Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles

by Sullivan, Stephen D (v1. 1)

  As the kender plodded up the stairs to help Mik, Kell took Karista in his arms. The brass lord brushed her rain-soaked hair from her face and gazed into her eyes. She smiled weakly at him.

  Mog mounted the final stair and reached the temple. The key in the dragonspawn’s hand glowed brightly. Small holts of lightning danced from it, encircling Mog’s reptilian body and raising small puffs of smoke wherever they touched. Mog growled and hissed, hut did not let go of the artifact. He turned to meet the sailor as Mik hounded up the last steps to the temple platform.

  The Temple of the Sky was an elegant structure, beautiful even with driving rain bouncing off its marble surface. A circular colonnade surrounded a round hole in the temple’s floor. In the center of the hole stood a carved pillar, scribed in an ancient language that Mik could neither read nor recognize. Glowing orange light shone up from beneath the pillar through the treasure piled high in the yard-wide pit surrounding the column’s base. Diamonds, gold, silver and gems brimmed to the top of the hole—ancient offerings to the gods of Krynn.

  The radiance seeping up through the treasure echoed the volcanic glow on the far side of the temple. The mountain’s great crater yawned just beyond the edge of the structure: natural destruction waiting at the edge of civilized creation. Fiery red light shone up from the lava in the heart of the mountain.

  Atop the pillar, amid the glowing treasure, rested the massive blue-white diamond Mik had seen in his visions. It was twice as large as a man’s skull and cut to faceted perfection. It shone with blinding brightness as the key drew near.

  Mog, key in hand, loped toward the diamond. Slender bolts of lightning danced from the key to the surface of the great gem. Mog grunted with each electrical flash.

  Mik darted forward, his feet nearly skidding across the rain-slick marble, an angry scream on his lips. He aimed a deadly cut toward the back of the dragonspawn’s neck.

  Mog spun and brought up his brass spear, holding the weapon with one hand. He parried the scimitar, and the sword’s blade slid down the shaft of the dragonspawn’s spear.

  Mik flicked his blade to the left, off the spear, and cut a long gash in Mog’s right arm. The dragonspawn shrieked and swung his spear at the sailor’s head. Mik ducked and thrust. The point of his sword struck the bejeweled key, knocking it from Mog’s hand. The key scudded across the floor, stopping just short of the silver stairway.

  Tempest’s minion roared with anger. Seizing his brass spear with both hands, he charged at Mik. The sailor stepped nimbly aside, but his boot slipped on the temple’s wet flagstones. He skidded across the chamber, nearly falling into the treasure-filled pit surrounding the great gem. His head dangled over the edge of the floor, and the light from the huge diamond dazzled his eyes. He felt the heat of the volcano on the back of his neck.

  Mog stabbed at him, but Mik rolled aside just in time. He kicked the dragonspawn in the legs, and Mog toppled backward and slid toward the edge of the stairs. Trip had to dodge out of the way as he reached the top of the staircase, and the dragonspawn nearly bowled him over.

  “The key, Trip!” Mik called. “Grab the key!”

  The kender reached down and picked up the artifact I while Mog struggled to right himself. Before Trip’s small fingers could close around the key, though, Mog swung his bronze spear and swatted the kender’s hand.

  The key flew through the air and bounced down die stairs and into the landing below the temple. It tumbled across the rain-soaked plaza toward the final stairway leading to the raging surf.

  Just as it neared the precipice, Benthor Kell stabbed out his hand and seized it. Battered and bloody, Karista Meinor rose to her feet beside the brass lord. Benthor Kell held the key tight, feeling the power throbbing within. Behind his bronze helmet, a smile of triumph broke over his handsome face.

  As he and Karista gazed at the key, the ocean surged, and Tempest rose from the depths once more.

  Forty

  Friends & Foes

  As the sea dragon broke the surface, her dragonspawn troops swarmed up the sides of the volcano and into the Temple of the Sky. Though not as clever or powerful as Mog, these six creatures still possessed sharp fangs and claws, as well as cunningly crafted weapons. In each of them burned their mistress’ unquenchable thirst for blood.

