The Day of the Tempest

Chapter 4 A Grim fate

“Stuck still!” the large wyvern grumbled. It struggled against the rock floor that firmly held its taloned feet.

“Forever us stuck?” the other asked.

Feril awoke to the pair’s annoying banter. She was surrounded by a solid inky blackness. Her head pounded and her shoulder stung terribly where she’d been struck by the spawn’s lightning, but at least she was alive. She expected the spawn to kill her and perhaps reunite her with Dhamon wherever spirits drifted. But, for some reason, the spawn had left her alive.

The Kagonesti’s hands were behind her back, tied with a hard, bumpy cord that cut into her wrists so tightly that her fingers were numb. Her ankles were similarly bound, and she was propped uncomfortably against the cave wall.

She concentrated on the odors in the still air and immediately picked up the stench of the wyverns—she was within several yards of them. The Kagonesti’s keen sense of smell noticed other scents, too: sweat, blood, the faintly musky odor of the mariner, the smell of leather—most likely her companions’ sandals and belts. There was an unusual fetor that she couldn’t quite place, but it hung heavy in the air. Spawn, she decided. She listened now, trying to block out the absurd jabbering of the trapped wyverns. There—breathing, regular, human. Rig and Palin still lived. And there was a soft shuffling sound. It was coming closer.

Feril focused on the shuffling, glanced in its direction and forced her eyes to search for heat. Her exceptional elven vision pierced the blanket of darkness ever so slightly, and she saw large spots of pale gray—the wyverns, and a small blob that seemed to be groping its way along the side of the cave toward her. Her vision had not yet completely recovered from the blinding explosion of the spawn earlier.

“Feril?” the blob whispered.

“Blister?”

“Hear something,” the large wyvern announced.

“Prisoners wake?”

Feril heard a groan—Rig’s voice.

“Dark one wake. See?” the wyvern observed. “Dark one wiggle.”

The Kagonesti scowled. The wyverns could somehow see through the darkness, which meant they might also be able to see the kender sneaking toward her.

“Feril?”

“Shh,” the elf softly returned.

“Elf wake,” the smaller wyvern growled. “Elf hate. Made floor swallow feet Elf bad.”

Feril felt Blister behind her, the kender softly whimpering as she forced her fingers to untie the cords that bound Feril’s wrist. The Kagonesti shifted her position so that she was interposed between Blister and the wyverns, hoping they might not be able to notice the diminutive kender busy behind her back.

“First I was gonna go back to the ship,” Blister whispered, “get Jasper and Groller to come help. Then I figured I might not be able to find the ship, since I don’t have a map. I used to have lots of maps, but they were mostly for other places. Anyway, I couldn’t ask anybody for directions. I can’t talk to animals, and I didn’t want to be out in the desert by myself.”

“Elf talk much,” the smaller wyvern observed.

“Talk to self,” the other decided.

“Elf quiet!” the small wyvern barked.

“You want quiet?” Rig bellowed. “Then come over here and try to make us be quiet! Why, I’ll just talk—” The mariner’s sentence was cut off by a flash of lightning and a muted rumble of thunder.

A ball of lightning continued to crackle, like dozens of angry fireflies held in the palm of the approaching spawn’s hand. Its glow provided enough light for Feril to see what was nearby.

The wyverns were several yards away. But only a few feet from her she spotted Rig and Palin—trussed up, back to back, their necks bound together by a gold chain. Necklaces with dozens of thumb-sized jewels had been used to tie their feet and hands together, and Rig’s sash had been wrapped around the waists of both men and tied with a huge knot. The mariner’s shirt was gone, as were all of his daggers. The spawn were smart enough not to leave him any weapons. A sheen of sweat covered Rig’s muscular frame. He was still suffering from the ill effects of the poisonous wyverns.

The kender continued to work furiously. Feril felt her fingers tingle, the circulation starting to return. She was almost free.

Rig strained against his bonds, the chain digging into his throat as he glanced toward the Kagonesti. The sorcerer gasped with pain as Rig’s movements made the gold cut into his flesh, too. The spawn stepped closer to the men, the lightning glowing brighter in its hand.

“Struggling shall only hurt you,” it hissed.

“Old one live,” the larger wyvern said. “See! Spawn said none dead. You said old one dead. Spawn not like you. Spawn smart.”

“Spawn not stuck,” the smaller wyvern muttered.

