“Perhaps,” Kell replied. “Though that sea witch may have resources unknown to us.” He clenched his brass- mailed fist tight. “If only the cursed kender had not stolen the first key! My people have scoured the seas around Jaentarth, but found no sign of it—or the kender’s body.”
“The kender will seek his friends, and they will seek him,” Karista said. “I’m sure you can use your . . . influence to locate diem.” The aristocrat glanced from Lord Kell to the clouds high overhead.
Kell took the suggestion. “Yes,” he said, glancing toward the mountainous lair of his dragon allies. Atop the distant peaks, the mysterious brass pyramids glistened in the afternoon sun.
“Thrakdar’s people can turn them up,” Kell said. “Above the waves or below, these rogues can’t hide from the Order of Brass. We’ll set course for their last known location and await word from my operatives. Our communications move with the speed of dragon wings. These sorry treasure hunters won’t elude us for long.”
Kell and Karista stopped on the pier alongside the lord’s brass-scaled galley. His crew extended the gangplank and Lord Kell hoarded the trireme with Karista Meinor at his side.
Twenty-Eight
Paths of Knowledge
The copper dragon was huge, larger than 1 the brass they’d seen flying over Lord Kell’s galley. The sun glinted orange off his rough hide and glistened from the peaks of his horns and the spikes along his spine. Flexible metal scales covered his belly, and thick armored plating adorned its back. His blue eyes burned with terrible intelligence. Clearly, the Dragonheights were built by and for such creatures. The dragon hovered effortlessly before them, his great wings buffeting the plateau’s still air.
Mik’s knees went weak, and he had to fight to remain standing. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the artifact tucked into his waistband felt suddenly hot. He found it difficult to breathe.
“How did you pass the barrier?” the dragon boomed. He extended his claws, and his tongue flicked out of his huge maw as if to taste the people standing before him.
“W-we seek wisdom’s highest throne,” Mik said. His throat had gone dry and his words sounded faint and distant even as he spoke them.
“Kopernus ... Is that you?” Shimmer asked. If the knight felt any of the same dragonfear, it didn’t show through his bronze armor.
The copper dragon’s eyes narrowed and he looked squarely at the bronze knight, but said nothing.
“It’s me, Shimanloreth.”
“Shimanloreth?” the hovering dragon replied. The creature scowled. “This is a trick. It could be anyone under that helmet.” He peered at the knight as though he might stare through the bronze carapace.
Shimmer sighed and reached up as though to brush back his hair. As his metal-gloved hands touched armor, his helmet slid back like a window blind and folded itself into the collar of the knight’s breastplate.
The copper dragon’s frightening visage brightened. “It is you,” he said. “You’re smaller than I remember, but I’m glad you’ve come to visit me. Where have you been lately?”
“Exiled.”
“Exiled?” The dragon frowned. “Who would exile you?”
“I exiled myself. I didn’t like the company I was keeping.”
The copper dragon nodded. “I sometimes felt that way— before the other dragons left. Most are gone, you know.”
“I heard.”
Mik screwed up his courage and spoke. “If so many others are gone, why are you still here?”
Kopernus puffed out his chest. “Someone has to guard the Dragonheights,” he said. “So I took it on as my duty. Those haughty brasses wanted it, but I wouldn’t let them.” He rose into the air and circled the plaza twice, the sun glinting off his orange wings, before settling down again. “Now, the enchantment keeps all the rest out. Only I have the honor of protecting the monuments.”
“Very impressive,” said Shimmer.
Kopernus bowed his head at the compliment.
“We’re seeking knowledge of a key,” Mik said, feeling almost himself once more. “I’m sure a dragon of your immense ... power must have some wisdom to share with your old friend Shimmer and me.”
Kopernus glowered. “I’m a guardian, not a librarian handing out knowledge. My duty is to protect this place.”
“And a fine job you’re doing,” Mik said. “Would you like to escort us to that pyramid over there?” He pointed toward their destination. “Make sure that we don’t run into any trouble?”
