‘Til keep this one,” she said, weaving the key into the elaborate web of jewelry holding her clothing together.
“Will she re-form, do you think?” Mik asked, as they exited the cave and dusted themselves off.
“We’ll be to Aurialastican by the time she does,” Ula said.
Mik rubbed his beard. “Do you believe what she said, about the isles being in peril?”
Ula shrugged and her platinum hair fell across her shoulders in a very alluring way. “Sages don’t know everything,” she said. “We’re only two little people in a very big ocean. I don’t buy all that fish oil about one person making a difference. Do you?”
“I suppose not. To Aurialastican, then?”
“And the next key.”
Mik and Ula swam up out of the pit to where Shimmer stood waiting. Mounting their draken ray steeds, they set course for Aurialastican, the capital of the Dragon Isles.
Neither of them noticed the shark with eerie red eyes that followed them.
Twenty-Six
Tbe Heights of Aurialastican
Shimmer led Mik and Ula up through the clear waters toward the sunlit surface above. All morning, the sea bottom had been rising steadily, a sure sign that they were nearing land once more.
They’d traveled on the surface the previous night—each tethered to their constantly moving steeds by leathery seaweed harnesses. They took watches in turns, though Shimanloreth watched longer than his friends. Ula had disquieting dreams, but nothing else disturbed them during the night. They ate a light breakfast and spurred their hired draken rays toward the dragon capital at Aurialastican— traveling below the water again when the sun came up, lest Lord Kell’s spies should be watching.
The rays—huge batlike creatures with indigo bodies and pale, dappled bellies—moved quickly through the crystalline waters, gaining speed as the rising sun warmed their powerful winged forms. Now, at the height of noon, they burst from the water and into the open air once more.
The drakens soared high into the air before settling gently onto the ocean’s surface.
Mik Vardan tied his enchanted necklace to his belt again and took a deep breath of the clean summer air. Ula looked stunning in her jewelry and scant drapery; her sculpted blue figure glistening in the sunshine. The ring of dolphins tattooed on her shoulder sparkled under the noonday light.
Their goal, Mik discovered as he wiped the sea water from his brow, was an equally breathtaking sight.
Clouds wreathed the towering mountain peaks of the Misty Isle. Sunlight played off the snowy upper slopes, making them glitter orange and gold. Long swaths of verdant forest ran down from the high slopes to the edges of breathtaking fjords. Brilliant white sand beaches lined the islands’ shores. These natural wonders, though, paled next to the glory of the city itself.
Aurialastican dominated the entrance of a wide bay at the mouth of a vast fjord. Mist filled the defile’s far reaches, making them appear unreal and ghostly. Aurialastican seemed the only solid thing in an ethereal landscape.
The city was larger than anything Mik had ever seen in Khur; as large, seemingly, as great Palanthas itself. Its buildings shone in the afternoon sun: white as marble, polished as silver, burning like bronze, glittering with glass and crystal. The metals beloved by the great dragons formed the city’s decor. Gold, though, predominated.
The yellow metal glowed warmly amid the city’s rooftops, towers, and minarets. Golden banners lined the city’s broad avenues, waving in the breeze. Even the leaves of the trees lining the city street glistened with golden color. It was easy to see why Aurialastican was considered a myth in many parts of the world. It was also easy to see why it was called the “City of Gold.”
But though the buildings lining the shoreline were impressive, the architecture on the ridge beyond them was even more astonishing. Huge monuments—as much sculpture as edifice—dominated the plateau: gigantic trees, mountains, ships, dragons, rings, pyramids, columns, as well as many abstract shapes. Some were made of brightly shining metal; others had been carved from stone or coral; still others seemed to have been shaped from the living rock itself.
The single unifying theme of these monuments was their titanic size. Every one dwarfed the largest building in the city below. Clearly none were fashioned by human hands; they had been shaped and erected by dragons.
Mik’s jaw hung open in wonder. “Is that. . . the Dragon- heights?”
“Yes,” Shimanloreth replied. “Repository of dragon wealth and glory.”