  Trip didn’t spot the dragonspawn until they were almost upon him. With a startled cry, he hopped away from the temple’s perimeter, keeping his daggers between himself and the new menace. The Trip didn’t notice as Mog rose behind him and aimed his spear at the kender’s back.

  Mikal Vardan scrambled to his feet and raced to his friend’s side. He turned aside Mog’s thrust barely in time, then batted aside a sword-cut from a second dragonspawn that had meant to disembowel him.

  Mik surged forward, slashing with his scimitar, driving

  the enemy back. The dragonspawn scrabbled across the wet flagstones, slipping and cursing. Mik smiled; these new dragonspawn were clumsy on land.

  Then he noticed the dragon rising from the sea below the temple.

  * * * * *

  Tempest towered above the waves, gazing down at the brass-armored lord and the aristocrat. The Turbidus leeches ringing her neck wriggled like obscene snakes waiting to be fed. Slime and gore fell from the dragon’s scaly lips. The reflected glory of the Temple Key flashed in her baleful yellow eyes.

  Benthor Kell drew his short sword. “Sell your life dearly,” he whispered to Karista.

  “I will,” Lady Meinor replied.

  The aristocrat pulled her dagger and plunged it into Kell’s breast, just below his brief armor.

  The brass lord spun, stunned horror on his face.

  Karista pulled out the knife and pushed him away. As Kell toppled backward, she snatched the bejeweled key from the shocked lord’s grasp.

  Lord Kell tumbled down the stairs and came to rest at the edge of the surf. Waves washed over his prostrate form, staining the sea with his blood.

  Karista Meinor held the key to the Temple of the Sky high above her head. Slowly, she climbed the steps toward the Temple above. The dragon kept her yellow eyes fixed upon the blood-spattered aristocrat.

  “S-see, my mistress?” Karista cried. “Even without the leech, I still do your will.”

  * * * * *

  Ula’s tears mingled with the brine as she searched the dark waters for the body of her friend.

  Was Shimmer dead?

  If so, she would avenge him.

  She spotted his body on a plaza below, nearly at the bottom of the silver stair. He lay unmoving, the coral lance still protruding from his side.

  “Shimmer!” she cried, swimming down to him and kneeling on the coral flagstones.

  His orange eyes flickered open. “It’s a good thing,” he gasped, “that Lady Meinor is no warrior.”

  “She’s near enough to have killed you,” Ula said, examining his wound. It was deep, possibly fatal.

  “Pull out the lance,” he said.

  Ula shook her head. “It could do you more harm that good.”

  “You must,” Shimmer replied. “It is powerful. Not a dragonlance, hut perhaps enough ... to wound a sea dragon.” He shuddered and struggled for breath. “Tempest is here; I feel her presence. Karista called her. Tanalish and the other dragons are too far away. You must stop Tempest.” He winced again, and his orange eyes dimmed. “Pull out the lance!” he gasped.

  Ula gritted her teeth and took hold of the weapon’s long shaft. “Ready?” she asked.

  “Never .. . readier.”

  With a swift jerk, she pulled the lance from Shiman- loreth’s side.

  Shimmer groaned and clamped his armored hands over the bleeding wound. His blood turned the water around them black.

  “I’ll get some seaweed to bind that,” Ula said.

  “No time,” he replied. “Go!”

  Ula nodded once, then turned and swam for the surface, not daring to look back lest she lose the will to leave her old friend behind.

  The s
ea elf rose from the raging surf at the foot of the long staircase. She fought against being toppled by the crashing waves and sucked back into the deep by the undertow.

  With a final desperate heave, she pulled herself onto the silver stairway.

  The sea dragon towered out of the ocean nearby, poised like a serpent ready to strike. Ula hunched down, fearing that Tempest might see her. The monster’s attention was fixed, though, on the stairs below the temple, where Karista Meinor held up the glowing key.

  Ula noticed people fighting within the temple, though she could not identify the combatants through the rain and stormy darkness.

  She spotted the bloody form of Lord Kell, lying prostrate on the stairs nearby. She knelt beside him, and was surprised when his eyes flickered open.

  “Help me . . . !” he gasped, fumbling to remove his enchanted helmet.

