The Eve of the Maelstrom

by Jean Rabe

  A tense look crossed Dhamon’s face. He had adroitly avoided talking about the time he spent under the dragon’s control, except to satisfy Gilthanas’s curiosity and win some measure of trust from the elf and Silvara. He lengthened his stride, and Usha and Blister had to hurry to keep up.

  “Touchy,” the kender whispered to Usha. “He didn’t used to be so touchy, not when he had blond hair.”

  The trio rounded another corner. The top of a lighthouse poked above the buildings that sprawled in front of them. Made of stone, it stretched high into the early morning sky. Khurman Tor, the lighthouse was called. The city had grown up around it. The local people had walled the city so barbarians and rampaging Neraka tribesmen would leave them alone, and they had stationed lookouts in the lighthouse to guard against threats coming from sea or land. The wall that swept around the city and down to the sea was twenty feet high and solid, with iron-bound gates manned by the Legion of Steel. Knights also walked these streets, chatting with merchants and passersby, questioning people they didn’t know.

  Usha knew to expect the knights. Palin had researched the city before suggesting they meet Rig there and hire a ship. It wasn’t the site closest to the underwater realm of the sea elves, but it was the closest port not in dragon territory, and it offered a deep harbor.

  They headed toward the harbor, selecting a street that cut through a small merchant district filled with butchers, bakers, and fishmongers. It was all Usha and Dhamon could do to keep Blister from darting into each shop to investigate inviting odors.

  “Cinnamon,” the kender said, sniffing at a window. “Raisins, too. Apples.”

  “We’ll have time for something to eat later,” Usha said. “I want to make sure we have enough steel to rent a good ship first.”

  The kender cheerfully acquiesced. “And maybe we’ll even have enough left over to get Dhamon something else to wear. Something black to go with his hair. Or something a little brighter. Hey, Dhamon, did the red dragon ever —”

  Dhamon scowled and walked faster still. Usha and Blister had to run to keep up with him.

  The sounds of gulls crying and water gently lapping against the docks greeted them as they hurried down an especially dusty street that opened into Ak-Khurman’s bustling wharf district. The hot breeze that blew in from the ocean washed over them and loosed graying hair from Blister’s braid.

  A small fortress stood on the northeastern side of the waterfront. Several Legion of Steel knights milled around outside it. There were more knights on the docks. Despite the number of people roaming the waterfront, there appeared to be no sailors or ship captains. Indeed, there were no ships moored to the docks.

  But there was evidence of vessels. Usha noticed them first. Jutting barely above the waterline were several broken masts. Bits of mastheads and rigging floated in the shallow water, caught in the roots of the willows that edged the bank. Blister counted at least twelve sunken ships.

  Farther out in the harbor were anchored a half-dozen ships, among them two impressive galleys. Each flew a black flag with the death lily emblem.

  “Dark Knights,” Usha whispered. “Palin said the Legion of Steel ran this town.”

  “They do,” Dhamon said solemnly. “But the Knights of Takhisis have blockaded it. That’s probably why the Legion of Steel knights were questioning so many people. They are looking for Dark Knight spies or sympathizers.”

  “Palin couldn’t have known,” Usha continued. “He would’ve sent us somewhere else.”

  “Skulls and crossbones would make me feel a whole lot better than death lilies.” Blister wrinkled her nose. “Rig was a pirate once, and I bet we could deal with pirates better than with those black knights. Wonder if the knights sunk the ships?”

  “I’d bet on it,” Dhamon said grimly.

  The kender put her hands on her hips and pouted. “Now how’re we gonna get to Dimernesti? Swim?”

  *

  There wasn’t a table large enough for all of them in The Flowing Flagon, so Rig and Fiona sat alone at a small table against the back wall. She had donned the rest of her armor, and presented a sharp contrast to the mariner, whose clothes hung on him in tatters.

  Jasper, Groller, and Feril hugged one side of the long table near the window, all of them looking like ragged beggars. Blister, Usha, and Dhamon, dressed in new clothes, occupied the other side, picking at the food on their plates – their second meal of the day – while their companions made short work of what was in front of them.

