by Jean Rabe
“I’ve been doing some research – about magic. It seems that tapping magic stored in items can augment any dragon or human’s magic.”
Khellendros drew his eyes into thin slits. “I knew that,” he hissed. “That is why I first sought the magic held in the tower in Palanthas.”
“Ah, but the humans do not know what I know, that certain old, magical baubles: swords, scepters, – the nature of the thing really doesn’t matter – can release more force than others.”
“Go on,” the dragon coaxed.
“Things from the Age of Dreams,” Fissure said.
“That was a long time ago,” Khellendros snarled. “Before the gods began truly meddling in the affairs of Krynn.”
“Yes, before the Time of Light, before Reorx was tricked into forging a stone that he left on the moon of Lunitari. While Reorx wasn’t looking, the gods of magic, who had been banished from Krynn filled the stone with their very beings. These scheming gods tricked a Chosen of Reorx, into stealing the stone. The Chosen – accidentally perhaps – dropped the stone onto Krynn. And with that one act, magic reentered the world.”
“I know all of that, faerie.” Khellendros said with irritation. “But magic from the Age of Dreams —”
“Magical baubles from that age are not nearly so plentiful as the baubles that were created since, fashioned after the gods of magic started dabbling and spreading their trinkets around. Those ancient things are more powerful than all the baubles created since.”
“Perhaps they could be used to reopen the portals,” the dragon mused.
“That is my point. I think it is worth trying in any event. Now all that remains is to find one or more of those moldy baubles,” Fissure continued, “which I suspect might take a considerable amount of time. Months, maybe years.”
“Time matters little to me,” Khellendros said. Only Kitiara matters, he added to himself, and her spirit is timeless while it floats in The Gray. “You will search for this magic.” It was an order, not a request.
“Of course,” the huldrefolk replied. “I want access to The Gray as much as you do. But first, I have a gift for you.”
“The sentries you promised?”
Fissure nodded and gestured toward the sky. He opened his mouth, revealing a row of small, pointed teeth, and whistled shrilly.
At first Khellendros saw nothing, just the dark clouds he had summoned into existence minutes ago. Then his keen eyes picked out twin shadows amid the gray billows, shadows shaped like dragons, though not as large. The shapes dropped through the clouds, and – drawing their wings near to their bodies – plummeted toward the desert floor.
The creatures were dark brown and only partially-scaly, with wingspans of nearly fifty feet. The heads of the two looked as if they had been snatched from twin giant lizards, but they were filled with triple rows of long teeth, and curving fangs that edged over their lower lips. Their wings were batlike and leathery, not at all as enormous as a dragon’s. And also unlike a dragon, they possessed no front legs. Their three-clawed hind feet opened as they landed, and their whiplike tails thrashed wildly, stirring up sand. The dragon spied a knot of cartilage near the end of each of their tails, from which protruded needlelike barbs that glistened with moist venom.
The larger of the two creatures opened its maw wide and emitted a loud hiss, a noise that sounded like a newly forged blade being thrust in cooling water. The other lowered its head and released a deep-throated growl that sounded more like the snarl of a great crocodile.
“Wyverns,” the dragon observed.
“From Nightlund,” Fissure added proudly, puffing out his small, gray chest. “They like the forests the best, where there’s plenty of shade. But I finally persuaded them to come here. And I... enhanced them.”
The dragon cocked his head. “Explain.”
“Wyverns cannot normally talk,” the huldrefolk stated. “But these can, courtesy of me. It was no small effort on my part, mind you. Lots of time, energy – nothing but the best for you. They can warn you of intruders, alert you to things going on in the desert, or they can travel wherever you choose to send them. And when they come back, they can report what they saw. I give them to you as a gesture of my good faith – a gift, a token of my friendship. They will loyally follow your instructions.”
Khellendros narrowed his eyes. He doubted Fissure had any faith – good or ill, but he accepted the wyverns. The new sentries would allow him to keep the majority of his spawn below ground, and to use only a carefully chosen few as scouts. He could devote more time to tutoring his scaly offspring.