“It would he my honor,” Kopernus replied. “I’ll scout ahead and clear the way.”
He turned, flipping head over tail—barely missing tall monuments on each side—and streaked off through a towering bronze tree with jade leaves.
“I can see why few people venture up here,” Mik said.
Shimmer nodded. “Kopernus can he deadly when provoked.”
They moved as quickly as they could through the strange city: running over mosaics the size of city blocks, fording rivers frozen in time, and dodging around the titanic monuments.
“Like a graveyard for the gods,” Mik thought.
The sailor’s legs were nearly ready to quit when Shimmer finally pulled up before a huge, white marble pyramid. Kopernus hovered near a door in the side of the huge edifice.
“No scoundrels in sight,” the copper dragon said.
“Thank you for your help,” replied Mik.
The copper puffed out his chest again. “Please keep your visit brief, and let me know if you spot any rogues.”
“We will,” Mik said.
“Come visit again soon, Shimanloreth.”
“When I can,” Shimmer replied.
With a single flap of his huge wings, Kopernus shot into the sky. Moments later, the copper dragon disappeared entirely.
Mikal Vardan let out a long, relieved breath.
The doors of the pyramid stood recessed into the side of the immense structure. Each was five times as wide and tall as a human door. They were made of the same polished marble as the library’s mountain-like exterior and had no doorhandles.
Shimmer stuck his fingertips into the broad crack between them and pulled with all his might. With a groan like distant thunder, the doors opened—just a crack.
Mik and the knight pushed through the opening and into a long, dimly lit hallway filled with hundred-foot columns.
Mik began to hike down the hallway; Shimmer followed behind, rubbing his left shoulder.
“This place looks even larger inside than it did outside,” Mik commented.
“The gold and silver dragons who built it were powerful sorcerers,” Shimmer replied. “The laws of time and space do not always apply to them.”
Mik nodded, remembering the people frozen motionless in the plaza.
They passed through the end of the long corridor and into a huge, domed chamber. Hundreds of shelves, each as tall as a man, lined the walls. The shelves were filled to overflowing with books and scrolls, also of titanic size. Golden filigree, gems, and strange runes decorated the spines of the volumes. Some were bound in leather, other in armored hide or scaly skin, and still others in parchment alone.
“If the key were hidden in this room, it would take a lifetime to find it,” Mik said.
“More than a lifetime—unless you’re a dragon.” Shimmer replied.
“Fortunately, I don’t think it’s here,” Mik said, a smile cracking his bearded face. “I think we have to go up in the pyramid—to the highest throne
“A fair assumption.” Shimanloreth shouldered aside a huge oak door on the far side of the chamber and discovered a staircase beyond. They went through and climbed the long stairway.
The chamber at the top of the stairs was built on a more human scale. The stacks were huge, but they had normal sized—if elaborate and beautiful—books, and long ladders for reaching the top shelves. Skylights dominated the vaulted ceiling, providing the room with plenty of natural lighting—though Mik didn’t recall seeing any windows on the
outside of the pyramid.
Going ever upward, they climbed a balcony on the far side of the room and opened a normal-sized oak door set into one wall.
The staircase beyond stretched high overhead into darkness. Hundreds of identical, brass-handled doors debouched onto the stairway. As Mik and Shimmer climbed, they opened a few of the doors they passed and discovered strange and wondrous things beyond. One doorway overlooked an endless twilit sea. They nearly fell through another into a black, star-dappled sky with no solid ground in sight. Musty, cobweb-covered scrolls filled one room beyond the stairs. Another was stacked floor to ceiling with polished obsidian orbs.
The climb to the top of the stairs was tortuously long, and they stopped several times to catch their breath.
“How long have we been here?” Mik asked.
“A moment? A day? A lifetime?” Shimmer replied. “Who can tell?”
At the top of the stairs they found a final golden door.
The portal resisted their attempts to open it until Mik held up the emerald key. Then the latch gave easily.