  When the companions were reunited on the waterfront just after sunset, Rig had slammed his fist into the side of Dhamon’s face. It took Jasper and Usha to keep him from drawing a dagger. The mariner refused to listen to Dhamon’s explanations about being under Malystryx’s control. However, he paid a little more attention to Blister and Usha as they relayed what Silvara told them about Dhamon and the shadow dragon. As he ate his mutton, Rig glared at Dhamon and mouthed “later.”

  The others guardedly welcomed Dhamon. Jasper was the friendliest. He looked up from his meal and offered Dhamon a smile.

  “I don’t like the way people are lookin’ at us, Fiona,” Rig said. “See’em? Just staring – at us and at them.” He pointed to Dhamon’s end of the table.

  “Maybe it’s the clothes some of us are wearing,” Fiona suggested. “This place doesn’t cater to the most well-to-do Ak-Khurmans, but on the other hand, the rest of the customers are far better dressed than you and —”

  “My clothes?” Rig snorted.

  “Or maybe it’s mine.” Her armor gleamed in the light of the oil lamp on the wall.

  “Maybe they think I’m your prisoner.”

  “So I’ve captured you, eh?” She smiled slyly. “Maybe, Rig Mer-Krel, they’re looking at us just because they’re nosy. We’re outsiders here. Obvious strangers. These days you can’t trust strangers.”

  Rig’s eyes narrowed, and he made sure Dhamon caught his look. “Sometimes you can’t trust people you thought were your friends.”

  Fiona ran her fingers up his arm, drawing his attention to her, for a few moments, at least. Then Rig glanced around the room again.

  “Strangers. Yeah, that’s part of the attraction, I suppose. But look at the way that fellow is staring at Dhamon.” Rig pointed to a dark-clad man who hadn’t touched his mug of ale.

  “You’re imagining things. Besides, you’re staring at Dhamon, too. He’s a striking man.” Fiona finished the last of her honey bread. “At least Dhamon has been cured of the Red’s influence.”

  “Cured,” Rig chuckled, as he took Fiona’s hands. His eyes still rested on Dhamon. “Being a dragon’s pawn isn’t a disease. How are you cured of it?”

  “You must give him a chance,” she returned. The young Solamnic reached her fingers to his face, turned it to meet her gaze. “Dhamon didn’t have to involve himself in this, you know. He didn’t have to come here with Usha and Blister. He could have gone his own way.”

  “If Gilthanas would’ve let him – which I doubt. Who knows? That wouldn’t have been so bad, would it?” Rig snapped. “We don’t need him.” His expression softened as he stared into Fiona’s eyes. “And what about you? After we get the crown will you be going your own way, back to your order?”

  “There will still be the dragons to deal with. There will be Takhisis.”

  “And then?”

  She smiled. “You could come back with me. You’d be welcomed in the Solamnic knights, Rig Mer-Krel. You’re an honorable man.”

  He cringed at the word “honorable.” “I always considered myself a rogue.”

  “An honorable rogue then.” She leaned over the table and kissed him. “Would you consider it?”

  “Me, a knight?” Rig released her hands, brought his fingers up to touch her smooth cheek. “I don’t think so, Fiona. All that armor – it’s just not me.”

  “Think about it,” she insisted.

  *

  Dhamon was watching Feril, outwardly oblivious to Blister’s continuing
questions about where he’d been since Schallsea, what the dragon had made him do, and what it was like to have a dragon in control of your body, forcing you to do things you didn’t want to do. The Kagonesti glanced Dhamon’s way, then quickly returned to studying a whorl in the tabletop. Groller offered Dhamon a sympathetic smile.

  “Feril needs time,” Blister said. “I’m sure everything will be back to normal in a little while. She’s just gotta get used to you again, you know. Maybe if your hair was blond and you were wearing something that wasn’t black and gray. Besides —”

  “Blister!” Jasper’s stern gaze stopped the kender’s prattle.

  For a moment. “Feril just needs time,” Blister repeated.

  “And we need a ship,” Dhamon said. He took a long swallow from his mug of cider and leaned back in his chair.

  “I don’t think the Knights of Takhisis are going to let us rent one of theirs,” Jasper said. “No matter how much steel we offer.” The dwarf stuffed the last of his roast beef into his mouth, then waved for dessert. “We’d better find another city with a port.”

