The Dragon Isles

Chapter Thirteen

Mog crouched behind a screen of long weeds and peered at the amazing city of lights. He’d never seen anything like it before. His dragon-like senses drank in every sight and smell until he was nearly intoxicated with the novelty.

Still, even giddy, he was careful to keep out of sight of Reeftown’s guards. Yes, the elfin patrols seemed weak and frail compared with his own might, but the dragonspawn knew that many feeble creatures might overcome a single more powerful one.

If Mog were to fail on his mission, he would face Tempest’s wrath, and that was a fate worse than death. Mog felt the dragon in the hack of his mind even now, calling to him, cajoling him, threatening him-just as she did all her servants. The tiny Turbidus leech on his hack binned when she was angry, and sent thrills down his spine when she was pleased. Thus Mog’s mood always mirrored that of his sea dragon mistress.

She had been angry for months now, frustrated with her inability to pierce the Veil protecting the Dragon Isles. She had destroyed dozens of ships in her fury, uncaring of their cargo or true destination. That some of them may have been headed to the isles had been enough reason to vent her fury.

The ships’ contents satiated the hunger of Tempest’s servants-sharks, razorfish, numerous and various-sized Turbidus leeches, and a small contingent of dragonspawn such as Mog. As the oldest, cleverest, and strongest of the spawn, Mog always got the juiciest shares of the prey. Even the sharks could not compete with him.

In that sense, the last months had been one long smorgasbord of carnage. The trail of destruction and chaos had been pleasurable. Those past pleasures, though, were balanced out by the fire of the sea dragon’s rage now coursing through Mog’s brain.

He could feel her prowling the deep at the furthest range of the Veil’s magic She had not been able to come close-but her servants had.

Trailing the shipwreck survivors was not easy; the magic of the isles confused the senses. Keeping the victims in close sight was a difficult task, since Tempest’s spies had to remain hidden. Some Turbidus leeches were small, though, and communicated telepathically with their mistress. And the sharks and others she enslaved numbered many-enough, laid end to end, to stretch for leagues. Her servants formed a vast chain with Mog commanding them, following the battered mariners and their captors from the wreck of Kingfisher to Reeftown.

How could these fleshy, humanoid creatures penetrate the Veil when Tempest could not? It was Mog’s duty to find out.

Scavengers swam near Mog’s hiding place. They were only two-a Dargonesti man and woman-and they towed a largish seaweed sack of plunder between them. The size and the weight of the bag slowed them considerably.

Mog flashed from his hiding place and took the woman by surprise.

Before she even knew what had hit her, the dragonspawn snapped her neck, and her body sank to the sand below.

The man turned, a cry of warning on his lips, a spear in his hand. Mog clamped his jaws over the man’s head, stifling the cry. The dragonspawn’s rear talons opened up the man’s belly, spilling the elf s guts into the dark ocean.

Mog drank the blood that leaked from the man’s mouth until his victim stopped quivering, and the elf s blue limbs hung limply in the water.

Quickly, the dragonspawn dragged the corpses back into the weeds to feast.