Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles (4 page)

 
          
Mik’s
brown eyes narrowed. “
Trip .
.. ?”

 
          
“I
found a tiny piece that somehow got in my rucksack,” Trip insisted. “Too bad I
couldn’t reach it when the monster had me.”

 
          
The
captain laughed and rubbed some salve on a thumbsized welt on his calf,
inflicted by one of the sea monster’s suckers. “We had a narrow escape,” he
said. “Karista may have settled the crew for now, but we need to find those
islands before a full-scale mutiny breaks out.”

 
          
“
This whole crew are
mercenaries and cut-throats,” Trip said
frowning.

 
          
“Karista
knew our usual crew wouldn’t venture this far out beyond charted waters,” Mik
replied.

 
          
“Well,
I have to admit, I’m really enjoying myself,” Trip said, “but do you think she
really knows where she’s going?”

 
          
“That
scroll is authentic,” Mik said, “I’d bet my teeth on it. She’s following an old
prophecy, but most of it seems plain and simple to me. These waters are
perilous, though.” He grinned. “But the potential reward far outweighs the
peril. I don’t mind peril for a fat reward. Though stowing away wasn’t the best
idea
you’ve
ever had.”

 
          
“After
all we’ve been through?” Trip said. “I didn’t want to miss out on the fun.”

 
          
Mik
cut a last bit of linen with his knife and finished bandaging Trip’s shoulder.

 
          
“I
think I’ll climb the mast,” the kender said. “It would be sleek to be the first
to spot the Dragon Isles.”

 
          
“It
would at that,” Mik said, adding, “Try to stay out of trouble.”

 
          
“Always,”
Trip replied. He bowed curtly, then exited the cabin and walked through the map
room onto the quarterdeck.

           
Mik crossed to the sea chest in one
comer of the small room and unlocked it. Lifting the heavy lid, he reached in
and pulled out a small, intricately carved silver box.

 
          
Kingfisher
’s captain took a piece of
parchment from the box and carefully unfolded it. In the ragged vellum lay an
artifact fashioned in curving golden arcs and exquisite lines. It was roughly
square, with soft edges, though it was asymmetrical—or perhaps incomplete. Amid
the shimmering golden loops of the setting lay a large black diamond. The
parchment was covered with writing, but Mik ignored the words and gently lifted
the artifact from its resting place.

 
          
The
black diamond glittered in the cabin’s semi-darkness, shining with a faint
bluish light.

 
          
Mik
gazed within the diamond’s cloudy facets, and an image formed in his mind:
jewel-like islands dotting an azure sea, snow-capped peaks reaching for the
clouds. High overhead, metallic shapes arced through the clear air.

 
          
The Dragon Isles.

 
          
He
felt himself swept over the glorious landscape, the towering mountains, the
lush glades, the verdant forests. Past the main isles and out to sea again, to
a temple wreathed in fire and light. Within the temple, at the crest of land,
sea, and sky shone a brilliant blue-white diamond—twice as large as a man’s
skull.

 
          
Mikal
Vardan’s heart beat faster as he beheld it.

 
          
Then
he blinked, and the images faded from his eyes.

 
          
“They’re real,” Mik whispered, unaware that he spoke at all.
“The isles are real. The treasure is real. And I shall sail us to it.” He
clutched the artifact tightly in his hand, and its pale light danced across his
brown eyes.

 
          
The
Sea Dragon’s Servant

 
         
Mog
watched enviously as his mistress picked the remains of a ship from between her
huge teeth. Mangier sharks, razorfish, and hideous kestel viperfins swarmed
around the sea dragon, fighting over her leavings and attending her every whim.
She paid them little heed. Only the Turbidus leeches, strange, twisted eel-like
creatures fed on her own toxic blood, garnered any of the dragon’s attention.

 
          
The
leeches allowed Tempest to control her fishy minions. They connected the
thralls to the immense sea dragon—sending her sights and
sounds
and smells from far distant places. To disobey Tempest was to court crippling,
leech-inflicted pain. The lifespan of a bad servant was, naturally, very short
Mog was a good servant. Not as servile, perhaps, as the swarms of leeches that
ringed the dragon’s neck like a living mane—but useful, and certainly powerful.

