The Eve of the Maelstrom

by Jean Rabe

  “I was afraid you were dead,” the mariner said, as he extended a hand and helped Feril on board. His eyes opened wide as he noticed she wore no clothes, only a crown on her head.

  “I thought I was dead, too,” she said, as she rubbed at a spot on the back of her head. “Veylona saved me.”

  “Dragon more interest for ship,” the sea elf said, as she scrambled over the side.

  “A Dimernesti!” Blister squealed. The kender skittered to the sea elf’s side and stretched up a gnarled hand in a greeting. “A real, living sea elf!” The kender raised an eyebrow at Feril’s lack of attire, then gave her attention to Veylona.

  Rig shoved the kender’s questions to Veylona to the back of his mind and stared at Feril another moment, then felt the flush of embarrassment rise to his face. He quickly removed his shirt and handed it to her.

  “Veylona,” Feril said by way of introduction, interrupting Blister’s prattle. The others joined the gathering. “She’s a Dimernesti healer,” Feril explained. “I owe her my life, and she saved Dhamon.”

  “Tried,” the sea elf said. “Day-mon.” Her smooth face showed concern as she peered over the dwarf’s shoulders as he cared for Dhamon. “Student of Nuqala.”

  “Nuqala will be happy to know that Brine is dead,” Feril added.

  “Most glad,” Veylona replied. Her eyes studied the dwarf, watching his fingers and the way his brow furrowed as he worked his healing magic.

  Dhamon gasped, his eyes fluttered open, and his hand reached up to grab at the dwarf’s. He coughed, water rushing from his mouth. Jasper helped him up, pounding his back. Dhamon coughed deeply several more times.

  “You’ll be sore for a while,” the dwarf said, “and you’ll have a few bruises. You’d better rest.”

  “Thank you,” Dhamon said to the dwarf. “Again.”

  Jasper smiled, but his eyes were riveted on the comely sea elf. “Always happy to help people who appreciate me.” He shook his head, as if clearing his senses, sighed, then turned his attention back toward Dhamon. He helped him to his feet and frowned when Dhamon clutched his side.

  “I guess a little rest wouldn’t hurt,” Dhamon told him. “Veylona, thank you, too.” He met Feril’s gaze; his expression showed relief that the Kagonesti was all right. She nodded to him and watched Jasper lead him toward the ladder, Blister’s questions following them down the stairs.

  Then the air buzzed with voices around Feril and Veylona. “Stay here time,” Veylona announced. “Nuqala say stay. Help.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Rig offered. “Since we aren’t going anywhere.” He gestured at the broken mast. “Unless Palin can magic us someplace.”

  Veylona and Feril exchanged glances. The elves smiled as Feril’s fingers brushed the coral crown on her head.

  “What?” Rig asked, wondering what had passed between the two women.

  “Give me a few minutes,” Feril answered. “Let me find something else to wear. I’ll let Veylona explain.”

  “Explain what?” the mariner continued. Fiona had moved up beside him, her fingers enfolding his.

  “Maybe you should find something for Veylona to wear, too,” Fiona called to Feril as the Kagonesti slipped below deck.

  “Zea elf.” Groller finally spoke. He was staring at Veylona, at her shimmering hair that hung to her waist and at the slight silver tunic that clung to her body. His mouth was agape. He didn’t hear Rig chuckle when the half-ogre proffered a big hand to shake hers. “Bootiful blue zea elf.”

  Veylona’s cheeks darkened slightly. She smiled and listened to Rig explain Groller’s deafness. “But he’s definitely not blind,” the mariner whispered into Fiona’s ear.

  “And neither are you,” she answered. “I think I’ll help Feril find Veylona something a little warmer for her to wear.”

  *

  It was shortly after noon that the Narwhal got underway, heading back toward the Khur coast, but avoiding the Ak-Khurman harbor. Rig decided not to chance running into any more Knights of Takhisis ships that might have found their way there.

  Groller was at the wheel, with the wolf curled comfortably about his feet. Rig and Fiona sat with Veylona near the capstan. The sea elf was now garbed in a voluminous dark green tunic, belted at the waist and hanging halfway down her thighs. Though her command of their language was limited, she did her best to regale the pair with stories about life in Dimernost and the horrors the people there suffered because of the dragon.

