A frown crept over Mik’s bearded face. “Why didn’t your former crewmates on the Golden Harvest steal your jewelry before they cast you adrift?”
“They were afraid to touch any of it,” she said with a slight grin. “I told them the jewels were cursed.”
“Cursed? Really?” the kender said, his hazel eyes lighting up.
“Deadly cursed,” the beautiful elf said, straight-faced. “Sleek,” replied Trip, awe in his small voice.
“Why do we need you to find the Dragon Isles?” Mik said. “We have the Prophecy. We’re on course. According to the parchment, we should reach our goal before the end of the day tomorrow.”
She smiled again, finished oiling her long limbs, and set the bottle back on the shelf. “It’s not so easy as you think.” “How would you know?”
“I grew up there. The Dragon Isles don’t let just anyone in. You need to know the secret.”
“What secret?”
“If she told us,” said Trip helpfully, “then it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?”
Mik scowled at him. “I’ll discuss it with Karista,” he said.
Ula nodded.
“Now, I need to get on deck and check our course before the stars set.”
“I’ll go with you,” she replied.
“Me, too,” Trip added.
The morning air was crisp, with a stiff, salty breeze blowing from the south. The wind raised goosebumps on Mik’s tanned skin, but seemed to have little effect on Ula. Living underwater, she must be used to the cold, Mik thought.
He reached reflexively for the enchanted fish necklace at his throat, then remembered he’d put it in his sea chest the previous evening. Wearing it too long became tiring and caused more of its jeweled scales to flake off. Mik knew the magic inside it wouldn’t last forever. It was fading, like all the other enchantments in the world—and needed to be used sparingly. The lost gods willing, he’d have no need of the necklace today.
Mik took the tiller from the night helmsman, and adjusted their course to better follow the Great Silver River toward the Seven Cities constellation. Clouds were blowing in from the south, so he made some final calculations to help steer them through the day.
Ula hung a rope over the stem and climbed down into the water. Then she swam in the ship’s wake, her lean form cutting gracefully through the dark water. Trip and the other crew members leaned on the rail, watching her in fascination. When she finally climbed out, the sailors on deck cheered.
Mik smiled and shook his head.
A brief squall that morning drenched the sailors’ bodies, but did little to dampen their spirits. Warm late summer winds from the northwest soon dried out Kingfisher’s sails and her crew. The ship followed the course set by the stars, Mik using his calculations to guide them when the sun hid behind the cotton-like clouds.
He spoke to Karista about Ula’s proposal, but the noblewoman wouldn’t buy any of it. “Just another leech,” Karista said. “We owe her nothing.”
Ula, standing at the rail nearby, must surely have overheard—but she said nothing, only smiling her enigmatic smile. Mik tried not to think about her.
He also tried not to think about the huge diamond glittering amid a pile of treasure in the lost temple. The vision, though, kept tugging at his mind.
Ula retired to his cabin at midday—to escape the summer sun, which had broken through the clouds once more. She was still there when Mik came in for a lunchtime break.
“Well... ?” she asked, leaning forward on her cot.
“Karista isn’t convinced you have any information we need,” he replied. “And, even if she were, I doubt she’d be willing to give up a share of the trade concession she hopes to win.”
“Trade concession?” Ula said. “I wasn’t asking for a cut of the trade concession. I want a cut of the treasure you’re looking for—the one mentioned in the Prophecy.”
“Karista isn’t interested in the treasure,” Mik said. “I’m on my own in that regard.”
“Not any more,” she said with a sly smile.
“How can you be sure any treasure exists?” Mik asked, pouring them both a mug of rum. “Even I’m not sure it exists.”
“I grew up in the isles,” she replied. “I’ve heard rumors of such things before. And I saw that key-like artifact you have locked in your sea chest. Working together, I’m sure we can find riches beyond your imagining.”
Kingfisher’s captain raised his cup and drank. “I’m still not convinced I need another partner,” he said stubbornly.