 
          
The
dragonspawn flexed his hulking muscles and chewed the last bit of flesh from
the bones of a drowned sailor. His mistress had destroyed many ships recently.
Her servants, Mog included, delighted at the charnel larder laid before them.

 
          
Mog,
though, knew that the mistress did not destroy ships in the
Turbidus
Ocean
merely because she could—she did so because
of the anger burning within her immense belly.

 
          
The
dragonspawn did not completely understand his mistress’ fury. He had seen the
object of her desire many times, hut he could not comprehend what fascinated
her about those small hits of isolated rock. In the part of his reptilian brain
that he shared with Tempest, Mog knew these islands as the Dragon Isles. He
knew that she, Tempest the Great, somehow stood barred from entering the isles.
He knew that the magic standing in her way was very ancient and that it was
called The Veil.

 
          
Mog
had difficulty comprehending that anything could thwart his mistress. Yet when
she or her minions tried to approach the isles, they found themselves confused
and disoriented. Always the Dragon Isles slipped away, out of their grasp.

 
          
Tempest
lusted after the islands. Once, they had been home to many good dragons of
Ansalon—gold, silver, brass, bronze, and copper. Now, however, many of the
metallic dragons had fled, and the isles stood as mere shadows of their former
selves.

 
          
Tempest
lusted after the islands and the genuine treasures they contained—not the sanguine,
meaty treasures that thrilled Mog, but wealth and power and magic. Such things
were the hoard of dragons.

 
          
But
The Veil kept her out. And so Tempest summoned storms and vented her rage upon
ships passing through the
Turbidus
Ocean
. Ships she feared might pierce the Veil and
reach the Dragon Isles.

 
          
Her
servants grew strong and fat on the blood of her victims. Yet Tempest remained
no closer to her goal.

 
          
Her
desire to reach the isles burned in her mind and, therefore, it burned in Mog
as well.

 
          
All
of Tempest’s dragonspawn were strong, but Mog was the strongest. He was the
first she had made, forming him out of the bodies of captured draconians as
well as from her own blood and sinew and magic. He was, therefore, most closely
connected to her, most clever, most powerful. He was the only one who could
assume the shapes of both the sea’s denizens and his mistress’ two-legged
enemies.

 
          
Mog
was well-suited to the job of killing. Iron-like scales covered his humanoid
body and limbs. The tips of his fingers and toes ended in sharp spikes. His
webbed talons propelled him swiftly through the brine. His blood-red eyes
easily pierced the gloom of the deep. Mog’s rasp-like mouth could rip the flesh
from any enemy he encountered.

 
          
Yet
all this was still not enough to penetrate The Veil.

 
          
Tempest’s
unholy desire burned within him.

 
          
Mog
groomed the blood from his scales and waited impatiently for the next ship.

The Prophecy

 
          
To
seven cities’ light

 
          
By
silver water course

 
          
Before
the second night

 
          
Discover
then the source.”

 
          
Karista
Meinor looked around the assembled crew as she read the ancient parchment. A
contagious fervor gleamed in her steely eyes. The sailors before her stood in
rapt attention.

 
          
There
was more to the prophecy, Mik knew, but Karista didn’t read it all to the
anxious crew of
Kingfisher.
She had,
in fact, left out the most interesting parts—the sections about the temple and
treasure, and the ways to find the hidden riches. The crew didn’t need to know
those details.

 
          
Mik
remained unsure, in fact, if Lady Meinor believed in the prophecy. Possessing
the parchment and finding the isles seemed goal enough for her. Perhaps gaining
a treasure cache and a huge diamond seemed insignificant to her, at least
compared with a trade route to one of the
most wealthy
lands on Krynn. To Mik, though, the treasure and jewel
beckoned
.
..
the
stuff of dreams.

 
          
Karista
Meinor rolled up the prophecy scroll and returned it to its watertight case.
Then she unfurled a map of the northern ocean, overlaid with a star chart.

