Riverwind the Plainsman

by Paul B. Thompson

  A day had passed since the duel. The draconians had not recovered any bodies from the pool. When the hooks continued to come up empty, Di An and Catchflea didn’t know if they should be glad or sad. Riverwind must be dead; and yet, if no body were found, perhaps he had survived somehow.

  But he couldn’t have.

  Catchflea had bandaged the slight wound in his side. He was feeling stronger after the meals supplied by Krago. Di An was walking better than she had the day before. Catchflea remarked on this as she fetched jars of powder for Krago’s alchemical potions.

  “My ankles and legs don’t hurt so much now,” she admitted. “But my hips do.”

  Krago took the green glass jar from the elf girl without looking up from his work table. He measured a spoonful of yellowish powder, then gave the jar back to Di An.

  “Are you getting taller?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her.

  She looked down at her feet as if they would tell her. “How can I be?” she asked.

  “You did drink my blood purifying potion,” said Krago.

  “And you gave me the antidote.”

  “No,” he said, slowly. “I gave you a philtre to soothe the stomach cramps.”

  Di An stared at the cleric, then turned to Catchflea. “Am I taller?” she asked.

  The old soothsayer got up from his bench and drew himself up beside her. Di An’s head had once crested near the bottom of his rib cage; now the crown of her head was even with his shoulders. He clasped her arms and said with a smile, “You are growing.”

  She could not fathom it. Her aching joints had been difficult to bear, but compared to the joy of actually growing up—being a woman—the pain was a minor annoyance. Di An begged for a mirror, so she could see for herself.

  “I don’t keep mirrors in my study,” Krago informed her with disinterest. “Go to the vat room and try a tin tray or something.”

  Di An hated to go back there with the thing lying in the vat, but she could almost feel herself growing. She must see what progress she’d made. She went. On a table in the far corner of the shelf-enclosed room was a tin tray, loaded with bottles of liquids, each labeled with arcane symbols. Di An cleared them off and held the tray to her face.

  The diggers of Hest owned few mirrors, so Di An had seen her own reflection a handful of times. Now, she studied her face closely. Wasn’t her chin a trifle less sharp? Was her hair a bit longer? It no longer stuck up in spiky bits but lay flatter, brushing the bottoms of her pointed ears. There was a pale blush in her skin. She touched her face lightly with three fingers. A coat of finest down had appeared on her cheek.

  Behind the elf girl, Lyrexis stirred in the vat. The movement of air caused by Di An’s passage and her body warmth had penetrated the creature’s half-sleep. Lyrexis sat up.

  Di An slipped the strap of her mesh dress off her shoulder—she’d mended the rips the goblin had made in it—and stared at her body. The changes were beginning all over. She was growing up at last. It was a bit frightening, but her pleasure far exceeded her nervousness. A wide smile brightened Di An’s face.

  A form crossed her line of sight, a blur in the makeshift mirror. She turned.

  Lyrexis, the unfinished mate of Thouriss, had risen from her bed of quicksilver and was standing behind Di An. The bulging orbs of her eyes were still covered with pale skin. Round beads of quicksilver fell from the creature’s ears and nostrils. It—she—raised a hand toward the elf girl. Di An screamed.

  Krago and Catchflea rushed in. “Don’t move!” Krago shouted.

  “By the Great Hest, I won’t!”

  Krago moved up behind the semi-conscious Lyrexis. He did not touch the softly scaled flesh of his creation. Instead, he spoke to her in low, authoritative tones.

  “Lyrexis, go back. Go back to your bed,” he said. The creature’s hand hovered not an inch from Di An’s face. “Go back, Lyrexis. You shouldn’t be up yet.” The female ophidian swung around, hand outstretched. Krago deliberately walked into range and let the green and yellow hand touch his face.

  “Go, Lyrexis. Back to your bed,” he said. The round, hairless head swiveled down. Slowly, stiltedly, the creature tottered back to the vat. Krago eased it into the nourishing bath of quicksilver.

  He turned angrily on Di An and curtly waved her out. Once in the study again, he exploded. “What did you do?”

  “I was looking at myself in the tin tray and it sneaked up behind me!”