  “It’s Ak-Khurman or nothing,” Usha said. “Palin believes Takhisis’s arrival will happen within the next two months. It would take us too long to travel somewhere else.”

  “So we go wait for Takhisis without the crown,” Jasper said.

  “No. We’ve come to far to give up on that,” said Fiona. The Solamnic knight had walked over and was leaning over Dhamon’s shoulder.

  “So let’s steal a ship,” Rig said, joining them.

  Blister beamed. “A great idea. The Knights of Takhisis have so many out there anyway, they’re not going to miss one little boat.”

  “A big boat,” Rig corrected. “We need a ship where we’re going.”

  “When do we steal it?” Blister’s tone grew more excited. “I’ve never stolen a boat before. Sounds like it’ll be exciting. And then we can use Usha’s steel to buy you and Feril and Jasper and Fury some clothes. Fiona, too, in case she wants to wear something instead of armor. Maybe another new dress for me. We’ll save money by stealing a boat... er, ship. With what we save, we can buy new clothes and...” She wrinkled her nose at what was left of Rig’s attire, and waggled her fingers toward Jasper, Groller, and Feril. “Clothes for everybody. Baths, too. So, anyway, when are we gonna do all this?”

  “Tonight. Just before dawn.” Rig lowered his voice. “When it’s real dark.” The mariner caught the dwarf and half-ogre looking at him and made a few gestures with his hands and fingers in the silent language Groller had taught him.

  “Anyone figure out why they’re blockading the harbor?” the kender asked.

  Fiona shook her head. “The barkeep says the knights haven’t given anyone a clue. They won’t even talk to the city officials. They just came in force almost a month ago and destroyed the ships along the docks. They even wrecked the fishing boats and killed a couple of the captains who protested and the Legion of Steel knights who tried to fight them. Ever since, they’ve been preventing anyone from entering or leaving the harbor.”

  “Except us,” Blister said. “We’ll get out. After we get a boat.”

  “A ship,” Rig corrected again. “Feril, come with me. And you” – he gestured at Dhamon – “Time to take a stroll and see what’s available.”

  “What about me?” Blister pushed out her bottom lip. “What about Fiona and Usha?”

  “I need you to come with me,” Jasper said to the kender, as he stuffed a piece of apple pie into his mouth and nodded at the mariner. He had understood Rig’s earlier gestures and knew what was needed. “Groller, too, and Fury. Hmm... Fiona and Usha better stay here and wait for us. We’ve got to get some... uh supplies. Then we’ll all meet by the docks in an hour or so. By that huge willow tree.”

  The kender was quick out of her seat, beating Groller to the door. “Where we gonna buy supplies? Everything but the taverns is closed.” The dwarf nudged the kender outside, but the others could hear her shrill voice through the open doorway. “What kind of supplies? Huh?”

  Feril glanced warily back and forth between Rig and Dhamon.

  “Feril, I need your elven eyes,” the mariner told her. “Your vision is better than ours. I don’t want to get too close to the docks, not just yet. But I need you to get a good look at the harbor. Tell us how many knights you see on those ships and what kind of defenses the ships have.” To Dhamon, Rig said coldly, “And I want you along, traitor, because I don’t trust you out of my sight. Fiona, Jasper’s right. You should stay here.” He pointed to her armor. “You stick out a little too much.”

  Fiona and Usha were left alone at the table. Usha toyed with her half-eaten piece of pie.

  The Solamnic knight finally broke the silence. “Why did you come here, Usha? Blister I can understand. This is all a grand adventure to the kender. But why you? Why didn’t you stay with Palin?”

  Usha speared a slice of apple on her fork, seeming to study it, then put it in her mouth. After several moments she answered. “It’s the Fist of E’li.”

  “The scepter Jasper’s carrying?”

  “I’m trying to remember something the elves told me about it.”

  “And you think you can remember better here than with Palin in the tower?”

  “I certainly can’t remember any worse.”

  The knight’s expression was puzzled. Then it turned alert as she rose from her seat.

  “Don’t like my company?” Usha asked.