“Aren’t you touched?” Fissure asked.
The dragon rumbled. “I am satisfied.”
“Do now what?” the largest wyvern asked. Its big black eyes blinked, and its nose quivered. It shifted its weight back and forth on its feet, never keeping one claw on the steamy sand for too long.
“Don’t know do now what,” the other answered, as it began to shift like its brother. It blew at its feet in a futile effort to cool them. “Ask do now what.”
The pair looked to Khellendros as they continued their odd dance.
“Do now what?” they queried, practically in unison. “They’re not especially bright, are they?”
Fissure dug his smooth foot into the sand. “They possess some amount of intelligence... just not a lot of it.”
The sky grew darker and a bolt of lightning raced to the ground behind the dragon’s lair. Sand erupted over the dragon, the surprised wyverns, and the nervous huldrefolk.
“But I bet they’ll get smarter. And I’ll enhance a few more sentries for you just in case they don’t,” Fissure quickly offered.
“See that you do,” Khellendros replied. “Ones with more intelligence.”
“I’ll see to that right now.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Not yet.” The Blue edged forward, sliding over the sand like a snake. When he was inches from the huldrefolk, he said, “I need to create more blue spawn.”
“More? Why? I thought you had dozens.”
“I need to create an army, for protection and as a show of force. And to create an army, I shall need people. Bodies to corrupt and mold.”
“Oh.” The huldrefolk swallowed hard.
“Humans, preferably.”
Fissure relaxed, if only a little. “Any kind of humans? Short? Tall? Fat? Men or women?”
The dragon ignored his questions. “First, you will travel to the hills south of the Plains of Solamnia. There are ogres there, my allies. I usually have brutes handle the actual extractions, but it is time I get use from other beholden followers. Find them, and direct the ogres to collect some people.”
The faerie relaxed. “So I don’t have to gather them myself. That’s good. Well, where should I tell the ogres to get these... uhm, people?”
“There is a large city nearby. Palanthas, the humans call it. The ogres can take people entering and leaving that city, people passing through, those laden with burdens and who look like travelers or strangers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The residents of Palanthas will not care so much about the fate of strangers. They will be less likely to pursue, to search for the missing, and I will have less chance of being discovered. I prefer not to have fingers pointed at me yet. Contact the Knights of Takhisis in Palanthas. They have been most helpful in administering my realm. They can quietly aid the ogres in their mission and the brutes will receive the captured humans. If anything should go awry, blame will be placed on the ogres. They are expendable.
“My brutes have been raiding barbarian villages to the northeast of the city. But they haven’t been bringing enough humans. And there are not many villages left to plunder.
“All right,” Fissure answered. “I’ll tell the ogres. And I’ll meet with the Dark Knights. You can trust me.”
“That task finished, you will attend to creating better sentries.”
“Of course. Ones with mor
e intelligence.”
The dragon nodded. “You will deal with these matters quickly. Then you will start searching for this ancient magic you mentioned.”
“From the Age of Dreams.”
“Yes.”
The huldrefolk drew his lips into a thin line, bowed his head, and melted into the desert floor. A small pile of sand materialized where his feet had stood a moment ago. The pile shimmered, then moved away from the dragon like a mole burrowing through a garden. It headed toward the southwest, in the direction of the hills.
“Do now what?” the large wyvern asked again.
“Do nothing?” the other posed a related question.
“Follow me,” Khellendros rumbled.
“Good. Here hot.”
“Hot too much,” the smaller added. “Follow you colder?”
The dragon snarled as he guided the wyverns into his underground lair. The spawn took a last look at the horizon, and the mounting storm, then also disappeared into the cavern.
Chapter 22
THE TRAIL OF EVIL
Blister strolled across the deck of Flint’s Anvil. Her skin was nut-brown now, darkened from the weeks she’d spent on the ship, and it made her blue eyes stand out more, seem a little brighter.
