by Jean Rabe
Again, Dhamon drove his knife into the creature, this time higher on its chest, just under its breastbone. The blade sank in, and he tugged it free and plunged it in once more.
“You’ve got to have a heart inside you someplace,” he cursed. Again his hand flashed as the stickiness of the creature’s blood ran down his fingers. The thing yowled, this time sounding almost pathetic, and Dhamon summoned all his strength as he drove the blade in deeper than seemed possible. This time it lodged in bone and Dhamon couldn’t yank it free.
The beast shuddered, then it seemed to disappear, and Dhamon’s fingers closed around air. A flash filled the sky, taking the creature’s place. A bright golden light filled Dhamon’s senses as a ball of lightning burst where the thing had been present a moment before. The air crackled and then the ground rushed up to meet him, and he struck the earth hard, the air exploding from his lungs. Dazed, he glanced up. He could see only the night sky and a few stars twinkling down at him.
“Die!” Shaon was shouting at her opponent. The sea barbarian lunged forward, shoving her sword into her foe’s belly. At the same time its maw opened and a bolt of crackling lightning raced to strike her chest. She was knocked back several feet.
The creature looked down at the sword buried in its body. Its claws fumbled with the pommel, found a grip, then tugged it free. The beast seemed oddly energized by its wound. It held the weapon up, and lightning from its claws raced up the hilt and along the blade, flashing and sparkling like a fireworks show. Grinning, it advanced on her, waving the crackling weapon.
Fury raced toward it. The red wolf darted inside of its reach and sank its teeth into the beast’s calf. The creature gave a shriek and brought the sparking blade down on the wolf. But Fury was quicker and raced around behind it. The blade cleaved only red hair.
Dhamon struggled to his knees, risking a glance behind him. Feril was using the mud to bury her draconian opponent, pin it to the ground. Blister stood over it, whacking at its chest with her chapak. The creature harmlessly spewed lightning. Overhead, the sky thundered in response.
Forcing himself to his feet, Dhamon grabbed his blade, then took a deep breath and rushed to stand with Shaon. The beast sidestepped the wolf and was closing.
“I can fight my own battles, Dhamon!” Shaon yelled. “I don’t need any help!”
“Maybe so, but you can’t fíght very well without a sword!” he called back.
The sea barbarian stubbornly dodged around Dhamon and claimed the creature’s attention. It lunged toward her. Distracted by her movements, it forgot about the wolf. A fatal mistake. Fury leapt on its back, and the beast plunged face-forward into the mud.
Shaon slammed her heel down hard on the back of its scaly hand. It released the grip on her sword. As she bent to scoop it up, the creature twisted around and angled its claws at Shaon, sending an electrical charge her way.
Shaon screamed, dropping to her knees. She shut her eyes to try to keep out the bright burning light, but still the jagged flickers danced everywhere. Fumbling about on the ground, her fingers brushed across the hilt of her sword. She grabbed it and blindly swung it where she thought the creature’s head was.
“Watch out!” a nearby Dhamon snapped. “You almost skewered me!” He’d lunged toward the thing and now had joined the close-quarters fighting.
“Then get back! This thing’s mine!” Shaon had to crawl away, however, blinking to clear her vision.
From behind, Fury closed his jaws on the beast’s neck. The creature howled as it pushed itself to its knees. The wolf dug his teeth in deeper. Dhamon lashed out at the thing and his sword cut through the dense flesh of its arm. The creature fell forward again amid a bright flash —-a burst of lightning that sent Fury yelping.
Dhamon’s arm shot up just in time to cover his eyes, but the electricity rushed out to envelop him and Shaon. It burned and made their teeth chatter with shock. Then as quick as the sensation surrounded them, it seemed to dissipate.
“What’s happening?” the sea barbarian cried. “I can barely see anything!”
“Look! It exploded!” the kender squealed. “Dhamon killed it!”
Fury growled and stood up, shaking himself. His red hair was standing on end, making him appear fluffy and nearly half-again his size. The creature was gone, but there was a bowl-shaped depression in the mud where it had been. Shaon knelt just beyond it, still blinking wildy.
