The Day of the Tempest

Chapter 15 Dividing to Conquer

They reached Witdel shortly before noon. Jasper barely had time to register surprise at Dhamon’s return before Ulin was thrust at him. The dwarf quickly fell to tending the younger Majere, while Usha and Palin hovered around trying to help.

Rig acted pleased to see the former knight, but his expression didn’t match his words, and his eyes wouldn’t hold Dhamon’s gaze. Groller was another matter however. The half-ogre warmly clapped him on the back, pointed curiously at the scale, and then found some of the mariner’s old clothes for Dhamon to wear.

Blister chattered nonstop—about Khellendros’s cave, the prisoners, and anything else that popped into her head.

Dhamon thrust the kender’s animated banter to the back of his head and watched Feril. The Kagonesti directed him to sit on a barrel, and she stood behind him as she set about cutting the tangles from his hair and shaving his uneven beard. Dhamon could have easily handled the tasks himself with the proper tools, but he enjoyed being fussed over. In the end, he looked far better than he had in a long while. His hair was short now—falling in one neat length that just brushed the back of his neck and the bottoms of his ears. Feril smiled apologetically and said there were just too many knots to do anything else with it

“It’ll grow back,” he told her. “If I let it.” Dhamon reached out to her, drawing her close, then scowling when Blister raised her voice so they could hear her better.

“Your hair looks good. Since it’s all one length, it’s more swingy,” Blister said as she surveyed Feril’s handiwork. “Well, it definitely looks better than it looked a few minutes ago. How come you’re not dead?” It was a question she’d wanted to ask since she spotted him and the others heading toward the ship, but she’d restrained herself for what she considered a polite, but inordinately long time.

Dhamon offered a brief version of his rescue by Shimmer the bronze dragon. “The dragon gave me the glaive and agreed to send me someplace—a place not held by an overlord. I thought about you,” he said, as he brushed a curl away from Feril’s face. “And somehow the dragon transported me nearby”

“But not your clothes,” the kender cut in. “Nice weapon, from what I hear, though. The spell probably only worked on flesh and metal.”

“A part of me died when I thought you had died,” Feril said. She cupped Dhamon’s face and ran her fingers along his lips.

“I wonder if Palin knows the spell that got you here?” the

Render continued. “Say, Dhamon, how long were you with the Knights of Takhisis?”

Dhamon sighed and stared down at the kender. “Six years, nearly seven. I was young when they recruited me.” He hoped the kender wouldn’t press the matter, as he had no desire to talk anymore about it, and hoped she’d get distracted with another topic.

“What rank did you hold?”

“I was promoted to knight-officer before I left.”

“And just why did you—”

“We’ll be pushing off within the hour,” Gilthanas announced as he stepped between Blister and Dhamon. “Feril’s probably told you that_we’re in a hurry—a race to gain some ancient magic. You’ve got just enough time to run into town and buy yourself a few clothes.” The elf extended a handful of steel pieces, which Rig had hesitantly surrendered a few minutes earlier. “I know Feril’s not especially enamored of cities, but I bet she could help.”

The Kagonesti happily tugged Dhamon toward the docks, and away from Blister’s suggestions about colors, styles, and fabrics.

“Within the hour!” Gilthanas called after them. The Qualinesti turned his attention to the kender, who wanted to hear his version of the fight with the knights outside Witdel.

Later that night, when Flint’s Anvil was again heading toward Southern Ergoth, Palin and Usha called a meeting. Sageth paced near them, consulting his tablet and speculating as to whether the ship or the dragon would reach the artifacts first.

“Ulin, Gilthanas, and Groller will be traveling to the Tomb of Huma to find the lance,” Palin began.

“And he with the purest heart should carry it,” Sageth interrupted. “It will scald the soul and body of an evil man—burn the flesh, singe the bone, destroy the—”

“We’re all good people here,” Ulin said.

Palin nodded. “And we all understand the importance of what we’re undertaking. While they search, the ship will continue to Ankatavaka near the Qualinesti lands. From there, Feril, Jasper, and I will…”

Blister waved her hand to get the sorcerer’s attention. “Since Feril’s from Southern Ergoth, why isn’t she going to the tomb?”

The Kagonesti, who was clutching Dhamon’s hand, leaned close to the kender. “My decision, Blister. It is my home. And because of that, I would be distracted, thinking about the land and the dragon, the wolves I left behind. Nothing must interfere with getting the lance. Beside that, I don’t know where the tomb is. Gilthanas does.”

Blister thought about it for a moment. “Good idea,” she said finally.

Palin cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention again. “In the Qualinesti forest, we will search for the scepter—the Fist of E’li. I know those lands well, and Feril knows forests. Hopefully we can find the tower that Sageth has spoken of, even though the land has been altered.”

“An old tower,” Sageth ducked, “older than me and standing straighten”

“Rig, Dhamon, Blister and Sageth will go to Schallsea to meet with Goldmoon and ask for her medallion.” He looked at Dhamon. “Perhaps Goldmoon can do something about the scale.”

The former knight turned to Feril. “I don’t ever want to leave you again.”

“This won’t take long,” she finished. “Then we’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

Rig rolled his eyes at the pair. “Anyway, that’s only three artifacts ” he said to Palin. “Where do we get the fourth?”

“Yes, must have four,” Sageth said.

“I know where to find Dalamar’s ring,” Palin replied. “Obtaining it will not be difficult”

“Good, the land of the sea elves is too far away,” the mariner said.

“I will reunite us all in the end” the sorcerer concluded. And may we be successful, he thought, before all the free lands of Krynn go away forever.

Palin slipped away from the others briefly that night, journeying hundreds of miles to the Tower of Wayreth.

The Shadow Sorcerer greeted him, telling him of the Peak of Malys—a lofty ridge ringed by volcanoes. Several glowed orange, and lines of vermillion ran down their sides, ribbons of steaming lava that in the scrying bowl looked like bright strands of thread sewn against dark fabric.

The Master of the Tower interrupted their discussion. “I have found nothing in your Uncle Raistlin’s notes about dragon scales embedded in humans, nothing to even hint at how or why it might be done. Perhaps it has never been done before.” He closed a thick tome and replaced it on the shelf. “In any event, I do not like the sound of it. Such a graft is evil magic to be certain and should be removed immediately”

“The knight said that would kill Dhamon.”

“The scale itself might kill him, might be killing him now,” the Master said. There was an edge to his soft voice. “You have a healer with you. Perhaps the dwarf can save your Dhamon Grimwulf after the scale is extracted.”

“Do you want to take that chance?” The Shadow Sorcerer asked. “I would trust the knight’s words, Majere. The scale was on him, and you said when he pried it off, he died quickly. You are wise to wait and have Goldmoon attend to the matter. She is a much more accomplished healer than your dwarf.”

Palin glanced at both of his robed associates. Their features obscured by their hoods, it was impossible to read their expressions or guess what they were thinking. “The scale seems to be doing him no harm at the moment. Perhaps there is time to wait until Goldmoon can look at it.”

The Shadow Sorcerer bowed slightly to Palin. “She is the one who selected him as her champion. Let her deal with him.”