Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles

by Sullivan, Stephen D (v1. 1)

  “When the keys were split,” Mik said, “the high temple vanished from the eyes of mortals. No one has seen it since the founding of the Veil. The fourth key will open it to us. From fire, wind, sea and earth, At land beyond the end, Of passage keys give birth, To treasure now ascend—The keys are the elements, and using them will lead us to the treasure.” “Which you’re sure is a monster diamond amid a pile of treasure.”

  “Aye.”

  “Which you’ve seen in visions.”

  “Aye. Many times, both with the keys, and in Aurialastican. Trip saw it once as well.”

  “And the visions of a kender are supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I’ve seen it, too,” Ula said. “Just once, after I wove the second key into my jewelry. I’m sure it exists.”

  “And I’m half sure you’re all mad,” Jerick said. “Following some absurd rhyme, doled out to me a piece at a time by a shipwrecked mariner ... I must be mad, too!”

  He went to the blue-painted rail and leaned on it, gazing back past Alarl toward Misty Isle—now a tiny blur in the distance. Mik walked up beside the captain and clapped him on the shoulder. “If you turnback now, old friend,” the sailor said jovially, “you’ll never know if I’m right.”

  “Aye,” Jerick replied. “I suppose I won’t. Though I’m not sure that would be a bad thing. Show me those keys again.” Mik fished into his waistband and whistled for Trip. The kender slid down from the mast top. “Give me the black key, would you?”

  Trip nodded, dug it out of his vest pocket, and handed it to Mik. He and Ula chuckled as Trip scrambled up the mast once more. The sea elf carefully extricated the blue key from her costume and handed it to the sailor.

  “Aye,” Jerick said, gazing at the collection in Mik’s hands. “They’re impressive all right. Old, too. Maybe there is something in all your talk.”

  “You know,” Mik said, “It hadn’t occurred to me before, but...” He defdy wove the three artifact pieces together into a larger whole. Diamond, opal, and emerald became part of a larger, key-like shape. The conjoined artifact began to glow with a faint blue-white aura.

  “Still, one piece missing,” Ula said, her green eyes flashing. With a sigh, Mik went to disassemble the artifact, but the pieces would not come free.

  “Is it stuck?” Ula asked.

  “More than stuck,” Mik replied. “I can’t even find the places where the joints were.”

  “So which one of us keeps it?” Ula asked. Her green eyes darted from Mik to Jerick.

  “I’ve just the place in my sea chest,” Jerick said.

  “I’m sure you have,” Mik replied. “But the place I have in mind is just as secure ... and vastly more visible.”

  * * * * *

  The drumchanter set a brutal beat, but Lord Kell’s oarsmen didn’t complain. Kell himself paced the main deck, staring out to sea, as if he could will their quarry to appear. Karista Meinor stayed close by his side. Stormclouds trailed in the boat’s wake, threatening to blot out what remained of a glorious afternoon.

  Kell stopped near the bow and peered ahead, his mood mirroring the darkening weather.

  “They can’t be too far over the horizon,” Kell said, as much to himself as to the aristocrat.

  “Is that what your dragon allies tell you?” Karista asked. “Aye.”

  “And you’re sure you can trust them?”

  Kell looked slightly offended. “Of course.”

  “The reason I ask,” Karista said deferentially, “is that there may be quite a bit of wealth involved, and the propensity of dragons for treasure is well known. If one of them should find the hoard before we do ... can we be sure they would use it for the glory of the Order?”

  Kell smiled sympathetically at her and put his arm around her smooth shoulders. “If Lord Thrakdar desired this treasure, he wouldn’t need us to get it. Indeed, I would give it to him gladly, if he asked. That he allows me to pursue this bounty for the glory of the Order is a great honor. To be aided by his consort Tanalish is an honor nearly as great. When you have been in the isles longer, you will understand these things.”

  Karista smiled up at him, her steely eyes flashing. “I’m sure I will, milord. I look forward to the ... mutual edification our trade pact will bring.”

  The lord of the dragon ship gazed into her eyes; she did not turn away. “Aye,” he said quietly. “We have much to learn, you and I.”

  “My lord!” a brass-armored warrior called, pointing to the sky. “A dragon comes!”

