled like a tide around their ankles, sloshed up to their knees.
On the other side of the sandy pond, Sageth threw back his head and laughed. The stone tablet melted from his arms, forming a foot-high man who joined in the malevolent laughter.
“You did well,” Fissure replied. “I am quite proud of you.” The diminutive gray man looked up at his accomplice and blinked his large black eyes. He smiled, showing a row of tiny pointed teeth. “The Storm Over Krynn will be most happy. And when this is all over, he will suitably honor both of us.”
The gray man motioned to the sand, and it belched forth Huma’s lance and Goldmoon’s medallions. The objects fell at his tiny feet. Then he gestured at the sand again, and it grew hard, turning to stone, trapping Palin and his friends.
Lightning arced to the ground, striking near Rig, and making the ground tremble. The thunder boomed deafeningly, and the rain began. It was a hard, pummeling rain. It was a warm rain, too, uncomfortably so, and it came at them sideways now, driven by a fierce wind.
Palin continued the words to his spell, a complex enchantment that he couldn’t afford to cast improperly. Feril’s spell finished first, and a chunk of the solidified quicksand shot up and struck the gray man in the side of his head. He reeled from the blow, but quickly regained his balance. A master of the element of earth, he could not be truly hurt by it, nor could it much slow him down.
He dropped the medallion over his short neck, picked up the handle of the dragonlance, and dragged the weapon behind him. Sageth turned and followed the diminutive man.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the pair’s retreating forms – and highlighting another approaching one. A dragon was slowly dropping toward them through the clouds. His sapphire scales slick with rain, his eyes glowing yellow, the dragon snarled. Lightning danced along his teeth and talons and raced to meet the earth.
“Khellendros!” Feril cried.
Sageth and the huldrefolk continued to walk in a northerly direction. “It looks like everything is progressing smoothly,” the old man said. “How long before I receive my reward for my part in all of this?”
“Now, I think,” Fissure replied. He faced the elderly man and stretched out his long thin fingers. He touched the man’s side, and within a heartbeat the huldrefolk had drained away the scant remainder of the man’s years. Sageth turned to stone and then crumbled to dust that was swiftly washed away by the rain.
Fissure grinned and continued north, occasionally glancing back to see if the Storm Over Krynn was finished playing with the foolish people.
“Majere!” The word exploded like a clap of thunder from the dragon’s mouth. “I’ve let you live long enough!” Khellendros beat his wings, spurring on the rain and hovering in one position, angling his head toward his captured, squirming foes.
His eyes fixed on the struggling sorcerer, and he thought of Kitiara. “Whelp of Kitiara’s enemies!” he bellowed. He wished his once-cherished partner were here to see this victory, to savor this success. She would know of it, he vowed. When he again found her spirit, and brought her back to Krynn, he would regale her with tales of the day he had destroyed Palin Majere and stolen the magic that made it possible for her to return. He would let one or two of the others live so that they would continue to hamper Malys.
Fiona, meanwhile, had barely managed to avoid being trapped in the stone. She stood defiantly, waving her sword and daring the dragon to come closer. The young Knight of Solamnia knew to face a dragon of this size would mean certain death, but not to stand up against it would mock everything she believed in. “Skie!” she cried, using the name humans had given the dragon. “Fight me! I’m not some helpless target!”
Behind her, Rig held the scepter over his shoulder. “This is supposed to be such a very powerful artifact,” he said to himself. “Let’s see if that’s so.” He drove the Fist of E’li against the stone that held him, clenching the haft in his sweating hands. The macelike head connected with a sound like breaking glass that split the air and parted the stone, sending spider-web cracks racing in all directions away from his feet. “Magic indeed!” The mariner quickly broke free and raised the scepter near Feril’s feet. “You next,” he told her.
Above, Khellendros opened his jaws and unleashed a bolt of lightning, thick and bright. The dragon overlord sped toward the ground, landing mere feet away from Feril and Rig. The Kagonesti was in the midst of another spell, but Rig struggled to keep his footing and drove the scepter at the stone in front of her. Seconds later, she was climbing out Jasper gave up struggling against the magically hardened earth. His breaths were shallow, and he felt incredibly dizzy. “If it is Reorx’s wish, I will join you, Goldmoon “he said.
Several feet away, Palin clenched his teeth and fought to keep his concentration. His own spell was almost complete. It might save us, he thought. It has to save us or we are dead, and everything will be lost.
Somehow Fury had freed himself, and now the wolf was at Palin’s side, growling at the dragon. The energy the sorcerer had been gathering from the air and ground about him came faster now – and stronger. He felt the arcane force race outward into his limbs as the last word of the spell fell from his Ups. Fury howled, and the sorcerer sagged, spent from his effort.
As the Blue swooped overhead, Fiona swung at it, grazing its underside. Unfortunately, her blade was unable to penetrate the hard scales. “Don’t ignore me, dragon!” she cried. “Fight me!”
“Do you fear death, Majere?” Khellendros hissed. “Do you fear me?” He opened his mouth to breathe lightning again, but suddenly a stream of quicksilver struck his side, pushing him away, ruining his aim.
“Jasper” the mariner cried, seeing that the dragon had been distracted, “I’m coming!” He raised his scepter and brought it down. The dwarf gasped, prodding his side. Then he gratefully accepted the mariner’s help getting out of the hole in which he had been stuck.
