Dragons of a New Age

35 Reunion

Palin found himself hurrying to keep up with Dhamon. He had to stop several times to duck or dodge flying debris. The wind was howling down the street, blowing shutters and signs off buildings, overturning benches and flowerpots. Lightning continued to flash, striking near enough to make the cobblestones shake beneath their feet. They could hear glass breaking, masonry striking the street.

Screams were coming from the docks—a cacophony of shouts, barked orders and shrill cries. As the two rounded a corner, they were nearly barreled over by a crowd of sailors and dock workers running toward them. They could barely see through the gaps in the mass of panicked people.

“Run!” a fisherman bellowed as he shouldered his way past Dhamon.

“Skie!” cried another, red-faced and clutching at his chest as he rushed by.

Palin and Dhamon pushed through the crowd and saw what was responsible for the panic—a large blue dragon that hovered directly above Flint’s Anvil.

“Feril!” Dhamon yelled. He gripped the lance tighter, shouldering it as he increased his pace, leaving Palin behind.

The sorcerer dropped Dhamon’s clothes bundle. He thrust his hands into the folds of his robe and grasped the first magical item he touched, a small brooch. He began mouthing the words to a powerful spell, one that would destroy the bauble and most certainly leave him practically helpless afterward. But it was a strong enchantment, one he hoped would force the dragon away.

Dhamon’s feet pounded against the docks. “Feril!”

On the deck of the Anvil, Rig stood by the railing, slicing at the blue’s flailing tail. Blister and Jasper were perched by the capstan. The dwarf’s fingers glowed with the makings of some clerical enchantment aimed at Groller, who lay twisted and bloody at his feet—the first to fall to the dragon.

Shaon had climbed the mainmast and, from her precarious perch, she was swinging her sword at one of the dragon’s rear legs. Her violet dress billowed about her long dark legs. Lightning arced from the sky, making her blade practically glow.

Feril was clutched in the dragon’s claw. The Kagonesti’s arm pumped up and down as she repeatedly stabbed at the dragon with a knife. The dragon’s flesh was dense, and the blade merely bounced off the sapphire scales and finally shattered, shards of metal falling to the planks below.

Shaon’s sword struck successfully, however, cleaving scales and skin and causing the dragon to roar in surprise. The blue beat his wings to carry himself higher, just beyond the female sea barbarian’s reach.

The Kagonesti closed her eyes and concentrated, thought about her homeland of Southern Ergoth—the ice that covered the land, the snow that fell every day and every night and pressed down on the earth, smothering it. The dragon’s claw was pressing in on her. She dropped the knife pommel and spread her fingers wide, touching the dragon’s paw and making him feel the terrible cold she envisioned.

Caught off guard by the frigid sensation, the dragon released Feril, and she plummeted toward the dock far below. In the same instant, the blue dragon opened his maw and delivered a bolt of lightning, a thin stroke that cut through the mainmast and sent the mast and Shaon flying toward the deck. But the dragon’s claw was quick. He stretched down and caught the sea barbarian in midair. The sword she’d injured him with clattered harmlessly to the deck.

Then the great beast raised his head to the growing clouds and released another bolt, this one echoed with a great boom by the sky. He flapped his wings to again move higher.

Rain began to fall, soft at first, pattering down on the ships, the planks, and the harbor. But within the span of a few heartbeats, the tempo quickened.

Feril managed to spin about and landed crouched on the dock, on her hands and feet as if she were a cat. She sprang toward the Anvil’s railing and vaulted onto the deck. She reached into her bag, her fingers searching for the clay.

Dhamon scrambled up the plank that led to the Anvil’s deck. He quickly glanced at Feril to make sure she was all right, then he shouldered the lance and peered through the sheet of rain at the dragon. The beast was too high up, beyond Dhamon’s reach. He squinted through the rain, trying to get a better look at the dragon. Something about it seemed familiar.

Palin’s thumb ran over the smooth stone in the center of the brooch as his words and his pulse quickened. He stood on the shore, his feet touching the edge of the dock. His voice rose as the incantation concluded, and the brooch shattered in his hand. A streak of pale green light rushed from his palm and through the sky as if it were an arrow. It unerringly struck the dragon in the center of his chest, and scales and blood fell like leaves from a shaken tree.

The dragon howled in pain as blood spurted from his belly. He beat his wings to make himself ascend, the sea barbarian still clutched in his claw.

“Shaon! No!” the big mariner bellowed. He leapt to the rail, balancing himself like an acrobat. His fingers found the daggers strapped to his chest, and he began heaving them at the rising dragon. Rig’s aim was true, but the beast’s hide was too thick. The daggers glanced off and fell benignly into the sea.

“Dark human!” the dragon hissed at Rig as he flapped his wings harder and craned his neck. “You want this woman?”

“Shaon!” Rig bellowed again. He jumped down to the deck, no longer able to balance himself in the tremendous winds created by the blue’s wings. The ship rocked wildly in its slip.

The sea barbarian wriggled in the dragon’s grasp, trying futilely to pry a claw open so she could fall free. But her fingers could find no purchase.