 
          
“The
meaning of the rhymes is clear,” she said. “Following the course outline,
steering by the constellations mentioned—Paladine, the
Heavenly
Palace
, The Seven Cities,
The
Great Silver River—will lead to the Dragon Isles. Do any of you doubt this?”

 
          
“Not
so long as you’re paying us!” someone called from the back of the crowd
assembled below the bridge.

 
          
Marlian
crossed her slender arms over her chest “I don’t doubt it, Lady Meinor, but I
don’t understand this so-called prophecy, either.”

 
          
The
noblewoman-witch sighed and handed her map to Bok. The big bodyguard nodded
deferentially as he took it and held it out before the crowd. Karista pointed
at the route with a long fingernail as she spoke.

 
          
“The
first stanza instructs the reader to sail north beyond known waters to find the
isles,” she explained. “The second says to follow the gaze of the constellation
Palatine
in midsummer to discover the ‘divine’
chart—the map
laid
out in the stars. The third and
fourth indicate the isles he beyond the constellation of the Heavenly Palace,
and that you can find them by following the great Silver River in the sky
toward the Seven Cities. This evening, the stars of the Seven Cities will be
clearly visible in the northeastern sky. When we make the right conjunction, we
will be less than two days sail from the isles themselves!”

 
          
The
crew, even Marlian and Pamak, muttered appreciatively. Mik chuckled. Karista
was a good saleswoman; he supposed the talent ran in her wealthy family.

 
          
He
advanced to the rail beside Lady Meinor and said, “Everyone back to work. Now
that you understand our goals, I trust we’ll hear no more mutinous grumbling
while we seek our fortunes.”

 
          
“We’re
with you, captain!” old Poul called out. “Aye!” others added. Marlian and Pamak
went back to their business with the rest.

 
          
Trip
pushed close to study Karista’s star chart, but Bok rolled it up before the
kender could get a good look. Trip frowned fiercely; Bok frowned back, fiercer.

 
          
“Don’t
worry,” Mik said to his small friend, “you’ll have a chance to study it, soon
enough.” Then to Karista and Bok he added, “Bring the chart to the map room. I
want to check our bearings before the sun sets. C’mon, Trip.” He turned and
went down the short stairway from the bridge to the quarterdeck. Trip went with
him. Karista and Bok followed.

 
          
“I
see no reason the kender should be included in this,” Bok said, as they entered
the map room below the bridge.

 
          
“No
matter how he came aboard,” Mik replied, “Trip is part of our crew now. I know
him well and can vouch for him, but Pm sure he’ll more than prove his worth to
you before the voyage ends.”

 
          
The
big bodyguard frowned. “I’ll have to keep a careful watch on my pockets,” he
said.

 
          
Trip’s
hazel eyes brightened. “Why? Is there something in them that I should know
about?”

 
          
Bok
reddened and looked as though he might strike the kender. “Shut your hole, you
little—”

 
          
Mik
stepped between them. “Karista,” he said smoothly, “if your man can’t control
his temper, then perhaps he should go elsewhere.”

 
          
Karista
laid her long, tan fingers on Bok’s arm. “Don’t worry,” she purred. “Nothing
the little one ‘borrows’ can wander very far. Where could a kender hide aboard
ship?”

 
          
Bok
nodded and laid the star map on the table in the center of the open-walled
room. Mik rolled it open and studied it. Trip crowded in near the captain’s
elbow and peered intently at the lines, colors, and notations. He considered
himself a map expert,

 
          
“I
see you’ve marked the passages from the Prophecy on the map,” Trip said
appreciatively. “But there were a lot more lines on that scroll than the ones
you read to the crew. What about the rest of it?”

 
          
Bok
glowered, and looked as though he might step in again, but a motion of
Karista’s shapely hand kept him in place. “The remaining stanzas are of no
importance to finding the isles,” she said calmly. “They deal with navigation
within the archipelago to a specific destination. They are hard to fathom and
seem of little import.”