Ula laughed. “It takes your breath away the first time you see it.”
Mik found his eyes drawn to one of the bright pyramids on the ridge. Reflections of the sun on its surface, though, made it impossible to see clearly. “One step closer,” he thought, and in his mind the image of the huge diamond became clear once more.
They steered their draken rays through the shallows and into the port of Aurialastican. Many tall ships lined the docks: galleys, caravels, galleons, longboats, fishing vessels, and several shell-like ships that could only have come from the undersea kingdoms of the Dargonesti. Proud sails, emblazoned with all manner of fantastic creatures—especially dragons—fluttered in the warm breeze. Brightly-colored banners flew from the tops of mastheads. The air was alive with the creaking of timbers and the shouts of mariners. The strong scent of wood and ship oils drifted across the warm breeze.
Mik gazed at the flotilla as they drew close to the docks. “Some of these ships have gemstones at their helms,” he said. “Are they used to navigate the Veil?”
“Possibly, yes,” Shimmer replied. “Though they might be for other purposes as well.”
“Where do the gems that pierce the Veil come from?” Mik asked.
“From the dragon Oligarchs, to reward the worthy,” Shimmer replied.
“Others of us have to earn our boons,” Ula said. She stepped off the back of her draken onto the well-maintained dock and extended a hand up to Mik.
He hopped up onto the ancient timbers beside her. “Let’s hope we can find the next key amid those monuments,” he said, glancing at the Dragonheights once again.
“Let’s hope,” Shimmer added, “that we shall be allowed to look.” He joined the others on the dock, then let go the reigns of his draken ray and whispered something to it. The lead ray dipped its head, as though nodding yes, then all three steeds disappeared back the way they had come. “They’ll find their way home,” the bronze knight said.
The three companions walked down the wharf toward the bustling city.
People of all kinds crowded the harbor’s wharves: elves, dwarves, humans, minotaurs, and even a kender or two— though these last were always being chased by someone. Occasionally, a metallic dragon would flash by overhead. They saw brass, copper, bronze, but never a silver or a gold. Most of the citizens were so used to the sight that they never even glanced up.
The treasure seekers passed bars, inns, and eateries, all with smells that made Mik’s stomach rumble. He convinced the others to stop at an open-air tavern for a bite. It was a small place with a green tabard over the door that read “Hender’s House,” and a number of tall, round wooden tables set up out front. A tall scraggly-haired man in a white apron bustled back and forth between the tables taking orders and serving meals. Mik ordered yellow bread and spiced stew; Ula and Shimmer had the same. In short order, the air was filled with the aroma of sage and boiled meat.
“What did you mean, earlier,” Mik asked Shimanloreth, “when you said you hoped we’d ‘he allowed to look’?” The captain took a bite of the stew and savored its taste.
“Dragons guard their secrets jealously,” Shimmer replied. “Few are permitted to climb the Dragonheights—though I believe they will let me do so.”
Ula laughed. “Fd like to see them stop you,” she said.
Shimmer fixed his orangish eyes on the sea elf. “I would not,” he said simply. “You two should find a ship to hire while I search for the third key.”
�
�I’m in this all the way to the Dragonheights,” Mik said. “I haven’t come this far to turn back—or to stay in town and search for boats while you do the hard work.”
“He’s earned the right, you know,” Ula said. “Besides, I’m not sure the sailor trusts you quite yet, Shimmer.” She grinned at the knight and winked at Mik.
Shimanloreth nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said.
“Well,” Ula sighed, standing and stretching, “I guess that leaves it to me to find a ship for our treasure hunt. I’ll probably have to buy a captain as well. No offense, Mik.”
“None taken.”
Ula extended her hand to Shimmer, and he placed a pouch of coins in it. She took a moment to judge the weight and frowned playfully. “This will do for a start,” she said. “See to the bill, will you?” She pushed her stall stool away from the table and turned to go.
“Ula, wait,” Mik said.
“Hmm?”
