The Day Of The Tempest

by Jean Rabe

“The wind,” Feril said, pointing at the sand that blew at their feet. “It covered them, just as it’s covering ours.”

  “If there were any tracks to cover,” Rig said. “Who knows if the vulture was telling you the truth? It probably wasn’t any smarter than the lizard.” He looked at the sorcerer. “It’s dark put here. It’s going to be darker in there.”

  “We could wait until morning,” Feril suggested.

  Palin was exhausted, but more than he wanted rest, he wanted to get this over with, return to the Anvil, and leave the hateful heat behind. The sorcerer dosed his eyes and concentrated, sensing the energy around him, feeling for the faint magical pulse of the land.

  In his youth it was strong and powerful – godly-given and so easy to grasp, able to birth the greatest of spelts. But it was like a whisper on the wind now, only detectable by a skilled sorcerer. To craft great spells required much strength of will and perseverance. Palin’s mind grasped the natural energy and channeled it toward his open palm, shaping it, coaxing it, and Grafting a variation of a fire enchantment.

  “Wow!” Buster exclaimed.

  The sorcerer opened his eyes. In his hand was a glowing orb of light, brilliant but no hotter than the desert air. It alternately pulsed white, orange, and scarlet, like the flickering flames of a campfire. The rudimentary spell worked better than any lantern. “Let’s see what the dragon left behind,” Palin said. He ted the way into the cave.

  The still air inside was filled with the cloying scent of death. It was so strong that Palin’s eyes began to water. Near the entrance, broken bones and tufts of fur were scattered here and there. Palin knelt to examine them. “Camels,” he said. “Only something big could eat this many camels.”

  He stood and moved deeper into the cave, where the air was stale, but not as foul smelling. Following the stone floor that sloped steeply downward, he entered a. massive underground cave that was a few hundred feet across. The light from the globe in the sorcerer’s hands barely tit the walls and the ceiling, and it did nothing to chase away the shadows that clung to niches and other rock formations.

  “I’ve never been in a cave so big!” Blister chirped. “Where to start, oh where to start. Palin, look at this!”

  The fcender stood near a rocky outcropping, pointing at a spot in the floor where a bit of sand had been brushed away. Palin could see deep gouges in the stone. They seemed to form a pattern. He brushed away more of the sand so he could see all of the design. Blister helped for a moment, then rushed away suddenly to investigate something else. Part of the etching looked familiar, like the written component of some transformation incantation Palin had seen before.

  “Interesting that a dragon would rely on this type of magic,” he mused aloud. “Dragons have an innate arcane power.” He studied the pattern intently. The curved line represented change or rebirth. The wavy line that cut through it had gold dust sprinkled along its length and symbolized strength and energy, and the wax-filled circle that cut through the half moon meant —

  “Palin!” Feril called to him from a dozen yards away. She and Blister were kneeling and staring at something in the sand. There was a crack in the cave roof directly above them, and the sorcerer saw traces of sand, like falling snowflakes, filtering down from it. “You’d better take a look at this “There was an urgency in the Kagonesti’s voice, enough to pull Palin away from the diagram.

  Rig, who had been preoccupied with taking in the size of the place, was quick to join them. “It’s part of a big footprint” he observed, leaning in over the Kagonesti’s shoulder. “It means your animal buddies were right. This really was that blue dragon’s lair. And that means I’m going to head deeper and look for the treasure. I told you this trip wasn’t going to take long.”

  The Kagonesti scowled and pointed toward a depression. “That would be a mark from a talon, and from its position, I’d say it was the small talon of its right front paw.”

  “Uh-oh “the kender whispered.

  “So the dragon had a very big talon,” Rig said. “So what? We knew that. We saw it up close when it killed Shaon. C’mon, Blister, I’ll need some help filling these.” He tugged a couple of leather bags free from his belt and held one out to the kender. Blister didn’t budge, she was engrossed in scrutinizing the footprint.

  “This mark is too big “Feril said. “The dragon that killed Shaon and Dhamon wasn’t nearly big enough to make this print. Believe it or not, I think we’re in the wrong lair”

  “Uh-oh,” Blister repeated even more softly.

