The Dragon Isles

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The storm that had been lingering above the 1 ocean for days gathered into a typhoon and whipped the waves into titanic mountains of water. Jerick the Red harked frantic orders to his crew, hying to keep his galleon from floundering in the terrible weather. Exploring the strange stairway and temple that had suddenly appeared on the side of the volcano would have to wait.

Only a bow shot away from Red Wake, the crew of Kell’s trireme struggled as well. The brass-covered gunwales of their ship were not as high above the water as Red Wake’s. Huge whitecaps washed over their decks, threatening to swamp the galley with every surge.

Jerick cursed himself for sailing so close to the Veil during typhoon season. The Isle of Fire had no harbor, no shelter from the storm. Its rocky shores were treacherous. They could easily rip the bottoms out of Red Wake and Kell’s galley.

The red-bearded captain had ordered both ships away from the shore into open water, but they were still far too close for Jerick’s comfort.

As the captain of Red Wake worried about the shoals, the sea nearby began to heave and roil. Suddenly, the dragon was upon them.

Tempest burst from the waves, her immense bulk sailing high into the air. She crashed down between the two ships, sundering the deck of the galley with her titanic claws and smashing Red Wake with her flukes.

The two ships spun precariously in the water, like toy boats in a bathtub. Sailors flew from the rigging and slid off the decks into the heaving surf.

Tempest rose up and smashed down upon them again. She laughed at the screams of the dying crews. Then she dived under once more.

A huge breaker washed Jerick to the shattered rail of his galleon. Red Wake listed badly to starboard, taking on a frightening amount of water.

Just to port, Kell’s brass-armored ship lay in splinters. Its keel had been broken, and each wave threatened to pull it to the bottom.

The cries of wounded sailors in the water and aboard the crippled vessels echoed above the wail of the wind. Sharks and razorfish swarmed in the dragon’s wake, attacking anything that moved. The sailors in the water stood no chance of swimming to the Isle of Fire’s rocky shore.

Jerick spat the brine and blood from his whiskers and called to his men. “Sing out if you’re injured! Those who aren’t, help the rest! Get our people out of the water! Throw some lines to the remains of that galley, too-maybe we can save some of them as well! Then bail for all you’re worth and pray to the gods that the dragon doesn’t return!”

It took Mog only a moment to recover his bearings. The huge pillar pinning him resisted his strength, so he changed himself into a scavenger eel and wriggled out from under it. As he did, Lord Kell somehow grabbed him by the tail.

Mog changed back to his draconian form just in time to ward off a blow from the brass lord’s dagger. Kell stabbed at him again but, as he did, Mog lunged forward. The dragonspawn’s forehead smashed hard into the human lord’s gut.

Kell reeled back, and Mog clouted him across the helmet with a scaly fist. Benthor Kell grunted, and Mog kicked him hard in the belly.

The armored man fell back, head over heels, crashing into the stairs and rolling down them into the undersea darkness. Mog turned and loped up the steps to join Karista.

Kell thudded to a halt halfway down to the next landing. His head spun, and every muscle in his body ached. He groped his way to his feet and began to climb once more.

A tiny figure streaked down the stairs through the water and grabbed Karista around the waist, spoiling her aim. The deadly energies coruscating at her fingertips ripped wildly through the depths. The spell missed Mik and smashed into the stairway near the last plaza.

“Good work, Trip!” Mik called, realizing the kender had circled around from the upper part of the stairway.

Now Trip brought his small fist up and clouted Karista in the jaw. The aristocrat reeled back but did not let go of the pulsating key. She screamed in pain and frustration.

Mik surged ahead, slashing at her with his cutlass. Karista stepped back, out of the way, confusion clouding her steely eyes. “Keep at her!” Mik said. “If she can’t concentrate, she can’t summon a spell to kill us.”

“I hope you’re right,” Trip replied.

Karista punched Trip on the chin, and the kender reeled and tumbled down the stairs. She pointed at Mik, energy blasting from her fingertips.

Mik dived out of the way and almost fell off the stairs. He grabbed hold of the edge of the steps and hung on as the surging waters outside the stairway’s enchantment tried to rip him away into the sea.

Karista turned and staggered up the silver stairs, out of the raging surf, and into the open air. The stairway’s preternatural calm fell away at the nexus of water and wind. The swirling waves tugged at Karista, like breakers crashing against the shore. She stumbled and nearly lost her grip on the key.

Trip helped Mik pull himself back onto the stairs, and they both ran after her. The waves buffeted them as they made the transition from sea to land. Mik gasped for air and noticed that a half-dozen gems had flaked off his enchanted necklace.

Trip’s waterlogged cloak clung to his skin, and its long hem tangled under his feet. He fell to his knees, the waves lapping at his back. Mik struggled to keep going.

Karista reached the next plaza and turned toward the sailor, a mixture of murder and regret in her eyes. She raised the key to blast him again-but, depleted from her previous efforts, its energy glowed more faintly this time.

The sailor crested the platform and dove under her arms. White lightning blasted from Karista’s hands, searing over Mik’s head. He grabbed the aristocrat around her slender waist, and they fell hard onto the wet flagstones.

The lady Meinor gasped, and Mik felt something wriggling under one of his arms. “Tempest’s leech!” he called to Trip. “It’s at the base of her spine!”

“No!” Karista screamed. “You’ll not have it!”

“I could use some help here, Trip,” Mik said. He tumbled across the rain-drenched flagstones with her, tearing at the leech but getting no good purchase. Karista’s blouse tore at the back, revealing the writhing, slimy parasite.

Trip struggled to this feet, but a wave broke over him and swept the kender underwater once more.