  Kell and Meinor looked up. Far over head, a bright yellow dot, like a shooting star, moved through the darkening sky. It arced lazily toward the ship, angling in from the east, to catch the onrushing wind.

  Lower it streaked, resolving itself into the form of a huge brass dragon. The rays of sunlight leaking through the stormfront danced on her wings in a dazzling display. She dove straight for the trireme, not breaking speed at all.

  Karista edged closer to Kell and put her hand on the crook of his arm. “Don’t worry,” the lord said. “It’s just Tanalish.”

  “I fear, milord, that all dragons look alike to me.”

  “Another thing you will learn,” Kell replied. “If she were a hostile, we’d be dead already.” He and Karista moved to one side of the bridge as the dragon swooped toward them.

  As Tanalish came in, she stretched and became thinner. Her wings trailed out behind her, becoming long, gossamer silks. Her face grew shorter and rounder. Her body twisted and took a womanly shape.

  Flitting under the furled sails, she landed on the deck only three strides away from Benthor Kell. As her bare foot touched down, she was no longer a dragon, but a beautiful young woman.

  Her eyes were bright green, like new-born leaves in spring. Her wavy golden hair hung down over her smooth, dark shoulders. Her body was that of a sensual young goddess, and she moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. A shimmering, gossamer gown clung to her perfect form. The dress glittered like brass in the sunshine.

  Karista tightened her grip on Kell’s arm, and her breathing became shallow; the ship’s crew instinctively fell to their knees.

  “Milady Tanalish,” Kell said, bowing. “What news?” Lady Meinor bowed as well.

  “Red Wake is near, Benthor Kell,” the dragon in human form said. “I have seen the people you seek—the sea elf, the kender, and the human—wandering her decks.” Her green eyes flashed. “Shimanloreth is with them, too, and this I do not like.”

  “He’s a pale shadow of his former self,” Kell replied. “The wound the overlords gave him grieves him still. I’m sure you can handle him should it become necessary.”

  The dragon nodded. “As you wish, Benthor Kell. The storm will break before we reach them, though.”

  “This cursed weather,” Kell said. “We’ve had more of it lately than I’ve seen in my whole lifetime.”

  Tanalish frowned. “The Veil is weakened,” she said. “Storms seep in from outside. It is a concern.”

  “Let the dragon lords worry about such things,” Kell said. “You and I—and lord Thrakdar-—must strengthen the Order, lest the encroaching chaos catch us unprepared.” He paced to the bow and gazed toward the onrushing storm. Karista trailed behind.

  “We must have these people, Tanalish,” he said. “Or, at least, the keys they’ve stolen. Our mission depends on it.” He turned back to the dragon and gazed into her bright green eyes. “See to it.”

  “Your will is mine as my lord’s, Benthor Kell,” Tanalish said, bowing slightly. The dragon-woman leaped over the side of the trireme, transforming as she fell.

  Tanalish stretched out her arms, like a cliff diver aiming for the surf. Her glittering yellow gown lengthened, the sparkling metallic flecks on its surface changing to hard brass scales. The dress’ billowing pleats became the leathery membranes between the bones of her wings. Tanalish brushed low over the waves, the armor of her huge belly sending a spray of mist into the sky.

  With two quick beats of her titan
ic wings, the brass dragon soared high into the air once more. She executed a series of tight spirals and disappeared into the advancing clouds.

  Lord Kell smiled.

  * * * * *

  “Damn this storm!” Jerick the Red bellowed. “Secure the hatches and trim the sails. Watch your feet, there! We won’t be stopping to fish anyone out of the drink!”

  Torrents of rain spattered Red Wake. Wind ripped across her sails and surging waves tossed the galleon up and down. The ship rocked precariously, but her seasoned crew was well used to squalls.

  Mik slogged over the waterlogged deck to Trip and Ula, standing near the bow. The joined key shone faintly at the sea-elf s belly, making the other pieces of jewelry in her web-like attire glitter. Trip clung fast to the gunwale, enjoying the feel of the wind and rain on his small face.

  “We should all get below,” Mik said. “Red doesn’t need our help on deck. We’ll only get in the way.”

  “And miss this great show?” Trip asked, disappointed.