  Jasper was below deck, fretting over Dhamon and trying to heal the blisters on his skin.

  The kender was below deck, too, rummaging around in the small galley to find foodstuffs that hadn’t been spilled during the ordeal with the dragon. She had promised something “tasty and interesting” for dinner to celebrate the death of the sea dragon overlord. And she had found a bottle of something purple that might pass for wine.

  Feril sat by the ship’s rudder, watching the water as it jetted toward the Narwhal. She had helped create the narrow, powerful wave, which was guiding the ship. The Narwhal was moving as fast as if it was under full sail. Veylona had volunteered to relieve the Kagonesti from time to time.

  A week and a half, Rig guessed the journey would take them, three fewer days than it had taken to get them to the kingdom of the Dimernesti. Then where to? he wondered. And if Palin knew where to go, would there be time to stop Takhisis?

  Had Palin found out where the Dark Queen was to appear?

  Chapter 18

  ARIAKAN’S REST

  Palin concentrated on the enchantment that would spirit him to Ariakan’s Rest, more than a thousand miles from where he stood in the Tower of Wayreth.

  “Wait!” The soft, indistinct voice made him start, and the incantation slipped away from him, unfinished. The Shadow Sorcerer glided into the room. “I am so certain Takhisis will appear in the cave, I will risk traveling with you.”

  Palin looked at the dark figure narrowly. “If you’re correct, there should be dragons nearby. Certainly there will be Knights of Takhisis. It could be dangerous.”

  The hooded figure nodded. “I have studied dragons longer than you, Majere. To see one up close might be the appropriate culmination of my studies.”

  “Culmination,” Palin softly chuckled, then stopped, unsure if the Shadow Sorcerer was serious or had attempted a joke.

  “Besides, I have not left this tower in quite some time,” added the sorcerer. “You might need some help.”

  “I’ll not argue with that.”

  Palin glanced at his left hand. Dalamar’s ring sat next to his marriage band.

  The Shadow Sorcerer watched his face closely. “You have not cast magic with such an ancient and powerful artifact before?” he inquired.

  “Many times,” Palin replied. “I carried the Staff of Magius for years. But it has been a while.”

  “Then shall we be on our way?”

  “I welcome your company.” Palin briefly thought of Usha, vowing to contact her as soon as he investigated Ariakan’s Rest. He had not spoken to her in several days, for he’d been wrapped up in his studies. He wanted the Shadow Sorcerer to be right, and he hoped to find some evidence that the goddess was returning to Krynn inside a cave. Then Palin would transport his companions there, along with the artifacts they’d been gathering. He had been mulling over the possibilities of using the artifacts to bring the mountain down on top of the Dark Queen and any dragons gathered there – even if such an act might end their own lives. It would be a trivial sacrifice, he thought, if it kept Takhisis away from Krynn. “Ready?” The Shadow Sorcerer nodded almost imperceptibly.

  Palin concentrated on the spell again and on Dalamar’s ring. He drew the energy from the ring, and the magic came quickly, whisking them away from the room high in the Tower of Wayreth. The stone floor of the tower disappeared beneath their feet, and within a few passing moments, the two sorcerers stood on uneven rocky ground on the side of a mountain in the heart of Neraka.

 
; “This is not the cave,” the Shadow Sorcerer observed.

  Palin shook his head. “No, but we are close. I did not want to appear in the midst of some evil gathering. Better that we investigate a little.”

  “As you wish,” the Shadow Sorcerer said. “Lead the way, Majere.”

  Palin picked his way along the mountainside. It was late afternoon, and an orange glow painted the rocks and warmed his skin. He inhaled deeply. The air seemed sweeter outside the tower, away from the powders and smokes of magical studies and incantations. He had caged himself in the Tower of Wayreth for too long.

  He heard the Shadow Sorcerer softly muttering behind him, felt his skin tingle and realized his companion was cloaking their presence with an invisibility spell. It was a precaution Palin would not have bothered with, as he was certain dragons did not need to see trespassers to know they were near. Their other senses were highly acute. Still, Palin admitted to himself that being invisible was wise. At least any Knights of Takhisis stationed in the mountains would be unable to see them.