Looking over his shoulder, Dhamon could see Feril was in no real danger, so he helped the sea barbarian up. Her vision was slowly returning.
“It was mine to finish,” she complained. Shaon frowned and felt about her face and head. Her short hair was singed, and a scorch mark ran nearly the entire length of her left arm. “It’ll scar,” Shaon mumbled. “A little souvenir of tonight.” Dhamon pointed toward Feril and Blister.
“We really caught it!” Blister said breathlessly. The kender leveled her chapak over the thing’s face. “You open your mouth and breathe lightning, and I’ll cut your head in two!”
The beast struggled, but Feril had piled enough mud on top of it that it wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
“Why’d you attack us?” Dhamon demanded.
The blue thing locked its eyes onto his and hissed. “Master’s orders.”
“Your master ordered you to attack us?”
“Attack humans,” it sneered. “Capture humans.”
“I guess we taught you a lesson,” Blister taunted. “Hey, Dhamon, how’d you know this thing could talk? Wow, you’re hurt pretty bad.”
“All draconians talk,” Dhamon answered. “And this one had better talk a little more unless it wants to join its fellows in oblivion.”
“Spawn,” the creature hissed. “We are not draconians. We are better, stronger, more. We are spawn.”
“Who is this supposed master?” Dhamon stood above the creature now, his hand tightly gripping his sword’s pommel. Blister stood opposite him. Both of them stared down into the spawn’s face.
“The Portal Master,” it hissed. “Only he commands me.”
“Gibberish,” Dhamon cursed.
“The Storm made us,” the spawn continued. “Shaped us from flesh and tears, made us creatures of lightning. And the Storm shall slay you.”
“Why does your master command you to attack people?” Blister asked. She winced as she switched her chapak to her other hand and waved the kender weapon for effect.
“Doesn’t want kender. Only humans,” it hissed. “The Master only wants humans.”
“I see,” she said offended. “So you would have captured Dhamon and Shaon and left me and Feril alone.”
“You and the elf,” it sneered, as lightning flickered along its lips, “we would have killed you.”
“The village,” Dhamon said, drawing the thing’s attention. He pointed in the direction from which they’d come. “Did you take all the people from that village?”
What approximated a smile spread across the blue spawn’s scaly face. “That village, and others. For the glory of the Portal Master. Our master and sire.”
That answered the grim mystery. Dhamon looked at the thing in horror.
“What shall we do with it?” Feril asked Dhamon. “We can’t let it loose. It’ll only go after more people.”
“I say we kill it!” Shaon suggested eagerly. The sea barbarian stepped closer and shouldered her sword. Her dark eyes were rimmed by red. “I’m willing to do the job. Step back.”
“No!” Dhamon held a hand out to stop her.
“No?” Blister asked incredulously. “If we leave it here, it’ll dig itself out eventually.”
The creature grinned, showing its sharp, glowing teeth.
“I want to take it with us, to Palin’s.”
Shaon groaned. “You’re crazy, Dhamon.”
“Palin’s supposedly a sorcerer, and the Lonely Refuge can’t be that far away. We can herd it there. If you kill it, the thing will disappear and we’ll have nothing, no evidence to study.�
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“Fine,” the sea barbarian said with supreme annoyance. “We don’t have any rope. It’s miles to the next village – which might be deserted. And we don’t have any horses. Yours and mine ran off. Feril’s is buzzard food.”
The Kagonesti shot her a vexed look.
“We’ll use our belts to tie it,” Dhamon suggested. “Brilliant,” Shaon retorted. “Don’t you think it’s strong enough to snap them?”
“I have an idea.” Feril knelt on the ground by the creature and thrust her fingers into her pouch. She pulled out a dried bean seed. “I don’t know if I have enough energy, but I’ll try.” “Try what?” Blister wondered aloud. The kender stepped away from the spawn and stood behind the elf, where she could take in the whole show.
Feril held the seed above the creature’s mud-covered chest. “As tiny as this seed is, so shall you be.” She made a small impression in the mud with her thumb, placed the seed gently inside, and brushed a bit of mud over the top to cover it.