  Mik ignored him and spoke directly to Ula. “I’d hate to have that bauble washed overboard with you.”

  “That would defeat the purpose of my wearing it,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

  “Perhaps we should trust each other,” he said. “At least a little.”

  She smiled; even in the rain she looked lovely. “Perhaps a little.”

  Shimmer appeared beside them.

  “What’s keeping you?” the bronze knight asked. He kept his helmet closed against the rain. “We should get below and let the captain’s men do their jobs.”

  Ula smiled again and leaned against the rail. She looked nearly as comfortable in the downpour as she did underwater. “The minnow and I are in no hurry. We like the storm. You and Mik go below if you like.”

  Mik glanced from her face to the incomplete key at her belly. “We’ll wait,” he said.

  “Light off the stem! Light off the stem!” the ship’s lookout cried.

  Jerick cursed. “Where away?”

  “Ten degrees to starboard,” came the reply.

  “What kind of ship?” Mik called.

  The lookout peered into the storm. “Sea’s too high to he certain. Yellowish galley, I think. Closing fast.”

  Jerick cursed again. “Let’s hope that’s not Lord Kell.”

  “It’s Kell, all right,” Ula replied. “Only a fool or a fanatic would follow us into this storm.”

  Mik took Ula by the arm. “Now would be a good time to go below, I think,” he shouted over the storm. Ula nodded, as did Trip and Shimmer.

  The four of them had taken only a step toward the hatch, though, when the ship heaved and pitched them all to the deck.

  Ula swore and untangled herself from Mik. The two of them rose unsteadily to their feet. Shimmer got up more slowly, leaning against the gunwale and clutching his left shoulder. Trip, still sitting, pointed and cried, “Look!”

  They turned as a large brass dragon streaked out of the clouds. The dragon dove straight for the deck of Red Wake. Jerick’s crew shouted futile cries of warning. Mik grabbed his sword, and Ula stooped to retrieve her spear from where it had fallen. Shimmer gmnted and heaved himself to his feet.

  In an instant, the dragon shrank smaller, darting between the galleon’s masts like a huge metallic bird. Terrified sailors leaped out of the way as she passed; several fell to the deck with bone-cracking impacts.

  The dragon extended her claws.

  Mik brought up his sword and slashed at her, too late. The creature crashed past the sailor, toppling him to the planking before he could make a second cut. Trip stabbed at the dragon with his daggers, but the wyrm’s armor turned the tiny weapons aside. A slap from a brass-scaled wing cast Shimmer over the rail of the ship. The bronze knight splashed into the dark, heaving waters below.

  The dragon seized Ula in her hind talons and yanked the startled elf off the deck before Ula could even raise her spear. The impact knocked the weapon from the Dargon- esti’s hand, and it clattered to the deck of Red Wake. Growing to full size again, Tanalish dragged her captive into the torrential sky.

  Thirty-Two

  Shimanloreth

  “Ula!” Trip cried, peering up at the rapidly disappearing sea elf.

  “Knight overboard!” Jerick called. “We can still reach him if he hasn't been swept away! ”

  Mik staggered to his feet. He glanced from Ula to the place where Shimmer had fallen over the side. The sea elf was too far away to help. “C’mon, Trip!” he said, shouting to be heard above the storm.

  The two of them skidded up next to Jerick at the rail, where Shimanloreth had gone over. Luckily, the bronze knight had seized a frayed rope dangling over the side. He dangled in the waves, grunting with every impact as the surf battered him against the hull.

  Mik, Trip, and Jerick grabbed the rope and pulled, but the three of them made little progress.

  “He’s heavier than he looks,” Mik said.

  “Where’s Ula?” Shimmer called. “Is she safe?”

  “The dragon took her!” Trip called back before Mik could stop him.

  The knight howled in anguish. “I have to save her!” he said.

  “How can you save her?” Mik said. “Worry about saving yourself! Climb up the rope, blast you!”

  “Stand back!” the bronze knight snarled.

  He reached up and the tips of his bronze-gloved fingers grew long spiky nails. Digging his claws into the side of the ship, he climbed relentlessly up to the rail, growing larger as he came. The gunwale splintered under his grip.