The scaly blue sentry circled Palin and Rig once, then stood before the wyverns, its back to the prisoners. “I shall go find our master, the Storm Over Krynn,” it said. “The Storm shall be pleased by what we have caught.”

“You go?” the larger wyvern asked. “Who guard?”

“My brothers shall stand watch over the prisoners.”

“All spawn watching?”

“No.” The spawn shook its head. “Only two—these.” The creature gestured with its lightning-sparking hand, and two more spawn stepped from a shadowy alcove and glided toward Rig and Palin. “They are more than enough to handle the prisoners. The rest of my brothers shall stay below.”

“Free us,” the smaller wyvern implored as it looked down at its feet and then into the spawn’s golden-yellow eyes. “Please.”

The spawn hissed and took flight. In a matter of seconds, it flew up the slope toward the desert, taking its illumination f with it.

“Feril, are you all right?” Rig asked.

“Hold your tongue, human,” the shorter of the spawn sneered. The creature had a barrel-like chest and thick, powerful-looking legs. Its scales glimmered faintly in the dim light. It stared malevolently at the sorcerer, raising its upper lip in a sneer. Traces of lightning darted across its teeth, faintly illuminating part of the cave. “The Storm Over Krynn shall return soon. He shall make you like us, and you shall be added to the army below. You shall know the pleasure and power of being spawn.”

Feril bristled. So that was why they were being kept alive— they were to be transformed into spawn! She felt one last tug around her wrists, and then her bonds slipped away. Feril wriggled her fingers, then slowly brought her hands around in front of her and inched them toward her ankles. Blister remained crouched behind her.

“How many spawn are below?” Palin asked.

“That is not your concern,” the taller spawn replied icily.

“You’ll have to excuse me if we’re a little curious,” Rig said tersely.

“Your only concern shall be serving the master.”

Feril finished loosening the pearl strands around her ankles and could see that the mariner was quietly working on one of the necklaces that held his and Palin’s wrists together.

“We proud to serve master,” the larger wyvern cut into the conversation. “Only two of us. Wyvern special.”

“Many spawn,” the smaller wyvern said. “Many humans at stronghold waiting be spawn. Be big army. Only two of special us.”

“What stronghold?” Rig pressed.

“Stronghold in desert near—” A glare from both spawn cut the smaller wyvern off. “Stronghold secret.”

The mariner wouldn’t let the subject drop. “Why does the dragon need such a big army?” Rig had only one necklace left to go, and his strong fingers made short work of it. He reached for the band of his pants and quietly worked at a seam until it came loose. A moment later, he tugged free a three-inch long blade that had been concealed there. He started cutting at the sash around the waists of he and the sorcerer.

“Stop asking so many questions!” the taller spawn snarled. Lightning shot from its claws to the cave ceiling, bursting in a ball and bathing the chamber in a bright white light.

“The elf is free!” the shorter spawn shouted, pointing at Feril. “And there is a little one with her.”

“A little one you can’t catch!” Blister taunted as she stepped out from behind the Kagonesti. She whipped her sling wildly about her head and released it, sending a shower of pearls toward the two spawn.

The creatures turned toward the kender. Lightning surged out, twin bolts that cut through the still air and narrowly missed Blister as she fell to the floor. Rig snapped the chain that bound together the necks of himself and Palin and with one strong tug broke the necklace that gripped their ankles. Pushing himself away from the sorcerer, he plowed into the pair of spawn and threw off the aim of their second lightning barrage.

Rig ducked as a bolt of lighting, meant for him, passed narrowly above his head. He barely sidestepped another as he hurled his small blade at the tallest spawn. The tiny knife sank all the way into the creature’s neck, causing it to howl madly. Its claws tore at the scales around its wound, trying to find purchase on the blade. Black blood oozed down its muscular chest. The spawn dropped to its knees, gasped for air, then exploded in a ball of light.

“What happened?” Blister called. She had been watching Feril and only saw the flash out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, there’s one less!”

“Palin, get over here!” Rig bellowed.

Although the sorcerer hadn’t been looking at the creature, he was practically blinded by the explosion. He shut his eyes firmly and took a few hesitant steps toward the mariner.

“See cannot!” shouted the smaller wyvern, who had been engrossed in the struggle. “Bright light! Eyes sting! See cannot!”

“Spawn popped!” its companion growled. “Prisoners bad!”

“Palin!” Rig hollered. The mariner grabbed Palin by the shoulder, pulling the disoriented sorcerer to him.