Mik shrugged at Shimmer. They walked through the door, down a short corridor, and into a huge spherical chamber. The whole of Kingfisher—masts and all—could easily have fit inside the room. Stunning mosaics entirely covered the vast, curving walls. The floor depicted the ocean, wide and blue and teaming with life. The walls—if the globular space could be said to have walls—were covered with scenes of the Dragon Isles: islands, beaches, forests, mountains, ships, and flying dragons. Overhead, an indigo sky sported countless shimmering stars set in the constellations of Krynn.
At the very center of the room, a huge golden chair with crimson padding hung motionless in the air. A strange, flickering golden aura surrounded the seat. A fist-sized multifaceted crystal had been set into the apex of the chair’s back.
“Wisdom’s highest throne, I presume,” Mik said. He crossed the ocean mosaic and stood in the center of the room under the hovering chair. “Give me a hand up, would you?”
Shimmer nodded and came to help.
The golden throne hung nearly a dozen feet above the ocean mosaic. Mik had to stand on Shimmer’s shoulders, and—even then—his fingers barely brushed the chair’s dragonlike legs.
“Hold steady,” Mik called down to the knight. “I’m going to jump for it.” With that, he launched himself into the air and caught hold of one of the throne’s legs.
As he touched it, first his hands, then his whole body began to tingle. The glow suffusing the chair increased, and the air crackled with magical energy.
Goosebumps rose on Mik’s arms as he climbed, hand over hand, up to the blood-red seat. His dark hair stood on end and wavered as though tugged by an unfelt wind.
“Are you all right?” Shimmer called up.
“Fine,” Mik replied, pulling himself into the seat at last. He took a long, deep breath and settled in.
“This is a foolish thing you’re doing!”
“Who risks most, gains most,” Mik replied, his body quivering so much that his teeth chattered. “I-I seek the key.”
As he spoke, the chair began to spin. Faster and faster it went, until the room around it blurred and Mik felt himself pressed back, into the padded seat.
Golden lightning crackled all around. His hair shot straight out, and his skin felt as though it were being rubbed with sandpaper.
Then the world went away.
* * * * *
The cloaked figured hurtled into Ula, toppling the sea elf over backward. The thing smelled of sweat, brine, and rotten fish.
Ula cursed and rolled to one side, trying to kick the attacker off, hut the cloak got tangled in her jewelry.
She cursed again and pushed hard. This time, the thing hurst free, taking some of her jewelry and a hit of her modesty with it. Angrily, she thrust her spear at the flabby, baglike thing squirming on the street.
“Hey!” the creature cried.
“Drag me to the Abyss!” Ula said, not sure whether to laugh or weep. “What are you doing here?”
Tripleknot Shellcracker got up and dusted himself off. “Well, that’s a fine hello,” he said, frowning at Ula. “Do you always try to run your friends through?”
“Only when I don’t know they’re my friends,” she replied, picking up her jewelry and putting her clothing back together. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”
“I suppose I am,” the kender replied. “But it’s really great to see you anyway.” He stepped forward to embrace her, hut she hacked away.
“What is that smell?” she asked, crinkling her pretty nose.
“Smell?” Trip said.
The sea elf groaned. “It’s the cloak. It smells like fish left in the sun for a week.”
Trip lifted the ragged hem of the cloak and sniffed it. “Does it?” he said. “I hadn’t really noticed. This is genuine sea serpent, you know.” He lowered his voice and added, “It’s very magical.”
Ula huffed skeptically. “So, how did you get here, minnow?”
“Let’s discuss it over lunch,” Trip replied. “I’m starved. I’ll even pay. I picked up a few coins on my way here.”
By the end of the meal, Ula had wheedled out most of the story of how Trip obtained his cloak and how he got to Aurialastican.
“I’ve been trying,” Trip finished, “to find someone to take me to Darthalla. It isn't a popular destination, though, and finding someone has been trickier than I thought it would be.”
“I doubt many kender charter ships,” Ula said. “So you escaped from Berann, Lord Kell, and the Order of Brass, made your way here by hitching a ride on a passing ship, and even arranged to hire a boat? I must admit, I’m impressed.”