  Ula reached up and unfastened the brass and crystal headpiece from Kell’s armor. He was pale—deathly so—and blood trickled from his lips.

  “Thank .. . you,” he murmured.

  “Did Karista do this?” she asked.

  Kell nodded. “The dragon controlled her at first, but— even after . . . her lust for wealth and power . . . her fear of death ... was too great. Too late for me ... I’m afraid,” Kell gasped. “You must. .. protect the isles.”

  Ula nodded grimly. “Karista and the monster will pay for what they’ve done. I’ll see to that.”

  He nodded at her weakly, but said nothing.

  Ula stalked away from him up the stairs toward where Karista Meinor stood trying to supplicate the dragon. The sea elf kept to the shadows as best she could she could, to avoid attracting the dragon’s attention.

  A moment later, Benthor Kell rose and shambled after her.

  * * * * *

  Mik turned, slashing and darting, trying not to slip on the wet marble flagstones of the temple, trying to protect Trip’s back. Seven against two was not good odds, even without the dragon waiting below.

  He tried not to think about the fate of his friends. Kell and Shimmer were gone, Kell’s guards dead, and the lost gods only knew where Ula was.

  Anger festered within Mik’s belly for all that this treasure quest had cost him. He parried a blow aimed at Trip’s back and gutted the dragonspawn attacking his friend. Stinging rain washed the gore from the sailor’s skin. The roaring thunder and the crashing surf echoed the blood pounding in his ears.

  A slimy talon sneaked in under Mik’s guard, shredded his sopping shirt, and traced a long gash across his ribs. Mik spun and sliced the offending claw from its owner’s arm. The wounded dragonspawn screamed and tumbled off the temple courtyard, over the cliff-like face of the volcano and into the whitecaps.

  Trip fought valiantly, but his sea serpent cloak slowed him out of the water. More than once, he barely avoided being skewered on a dragonspawn’s spear.

  “We have to get the key from Karista before the dragon does!” Mik yelled.

  “Too late!” said Trip.

  As he spoke, Tempest spewed a huge gout of boiling steam upon the aristocrat. Karista’s skin blistered and peeled away from her flesh in long ribbons. Her eyeballs exploded, and she toppled to the ground, the meat sloughing from her bones. The temple key landed with a soft plop in the middle of the pool of bubbling ooze that had once been the most powerful merchant in Jotan.

  Tempest laughed, her booming voice shaking the heavens. She began to dwindle and change, shrinking—as Shimmer and Tanalish had done—until she stood only a foot or two larger than a man.

  Her skin was pale, greenish, and slightly scaly. Writhing Turbidus leeches and dark green seaweed dangled from her head—living hair, covering the decrepit curves of her body. Her yellow eyes blazed with hatred. She sprang from the raging sea and settled gently onto the steps below the temple.

  Tempest reached down, and her clawlike hand seized the key to the Temple of the Sky.

  Forty-One

  Tempest Triumphant

  Slowly, the humanlike Tempest climbed the stairs toward the ancient temple. She moved with deliberate, measured steps, as though she were unused to walking on human legs. Magical energies from the glowing key danced around her. She laughed, and the island trembled.

  “She needs to reach the diamond to destroy the Veil,” Mik said urgently to Trip. “We have to keep her away from it.” He parried the thrust of a dragonspawn and kicked the creature in its gut. The minion screamed as it soared over the edge of the temple courtyard and fell into the molten crater of the volcano.

  “Clever man,” the dragon hissed, her voice echoing up from the stairs below. “Perhaps, out of gratitude, I’ll let you live long enough to see my triumph.

  “Once I rip the Veil from the heavens, my minions will swarm the Dragon Isles. We will scour the oceans and pick clean the bones of our enemies. I will make myself equal to any dragon overlord on Ansalon. Those who do not bow down before me shall die—just as the remainder of your friends shall die.”

  The monstrous creature smiled. “All this, you have given me.”

  “No!” Mik yelled. He flung his dagger at the transformed dragon, hut Tempest merely batted the insignificant blade aside. It clattered onto the stairs at her clawed feet.

  “Foolish,” Tempest hissed, mounting the final step to the temple courtyard. “Perhaps I shall slay you now, after all. Or perhaps I’ll slay your pet kender first.” She raised the coruscating key up before her. Pale lightning flashed across the artifact’s intricate surface.