The kender was wearing a dark blue tunic and matching gloves that had sharp metal nibs at the knuckles and along the fingertips. Her hair had been painstakingly arranged, and a painted seashell affixed to a small comb sat on the right side of her head, midway between her ear and her topknot. She was going into a large, new city, and she wanted to look her best.
“Dhamon, now that we’re in Palanthas, what are we supposed to do? You’ve been awfully tight-lipped about what
Goldmoon told you.” She adjusted her belt with her thumbs. A chapak hung in a loop off the blue leather belt, between two bulging bags. A weapon of kender design that she’d previously kept hidden in one of her packs, the chapak was a small single-bladed hand axe, the back of which was pronged and sported a slingshot.
“Goldmoon said that evil breeds near Palanthas,” Dhamon replied, as he eyed her up and down, pausing to stare at the axe. He was wearing his black leather trousers and a forest green shirt Rig had picked out for him in Portsmith. The collar was open and trimmed in silvery-gray thread, and the sleeves were billowy. It was, in Dhamon’s opinion, the most functional and the least showy of the three Rig had gotten for him. His sword was strapped to his left side. He’d been polishing it, and the old pommel gleamed in the early morning sun. “And...” Blister coaxed.
“And I’d like to find just what that evil might be,” he answered. “But we’ve a stop to make first. A place called the Lonely Refuge.”
“Maybe we should just walk around the city, first – before we go anywhere,” the kender happily suggested. “Maybe we’ll notice something evil. Maybe we’ll overhear someone talking about something sinister. Or maybe someone will try to steal from us. We could follow them to an entire gang of thieves. Besides, look at the size of this place. It looks wonderful. We should explore it. All of it. Of course, we’ll have to be careful.” Dhamon followed Blister’s gaze. Flint’s Anvil sat near the northwestern-most point of a horseshoe-shaped maze of docks that clung to Palanthas’s shore. The buildings nearest the shore were stone. Other than signs and shutters, they had little painted trim – not much for the salt air to eat away at. Their roofs were tile – greens, reds, and grays mostly – and the walkways between them were made of tamped-down earth with planks here and there.
Glancing toward the heart of the city, he could see the more impressive buildings – towers made of pale gray stone, and the ivory and rose spires of the palace. The edge of an old, circular wall seemed to cut through the center of the town.
“The city used to be that big.” The mariner had silently crept up behind him and now stretched an arm toward the western edge of the old wall. “When the city kept growing, they had to build outside the wall and knock a few holes in it to accommodate more streets and buildings. Now the city extends to the mountains. There’s really no other direction for it to grow. Maybe a little more to the east. Maybe.”
Dhamon could see the mountains rising behind the buildings. It was as if Palanthas – all its homes, businesses, and empty temples – was cradled in a giant palm, ridged by mountains. “How do you know so much about the city?”
“I really don’t know all that much. I visited Palanthas about a dozen years ago, when I wasn’t much more than a kid. I don’t remember there being near as many docks then. But I remember a place call Myrtal’s Roost. Delicious steak. Had my first mug of rum there. I’ll have me another one there today – if the place is still standing.” Rig pursed his lips and shook his head, as if shaking away an old, stubborn memory. “I hope you’re done pretty soon, so I can have my ship back. No offense if I change the name to something a bit lighter-sounding afterward?”
“Wait a minute.” Dhamon’s eyes narrowed. “It is your ship, and I could care less what you do with the name – after Jasper and I are gone. But the deal is, you agree to stick around for a while, remember? Just in case we need a ride out of here.”
“How long?”
“A few days. Maybe a week. Just to be safe.”
The mariner moaned.
“Can you trust him?” Blister cut in. “If we take off strolling through the city, he might just leave.”
“I trust him,” Dhamon returned as he stepped on the plank leading to the dock. “I believe he’s a man of honor.”
“Honor again,” Rig groaned. His eyes met Dhamon’s. “Okay, I’ll wait – at least for a while.”
“Wait!” Feril rushed up the steps from below deck, Jasper on her heels. “I’m coming with you.”