  “And the track is fresh, I’d guess about a day old,” the elf continued.

  “Not the lair of the dead blue dragon?” Rig asked, his voice suddenly quiet. He swallowed hard and glanced at Palin. “The lance is on the ship. I didn’t think I’d need it for a dead dragon’s lair. We’d better get out of here before it’s too late.”

  “Late too much,” came a deep, rasping voice from the lair’s entrance.

  Panic seized the quartet. As one, they turned to face the speaker. The creature was the color of baked mud, mottled in places. Dragonlike in form, it had scales and skin covering most of its body, with patches on its belly that looked like clumps of gravel. The beast’s leathery wings resembled those of a bat’s, and its snout was long and pointed, filled with a double row of sharp teeth that clacked together menacingly. Large pear-shaped eyes the color of the night sky bored into the foursome.

  The creature flicked its barbed tail, flexed the claws on its hind feet and took a step closer. It had no front legs, only the wings (hat were barbed on the tips and looked as formidable as talons. Its wingspan must have measured almost fifty feet, and its neck was long and supple like a giant constrictor. The motion of its wings sent the sand on the floor rushing away.

  “A wyvern,” Palin noted.

  “The brown dragon the lizard mentioned,” Feril said.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Blister said, a hint of awe creeping into her voice.

  “At least it’s not a real dragon,” Rig said, relaxing only a little. “And it certainly couldn’t have made that print.” He drew his cutlass. The blade gleamed in the light from Palin’s glowing orb. “And it’s not nearly as big as the thing that killed Shaon. I can take it.”

  “Take what?” the wyvern growled. “Something steal? Mad be master.”

  “I didn’t think wyverns could talk,” Palin whispered to Feril.

  “They can’t,” she answered.

  “What find?” Another voice, as harsh as chalk being drawn across slate, reverberated in the cavern. “Something find?”

  The quartet watched as a second wyvern emerged. It was slightly smaller than the other, and looked nearly identical. Its barbed tail swished back and forth, and it craned its neck around the edge of its fellow wyvern’s outstretched wing so it could get a better look.

  “People” the smaller wyvern announced. “Found people. Supposed to be here?”

  “Don’t know,” the other answered. “Weren’t here when left. Now here. Hot when left. Now cool. People came between hot and cool. Stupid people.”

  Rig’s hand clenched tighter around the hilt of his cutlass. His dark eyes darted back and forth between the two wyverns.

  “Searching for a dragon’s treasure was a wonderful idea,” Feril whispered to the mariner. She cocked her head in Palin’s direction. “Studying a dragon’s lair would teach us a few things, you said. If you had both listened to me, we’d be on our way to Southern Ergoth.”

  “It could be worse,” the kender offered. “There could be more of them – or the dragon that made that print.”

  “I feel much better,” the mariner muttered.

  “Stop talk. Surrender,” the large one insisted. Its eyes focused on Rig. “Drop shiny sticker. Now.”

  “No!” Rig bellowed. His feet churned over the sand-covered floor as he closed the distance to the larger beast. He raised his blade high above his head and brought it down in a sweeping motion, slicing through the hide
of the wyvern’s belly. The slash wasn’t very deep, and the creature howled more in surprise than pain.

  “Not they surrender,” the smaller observed, seemingly nonplussed by Rig’s attack. “Do what now?” it asked its companion. “Do something?”

  “Catch people,” the large wyvern replied as it dodged Rig’s second blow. “Give to master.”

  “Give to Storm Over Krynn when comes!” the other exclaimed. “Idea good.”

  The Storm Over Krynn, Palin mouthed. “This is Khellendros’s lair! We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “Khellendros? The dragon overlord?” Blister shouted. She thrust her gloved hand into the bag at her side, and her fingers rumbled over an assortment of oddities she kept there. At last she was rewarded, and tugged free a sling. The kender filled it with the next object she grasped – a walnut – and she twirled the sling above her head, then swung it forward. The nut spun free toward the smaller wyvern, striking it on the nose.

  “People sting!” it squawked.