Then she rocked back on her heels, closed her eyes, and sang. The words were elvish, something Dhamon, Blister, and Shaon couldn’t make out. Throaty and rich, the song’s melody was soft and slow, and the breeze that rustled their tattered clothes seemed an apt accompaniment to it. As the tempo increased, Feril’s skin took on a soft sheen, practically glowing. Her fingertips glistened, and she moved them over the spawn’s form.
She drew her hands together, as if she were praying, and the glow intensified. Then she separated them and placed her palms a few inches above the seed. The glow spread to the mud, centered on the spot where the bean was buried.
Blister gasped. The seed began to sprout, a small green nub emerging from the earth. Beneath it, the spawn struggled more fiercely. The nub grew longer, a thin tendril rose toward Peril’s hands. When it was several inches long, the Kagonesti withdrew her hands. In that instant, the green shoot curled over and plunged into the mud near to where its seed had been planted.
Feril continued singing. She pictured the thing shrinking, folding in on itself. But it wasn’t working quite correctly. She had to stop her song, and as she did so, the shoot began to wither. “It’s no use.”
“Try again,” Dhamon urged. “Please.”
She sighed and resumed her song, which seemed much sadder now. Again she held her palms over the bean seed. Fury came over next to her. But the red wolf wasn’t lending morale support. It yawned, stretched and lay down, resting its head on her leg and idly watching what she was doing.
“As tiny as this seed is, so shall you be.” Again she closed her eyes. This time the energy was there. She felt it pulsing all around her. It ran from her toes to her fingertips. She sang louder, and the small plant grew a darker green and burrowed deeper toward the blue spawn.
“Look!” the kender exclaimed. “The creature’s getting smaller.”
A surprised look crossed the spawn’s lizardlike visage. It renewed its struggles, thrashing about in vain as it slowly disappeared beneath the mound of mud. Dhamon dropped his sword and started digging. Shaon joined him.
Within moments, the mud had been cleared away, and a spawn no taller than a man’s hand was uncovered. The thing furiously flapped its wings, and shot upward. But the sea barbarian was quicker, and her fingers closed about its tiny legs.
Lightning exploded from its mouth and bounced across her arm, but it only stung her with the force of a spider bite. Shaon laughed and shook the thing. It feebly clawed at her hand, scratching it no worse than a small cat.
“Are you going to carry it all the way to Palin’s?” Blister asked.
“Only if you give me your net bag,” Shaon returned.
The kender’s eyes opened wide. “Of course! My unbreakable bag. My magic seaweed bag.” She hooked the chapak to her belt and tugged free the bag. When she upended it, several of Raph’s spoons, a couple of spools of thread, a handful of marbles, a pair of lime-green gloves, and a ball of yarn fell out. She proudly handed the bag to the sea barbarian, then fell to the task of collecting her dropped belongings into another bag.
Shaon thrust the struggling spawn inside, then held the drawstring bag up to her face. The green weave was tight, but she could see its eyes gleaming dully through a small gap. The bag wiggled, and she saw it glow with light as the creature attempted to use its lightning breath to break free.
“What do you know, Blister,” Shaon grinned. “I think this really is magical. It can’t get out.”
Dhamon helped the Kagonesti to her feet. “Are you all right?”
Feril nodded. “A little sore, but I think I fared better than you and Shaon. You two need some serious tending.”
The kender, finished with her task, sat back and sighed. Her fingers ached terribly. But she glanced up at the sea barbarian and Dhamon and giggled. “You’re a mess!” she chuckled. “I wouldn’t dress a scarecrow like either one of you!”
Dhamon’s shirt hung on him in strips, as did Shaon’s. Their pants were ripped, and mud and scorch marks dotted their exposed skin.
Dhamon had to smile. He had no more coins. No horse. No food. But there was the spare shirt beneath the saddle of Feril’s dead horse. He retrieved it and passed it to Shaon.
“Maybe Palin’s got some extra clothes in the Lonely Refuge,” Blister added.