“Slayers!” the remaining spawn cried. It flapped its wings to rise several feet above the stone floor and spit at Rig and Palin. “I can’t kill you,” it hissed. “The master would be angry. But I can hurt you. I will hurt you so badly that you shall wish you were dead.”

“My pockets!” Rig shouted to Palin. “Reach in! Hurry!”

The sorcerer blinked, shaking his head to clear his vision. The lightning flashes made it difficult to see very well and he struggled to focus amid all the light sparking from the creature’s claws and teeth. Giving up on trusting his eyes, he shut them and felt about for the mariner’s waist His hands dipped into the folds of Rig’s pockets and closed on the pommels of twin daggers in hidden sheaths.

Rig stepped away from the sorcerer, tugged off his red leather headband, and started swinging it above his head. “Can’t kill us, huh?” he blustered. “Too bad. That’s just what I intend to do to you!”

He leapt at the hovering creature, just as a bolt of lightning arced from the spawn’s mouth. It cut through the air where the mariner had been standing a moment before and nearly struck Palin. Rig whipped the leather thong around the spawn’s ankle and yanked hard. It closed tight like a lasso, and the mariner’s weight pulled the creature down.

Rig wrestled the spawn to its stomach and drove his knee into its back. His fingers fumbled with the thong to pull it free. “And this time I’ll know enough to keep my eyes closed when you breathe your last.” He quickly wrapped the thong around the creature’s thick neck. But as he pulled back to tighten the strap, the spawn beat its wings furiously, slicing Rig’s arms and chest.

“Hold still, damn you!” Rig gritted his teeth and hung on as the spawn thrust up with its arms and legs, pushing off the stone floor. Despite his best efforts, he found himself dislodged, and the spawn whirled on him. Lightning sparked about its claws as it hurled a bolt into the mariner’s stomach, sending him flying against the far wall. The spawn grinned malevolently, then turned toward Palin.

Meanwhile, Blister was busy scooping up pearls and loading her sling, while the Kagonesti touched the cave wall behind her and began to chant. “Move,” the elf whispered to the stone. “Dance with me. Sing.” The stone began to respond, quaking almost imperceptibly at first beneath her fingertips. Then it began to rumble softly. “Sing,” she coaxed. “Louder.”

“Hey, over here, blue and ugly!” the kender called, trying to attract the spawn’s attention. The creature was stalking Palin now, staying just beyond the reach of the sorcerer’s adroitly flashing daggers. “Why don’t you pick on me for a change! Afraid of small folk?” She whipped her sling at the spawn, pelting its thick hide with pearls.

“Fool kender!” the creature spat as it turned to study Blister. “Kender cannot be made into spawn. My master shall not mind if I kill you.”

“I’d mind, you poor excuse for a draconian!” Blister shouted over the growing rumbling noise in the cavern. The spawn darted toward her, its claws outstretched and sparking lightning. At the last second Blister rolled under its claws, wrapped her stubby arms around one of its legs, and tripped the thing so that it fell on top of her. The kender gasped—she hadn’t thought spawn could be so heavy. The miniature bolts of lightning that flickered about its form shot into her like hundreds of jabbing needles. She pushed up with all of her remaining strength. The ache in her fingers was intense.

“No!” she shouted as the world seemed to explode in a blast of blue-white light. Her small frame shuddered as lightning raced through it. Then the pressure of the spawn atop her vanished and she was plunged into an inky world that smelled like burnt cloth and singed flesh.

“So death is blackness,” Blister said disappointedly after a moment of silence. “I tingle all over and my fingers still hurt. I thought death would be a little more rewarding. Is anyone else here? Am I the only dead one? Dhamon? Raph? Mom?”

“Blister…” The voice was soft, but recognizable—Palin’s.

“Not you, too! Did the spawn kill everybody?”

“The spawn’s dead, not you,” Palin said. “I killed it with Rig’s daggers.”

“Spawn popped!” the smaller wyvern announced.

“Bad prisoner!” the other lectured. “Master not want spawn to pop. Master be mad—punish you!”

“So it exploded and now I’m blind like Feril was.” The kender groped about until she found Palin’s leg. She pulled herself up and grabbed onto his tunic. “I can’t see anything. Hope it doesn’t last long. I like to see what’s going on.”

“So do I,” the sorcerer said. “It’s dark as pitch in here. Rig? Feril?”

The rumbling of the cavern grew louder and sand was filtering down through cracks in the ceiling.