Ula shook her head and her platinum locks fell pleasingly around her smooth shoulders. “You’ll never get there without my help.”
“We’ll see.”
She raised her glass. “Indeed we will.”
He left Ula in the cabin and went back to work. Karista Meinor and Bok kept mostly out of the way as the crew of Kingfisher kept the vessel on course. Occasionally, Mik spotted the aristocrat checking her copy of the Prophecy.
When the sea elf appeared back on deck in late afternoon, Mik avoided her. Ula took this in stride, and proceeded to mingle with the ship’s crew—even lending a hand with the ongoing chores. Clearly, she knew her way around a boat, though her presence seemed to cause as much distraction as help.
Mik double-checked his headings and set the crew to taking depth readings, not wanting to come upon any reefs or submerged shoals unaware. He also kept a lookout aloft at all times.
Mostly this duty fell to Trip, as the kender actually enjoyed sitting atop the mast. Additionally, with Trip in the rigging, the rest of the crew didn’t have to watch over their small possessions quite so diligently.
Trip scanned the horizon as much as he watched the seas ahead. He constantly reported interesting flocks of birds, or the distant spouts of whales, or the clowning of pods of black and white Turbidus dolphins.
At dusk, Trip spotted a storm system on the western horizon. Mik eyed the gale carefully until dark, and then watched its lightning flashes late into the evening. He knew the further north they sailed the more treacherous the weather would become. Few ventured into the depths of the Turbidus Ocean at summer’s end, and fewer still returned to tell the tale. The chances of Kingfisher being swamped or wrecked if a typhoon hit them were high—and such storms moved faster than any ship could sail.
Mik considered adjusting their course, but a quick consultation with Meinor convinced him to keep the tiller steady. The sea remained clear of reefs through the night, and depth readings confirmed that they were sailing into ever deeper parts of the northern Turbidus Ocean.
Mik rose before dawn once more, and sneaked a quick glance at the black diamond while Ula slept. The sea elf had been up late the previous evening, chatting guardedly with the crew and—once—even approaching Karista Meinor.
Whatever Ula had said, though, Karista soon retreated with Bok to her cabin. The look of frustration on the sea elf s face told Mik she'd made no progress with the singleminded aristocrat. Mik had retired at that point as well, and not wakened when Ula returned to her berth.
She did not stir that morning as he locked the diamond artifact back in his sea chest once more.
The salt breeze had shifted during the night, and now blew in strong from the west—where the immense thunderstorm still clung to the horizon. The waves began to pile up upon themselves, growing larger until their peaks danced away in sprays of white mist.
Kingfisher ran before the wind all that day. Karista and Bok fussed around the deck, nervously awaiting the outcome. Ula walked from stem to stem—alternately peering toward their hidden destination, and the pursuing storm.
As dusk drew near, Trip began jumping up and down on the sparring so vigorously that Mik feared he might topple off the mast.
“I see them!” Trip called. “I see the Dragon Isles!”
Eight
Within Sight
All movement on deck ceased, and ^ many sailors stood and peered over the forward rails. Karista, Bok, and Ula we
nt to the bow as well.
Mik shouted up to Trip. “Where away?”
“Five degrees to port!”
“But that’s not the course you’ve charted, captain,” Karista called.
“We’re on the course laid out by the stars,” Mik replied, testily.
“Will you believe an ancient prophecy, or the eyes of your lookout?” Ula asked. Mik shot her an angry glance, and she chuckled.
“The elf is right, captain,” Karista said. “If we can see the isles, we should steer straight for them.”
“You’re sure about the heading, Trip?”
“Positive, captain!”
“All right,” Mik said. “I trust Trip’s eyes more than I do writing on an old piece of paper. I’ll set our course by his sighting.”
He brought the helm around, and soon those on deck saw the tips of blue-green islands jutting out of the pale mist on the horizon. The Dragon Isles glittered like gems amid a turquoise sea.