“Let me hold on to the green key,” he said. “It may help in locating the other one we’re looking for.”
“I suppose it might at that.” She took a moment to undo it from her web of jewelry and placed the emerald artifact into the sailor’s hand.
“Thanks,” he said, tucking into his belt pocket.
“Take good care of it.”
Mik nodded, and she disappeared into the crowd.
“I’ve known her a long time,” Shimmer said when she’d gone, “yet I still do not understand her.”
“She’s not so hard to figure out,” Mik replied.
Shimmer paid the outdoor tavern’s bill and they left. It didn’t take them long to push through the city’s crowded streets onto the long avenue leading up to the Dragonheights.
Mik craned his neck upward, trying to take in the amazing structures towering over them. Halfway up the steep road they almost seemed no nearer at all. Turning a comer Mik came into view of a distant pyramid. Atop it rested a glittering crystal globe. The gem sprayed shimmering beams of blue light into the afternoon air.
Mik stopped and stared at it. The crystal grew larger in his mind and became the great blue-white diamond. The diamond blazed like the sun, and the sky flashed with lighting. The world sank away and he soared high in the sky, gazing down on the Dragon Isles. All around, storm clouds loomed.
“What’s wrong?” asked a distant voice, sounding vaguely like thunder.
Mik blinked, and the bronze-helmeted face of Shimmer came into focus before him.
“Are you all right?” the knight asked.
“I’m fine,” Mik said. “Let’s keep going. I just had an idea, that’s all.”
“An idea about what?” Shimmer asked.
“That pyramid,” Mik said, pointing. “I think it may be connected to our goal, somehow.”
“That pyramid is one of the great libraries.”
“Wisdom’s highest throne,” Mik said quietly.
“Part of the Prophecy, eh?” Shimmer replied. “Well, it’s possible.”
“Let’s go,” Mik said.
The bronze knight nodded, and they walked up the slope once more.
Long minutes later, they crested the hill and gazed across the plateau of the Dragonheights. Before them stretched the colossal plaza of the monuments. To Mik it seemed like an immense graveyard: nothing moved, no breeze disturbed the air, no smells wafted to his nose, nothing broke the eerie silence. The monuments—marble shapes, metal creatures, crystal plants, and glistening abstracts in every imaginable combination—towered over Mik and Shimmer, but seemed distant and unreal at the same time. It was as though the treasure hunters gazed at an immense still-life painting rather than a real place.
“Where are the people?” Mik asked. “Why isn't anything moving?”
“It's the magic,” Shimanloreth replied. “Look there.”
Mik looked and saw a aristocrat in fancy dress, frozen in mid step. Nearer by, a hooded woman had just topped the cliff face. She, too, hung rooted to the spot: unmoving, unbreathing.
“Are they .. . dead?” Mik asked.
“No,” Shimmer replied. “But the dragons don't want them here. The enchantment has frozen them in time. A nasty surprise for that thief,” he said, indicating the hooded woman.
“Let's hope the enchantment doesn't catch us as well,” Mik said.
“It may. There's only one way to find out.” The bronze knight stepped boldly into the plaza.
As he did, blue sparks blazed around his armored form. He paused, as though pushing against an unseen barrier. Then he lurched forward again veiy slowly, as though he were walking underwater. He motioned Mik to follow, but if he spoke, the sailor could not hear him.
Mik placed his foot upon the mosaic at the plaza's edge.
The sailor's skin caught fire, and his senses whirled. He staggered forward, as though he were walking through molasses. Every step became harder. He felt as if he were at the nadir of a long dive, the ocean pressing in on every part of his body. So much pressure.
His limbs began to tingle as though asleep. He blinked. It took forever for his eyelids to descend, and even longer for them to rise again.
Instinctively, Mik reached toward his belt pocket, where the emerald artifact lay.
Very slowly, his fingers crept forward.
Close.
So close.
Contact.
Fire burned through his body again. The magical blaze fought against the pressure—nearly tearing him apart.
The next moment, it ended.
Mik doubled over, sweating profusely, his guts in a knot.