  Palin blotted out the sounds around him and concentrated on the globe in his hand. He watched the colors intensify and felt the warmth grow on his palm. When it became so hot it practically burned him, the sorcerer let the globe fall to the cave floor and continued to focus on it.

  At the same time, Feril dropped to her stomach and splayed her hands in front of her, brushing furiously away at the sand until her fingers touched the cool stone beneath. She felt the smoothness, hard and ancient and powerful. She closed her eyes and let her senses drift away from her, seeping into the stone, merging with it. The Kagonesti felt strong and heavy, sluggish and immoveable and primeval. She felt the sand atop the stone, the feet of her companions, the heat of Palin’s magical fire, and the clawed talons of the wyverns.

  Be like water, she urged the rock. Flow with me. Feril felt the rock responding to her mental commands, and it became soft like clay. She struggled to dig her fingers into the stone. “Softer,” she entreated the rock. “Flow like water. Hurry.” She was quickly rewarded; her hands sank into the liquid stone, cool and thick like mud. Her fingers worked furiously, sketching a stream with wavy lines. “Away from me now. Run like a river.”

  “Fire hurt! Don’t like hurt,” the smaller wyvern complained.

  Palin had built his orb of flame into a veritable bonfire, and now a gout of fire streaked toward the smaller wyvern. The creature’s chest and one of its wings were badly singed. It flapped madly to put the fire out and cool itself. The sorcerer concentrated on the flame again and coaxed another searing lick forth to strike the creature. Its keening yowl echoed in the cavern.

  “Not people surrender!” the smaller wyvern screeched. “People hurt us. Burn us! Still catch?”

  “Catch not!” the larger wyvern cried. Distracted by the fire and its companion, the creature did not see Rig dart in close. The mariner took another swing, his blade cutting deep this time, leaving a growing line of black blood on the wyvern’s belly. The creature growled and its head shot forward, its clacking jaws narrowly missing the agile mariner as he retreated.

  “Kill people!” the smaller wyvern howled as it lashed forward with its tail. The barbed tip struck the mariner’s thigh and Rig gasped and fell to his knees, his sword clattering on the stone.

  The mariner fought back a scream as a jolt of pain raced from the barb and into his chest. Trails of fire and ice chased themselves up and down his frame, and he doubled over and shook uncontrollably.

  “Fair not! Dark one mine!” the larger wyvern wailed as it edged by its companion and closed on Rig.

  “Mine, too!” the smaller claimed, its tail swinging forward again, this time finding its mark in Rig’s shoulder. “Share! One with fire next!” It dodged a tendril of Palin’s flame, and whipped its barb at the mariner’s chest.

  Rig couldn’t contain his scream this time. He writhed on the stone as alternating waves of heat and cold consumed him.

  “Mine to eat.” The larger wyvern’s lips curled up in the approximation of a smile. Its snakelike neck dropped forward and its head angled toward the squirming mariner. It opened its jaws and then snapped upright as a shower of marbles pelted its snout.

  “Leave Rig alone!” the kender shouted, reaching into her pouch to find more things to hurl. She filled her sling again and quickly sent a shower of buttons and shiny rocks at the wyverns. Then she rushed to Rig’s side and started tugging him out of the way.

  “Hate sting!” the larger creature bellowed, its deep voice bouncing off the cavern walls. “Sting! Sting! Get tiny one!”

  “Can’t!” the smaller growled. “Cave grab me! Move can’t!”

  The stone, like molten lava, flowed away from Feril, around Palin and Rig and Blister, and oozed across the wyverns*taloned feet.

  “Hard “she urged it. “Be strong again.” Her sides heaved from the exertion, but she felt the rock responding, returning to its solid state. She pushed herself to her knees, shook her head to clear her senses, and watched as a bolt of Palin’s flame struck the largest wyvern. It engulfed the creature’s head, and in the close confines its screams were practically deafening. The smell of the wyvern’s burning flesh was overwhelming.

  Palin, realizing the wyverns were no longer a threat, released his concentration on the orb and the flames died down.

  The kender looked up at the larger wyvern’s face, and grimaced when she saw bits of bone showing through on its lower jaw. It continued to howl in agony and swing its tail toward them, but the kender and mariner were several inches beyond the reach of either wyvern now.