The crew laughed and congratulated themselves. Trip continued to jump up and down excitedly atop the mast. Karista even kissed Bok on the lips. Only Ula stood quietly against the stem rail. A knowing smile played across the sea elf s beautiful face. Her odd demeanor worried Mik.
Tales of vast wealth, nearly within their reach, ran through the ship like wildfire. Soon, every hand not otherwise occupied had assembled on deck for a glimpse.
“The isles are exactly the way I remember them,” old Poul said. He wiped a tear from the comer of his eye with one wizened hand.
An occasional flash of brilliance high in the distant air caused the onlookers to gasp and point. Trip gave a whoop and nearly toppled out of the rigging.
“Dragons!” the crew whispered with a mixture of awe and fear.
“I thought the metallic dragons had left Krynn,” Bok said a bit nervously.
“Only the good dragons left,” Ula replied. “None of the dragons remaining in the isles are truly evil—but even metallic dragons have their share of rogues and renegades.”
Mik folded his arms over his chest. “Whether ‘good’ or evil,” he said, “I doubt that any of them have much regard for the affairs of men. We’ll steer clear of all dragons if we can.”
Karista leaned over the bow rail and grinned. “Look at them!” she beamed. “The isles are within our reach! Imagine the wonders when we get there. Imagine the wealth!”
All evening they sailed directly for the distant peaks. By nightfall they could make out the shapes of forests on the islands’ rocky shores and trace the silhouettes of the towering mountains.
“We’ll make landfall by morning!” Karista said.
Pamak finished pulling in Kingfisher’s depth cable, and frowned. He cast a puzzled look at Mik. “Shouldn’t the ocean be getting more shallow as we approach the isles?” he asked.
“It should,” Mik replied, “but maybe there’s a steep dropoff on this side of the archipelago,” Mik said.
“Aye,” Pamak said. “That could be.”
Secredy Mik doubted what he’d told the big deck hand. Kingfisher’s captain glanced at Ula, who was still leaning against the stern rail, smiling. Mik cursed silendy and took the tiller once more.
All night, the storm brewing on the western horizon crept closer. It seemed of litde import, though, since they were so close to shelter of land. Mik and his helmsmen kept Kingfisher’s course straight and true, though the darkness seemed to swallow the islands whole. Distinguishing the isles’ shapes from clouds and shadows proved difficult in the gloom, and they saw no lights upon the distant shores.
* * * * *
“What’s wrong?” Karista Meinor asked, as the sun rose the next morning. She pulled her silk dressing gown around her ample curves as she came up from her cabin. “Why haven’t we made anchor?”
“We haven’t made anchor because we haven’t reached the islands yet,” Mik replied. He sheltered his eyes from the morning glare and stared to the east. The sunrise obscured the isles’ rocky forms, making them flicker and dance among the waves.
Trip, perched on the rail at the front of the bridge, crinkled his nose. “How can they be to starboard? We steered straight at them all night.”
Meinor frowned. “Well?” she demanded of Mik.
“I steered true all night,” Mik replied. “And the helmsman did the same on his watch. Maybe there’s some kind of current or strange tide here that’s pushing us off our mark.”
Ula mounted the bridge and stood beside the captain. “Having trouble?” she asked coyly.
Mik frowned at her. “I’ll re-set our course,” he said to Karista. “We should still make landfall in early afternoon.”
Karista glanced from the captain to Ula, and then to the isles. “Very well,” she said. “Keep me appraised of the situation.” She turned and went below.
“Mik ...” Trip said from his forward perch.
“Yes, Trip?”
“The sky was red this morning. And that storm in the west is blowing in very fast. If we don’t reach harbor by sunset...”
“I know,” Mik said, “the sea elf will be the only comfortable person aboard.”
Ula, leaning against the stem rail, laughed.
The captain and the kender both cast a wary glance aft. Storm clouds stretched long, dark fingers toward them and lightning licked the sky.
“We’re close enough to the isles now,” Mik replied. “The storm shouldn’t be a problem. Get aloft and help keep us on course.”