  “What do you know of Ariakan?” the Shadow Sorcerer whispered.

  “That he was an evil man, but one who demonstrated some honor. He had traits to be admired, and he endured much.”

  The Shadow Sorcerer nodded. “Including captivity for many years at the hands of his foes, the Knights of Solamnia.”

  “He learned from them.”

  “Yes. And undoubtedly some of that knowledge led him to establish the Knights of Takhisis.”

  Palin nodded. “I suppose,” he said. “It was fitting that following the Chaos War, the remnants of the Dark Queen’s knights withdrew to this land, which is named for the city that once belonged to Takhisis.”

  “She built the city of Neraka, did she not?”

  “In a manner of speaking. It would be more accurate to say she caused it to be built. Legend says she planted the cornerstone of the Kingpriest’s Temple of Istar, which grew into a terrible edifice from which she mustered and rallied her forces. The city grew up around that great, dark place.”

  “And all in the city served her,” the Shadow Sorcerer said. “Ariakan’s Rest is where she will return. The Master was wrong to think otherwise. Our trip here will make him realize his bad judgment.”

  The pair lapsed into silence as they continued along a thin trail. Most of the countryside was like this place: barren, inhospitable, rugged, and steep. Between the mountain ranges that crisscrossed the land were nestled dry, narrow valleys. Volcanoes dotted the country. It was a perfect climate for red and blue dragons, and Palin knew there were a few in the area.

  Shortly before sunset, the two men reached the entrance to the cave. It looked like a wide, deep scar, large enough for even dragons to fit through. As the two sorcerers made their way on the last bit of trail, they noticed smoke curling upward from three encampments. The Shadow Sorcerer, with the aid of his magic, confirmed their suspicions that garrisons of Knights of Takhisis were camped nearby.

  “We should go inside Ariakan’s Rest to be certain,” he observed to Palin. “After all, we have come this far.”

  “No debate.” Palin took a deep breath and realized his hands were trembling from anticipation, and from fear of what might await them in the bowels of the mountain. He slipped inside the cave, hugging the wall. His skin tingled, and he knew the invisibility spell had lapsed. He hoped he wouldn’t need it here. He stood silent for a moment, listening. The only sound he could hear was the teasing wind. The air was still and dry. He crept forward, working to calm his nerves and his shaking fingers.

  The cave was deep, and the farther in he went, the darker it became. Palin thought to himself that Feril’s vision would come in handy. He could not see the Shadow Sorcerer behind him, but he sensed the mage was there.

  Palin used his left hand to guide him. He walked purposefully, but not too fast. He could no longer see anything but blackness and did not want to risk tripping. The cave floor sloped downward, steeply in places, and wound in a slow spiral. He imagined for a moment that he was following the same course Ariakan had pursued those many decades ago when he followed the seashells that led him to safety. But there were no seashells to lead Palin. And he doubted the cave was safe.

  He stopped abruptly and heard the Shadow Sorcerer behind him.

  “Majere?”

  “I see it.”

  There was a soft light ahead, pale gray and flickering. Palin steadied himself and pressed forward. Within moments found himself in a massive chamber – massive enough to contain several dragons.

  A dozen torches faintly lit the chamber. They burned magically, leaving no trace of smoke.

  “Empty,” Palin whispered. He padded toward the center of the chamber, scrutinizing the floor. On it was a thick layer of dirt in which the tracks of a small dragon were evident. He knelt near a clawprint, glancing toward the opposite wall. “Dragon spoor. Indeed you could be right.”

  “Indeed, Majere,” the Shadow Sorcerer said.

  A ball of hot light materialized where Palin knelt. The searing flash burned away the sorcerer’s clothes and hair.

  Palin writhed in agony, screaming, while the cold, logical part of his mind realized he would be dead in a moment or two if he didn’t act. The sorcerer concentrated on Dalamar’s ring and tried his best to blot out the pain – which was impossible. He rolled in the dirt, trying to cool himself. Naked and scarred, he staggered to his feet, gasping for air. He found that breathing was painful. His lungs ached. He looked about for the Shadow Sorcerer but could not penetrate the darkness. The fireball had half-blinded him. An unusual form of dragon breath? Palin wondered as he backed toward a cavern wall. A spell? He glanced at the torches. They still glowed. There was no trace of the Shadow Sorcerer. Every inch of Palin’s body cried out to be cooled, and he suspected Dalamar’s ring had been the only thing that kept him from being turned into a pile of ash.