“It was going to be a long ride by horse,” Shaon grumbled. “Now your Lonely Refuge is going to be a very long walk.” Under her breath she added, “Rig had better wait for me.”
“I can find us food and water along the way,” Feril volunteered. She fussed over Dhamon and Shaon for the next several minutes, binding their wounds with the tattered remnants of Dhamon’s shirt.
“To the Lonely Refuge, then,” Dhamon said. He sheathed his sword, motioned to Feril, and started north. Fury walked at his side. “Hopefully we’ll come across another village and can send someone for the boy in Dolor. We’ll travel by night. I don’t want to be sleeping when these things are around.”
“Who said they only come out at night?” Blister asked, as she hurried to catch up. “It can storm during the daytime, too.”
“Wonderful,” the sea barbarian said. Shaon held the net bag close to her face and watched a tiny grin spread across the creature’s sapphire visage. She shivered and fell in step with the others.
Chapter 27
BLUE SPY
Khellendros had watered from the bowels of his lair deep beneath the desert. He had watched as one of his children was slain in midair by an audacious human who refused to give in to its sharp claws and lightning. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with wheat-colored hair that blew in the breeze about his intense face.
Khellendros had watched the man repeatedly drive a blade into the blue spawn’s chest. The spawn was in an agony that Khellendros shared. He had felt the lifeblood of his first successful creation ebb away. He had felt his child gasp for breath and discover blood, not air, in its lungs.
The dragon had pulled himself back, detached his senses – not wanting to feel his first offspring’s death, not wanting to know what death was like, what Kitiara experienced so long ago when he had failed her and her body died.
But his concentration had been interrupted by the death of another blue spawn, this also at the hands of the wheathaired man.
“No!” the dragon had shouted. The walls of his cavern shook and grains of sand had rained down like falling snow through the cracks in the stone ceiling overhead. The wyvern sentries had stared blankly at him.
“Do what?” the larger had asked.
“Do nothing,” the other had suggested.
The Blue’s ranting and raving had gone on for several minutes.
Now more than two dozen spawn watched and waited behind the wyverns. They looked past the dull-witted guards, watched their master, but kept wisely silent and did nothing as the sand continued to rain down.
“I shall not be bested!” Khellendros cursed. “Not by a handful of mortals. I shall send more spawn. I shall...” The dragon paused, sen
sing a third child in the barrens, one the humans had not killed. It was relatively uninjured, but it was frightened, and it was... trapped?
Through the eyes of his mud-encased spawn, Khellendros saw faces framed in green. A kender, one well into life and with thick streaks of gray in her hair. The man was there, too, looking down with his wheat-hair fluttering about his face. The man was saying something, but Khellendros couldn’t quite make it out. And the blue spawn was getting more frightened with each passing moment. The thunderous beating of its heart drowned out practically all else.
“Calm,” the dragon communicated to the creature. “Show no fear.”
The spawn relaxed, but only a little. With the dragon’s persistent coaxing, its heart slowed, quieted. Then Khellendros heard a word.
“... Palin’s,” a man said.
Palin? The dragon furrowed his brow. The name was vexingly familiar. A human name that had significance. Ah, yes. Palin Majere, a baby born to Caramon and Tika Majere, humans who meddled in dragon affairs and angered Kitiara – Heroes of the Lance, their brethren called them.
Kitiara’s nephew?
And the man was also called a hero himself for managing to survive the Chaos War and for founding the Academy of Sorcery. He was a recurring problem.
The dragon was curious, wanting to see this offspring, learn how his parents died – if they were dead. Caramon and Tika were often a bane to Kitiara, which meant they were a bane to Khellendros. He would learn what happened to them, share the news with Kitiara when he recovered her spirit. Perhaps he would kill them all, Caramon and Tika if they still lived, and their whelp – show Kitiara their bodies as a homecoming present.
“They think you a common draconian, my spawn,” Khellendros hissed conspiratorially. “They think you a simple creature, not a complex being born of a draconian and a human and given life by my essence. I am a part of you.” The dragon was immensely pleased with himself, relishing the prospect of seeing this Palin Majere – being taken to him via the blue spawn.