Mik clung desperately to Karista. Madness reigned in the aristocrat’s steely eyes. She drew power from the key, increasing her strength. Mik tried to turn his sword on her, but she slapped it from his hand. The scimitar skidded across the landing and came to rest against a pillar.

Grappling together, Mik and Karista rolled across the water-drenched plaza. Mik’s head cracked against a pillar near the stairs, and lights burst before his eyes.

Cackling gleefully, Karista raised the faintly glowing key high to smash it down upon Mik’s unprotected skull.

Then Trip burst from the water below. His prodigious, dolphinlike leap carried him up the steps to the landing where the aristocrat sat astride the sailor. The kender’s daggers flashed, and Karista lurched away from Mik, screaming.

She landed hard on her hack, and the key to the Temple of the Sky skidded out of her hands. The Turbidus leech that had controlled her wriggled on the wet paving stones; Trip had sliced it in two. Both halves of the foul creature flopped around for a moment before finally lying still.

Trip had no time to rejoice in his victory. The kender’s momentum carried him past his foe and into the pillars at the landing’s edge. He slammed up against them, and the breath rushed out of his lungs.

Karista lay on the marble flagstones and moaned as though waking from a long nightmare.

Mik blinked the rain out of his eyes and tried to regain his bearings as the bejeweled key slid across the plaza toward the silver stairs. Just as it reached the edge, Mog leaped from below and seized it.

The dragonspawn’s baleful eyes flashed across the stunned mariner and the groggy kender. Then-without even a glance at Karista-he crossed the plaza and loped up the final stairs leading to the temple.

Mik cursed and rose to his feet. A pounding, roaring sound filled his ears, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the storm, the surf, or the blow to his head. He retrieved his scimitar and climbed after Mog just as Lord Kell staggered out of the surf behind him.

Kell spotted Karista, lying half-conscious on the flagstones, and knelt down beside her barely conscious form. “Why?” he asked.

“It was the leech,” Trip explained, getting up slowly. The kender slogged across the plaza toward the stairs, his cloak dragging behind him like a huge, clumsy tail. “The dragon was controlling her.”

As the kender plodded up the stairs to help Mik, Kell took Karista in his arms. The brass lord brushed her rain-soaked hair from her face and gazed into her eyes. She smiled weakly at him.

Mog mounted the final stair and reached the temple. The key in the dragonspawn’s hand glowed brightly. Small bolts of lightning danced from it, encircling Mog’s reptilian body and raising small puffs of smoke wherever they touched. Mog growled and hissed, but did not let go of the artifact. He turned to meet the sailor as Mik hounded up the last steps to the temple platform.

The Temple of the Sky was an elegant structure, beautiful even with driving rain bouncing off its marble surface. A circular colonnade surrounded a round hole in the temple’s floor. In the center of the hole stood a carved pillar, scribed in an ancient language that Mik could neither read nor recognize. Glowing orange light shone up from beneath the pillar through the treasure piled high in the yard-wide pit surrounding the column’s base. Diamonds, gold, silver and gems brimmed to the top of the hole-ancient offerings to the gods of Krynn.

The radiance seeping up through the treasure echoed the volcanic glow on the far side of the temple. The mountain’s great crater yawned just beyond the edge of the structure: natural destruction waiting at the edge of civilized creation. Fiery red light shone up from the lava in the heart of the mountain.

Atop the pillar, amid the glowing treasure, rested the massive blue-white diamond Mik had seen in his visions. It was twice as large as a man’s skull and cut to faceted perfection. It shone with blinding brightness as the key drew near.

Mog, key in hand, loped toward the diamond. Slender bolts of lightning danced from the key to the surface of the great gem. Mog grunted with each electrical flash.

Mik darted forward, his feet nearly skidding across the rain-slick marble, an angry scream on his lips. He aimed a deadly cut toward the back of the dragonspawn’s neck.

Mog spun and brought up his brass spear, holding the weapon with one hand. He parried the scimitar, and the sword’s blade slid down the shaft of the dragonspawn’s spear.

Mik flicked his blade to the left, off the spear, and cut a long gash in Mog’s right arm. The dragonspawn shrieked and swung his spear at the sailor’s head. Mik ducked and thrust. The point of his sword struck the bejeweled key, knocking it from Mog’s hand. The key scudded across the floor, stopping just short of the silver stairway.

Tempest’s minion roared with anger. Seizing his brass spear with both hands, he charged at Mik. The sailor stepped nimbly aside, but his boot slipped on the temple’s wet flagstones. He skidded across the chamber, nearly falling into the treasure-filled pit surrounding the great gem. His head dangled over the edge of the floor, and the light from the huge diamond dazzled his eyes. He felt the heat of the volcano on the back of his neck.

Mog stabbed at him, but Mik rolled aside just in time. He kicked the dragonspawn in the legs, and Mog toppled backward and slid toward the edge of the stairs. Trip had to dodge out of the way as he reached the top of the staircase, and the dragonspawn nearly bowled him over.

“The key, Trip!” Mik called. “Grab the key!”

The kender reached down and picked up the artifact I while Mog struggled to right himself. Before Trip’s small fingers could close around the key, though, Mog swung his bronze spear and swatted the kender’s hand.

The key flew through the air and bounced down die stairs and into the landing below the temple. It tumbled across the rain-soaked plaza toward the final stairway leading to the raging surf.

Just as it neared the precipice, Benthor Kell stabbed out his hand and seized it. Battered and bloody, Karista Meinor rose to her feet beside the brass lord. Benthor Kell held the key tight, feeling the power throbbing within. Behind his bronze helmet, a smile of triumph broke over his handsome face.

As he and Karista gazed at the key, the ocean surged, and Tempest rose from the depths once more.