Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles (38 page)

 
          
Sea,
Storm, and Tempest

 
          
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
hurst
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
holts
of lightning danced
from it, encircling Mog’s reptilian body and raising small puffs of smoke
wherever they touched. Mog growled and hissed, hut did not let go of the
artifact. He turned to meet the sailor as Mik hounded up the last steps to the
temple platform.