Khellendros turned to the south, where a silver dragon was banking toward him, skimming just below the clouds. The dragon looked gray under the cloud cover. A rider was on her back, and behind her trailed a gold dragon, younger, with a rider also.
The Storm Over Krynn roared his defiance. Neither of them was large enough to defeat him. Even if the approaching dragons worked together, they would not win. But he knew they might hurt him, and he had no time to waste on licking his wounds. He would not let these dragons keep him from the artifacts, from Kitiara.
As the gold and silver beat their wings in an effort to close the distance, he gazed pitilessly at the sorcerer and his friends. Perhaps he would kill them all. His thick blue lips pulled back, and he unleashed a barrage of lightning bolts. The forks of yellow-white light rebounded off the figures below – the female kender, the short-bearded dwarf, the wolf, and the defiant Kagonesti. They also struck Rig Mer-Krel, the dark-skinned man with even darker eyes, and Palin Majere, the sorcerer.
Khellendros’s lightning rained down again and again – and all the while his massive blue body withstood the blasts of quicksilver emanating from the silver dragon and the gouts of fire from the gold. He ignored the tremendous pain, thrust it to the back of his consciousness, and directed one last barrage.
The lightning and thunder rocked the earth. Chunks of hardened quicksand flew into the air, then fell down again on the broken form of Palin Majere, covering the sorcerer and his friends in an impromptu mass grave provided by the Storm Over Krynn.
Then, with the gold and silver nearly on him, he beat his w
ings to carry himself higher, beyond their attack. He’d won, garnered magic from the Age of Dreams, blessed artifacts that he could use to return Kitiara to his side. And he had destroyed his enemies in the process.
The gold and silver would try to pursue him, but they were smaller, and their wings could not take them as far and as fast as Khellendros’s. They would not be able to catch him. The Storm Over Krynn ached from absorbing the impact of their dragon breath, but his heart soared with pride.
Higher he flew, until he buried himself in the thickest cloud overhead. Lightning skittered down his sides and helped to ease his agony. The fierce wind washed over his massive head, and the rain refreshed him.
Then he climbed higher still, heading north, swooping below the clouds only once, and that was to snag Fissure in a great claw – and the lance in the other.
“The Storm Over Krynn shall triumph!” the Blue bellowed to the heavens. “With this magic I will bring Kitiara home!” His triumphant cries turned to shrieks of agony as the lance burned his evil flesh. Still, the dragon flew higher.
The clouds thinned and the rain lessened. The gold and the silver gave up their chase and returned to the scene of the carnage.
“Father! We answered your call too late!” Ulin gasped as he slid from Sunrise’s back and stared at the rubble strewn over the shattered bodies. Tears welled up in his eyes, and spilled down his cheeks. He felt faint with grief and tried to stifle a sob – which quickly turned into a cry of surprise.
A portion of the clearing shimmered. As the dragons and Gilthanas and Ulin watched, shapes formed, transparent at first, but then growing brighter, appearing solid. There were eight figures – Palin, Rig, Fiona, Groller, Fury, Feril, Blister, and Jasper.
The elder Majere dropped to his knees. The spell he had cast to cloak their presence and make false images of themselves had sapped the last of his energy. He was exhausted, and his sides heaved mightily as he tried to suck air into his lungs. He had not cast that type of illusion since the gods of magic had withdrawn from the world, Gilthanas, Silvara, Ulin, and Sunrise had provided a much needed distraction and had made it easier to fool the Blue. Now the dragons kept their necks craned toward the thinning clouds, wanting to make sure Khellendros would not be returning.
“We still have a chance,” Rig said, as he shouldered the Fist of E’li and helped Palin to his feet At least he had one artifact, and Palin knew where Dalamar’s ring rested. There was Age of Dreams magic with the Dimernesti beneath the sea. And there was Dhamon’s glaive, which the mariner intended to claim after he slew the treacherous ex-knight.
“Goldmoon is dead. We’re wounded. What chance do we have?” Jasper asked.
“A chance,” Rig said quietly. “And it’s a chance we have to take,” He stared at the scepter in his hands. “If we give up now, all of Krynn loses.”
*
It was a place of swirling gray mists – insubstantial, yet solid enough to stand upon. Goldmoon stood there, the tendrils swirling about her legs, and wrapping tight as if to hold her there, to keep her from falling or floating away.
She was dressed in leather breeches and a fringed leather tunic that hung to her thighs. The clothes looked new and fit her perfectly. Her long, gold and silver hair was braided, as she had worn it in her younger years, with beads and feathers stuck here and there as adornments.
Though there was no sun or moon, there was a hazy light, provided by the gray mists. Her hair shone in the light, and her eyes sparkled as her lips crept upward into a smile.
Goldmoon looked as she did then, on that first day they met, her eyes wide open and fixed on the man’s handsome form.
Riverwind stood before her, with tanned skin, jet black hair, and eyes that were piercing and filled with a quiet mirth. He was just as she had remembered him being at their first meeting that seemed like yesterday, though it was long ago. He reached out a hand and touched her smooth race..
“Husband,” she said simply.
“I have been waiting for you,” Riverwind replied.