  “Thouriss never left the vat and walked before his final awakening,” Krago said. His brows knitted in thought and he folded his arms across his chest. “What does it mean?”

  “Curiosity,” said Catchflea. “She can sense the presence of others, yes?” Krago admitted she could. “Can she tell male from female?”

  “No. At least, she has no natural knowledge of such things.”

  “How can she see without eyes?” Di An asked with a shudder.

  “Like the serpents she was derived from, Lyrexis can sense things by their heat. You must be more hot-blooded than I or the old man.” Di An flushed.

  Shanz was waiting for them with a squad of goblin guards when the three of them returned to Krago’s outer chambers. “What is the commotion?” Shanz grumbled.

  “Lyrexis rose from her bath and walked,” Krago said a trifle wearily. “The girl was startled. All is well now.”

  Shanz’s horned nostrils flared. “Is your work undamaged?”

  “Quite undamaged. The time is nigh for Lyrexis to come to life, and her reactions are becoming stronger all the time.” Krago sat back and took up the scroll he’d been perusing. The powder Di An had brought him was still on the table. He set the lid on the jar and glanced at Shanz as if surprised to see him still standing there. “Is there anything else, Captain?” Krago asked briskly.

  “We’ve found no trace of Commander Thouriss or the human. The gully dwarves report that the pool is connected with drains and tunnels that lead off to other parts of the city. I have ordered the goblins to search the old cisterns and wells for signs.” Shanz hissed with frustration. “The damned gully dwarves have the whole city riddled with tunnels. It’s no wonder we can’t keep track of them!”

  “Do what you think necessary,” Krago said. “Military matters are your province, Captain.”

  Shanz nodded curtly and departed. When he was gone, Catchflea let out an audible sigh of relief.

  Krago glanced at the old man. “He would like to see us all dead,” the cleric said matter-of-factly. “Like most of his kind, he has no trust or liking for warm-blooded things.”

  “Why does he defer to you, then? He is afraid of something, yes?” Catchflea said.

  “Our mutual patron, the black dragon, Khisanth.”

  “Is there actually a black dragon?” Catchflea asked.

  “Most certainly,” Krago replied. “Make no mistake, it is she who rules Xak Tsaroth.” He looked down at the scroll spread on the table before him. Without looking up, he added, “Have you ever seen a dragon, old man?”

  “Never.” Catchflea shook his head.

  Krago’s fingers traced a line of writing on the scroll. He was silent so long that Catchflea thought their conversation was over. Suddenly, Krago looked up and locked eyes with the old soothsayer. “Khisanth will arrive soon. She will want revenge for the trouble you’ve caused. Your death arrives with her.”

  Krago returned to his study of the scroll, and Catchflea was left staring in shock at his bowed head.

  Di An went to a corner of Krago’s sleeping area and slipped down between two stacks of books. The pleasure of her newly discovered growth was tempered by the ever-present danger she and Catchflea lived in. Krago had saved them once, but only for his own convenience. When the dragon returned—Di An shivered at the thought—their last appeal would be gone.

  Riverwind, she said silently, her lips gently forming the name. Riverwind.

  He awoke with a start.

  Riverwind was lying on an island of wet stones. It came back to
him in a dizzying rush—Xak Tsaroth, Thouriss, the fight, the pool. A wall of exhaustion had fallen on him, and as he lay in the darkness it took some time for him to regain his equilibrium. His eye was swollen shut, and the cut on his arm felt stiff with dried blood. Riverwind stood and felt around the well’s wall. He found what he was looking for: steps formed when the masons had set individual bricks deeper in the wall than others. He took several deep breaths and stretched his tired limbs. The brief sleep had helped some. He climbed up to where he remembered seeing daylight. The top of the well was covered with slabs of stone. Cracks between the rocks let in the dim light he recalled. Riverwind peered out. He could see the broken walls of houses around him.

  His bent his neck, braced his shoulders against the blocks, and pushed. A cascade of small pebbles rolled down noisily. Undaunted, he shoved again. One slab moved sideways and the weight of the obstruction dramatically decreased. Though his arms and back were sore, he cleared the rocks away and climbed out of the well.