“I’m not,” Jasper grumbled. “It’s too long a walk to the Lonely Refuge. And I don’t intend to tire myself out unnecessarily. Besides, something tells me I should stick around here.”
“But Goldmoon said you knew how to get there,” Dhamon curtly noted. “She said you’d help.”
“Oh, I’m helping all right. Here’s a map I drew. Follow it, and you’ll find the spot. Consider it a bit of insurance if I choose to rest up on the ship. I’ll make sure it stays in port.”
“I said I’d wait,” Rig snapped.
“And just in case, I’ll make sure you do,” Jasper said. The dwarf nodded to the Kagonesti, who slipped past Dhamon and hurried ahead. Blister followed her.
Dhamon hurriedly glanced at the map, cut a glowering look at the dwarf, and joined Feril and Blister, who were already plunging into the bustle on the docks.
On the deck of the Anvil, Flint, Rig, Groller, and Fury watched the trio go. Shaon padded up behind them. “I think I should go with them,” she pointed out.
“What?” the mariner said. “But you don’t even like land – at least that’s what you’ve always told me.”
“You know I’d rather be at sea,” she returned sharply. “And that’s precisely why I’m going with them. I want to help them find whatever it is they’re looking for – as soon as feasible. I’ll hurry them along. Then we can hurry back here, and the ship will be ours to reckon with that much sooner.”
Without waiting for his reply, she strapped on the sword the kender had used to pay for passage to Schallsea, then donned one of Rig’s voluminous yellow shirts. “Don’t leave port without me,” she said with a chuckle, as she went by.
Rig’s arm shot out and caught her wrist. He pulled her close. “What makes you so sure I wouldn’t?”
Her wide eyes fixed onto his, and she grinned. “Miss me, okay?”
“Miss you? I’d rather come with you.”
“And who would mind the Anvil? Groller, who can’t hear anyone? And Jasper, who doesn’t know anything about ships? You’re certainly not going to leave this ship in the hands of those two – or two hired mates we know little about.” Her lips formed a pout. “Besides, I don’t intend to be gone all that long. You know I don’t trust my footing on solid ground.”
“Then be careful,” he warned. “And be quick about it.”
“I will. I’d better go, before they get out of sight.”
Rig tugged on her wrist again, and his other arm circled her waist and pressed her to him. His lips closed tightly over hers, as he held her for a moment. “Stay out of trouble, Shaon,” he whispered.
She slowly withdrew from his embrace, offered him a sly smile, and hurried down the plank. Fury quietly slipped off the ship, following her.
“So something told you to stay here, huh?” Rig asked Jasper.
The dwarf had found an empty crate to sit on near the rear mast, and was sunning himself. “Yep.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“Trust has nothing to do with it,” Jasper replied. “Besides, It’ll give me a chance to learn more of Groller’s sign language.”
The mariner growled and pulled up a crate. “I know what’s not a good sign. When Dhamon left the ship, all the women went with him.”
*
The group’s first stop was an unexpected one. Before they could exit the harbor area, they had to undergo inspection by Dark Knight sentries.
Feril, who was ahead of everyone else, was the first to be stopped. When Dhamon saw the cluster of Dark Knights forming around the Kagonesti, he rushed forward, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.
Shaon caught up to him, taking his hand in hers so he couldn’t draw his sword. “Mind if I join you?” she asked. “Thought I’d stretch my legs.”
“We aren’t looking for any trouble,” Feril quickly interjected.
“Good,” said a tall Dark Knight as he scanned the group with a critical eye. His left eyebrow arched when his gaze fell on Feril. “Now what is it you are looking for?” he asked, stepping closer to the Kagonesti.
“Who wants to know?” asked Blister, placing her gloved hands on her hips.
The three other Dark Knights moved toward the feisty kender but they halted when the tall one raised his hand as if to silence them. “Khellendros wants to know,” he said. “Any more questions and you’ll pay double the harbor tax.”
“The harbor tax?” Shaon asked.