  Mik and the others backed away as Shimmer heaved himself aboard.

  The bronze knight stood nearly twelve feet tall, and was still growing. He threw back his head and screamed as curving horns sprouted from his helmet. Thunder crashed, echoing his agony.

  “What’s happening to him?” Trip cried.

  Shimmer’s back bulged inhumanly, his huge muscles rippling and changing beneath his armor. Bronze spikes sprouted from his shoulders, at his elbows, and along his back. His metal-shod feet split into long, sharp talons.

  He grew even larger. His body stretched and became more monstrous with each passing moment. The spikes at his shoulders shot outward and split into segments, like hideous, skeletal hands. Inhuman webbing knitted itself between the long, thin fingers.

  His jaws thrust forward and his orange eyes bulged out of the eyeslits in his faceplate. He screamed, and the pointed snout of his face ruptured open. Shimmering light escaped from his mouth along with his terrible, tortured wail.

  Striations ran along the length of his body as his armor cracked. Between the fissures, his bronze skin bulged in scaly, ragged lumps.

  The ship seemed in danger of capsizing under his massive weight. Red Wake's gunwale tottered toward the crashing waves. With a parting glance at Mik, Shimanloreth threw himself over the side once more.

  Mik, Trip, and Jerick raced to the splintered rail and gazed over the stormy sea. They did not find their friend in the whitecaps below. His transformation complete, Shimanloreth was rising awkwardly into the sky as a large bronze dragon.

  “I was wondering if he might do that,” Jerick said.

  “You knew?” Mik asked, incredulous. “You knew he was a dragon and you didn’t mention it?”

  Jerick shrugged. “Everyone in the isles knows the tragic story of Shimanloreth.”

  “What’s wrong with his wing?” Trip asked, gazing in awe at the transformed knight. Shimmer’s left shoulder and wing looked scarred, deformed.

  “The dragon overlords crippled him,” Jerick replied. “He can’t fly very well—from what I hear. I think his injuries hurt less when he’s in human form.”

  “Which is the only way we’ve seen him,” Mik said thoughtfully.

  “But couldn’t the good dragons heal him or something?” Trip asked.

  “If you want to ask them why they didn’t, be my guest” Jerick said, “assuming you can find them.”

  “The other drag
on is larger,” Mik said. “Can he heat her?” “Shimanloreth’s toughness is legendary,” Jerick replied, “but Tanalish is one mean dragon.”

  “Do you have a how you could lend me?” Mik asked, trying to gauge the distance through the storm.

  “They’re out of range, mate,” Jerick said. “There’s nothing we can do but watch.”

  * * * * *

  Shimmer rose quickly through the blinding storm toward Tanalish. Lightning flashed all around them, and thunder shook the heavens. The wind swirled and gusted, smashing the driving rain into the metallic bodies of the dragons and the form of the struggling sea elf.

  Ula twisted in Tanalish’s iron-thewed claw, but she couldn’t even reach her dagger to fight back. The gemstone key pressed sharply into her belly, but her web of jewelry held it in place. Lances of pain shot up her spine as the dragon squeezed her. “Let go of me!” she yelled.

  If Tanalish heard the elf, she made no reply. Rather, the brass dragon wheeled to face the oncoming menace. She opened her mouth and belched a burning, sulfurous blood- red cloud. The cloud sparked and sizzled, billowing large despite the wind. The toxic vapors fanned out across Shimmer’s flight path.

  “A warning, Shimanloreth,” Tanalish hissed. “Keep back. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Ula concerns me,” Shimmer rumbled. “She’s my friend. You have no right to take her.”

  “She’s a thief, an enemy of the Order of Brass and a threat to the isles,” Tanalish replied.

  “Fish oil!” Shimmer boomed. “Give her back or you’ll regret it.”

  A smile creased the brass dragon’s scaly lips. “You’re no match for me, Shimanloreth. Your wing is crippled, almost useless. Fly back to the ship and lick your wounds.”

  Shimmer didn’t reply. Instead, he lunged forward, extending his jaws toward Tanalish’s long neck. The move surprised the brass, and she barely jerked her head aside in time.

  Shimanloreth’s fangs raked across her throat, and his powerful hind talons seized the leg holding Ula.