“Over here!” Rig called. “Say, Palin, can you… .” The mariner’s words trailed off as a softly glowing orb of light appeared in the sorcerer’s palm. “That’s just what I was going to suggest.”

The orb alternately pulsed white, orange, and scarlet. The light revealed Palin’s tunic to be in smoking tatters, and his heaving chest covered with ugly red welts. Blood dripped from his neck where the gold chain had cut him.

“You look terrible,” Rig said.

“Thanks.” Palin glanced at the mariner. Rig’s pants hung in shreds, and he was covered with at least an equal number of claw marks. A patch of hair on his head had been burned away by lightning.

“Is Feril all right?” the kender asked.

The sorcerer turned and spotted the Kagonesti. Relatively unscathed, she was pressed against the cave wall, her fingers playing across the stone. “Dance faster,” she urged the rock.

“Jump with me” The rumbling intensified and cracks spread outward from her fingers, racing away from her and toward the dark part of the cave where the lair extended underground.

“Cave shake. What do?” the smaller asked.

“Spawn below,” the other replied. “Warn spawn.”

“Spawn! Spawn!” the smaller wyvern shouted, its grating voice echoing off the cave and barely rising above the rumbling sounds. “Warn master!” it added. “Storm! Storm!”

“Let’s get out of here!” Palin called. “We barely bested two spawn. We wouldn’t stand a chance against Khellendros. Feril, hurry!”

The Kagonesti edged away from the wall and took a last glance over her shoulders as the cracks continued to widen and spread in a growing spiderweb pattern.

“Palin, can you leave that globe here with me for a moment?” Rig asked. He was looking longingly at the jewels scattered on the cavern floor.

The sorcerer shook his head. “It will only last a few minutes if I’m not concentrating on it.”

“I’ll only need a few minutes.”

“You’re crazy, Rig!” the Kagonesti shouted. “You’re thinking about the treasure, and this cave will be coming down on our heads any moment!”

She spun on her heels, grabbed the still-blinded kender by the sleeve and tugged her toward the lair’s entrance.

Palin dropped his globe on the floor and hurried to catch up. “Suit yourself!” the sorcerer shouted to Rig. “But you’d better be quick about it!”

“I’ll hurry!” The mariner started scooping up handfuls of pearls and the broken necklaces that once had bound he and Palin. With his comrades gone, the mariner stuffed the jewels in his pockets and padded toward the wyverns. “The stronghold you mentioned,” he shouted over the rumbling cavern, “where is it?” He retrieved the weapons that had been taken from him, careful to stay out of the reach of the wyverns’ tails.

“Secret!” the smallest said, nervously eyeing the ceiling. It blinked furiously as grains of sand drizzled its face. The cave rumbled louder. “Tell not!”

“If this whole cave collapses, you’ll die!” the mariner proclaimed. He sheathed his cutlass and grimaced as he noticed Palin’s light globe start to dim. “Wouldn’t want to take such a nice secret to your grave, would you?”

“Secret is secret,” the larger wyvern hissed. “Storm’s stronghold secret!”

The mariner steadied himself as the cave floor trembled. From somewhere behind him, he heard the sound of falling rocks. “I suppose you’re right!” he shouted. “Besides, the stronghold is guarded “

“Black and blue men. Lots!” the larger wyvern warned.

“Yeah, sounds like a place to avoid. Well, I’ll be going now—back out into the desert. If you don’t want me to wander into this stronghold by accident, where would you suggest I not go?”

The smaller wyvern furrowed its brow and spit out a gob of sand. “Not go where sun comes up!”

“East!” Rig said, his voice growing hoarse from shouting to be heard over the increasing thunderlike noise of the trembling cave.

Its brother nodded its head. “Not go near big hole where sun comes up!”

“How far shouldn’t I go in that direction?”

The larger one shrugged.

“Not go past tall cactus line,” the smaller wyvern said smugly. “Not go past tall black rocks!”

The mariner grinned. He had seen a ridge of black rocks early this afternoon on their way here. He sucked in his breath as the ground shook harder. From somewhere deeper in the lair he could just barely hear the shouts of spawn. He inched his way toward the cave opening. “Cactus line?” “Cactus with arms. Cactus big as men. Cactus near big

hole. Near stronghold at Relgoth, Not go that way!”

“Thanks for the advice!” the mariner called as he bolted

from the collapsing chamber.

The air was cool outside; it felt almost chilly as it washed over Palm’s face. The temperature was in stark contrast to the heat they’d experienced several hours earlier. Judging by the position of the stars, the sorcerer guessed it was an hour or two after midnight.