  Two dragonspawn had Trip pinned against a temple pillar. The kender was fighting so hard that he didn’t even see the dragon turning toward him.

  Mik parried a blow from Mog, as a shadow moved on the stairs below Tempest.

  Ula Drakenvaal strode up from the plaza below and hurled the coral lance at Tempest’s exposed back.

  Mog leaped away from Mik and shouted a warning. Tempest turned just in time to avoid a mortal blow. Yet the coral lance traced a long gash up the dragon’s human-like arm. Tempest shrieked, her hand flexing open. The key fell from her grasp and tumbled off the mountain into the surf.

  Ula cursed as the lance ricocheted off a pillar and clattered back down the stairs, landing too far away for her to retrieve it.

  Tempest whirled to face the sea elf. A deadly spell formed on the transformed dragon’s scaly lips.

  Mik leaped with all his might—across the rain-slick courtyard and into Mog, knocking the dragonspawn onto its backside. Mog skidded over the wet surface into Tempest, cutting her legs out from under her.

  The dragon’s spell blazed into the sky as she toppled down the stairs. Tempest shrieked with rage and indignation. Mog rose, but Mik was on him before he could recover

  The sailor slashed down. His scimitar sliced across Mog’s reptilian face, staining the wind with a misty spray of blood. Mog staggered back and stepped off the edge of the temple plaza. The dragonspawn tumbled down the mountainside, screaming. He hit the cliffs several times before being swallowed by the raging surf below.

  Enraged, Tempest’s human form rose and refocused her lethal spell toward Ula. Energy blasted from the dragon’s clawed fingertips, but the sea elf dove off the stairway. Ula arced over the cliff face and sliced into the storm-tossed sea.

  Tempest bellowed her fury, and the temple shook. “It seems I must slay you all before I can recover the key and destroy die Veil,” she roared. In an instant she swelled to three times human size. Armored scales sprouted from her skin. Her neck became long and sinuous, her muzzle grew pointed like a crocodile’s.

  Growing larger by the second, the sea dragon lumbered up the stairs toward the temple, deadly steam pouring from her jaws.

  Forty-Two

  Dragonriders

  “Dive for it, Trip!” Mik yelled. He jumped with all his might as Tempest swiped her huge claw across the terrace. The claw smashed and scattered her remaining dragonspawn. Their bodies bounced lifelessly down the cliff face.

  Mik and Trip barely avoided the d
eadly talon. They arced over the volcanic cliff face and sliced cleanly into the surging waters at the mountain’s base.

  The dragon’s flipperlike hand smashed into the great diamond—the cornerstone of the Veil. Lightning flashed from the artifact, wracking the sea dragon’s body. Tempest screamed as the scales of her forelimb caught fire. Howling in pain, she turned from the ruins and dove into the pounding surf to extinguish the flames.

  * * * * *

  One bleeding man met another on the landing below the temple. Lord Kell looked up from where he sat, oozing blood, with his back against a pillar. The breath wheezed raggedly in his lungs; blood coated his lightly armored body. He smiled wanly as Shimmer lurched over the top of the stairs and into the plaza from below.

  The orange eyes of the dragon-man met the gray eyes of the human lord. They nodded at each other. The rain washing over their bodies mingled their blood in pools on the marble flagstones.

  “We have much to make amends for, you and I,” Shimmer said.

  Kell nodded and coughed up blood. He glanced up the stairway to where his coral lance had fallen. “Perhaps for one of us, at least,” he said, “there is still time.”

  * * * * *

  Trip leaped high into the air as the dragon surged after him. Tempest belched boiling steam at the kender, but he ducked back below the waves just in time. The dragon lunged after him.

  Moments later, Mik and Ula surfaced together. “I found the key,” she said, “and a couple of the dragonspawn’s spears too. Do you want one?”

  “No,” Mik replied. “If I’m going to die, I’ll die with my own scimitar in my hand.”

  Ula nodded. “Let’s try not to die, though.”

  “You’re more agile in the water than I am,” Mik said. “Feel up to helping Trip keep the dragon off my back?”