“You want this woman?” the dragon raged.

Palin had finally made his way to the Anvil’s slip, and standing next to the post to which it was moored, he had begun another incantation. His fingers clutched a gold coin. It was a token his Uncle Raistlin had enchanted and given to him when he was little more than a child, and he’d treasured it all these years. The coin vibrated in his hand.

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “Palin Majere,” he hissed. “Palin Majere—is this your woman? Does she mean something to you?”

Palin paused in his spell, surprised the dragon knew his name. “Let her go!” he cried.

“You can have her!” the dragon spat.

Shaon screamed, a white-hot sensation of pain shooting through her as one of the dragon’s claws pierced her stomach, nearly cutting her in two. Then the dragon dropped her. She fell like a broken doll, and her motionless body struck the Anvil’s deck. The mariner rushed to her.

“Gale!” The word erupted from Dhamon’s mouth. The dragon was indeed familiar! Dhamon’s eyes widened with recognition of the dragon’s visage. The long curling horns, the ridge above the dragon’s malevolently gleaming eyes—the features were distinct. He swallowed hard. “Stop this! Gale!”

The dragon glanced down, spied Dhamon toting the lance, saw his own blood hitting the deck and painting the wood crimson. The blue paused in his assault and scrutinized the man, his wings slowing as he hovered above the dock.

“Dhamon?” the blue hissed. “Dhamon Grimwulf?”

Palin’s concentration faltered, ending the spell. The sorcerer looked incredulously at Dhamon. Feril and Jasper were staring at him, too. Blister was slack-jawed and speechless.

Dhamon nodded. “That’s right, Gale. It’s me. You don’t have to do this. These people have done nothing to you. And you have no reason to fight them.”

“Dhamon, join me!” The dragon’s voice cut through the rain and thunder. “Together again, we can serve a new master!”

“No!” Dhamon retorted. “I’m through with that life!”

“Fool!” Gale hissed. “A grand war is in the offing, Dhamon, and if you side against me, you will be on the losing side.”

“Don’t be certain about that, Gale,” Dhamon said. He held the lance up.

The dragon threw back his head and roared, sending a thick bolt of sizzling lightning skyward. Thunder rocked the harbor. “You’re through with that life? Then you’ll soon be through with life!” the dragon roared. “I’ll spare you for the moment, for old time’s sake. When next we meet, I will not be so charitable.”

The dragon raised his head to the sky and released another barrage of lightning, then he pumped his wings and rose to the clouds, banking toward the western hills.

The rain increased, hammering against the docks and ships. The wind howled like a beast, the ships in the bay crashed into piers.

Palin, fighting against the unnatural weather, thrust the unused coin into his pocket and struggled up the slippery plank to the Anvil’s deck. He headed toward Shaon.

Rig held Shaon’s body, as Jasper, Blister, and Feril crowded around. Dhamon slowly approached them. The big mariner’s eyes were filled with tears, his chest heaving with deep sobs. His dark shoulders shook.

“Shaon,” he moaned. “Why?” He turned to see Dhamon and his eyes narrowed. He gently lowered Shaon’s body to the deck and stood up. “You! You have a lot of explaining to do!”

“You know the dragon?” Feril’s voice was thick with disbelief. “You know the dragon that killed Shaon?”

“Groller?” Dhamon swallowed hard. “Is he dead, too?” “He’ll live,” Jasper answered. “But he’s hurt badly.”

“Answer me, Dhamon!” Feril insisted. “You know the dragon—how?”

“He was my partner. Years ago,” Dhamon began. “When I was a Knight of Takhisis...”

“No!” the mariner wailed. He charged forward, slamming into Dhamon. The lance fell from Dhamon’s hands, clattering, as the pair toppled to the deck. Rig’s hands closed around Dhamon’s neck.

Feril pulled at the mariner. “Stop!” she screamed. “No more killing!” It took her, as well as Palin, to pull the big mariner off.

Dhamon rolled away. He gasped and grabbed his throat, coughed and inhaled deeply as he pushed himself to his knees. “I’m sorry!” His voice was hoarse. “I left Gale years ago.”

“If you hadn’t left him maybe Shaon would still be alive!” Rig spat.

“You don’t know that,” Palin whispered.

Feril took a step toward Dhamon. “Why didn’t you tell us? How could you keep something like this from us?”

“Feril, I...” He stood up and reached out to her, but she recoiled and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Dhamon closed his eyes, trying to control his tears, but they spilled down his cheeks, mingling with the rain.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” Rig fumed. “Sorry won’t bring Shaon back! You should be dead—not her!”

Dhamon’s gaze met the mariner’s. “Look after Feril—please. I’ll deal with Gale. I’ll make sure he never hurts anyone again.” He hurried down the plank that lead to the dock.

“Dhamon!” Palin called. The sorcerer retrieved the lance and held it out. “You’ll need this.”

Dhamon shook his head. “No I won’t.” He quickly lost himself in the crowd that had gathered to stare at the battered Anvil.