 
          
“I’m
sure you’re correct,” Mik said, though that was the part of the prophecy that
interested him most.

 
          
Karista
Meinor laughed—a low, sensual sound. “I know, captain, that you believe the
remaining stanzas lead to a precious treasure,” she said. “No buried hoard,
though, could match the wealth to be gained from opening the Dragon Isles to
trade with the mainland. I’ve compensated you fairly, and I trust that you will
be able to keep your mind focused on our mutual goal.”

 
          
“Any
ambitions that I might harbor on my own,” Mik replied evenly, “are secondary to
the goals of this voyage. My personal views will not interfere with how I run
this ship.”

 
          
Bok
snorted skeptically and crossed his arms over his wide chest. He looked from
Mik to Trip, and then frowned. Frowning, Trip thought, was what the big bodyguard
did best.

 
          
Mik
scowled back. “I know from which direction the wind blows, milady, and I’ve no
desire to sail any other course.”

 
          
Karista
nodded. “Good. I’ll leave you to your work then. Come, Bok.” She turned, left
the map room, and went to the hatch amidships. Bok followed. With a final
suspicious glance from Bok, the aristocrat and the bodyguard went below deck to
Karista’s cabin.

 
          
Mik
strolled to the edge of the room and watched their retreat. Then he turned and
gazed toward the golden sun, already sinking low in the west.

 
          
“So
we’re getting close,” Trip said, from near his elbow.

 
          
“Very
close,” Mik said, nodding. He went back to the map table, rolled up the star
chart, and put it in its case. He then deposited the case in its slot below the
table’s surface, next to the other maps they anticipated using during the
voyage. “
Ill
make
our final
course adjustment after the stars come out tonight. By tomorrow, we’ll be well
on our way to fulfilling the first part of the Prophecy.”

 
          
“What
about the rest of it, though?” Trip asked.

 
          
Mik
arched one black eyebrow. “What about it?”
“Sounds kind of
mysterious to me.
I get the feeling that you’re more interested in it
than you let on.” He grinned.

 
          
Mik
laughed. “C’mon,” he said. “I want to show you something.” He walked through
the door leading into his cabin at the back of the map room.

 
          
Trip
closed the door behind them, and Mik knelt down to open his sea chest.

 
          
“If
you’re going to show me that nice piece of jewelry with the big black diamond
in it,” Trip said, “I’ve already seen it.”

 
          
Anger
flashed over Mik’s tan face for a moment
But
the
feeling quickly passed and he smiled. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

           
“No. You shouldn’t,” Trip replied.
“I stumbled across it when I was looking around the other day.”

 
          
“Stumbled across it in a locked box.”

 
          
The
kender, nodded. “I noticed that you had it wrapped in a copy of Karista’s
prophecy. What is it? Where did you find it?”

           
“Very little escapes you,” Mik
said.

 
          
“That’s
one of the reasons why I’m so useful to have around, I guess.”

 
          
“I
found the artifact a number of years ago, while
diving
the coral reefs north of Jotan.” As Mik spoke, the memories came flooding back:
the clear blue waters, fingers of colorful coral stretching toward the
shimmering surface above, sun- fish and spotted dominoes darting all around.
And, amid the underwater glory, a strange wrecked galley—like none he’d ever
seen before. The galley’s lines were long and curved—its sides covered with
scale-like clinking. Its bow was formed in the shape of a golden dragon.

 
          
The
gold, though, was only paint on the wooden hull. The wreck yielded few
treasures—mostly pottery, except for the looping artifact with the black
diamond center. Mik had claimed it as his share for the voyage. The memory
faded away.

 
          
Mik
pulled the artifact out of the box within his sea chest. “I suspect it came
from the Dragon Isles,” he said to Trip. “I think
it’s
part of a key to finding our way in.”

 
          
“Hey,
that Prophecy says something about keys, doesn’t it?” Trip asked. He took the
paper that lined the artifact’s box and unfolded it. The writing on the vellum
was a copy of the Prophecy Karista had read on deck earlier— including the
parts she had omitted.