Trip beamed at her. “Thanks, Ula. Or should I call you ‘Landwalker?’ ”
Ula fingered the pommel of a gem-studded knife hanging from the intricate golden chain at her waist. “Only my enemies call me ‘Landwalker.’ ”
“Ula it is, then,” Trip replied.
“About this ship you’ve hired ...” she said.
“Well,” Trip said, “perhaps hired isn’t quite the right word. It was going to drop some supplies at Darthalla, they agreed to take me along—for an exorbitant fee, I might add. The captain might not have taken me at all. But he changed his mind when I mentioned Mik’s name. I guess he’s an old friend of Mik’s or something.”
“Really?” Ula asked.
“A burly, red-headed guy,” Trip replied. “Said his name was Jerick. Funny thing is, Mik once told me he was dead.”
Twenty-Nine
Origins
Caught in the center of the whirlpool, Mik spun faster and faster. The walls of the library had disappeared completely. A roaring sound, like storm-driven surf, filled his ears.
He felt himself surrounded by water, and then thrust into the open air. Waves crashed all around and thunder- heads collided overhead. The squall moved away quickly, as though pushed from the sky by a titanic invisible hand.
Sunlight streamed over the aquamarine ocean, reflecting from the whitecaps and filling the air with dazzling color. Mik soared over the waves as the Dragon Isles rose majestically from the sea.
He saw it all: the glorious history, the glory of the isles. He saw the thousand metallic dragons, swarming over the islands, changing the shape and nature of the land. He saw the first people arrive and, with the help of the dragons, settlements became towns, and towns became cities.
Temples sprang up, treasure flowed into the temples, and the towns, and the cities, and the Dragon Isles became wealthy.
To protect the isles, a mighty enchantment was raised: the Veil. A special treasure-filled temple was built for the spell at the top of a volcano in a remote corner of the archipelago. A great, bejewled key in four pieces was made to seal the pact— one piece for each of the elements: diamond for earth, emerald for water, opal for air, and ruby for fire. The dragons set a monstrous blue-white diamond at the upper temple’s summit—above a hoard of treasure—to com
memorate the deed.
The spell set the isles apart from the world—only those who knew its secret, dragons and favored mortals, could pass its defenses.
Outside the Veil, storm clouds gathered—but within, glittering dragons still filled the skies. Over time the four keys to the Temple of the Sky were scattered to the comers of the realm, and the Temple itself was hidden from outsiders.
Now, in his vision, Mik.saw a key, transformed into a shining, golden gem, approach him before the floating chair, hovering in front of him and regarding Mik like a baleful yellow eye.
“I seek the third key,” Mik said, fighting hard to hold his voice steady.
The gemstone flashed and sparkled, and within it Mik saw an image of the third piece of ancient jewelry: the opal key. It looked similar to the other two: twisting, asymmetrical golden lines, with the blue stone set in the center. Its shape, though, was not quite the same as that of either the diamond or the emerald key.
“Seek the key within,” a voice in his head intoned.
A burning sensation welled up within Mik’s breast. An image flashed within his mind. A satisfied feeling spread out from the center of his body toward the end of his limbs. Mik fought down the sensation and concentrated instead on the gem.
He reached out, and his fingers passed through the golden orb’s surface. Fire sprang up around his arms; his hair burst into flame. The image in his mind spurred him on—the glittering shape of a huge blue-white diamond. He reached farther, farther, and at last touched the key.
Mik seized the gold and opal artifact in his fingers, just as the skin sloughed off his arm. He held it tight, even as his flesh turned to ash, revealing the white bone beneath.
The next instant, the gem grew very heavy. It pulled him from the chair and he plunged through the sky toward a volcanic island far below.
In his head he heard the voices of his friends and former shipmates, begging him to save himself-—begging him to let go. Trip, old Poul, Marlian, Pamak, Ula, and many others— some alive, others dead—all beseeched him to give up the deadly artifact.
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