  “No, it’s that man who just left. He didn’t touch his drink. I just saw him follow Feril past the window.” Fiona stepped away from the table. “Something’s prickling at my neck now. I’ve a bad feeling about that man.” She turned away from Usha and hurried out into the night.

  Usha dropped several silver pieces on the table and followed her.

  *

  Outside, Dhamon blended in with the night, his dark clothes and black hair allowing him to melt into the shadows. Feril walked at his side, not as well concealed, with Rig several paces ahead of them.

  “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she said softly. “About you. I thought I loved you. Maybe I still do. I don’t know. I...”

  “I understand. I killed Goldmoon. And that changed everything.”

  “It was the dragon. I know that. But it’s hard...”

  “I killed Goldmoon,” he repeated. “And I almost killed Jasper, Rig, and you.”

  “Dhamon, why did you join with us again?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I want revenge,” he whispered. “And I can’t get it alone. Every night, all I see is the shock on Goldmoon’s face, the blood on my hands. I want the red dragon to pay. And I’ll do whatever I can to ensure that happens. Maybe it’s the only way I can redeem myself. Maybe it’s the only way I can have peace – if I deserve peace.” He took her hand, and peered through the darkness to study her face. She dropped her gaze to the street without reply. He released her hand.

  “Peace.” Rig softly spat the word from in front of them. “You deserve a lot less than peace.” The journey to the harbor continued in uncomfortable silence.

  Out in the bay the lights on the prows of all the knights’ ships reflected on the water like giant fireflies. A light fog was stealing in to wrap around the harbor. The trio stood silent for several minutes, watching and waiting.

  “There’s a dozen ships out there,” Rig muttered finally. “We ought to be able to figure out how to steal one.”

  “Seven,” Feril softly corrected. “There are seven ships.”

  “Seven, a dozen, a hundred, a thousand. What difference does it make? There’re none close enough to the docks where we could reach them without a long swim.”

  “Then we’ll just have to go for a long swim.” It was Fiona’s voice.

  She and Usha ducked under some willow leaves. Between them they held a dark-clad man, a wad of cloth stuffed in his mouth.

  “He was following you,” Fiona said, as she pinned the man against the tree trunk. “
He was watching us in the tavern. I think he was listening to our conversation, too. At first I thought he was just curious, that he didn’t have anything better to do than ogle a tableful of strangers. But then I got this twitchy feeling.”

  Rig stepped closer, tugged a dagger from his belt and held it up to the man’s throat. With his other hand, the mariner loosened the gag.

  “You scream, you die.” It was dark under the willow, but just enough light spilled down from the moon and out of a nearby inn, so that the mariner could tell the man wasn’t frightened. There wasn’t a single drop of sweat on his brow, no telltale quiver of his lip. Rig pressed the dagger deep, drawing a thin line of blood. “Why were you following us?”

  The man didn’t answer. Rig moved his face in closer, inches from the stranger’s. The man’s face was smooth, his hair short, his clothes well-made. He smelled like musk. Not a laborer. A fancy man, the mariner decided, but one who still didn’t flinch.

  “Nothing’s going to make him talk,” Usha said. “We’ve already tried.”

  “Well, maybe a little pain will set his tongue to wagging,” the mariner growled.

  “There’s another way.” The willow leaves parted again and Jasper joined them. Blister was at his side, tugging a leather sack. Groller stood behind the pair, a sack in each hand and the wolf at his feet.

  “Then demonstrate.” The mariner shoved the stranger to the ground.

  The dwarf moved closer, bringing his stubby fingers near the man’s chest and closing his eyes. “I learned this from Goldmoon,” he whispered. “I just didn’t have any cause to use it before.” The dwarf had no trouble finding his inner strength this time. He’d had no trouble since his fall in the cave and his vision of Goldmoon. He nurtured the spark inside of him, feeling it quickly grow and bend to his urging.

  A tingling sensation rushed from his chest and down his arms, centering on his fingers, which touched the man’s expensive dark shirt. The dwarf opened his eyes. They were wide and shining now, locking onto the man’s. The man’s stern expression relaxed noticeably and his eyes fixed on the dwarf’s.

  “What’s Jasper doing?” Rig asked.