  Paiin edged forward and helped the mariner to his feet. The sorcerer glanced at Rig’s wounds, gently prodding the swollen area around them. “Some kind of poison, I think,” he said. “We should have brought Jasper with us. He’d know what to do.”

  “What about them?” The kender stared up at the trapped wyverns.

  “They’re abominations of nature,” Feril said. “They’ll die here. Let’s get going before the dragon comes.”

  “No argument,” Rig said. He gritted his teeth as another wave of heat coursed through his limbs. It was followed by an intense chill that sent him into a fit of trembling. “I feel terrible.” He slumped, unconscious, against Palin.

  “You’ll have to help me carry him,” Palin told the Kagon-esti. “Once outside we can —” The sorcerer’s words were cut off as a spear of lightning struck him squarely in the back and propelled him and the mariner several feet forward. A miniature thunderclap resounded as they landed on the sand-covered floor.

  “Spawn!” Blister shouted, as she reached for her sling again.

  Feril spun around in time to see the creature step from a shadow-draped tunnel deeper in the cavern. It had a manlike shape, and there was something haunting about its eyes. It was covered in tiny blue sapphire scales that shimmered in the light from Palin’s still-burning fire. A ridge of triangular-shaped scales ran from the top of its head down its back and to the tip of its short tail. Gently curving wings swept outward from between its shoulder blades. The creature flapped its wings slightly and rose a few feet above the cave floor.

  Feril had encountered creatures like this weeks ago when she was with Dhamon. They weren’t easy to defeat.

  “Get bad people!” the larger wyvern coaxed the spawn. “Kill people!” the smaller urged.

  The spawn grinned, revealing a pearl-white row of pointed teeth across which miniature lightning bolts flickered. Traces of lightning skittered along the claws on its hands and feet. It sped toward the Kagonesti.

  At that moment Blister released her sling, showering the spawn with colorful bits of tile and metal. The creature was unhurt, but surprised, and it dropped to a crouch on the cave floor.

  The Kagonesti used the precious seconds the kender had bought to dash toward Rig’s fallen cutlass. Her fingers dosed about the pommel just as she heard a second crackle of lightning. Blister screamed, and was thrown against the cavern wall by a bolt from the creature’s claws.


  “Thing of evil!” the elf cried as she rushed toward the spawn. The weapon in her hand felt heavy, but she wielded it as she’d seen the mariner do, rushing forward and raising it above her head. She swept in close, then brought the sword down as hard as she could. The blade cut through the scales of the spawn’s shoulder blade. The creature’s arms flailed and lashed at her as she tugged the blade free.

  This time she aimed for the creature’s neck, her blade flashing down and practically severing the thing’s head. It struggled for a moment, its eyes wide and unblinking, then it exploded in a ball of crackling lightning. Feril closed her eyes, but too late. Blinded and tingling uncomfortably all over, she stepped back, and felt about with her free hand, trying to find the wall of the cave.

  “Blister, are you all right?” the Kagonesti called. “No,” came the kender’s reply. “I hurt all over.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Yes, but Palin and Rig can’t. I think they’re alive, but they’re not moving.”

  “Keep talking,” Feril urged her. “I’ll follow the sound of your voice. You’ll have to help me drag them out of here.” She was beginning to see bits of color – the gray of the stone, the white sand, the red of Palin’s still-burning fire – but the colors were running together. “This isn’t going to be easy, Blister.”

  The kender groaned. “Easy? Try impossible. They’re both awfully big.”

  She tried to concentrate as she moved toward the kender, tried to bring everything into sharper focus. Then abruptly she froze, tilting her head. There was a sound of flapping wings, faint, but it was there, coming from behind her – deeper in the cave. She turned in time to see a smeared bolt of lightning arc toward her from a hazy patch of dark blue – another spawn. Four more blue splotches were behind it.

  “Blister, run!” she cried as she dropped to her knees. A bolt of lightning shot over her head. Another spawn opened its maw, and again lightning crackled toward her. She pitched to the side, avoiding the bolt, and fell into the path of another spawn. The lightning struck her shoulder, and she was driven hard against the cave floor.