Blister’s vision had continued to improve as Feril tugged her away from the cave. Palin had paused only long enough to pick up the kender’s dropped gloves and hand them to her. He had repeatedly glanced back over his shoulder, expecting to see the mariner.

It was several minutes, however, before Rig finally emerged from the lair. Palin turned and watched as the dark figure of the mariner rushed across the sand toward them. As he came closer, it was clear that what remnants were left of his pockets were bulging.

“Feril!” The mariner picked her up, swung her in a circle, and kissed her. Then he released her and thrust his fingers into his pockets, drawing out pearls and emeralds and gold chains and holding them in front of her face. “Not what I hoped for, but it will do!”

The startled Kagonesti felt a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. She took a step back.

“These will pay for supplies for the Anvil for several years,” he said, a wide grin decorating his face.

“Wow!” A re-gloved Blister exclaimed. The kender’s sight had begun to return and her eyes locked onto the bright gems. “So we got some treasure after all.”

“Do you want your daggers back?” Palin asked.

The mariner shook his head, putting the jewelry back in his pockets. He had noted Blister’s interest and made a mental note to check his stash from time to time. “Keep ‘em. I’ve got plenty. I got back what the spawn had taken from me.”

The Kagonesti shook her head. “You’re a walking arsenal, Rig Mer-Krel. Your headband’s a garrote, and you have more daggers than fingers. What else?”

The mariner smiled. “The rest is a secret. And speaking of secrets, I managed to persuade the wyverns to tell me where the dragon’s stronghold is. There are people there that are doomed to be turned into spawn. I hope Groller will hold the Anvil for us, ‘cause we’re going to take a little side trip—see if we can do a little rescuing.”

“Four of us against a stronghold of spawn?” Feril wondered aloud.

“We can at least take a look at it,” the mariner said.

“Not before we get some rest,” Palin stated.

Two hours later they found a rocky ridge and huddled together in a comfortable niche. Dawn would soon be upon them, and none of them seemed able to take another step. Feril fussed over the cuts and burns on Rig’s chest and arms. He enjoyed her ministrations, but he was too tired to stay awake. He leaned his head back against the rocks and snored while she finished applying a salve she had concocted.

Then she turned her attention to Palin. “You mentioned the name Khellendros back in the cave.” She made Palin sit still while she rubbed the salve into his cuts. “He’s the dragon overlord controlling this area “

Blister, who had been studying the stars, became instantly interested and shuffled over. The kender settled back against a rock and cocked her head toward Palin.

“Most call him Skie,” the sorcerer said. “My divinations revealed he laired far to the south of here. Otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to traipse anywhere near this area.”

“Maybe he does lair to the south,” Blister interjected. “Maybe he has several lairs. I would think an overlord could live pretty much wherever he wanted. So he’s called Khellendros and Skie?”

“Skie was the name Kitiara uth Matar called Khellendros, and it’s a name that’s far easier to pronounce. They were partners in service to the Dark Queen. They made quite a pair, so all the stories claim. Both were ruthless and incredibly cunning—and fiercely loyal to each other. Kitiara is said to have died decades ago, and Skie disappeared shortly after. No one knows where he went. But when he came back, he was massive, and he became one of the first dragon overlords.”

Feril shivered. “I thought the dragon that killed Dhamon and Shaon was big.”

“Skie dwarfs that dragon,” Palin said. “My sorcerer associates and I have been studying the overlords, and Skie is in some respects the most intriguing of the lot. He appears to meddle the least of all in the affairs of the people in his realm—not directly anyway.”

Feril shook her head and yawned. “I’d say that might make him the cleverest of the overlords. Why should he bother to directly involve himself?” She yawned again. “He has an army of spawn to do the work for him. He can lay back and count his treasure—or do whatever dragons like to do.”

“And he has the Knights of Takhisis in Palanthas working for him,” Blister added. “The knights run the city and the land around it. How does the dragon spend his time? Counting treasure would get boring after a while.”

Palin rubbed his neck. “He must be up to something if he has his underlings running everything. After we find this stronghold Rig’s interested in, I’ll contact my associates, see if we can figure out just what the Blue is up to. Perhaps we could—”

Blister had fallen asleep. The sorcerer glanced at the Kagonesti. She had curled up into a ball, her head resting on her arm.

“Perhaps we could discuss it later,” he said quietly. He closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, too.