“Are you all right?” Shimmer’s deep voice asked.
“Fine,” Mik gasped, struggling to his feet
“For a moment, I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Shimmer said. “Your willpower must be very strong.”
“I guess,” Mik said, fighting down a wave of nausea. “Where’s the library?”
“Not far, as dragons measure it.”
“How about as sailors measure it?”
“A fair walk.”
Mik bowed slightly, and swept his right arm forward. “After you.”
The knight and the sailor walked toward the distant pyramid. They’d hardly gone a dozen steps, though, when a huge copper dragon dropped out of the sky and barred their way.
He opened his enormous maw and hissed, “Halt, trespassers!”
Twenty-Seven
Plans & Schemes & Spies
Benthor Kell strode down the streets of Thrakton as if he owned the place— which, in one sense, he did. Thrakton, a tidy and well- ordered city, was the largest town on the island of Berann. Most of its buildings had been newly built or renovated. The style of architecture throughout was simple, utilitarian, and uncluttered. The fortress of the order reflected this Spartan style. Its cyclopean walls loomed over the streets, looking both protective and intimidating at the same time. The city’s location at the head of the isle’s only deep water harbor, at the mouth of Berann’s main river, made it an ideal headquarters for the Order of Brass.
Benthor and Misa Kell ran the Order, and therefore the town as well. Everyone was aware, though, that all humans lived on the island only with the sufferance of Berann’s dragons.
Thracktil the Fierce, a huge, ancient brass dragon, was true lord of the island. He seldom appeared in public, though, because of his advancing years. Younger dragons, like his nephew Thrakdar, remained in charge of day-today affairs.
Thrakdar liked to keep a close claw on the business of Thrakton, and the Order of Brass in particular. He had founded the Order as a kind of private police force, after the departure of the good dragons from Ansalon. When he could not tend to affairs personally, he frequently sent his consort Tanalish. She was the dragon who usually flew escort for the Kells’ trireme. She watched over them, sometimes scouting ahead and frequently reporting back to her lord and mate.
One didn’t need dragon wings, though, to spread the news of Misa Kell’s wounding through Thrakton. Word of her plight ran
through the streets like wildfire. Tanalish had alerted the Order to expect casualties, but none of them guessed that the wounded would be their own beloved lady.
The Order mobilized quickly, bringing all their considerable healing skills to bear on the wounded woman. Soon concern in the ranks gave way to anger. Though Misa had been wounded in a lawful duel, many brass warriors spoke openly of hunting down and slaying the perpetrator of this terrible deed.
Benthor Kell threatened to severely punish anyone who broke ranks and carried out such a vendetta. Publicly he claimed that such feuds were bad for discipline, which was an essential element of the Order. Privately, he himself hoped to pay back Ula Drakenvaal.
His sister’s grave condition added to Kell’s sour mood as he walked the narrow streets of Thrakton. He strode away from the Order’s fortress and toward the pier where his brasssided trireme lay anchored. Benthor clutched his coral lance tightly in his fist, nodded curdy to those who greeted him, and growled quick orders to those under his command.
Karista Meinor walked with him, hurrying to keep pace. The aristocrat had acquired new, fashionable clothes during her short stay in town. Now she was in serious danger of dragging her hems through the muddy street. Because of her tenuous position in Kell’s favor, she didn’t ask the lord to slow down.
“Capturing this treasure will not make up for my sister’s wounding,” Kell said.
Karista smiled at him pleasantly. “I did not offer the treasure as a remedy, milord—merely as a token of my good faith in our future ventures. Surely you do not want Ula and her friends to gain these riches.”
“Of course not,” Kell shot back. “But my operatives have lost track of the Landwalker and her friends.”
“A minor inconvenience that I’m certain you can surmount,” Karista said.
Kell nodded. “My associates in Darthalla have sent reports that the trio has left the city—and they have not been seen since.”
“We know the elf and her friends are clever,” Karista said, “but we also know they are looking for the treasure. They cannot remain hidden forever.”
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