Dragons of a New Age

20 To Palanthas

“What’s the matter?” Feril spotted Dhamon near the bow, scowling and looking out over the small whitecaps.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I was just thinking about... things.” He was, in fact, thinking about Feril. She’d been occupying most of his thoughts lately.

“Thinking about the dragons?”

He nodded.

“Some say there’s only a few dozen dragons left,” she said. “At least, that was the talk in the Caergoth harbor. There were hundreds just a few decades ago. I talked to an old sailor who said the bigger dragons have killed off the smaller ones. The big ones that remain have territories, like the great Red that rules the east, or the Black down by the New Sea.” She paused and looked down into the water. “And then there’s the White.”

“Dragons seem every bit as strong, maybe stronger, than before. The White magically altered Southern Ergoth. They have most of the magic now.

“I’ve never put much trust in magic,” Dhamon stated. “I prefer to put my faith in something substantial, like my sword. Magic is gone, for the most part.”

Feril frowned. “Pity you believe that,” she said softly. “Magic is still very important to some.”

Dhamon felt the red rising to his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to upset her. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He opened his mouth to apologize, but her words came faster. “How long before we reach Palanthas?”

“A few weeks. We only just passed Starport yesterday.”

Rig had gone ashore to conduct some business. He didn’t want a repeat of the altercation at Caergoth and instructed everyone else to wait on board ship. Several hours later he had returned with two hired mates, some supplies and several colorful shirts for Dhamon.

“Red looks good on you,” Feril said, fingering his shirt and laughing as she whirled away.

She found Rig at the wheel nearby. “I overheard you talking about magic,” the mariner told her. His deep voice cut across the deck. “Magic fascinates me.”

I’ll bet it does, Dhamon said to himself. He was looking over his shoulder at Feril standing next to the big sea barbarian.

“The magic I prefer to use lets me assume the form of an animal,” Feril said. “But it’s very tiring, and afterward I feel as though I’ve run for miles. I can also just look through their eyes.”

“How do you take an animal’s form?” The mariner seemed genuinely interested.

Feril grinned, reaching for a small leather pouch at her side. Tugging on the drawstring, she slipped her slender fingers inside and retrieved a lump of clay. “Like this,” she explained as she worked the clay with her thumbs. Overhead a gull cried and she worked the clay faster, forming the crude shape of a bird with a thin tail and a dully pointed beak. She used her thumbnail to give the piece the semblance of eyes and wings tucked against its body. It wasn’t an especially artistic rendering, but it seemed to satisfy her. “The gull,” she said.

The Kagonesti held the clay image in the palm of her right hand and closed her eyes. She began humming, a melody that the bird overhead echoed with its cries. The distance between her and the bird evaporated, as her mind soared toward it, the air rushing all around her. Suddenly, she stiffened, and a smile played across her face.

She was looking down at herself and the mariner. “I’m high above the ship,” she whispered. “I see the lump of clay in my hand. And I see Dhamon watching us, moving toward us. Jasper is back by the capstan. He’s frowning and shaking his head. Shaon is watching him. I see the flag fluttering at the top of the sail. The bird likes to watch the sails.”

“Do you know what the bird’s thinking?”

Again she nodded. “It’s like I’m inside his head. He’s curious about us, about ships. He likes to follow fishing boats, and he wonders why we’re not fishing. He likes to dart to the decks and snatch something to eat. It’s a game with him, and he doesn’t understand why we’re not playing along.”

“Can he see ahead of us? Are there other ships out on the water?”

Feril started humming again, and Rig glanced up in time to see the bird bank away. “I’m sending him north,” she said.

“You’re controlling the bird?”

I won’t do that again, not after the elk, she thought. “I’m asking nicely,” she answered. “And he’s agreeable. There is a ship in the distance. Three masts. And there’s another. There are other dots of white farther away— perhaps sails, perhaps white caps. And there’s a smaller ship. They’re all a long way off. The bird sees very far. One is a fishing boat. He wants to go closer.”

The Kagonesti opened her eyes with a grin. “I guess he found someone who’ll play his game,” she sighed. Balling her fist, she squashed the lump of clay into a misshapen blob and returned it to her pouch.

“Perhaps you could teach me to do that,” Rig ventured.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” she answered.

Several weeks passed and Flint’s Anvil eased around the tip of Tanith. The Gates of Paladine, the opening of the wide, deep Bay of Branchala, lay before them. Beyond that stretched the country and city of Palanthas.

The coastline was striking, and Dhamon found himself in Feril’s company admiring the shore. The Kagonesti pointed toward the west.

“Sand,” she whispered. “So much of it. White like snow.”

“I didn’t know the desert ran this far,” Dhamon said. “But I’ve never been in these parts before.”

“It looks like the only thing keeping the sky and sea apart is that thin strip of sand,” Feril said. “I think I’d like to sail so far that I couldn’t see any land. To be where the sky and sea meet, and to sail on toward an infinity of blue...”

The bright blue of the morning sky reached down to touch the white sand of Palanthas, making it look like a white ribbon waving slowing in the breeze. The sapphire water of the bay extended to the horizon, slowly rocking the ship.

“It is beautiful,” Dhamon said.

“There’s always beauty in nature,” Feril agreed. “Even in Southern Ergoth. The snow was beautiful, cold and endless and quiet. The sheets of ice mirrored the sky. It wasn’t natural, but it was difficult not to appreciate its beauty.”

Dhamon stared at the horizon. And you’re beautiful too, he thought. “I’d like to hear more about Southern Ergoth,” he said. Actually, he just wanted to hear her talk.

“Feril!” boomed Rig’s voice. “There are birds all around. Maybe I could try some of that magic again!”

Feril grinned and hurried off toward the mariner.

“Magic,” Dhamon grumbled.

Shortly before dawn the next day, they eased into the city of Palanthas’s deep harbor.