  “Majere.” The Shadow Sorcerer’s voice.

  Palin peered into the dark crevices. Nothing. Something made him look up. Hovering in the center of the chamber was the Shadow Sorcerer, unmarred gray robes billowing about him, hood thrown back. A silver mask gleamed on the sorcerer’s face, hiding any expression there. Voluminous sleeves were pulled back to reveal gloved hands.

  Beams of light leapt from the Shadow Sorcerer’s fingers, streaking like ribbons of red and yellow fireflies toward Palin.

  Palin dropped to his stomach and rolled out of the way, feeling the ferocious heat from the light above. “What are you doing?” Palin cried as he sprang to his feet. He concentrated on Dalamar’s ring, focusing an enchantment that might protect him.

  “Ending this foolishness,” came the icy reply. “Ending your attempt to stop the Dark Queen’s coming! Die, Majere!” Again shards of light shot from the gray-cloaked wizard’s fingers.

  Palin did not completely elude the blast this time. The shards struck him and sent a fresh jolt of agony into his body. He screamed, losing the incantation he’d been attempting.

  “Stop this!” Palin gasped.

  “Oh, I have hardly begun, Majere,” the Shadow Sorcerer taunted. His voice was no longer a whisper. It rose and echoed through the chamber, shrill and brimming with hatred. To Palin, it seemed almost as if another man were speaking through the sorcerer’s mouth. “By believing me, by believing that Takhisis might return here, you have lost. You allowed yourself to be spirited away from your precious tower. You walked away from all your friends and from all your defenses. You left the Master – whom you should have trusted. He is right, you know. The Dark Queen will be reborn at the Window to the Stars. She will be reborn there a little earlier than you anticipated. Three weeks, Majere. Three weeks from this very night. It is a pity you will not be there to witness it. But die, Majere, knowing that you have helped the dragons to win. The dragon goddess cannot be challenged now!”

  “Traitor,” Palin spat, as he circled around the chamber. “Traitor!”

  “I am no traitor to the Dark Queen. I am lo
yal, Majere, loyal enough to spend these past many years with you and the Master. I worked with you, ate with you, listened to your simpering stories of your wife, children, and grandchildren. Listened to your laments over poor, dead Goldmoon. Listened to your foolish hopes of beating the dragons. I won your confidence, Majere, admit it. I even helped you against lesser dragons to gain your trust. And you were such a trusting fool.

  “I joined the Last Conclave and helped you discover new magic years ago because Malystryx the Red feared Beryl’s growing threat. By allowing you to challenge Malystryx’s enemies, Beryl could better be held in check.”

  “Why?” Palin shouted as he barely dodged another bolt of light. “Why such an elaborate game?”

  “Spying is a necessary game in war, Majere,” the Shadow Sorcerer returned. “By being one of you, I was apprised of your every move. I could report where your pitiable friends were traveling – your wild elf Ferilleeagh, the insolent mariner and his deaf lackey – all of them. Even your dear, sweet wife, and that tormented puppet Dhamon Grimwulf. All of them. All of them dead. Dead by now because you always let me know where they were. Dead because you helped me!” The sorcerer’s words ended in a wild shriek of laughter that died away in something very like a sob.

  “No!” Palin’s hands shook, and he made no move to calm himself. Instead, he focused on another spell, concentrating on the ring on his finger.

  “Dead. Yes,” the Shadow Sorcerer continued, recovering himself. “My reports allowed the great Red to send her spawn into the Blöde hills looking for them.”

  “The spawn failed!”

  “They were expected to fail, you idiot! They were merely meant to worry your friends and drive them quicker – like cattle, Majere. But the Knights of Takhisis did not fail. The knights blockaded the harbor in Khur. They were waiting for your wife and the others. The knights will kill them all.”

  Palin shook his head in disbelief. “They got by the blockade. I contacted them! They ran your damn blockade!”