  He’d surfaced in the ruins north and east of the great plaza. The East Falls fumed on his left. Riverwind slipped over the rubble to a low wall and saw that the pot and chain lift was resting on the pavement. A lone armed goblin guarded the pot.

  The plaza area was ablaze with torches. Riverwind didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious in the well, but it was obvious the goblins and draconians were still looking for their lost leader. Massed torches gave the white stones of Xak Tsaroth a bloody glow.

  Riverwind. Riverwind.

  He heard his name spoken, but there was no one near him. Ducking behind the wall, he wondered if his injuries were making him delirious. Yet it had sounded so real. He thought of Goldmoon. She would call him like that. Perhaps she knew he was in peril and called out to him.

  Footsteps crunched through the gravel on the other side of the wall. Riverwind spied goblin feet, one pair. He lay in wait until the goblin walked past, then he sprang over the wall and grabbed the soldier from behind. The goblin was no match for his desperate strength and the large stone he wielded, and he soon had the creature laid out cold at his feet. Riverwind dragged the goblin into the ruins. He stripped off the creature’s breastplate, cloak, helmet, and weapons.

  The apparel smelled foul. All the items were too short, but in poor light he might get by impersonating a goblin. It had worked before.

  Riverwind had no idea what had happened to Catchflea or Di An. They might even be dead by now. But he had to find out, and he had one other task to take care of: seeing to the end of Krago and his hideous experiment. No inhabitant of Krynn would be safe as long as Krago could breed his race of evil ophidians.

  Rather than skulk in the shadows, he marched boldly along the center of the street toward the palace. He passed several groups of guards, all of whom spoke to him in a harsh goblin dialect. Riverwind grunted and kept going.

  He crossed the footbridge at the base of the East Falls and entered the ancient palace by means of the old postern door Di An had been taken to. The smell of the draconian officers’ quarters was overwhelming.

  “What do you want?” snarled a draconian.

  Riverwind hunched his shoulders and let the helmet slide down over his nose. “Master Krago sent for me,” he said gruffly.

  “Well, get going,” the draconian said. “Stupid goblin.”

  Riverwind moved on, keeping the cloak close around him. To his right were more alcovelike rooms occupied by the draconians. To his left was an empty corridor. He skirted the open door and headed down the passage.

  Four goblins stood, two on each side of the door. “Master Krago sent for me,” he said, keeping his face averted.

  “G’wan in,” said the nearest guard. Riverwind put out a hand to grasp the bronze door handle. When he did, he exposed his arm.

  “Huh? What’s this?” said the near goblin. He drew his sword. “You ain’t one o’ us!”

  “Thank the gods for that!” Riverwind exclaimed. He whipped back the cloak and drew his goblin sword.

  He took the chief guard’s attack and turned it, thrusting his point through the goblin, below his breastplate. The guard fell backward, knocking down his comrade. Behind Riverwind, the second pair of goblins closed in. He felt a sword tip rip through his cloak. He turned sharply and harried the two guards away. The narrow corridor did not allow much room to maneuver, so the goblins’ advantage of numbers was largely nullified.

  “Yah-ha!” Riverwind shouted, just to rattle his foes. The goblins kept off until he found the door handle behind his back and twisted it. Riverwind slipped inside and threw the door shut.

  The room was a frozen tableau. Catchflea, quill in hand, sat by Krago at the table. The young cleric’s mouth was open in midword. The room was cluttered with books, papers, jars, and beakers. Riverwind didn’t see Di An.

  “Riverwind! You’re alive!” Catchflea cried, astonished.

  “So far!”

  The old soothsayer hopped up, spilling the ink pot over the transcript he was making. Krago’s surprise at seeing Riverwind changed to dismay at the damage done to the paper. He groaned loudly, trying to stem the flow of ink over the scroll. “Look what you’ve done!” he cried.

  “You keep still,” Riverwind warned.

  He thrust his sword through the door handle and latch plate, holding the door closed. The goblins rattled and pounded on the outside. Riverwind and Catchflea pushed a table, a set of creaking shelves, and a heavy oaken chest full of chemicals against the door. As books and bottles fell from the shelves, Krago wailed, “Stop, you idiots! Those are important and valuable books. You’re destroying my work!”