Trip nodded. “Aye.”
By late afternoon, though, they’d drawn no nearer than they had the previous night.
Mik pounded his fist on the rail and cursed. “They never get any closer! How can that be? First they were north of us, then they were east, now they’re north again.”
Ula, perched on the stem rail, smiled but said nothing. She looked westward, toward the approaching storm. Distant echoes of thunder rolled across Kingfisher’s deck.
“The depth readings are the same as last night, captain,” Pamak reported.
Karista Meinor, who had been watching from the bridge for the past two hours, scowled. “Perhaps, another tack is warranted, captain,” she said.
The aristocrat cast a glance toward the sea elf. “I did not believe her story the other night, but perhaps she does know the secret to reaching the isles.”
“Don’t trust her!” interjected Bok. “She’s a sea-witch, that one.”
“I don't trust her,” Mik replied. “But it seems we need her. Ula . .. ?”
Ula lowered herself to the deck and walked to the tiller, her jewel-bedecked body shimmering in the waning light. “My price?” she asked.
“I won’t give up my trade concession,” Karista hissed.
“I’m not interested in that,” Ula said. “You’ll find it’s harder to establish trade with the isles than you’d like. I want something more ... substantial.”
“A share in the treasure of the Prophecy ” Mik said.
“Aye. A share equal to the highest share—which I’d warrant is the captain’s.”
“If there is a treasure,” he added.
“I’ll take that chance,” she replied.
“I don’t seem to have much choice. Okay. Done.”
Ula smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Here’s the secret: only a metallic dragon may enter the isles unbidden,” she said. “Everyone else needs permission—or there is one other way.”
Karista cursed. “Riddles!” she said.
The sea elf smiled. “You have an artifact. . . but I know how to use it.”
“Well, don’t be coy about it. Teh us.” Mik’s eyes narrowed.
Ula nodded. “Dragon Isles privateers use crystals—in many ways similar to your black diamond—to find their way back to the isles. I believe your artifact serves the same purpose.”
“I’ll fetch it from my cabin,” Mik said, handing the tiller to Bok.
He went below and retrieved the golden artifact from his sea chest. As the black diamond brushe
d his hand, a vision of a temple filled with glittering diamonds flashed through his mind. He pushed aside the images and raced back to the bridge.
Karista’s steely eyes focused on the golden looping key as Mik held the artifact out toward Ula. The wind lashed at his hair, and large drops of rain began to spatter the deck. An odd feeling made the hairs on the back of Mik’s neck stand up.
“So, how do I use it?” he asked.
“Hold the diamond out before you,” Ula said. “Turn until it glows. When it glows brightest, that’s the true direction of the isles. Follow the glow.”
Mik did as she said, turning slowly, starting with the heading they were following. The black diamond began to glow—dimly at first, but with increasing brightness as he revolved. Mik frowned.
“It’s nearly fifteen degrees starboard of our present heading,” he said.
“A Veil of deceptive magic surrounds the isles,” Ula said. “It’s like steering toward a mirage—when you get there, you find the mirage is gone. You can chase a mirage forever and never find it The isles are the same way. Some mariners call the effect The Maze. Only the blessed or the very lucky can find their way through the enchantment without a key.”
Karista’s eyes glittered with reflected lightning. “Set the course! The storm is approaching!”
“I don’t trust the sea-witch’s magic,” Bok grumbled. “There’s something unnatural about it.”
“It’s either follow the magic,” Mik noted, “or sail around in circles until the storm catches up with us.”
Mik altered Kingfisher's course, swinging the bow around until it matched where the light from the diamond key shone most brightly.
The air before them wavered, like heat above a rock on a blazing summer day. The captain felt suddenly hot. Looking around, he saw that the others were sweating as well—all save Ula, who looked as cool as ever. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, leaning calmly against the rail, the wind pulling at her long, platinum hair.
The crew working the decks below moved about agitatedly. The sailors grumbled, and some of them trembled.
Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles Page 5