  Riverwind withdrew the goblin sword from the door. He advanced on Krago, point held out. The young cleric stood his ground until the tip pricked his skin. He shuffled backward.

  “You dare not hurt me! The dragon will wreak terrible vengeance on you if you do!” he gasped.

  “You keep invoking this dragon, but I’ve seen no evidence of one,” Riverwind said levelly. “I think it’s all a pose to keep the lizard men in line and make them do what you want.”

  “There is a dragon, you’ll see!”

  “Shut up and sit down,” Riverwind replied. The pounding on the door got louder and more regular. The goblins had fetched help.

  “There’s no room to swing a battering ram out there,” the plainsman said, “but we can’t keep them out for long.”

  “What do we do?” asked Catchflea.

  “I’m thinking.” He surveyed the cleric’s quarters. “Where’s Di An?”

  “Here.”

  Riverwind turned to the sound of her voice. She came from the far side of the room, rubbing her eyes as if she’d been asleep. He looked twice before he realized it really was her. The change in her was even more noticeable to him, since he hadn’t watched its gradual progression. Di An had grown six inches in the short days since he’d seen her last. Her black hair now almost reached her shoulders, and her white skin had a pink tinge. Though still quite thin, she had the figure of an adult elf woman, all the more apparent in her ragged, and now short, girl’s dress.

  “I knew you would come back,” she said. Even her voice was slightly lower.

  “What’s happened to you?” The young plainsman’s question was punctuated by a splintering crash. The bright edge of an axe showed through a newly cut crack in the door.

  “Is there another way out of here?” Riverwind demanded of Krago.

  “Do you expect me to tell you?” the cleric said with a sneer.

  “You will if it means your life!” Riverwind raised the crude sword to strike Krago.

  “If you kill me, you will all perish. Shanz will show you no mercy.”

  Riverwind lowered his weapon. He grabbed Krago by the front of his robe and dragged him to his feet. The slight cleric’s toes brushed the floor as Riverwind held him up.

  “Tell them to back off,” he said. “Back off, or I’ll hack that monster you’re making to bits!” Krago paled at this threat. All h
is work wasted—what would Khisanth do to him then?

  “This is Krago!” the cleric shouted. “Get back from the door. Get back, I say!”

  They heard Shanz’s muffled reply, “Master Krago, are you all right?”

  “For now, good Shanz. The barbarian has threatened to harm Lyrexis if you don’t stop now!”

  “As you wish.” More muffled commands, and the axe squeaked free of the door and disappeared. “We’re withdrawing,” Shanz called.

  “Tell them to go to the great plaza,” Riverwind said. Krago repeated the order.

  “Very well.” Heavy footsteps tramped away.

  “Show me the creature,” Riverwind said.

  “You will not harm her!” Krago cried, twisting in Riverwind’s grip.

  “Show me.”

  “It’s almost awake,” Di An said after Krago led them to the vat room. She stood apart from Riverwind and did not meet his eyes.

  The vat of quicksilver churned in slow ripples as Lyrexis stiffly moved her arms and legs. In the past day, her eyes had darkened, and her lids cracked apart just enough to expose the vertical green pupils. Her scales were hardening, losing their translucency. When the humans and Di An drew near, the creature sat up and made inarticulate sounds through closed lips.

  Riverwind found himself staring at Lyrexis in awe. He knew that Krago’s work was evil, and yet, he had actually created life.

  “This is a very crucial time!” Krago said excitedly. “When her eyes are fully open, I must perform the Spell of Awakening. It will lessen the shock of her birth and make her acknowledge me as her true, ah, parent.”

  Riverwind brought his mind back to the situation at hand. “We’ve no time for that,” he said. “We’re leaving, and you’re our hostage.”

  “Ignorant lout! You don’t understand! If Lyrexis awakens without the proper soothing spells, she’ll run wild. There’s no telling what harm she’ll cause and come to!”

  “Tie his hands, Catchflea. If he talks, gag him.”

  “He may be right, tall man. I have been reading his spells, yes? The creature has an almost human form, but it still has the mind of a serpent.”