Dragonlance 10 - The Second Generation (29 page)

Staggering to their feet, they made their way out of the lean-to and across the deck, not an easy task since it was listing steeply to port.

"What is it? What's happened? Where are we?" demanded Tanin, rubbing his eyes.

"We've arrived!" announced Dougan, smoothing his beard in satisfaction. "Look!" He made a grand, sweeping gesture toward what was—at this time—the prow. "The Isle of Gargath." The brothers looked. At first all they could see was a confused mass of split sail, dangled ropes, broken beams, and gnomes waving their hands, arguing furiously, and shoving each other about. The motion of the ship through the water had ceased, due, no doubt, to the presence of a cliff, which had bashed in the figurehead, part of the hull, and snapped the sail in two.

His face grim, Tanin made his way through the wreckage, followed by Sturm and Palin, several bickering gnomes, and the dwarf. Reaching the prow, he clung to the side and stared out past the cliff face toward the island. The sun was rising behind them, shedding its bright light upon a stretch of sandy beach that curved out of sight to the north, vanishing in a patch of gray fog. Strange-looking trees with thin, smooth trunks that erupted in a flourish of frond-like leaves at the top surrounded the beach. Beyond the wide, sandy strip, towering above the trees and the cliff face upon which the boat now rested, was a gigantic mountain. A cloud of gray smoke hung over it, casting a pall upon the beach, the water, and the ship.

"The Isle of Gargath," Dougan repeated triumphantly.

"Gargath?" Palin gaped. "You mean—"

"Aye, laddie. The lord himself followed the Graygem, if you remember, when it escaped. He built a ship and sailed after it as it vanished over the western horizon, and that was the last anyone on Ansalon ever heard of him. His family figured he had dropped off the edge of the world. But, a few years back, I happened to be drinking with a group of minotaurs. One thing led to another, there was a game, as I recall, and I won this map off them." Reaching into the pocket of his red velvet coat (now much the worse for wear and salt water), Dougan pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Tanin.

"It's a minotaur map, all right," Tanin said, setting it down on the listing rail and smoothing it out, trying to keep his balance at the same time. Sturm lurched over to see, and Palin crowded next to him, bracing himself on the Staff of Magius. Though it was written in the uncouth language of the man beasts, the map was drawn with the precision and skill for which minotaurs are grudgingly renowned by the civilized races of Krynn. There was no mistaking the continent of Ansalon or, much farther to the west, a tiny island with the word "Gargath" written out to the side.

"What does that mean," Sturm asked, pointing to an ominous-looking symbol next to the island, "that thing that looks like a bull's head with a sword stuck through it?"

"That?" repeated Dougan, shrugging nonchalantly. Snatching the map from Tanin, he rolled it up hastily. "Some minotaur doodle, no doubt—"

"The minotaur 'doodle' for danger," Palin said grimly. "Isn't that right?" Dougan flushed, thrusting the map back into his pocket. "Well, now, laddie, I believe you may be on to something there, although I personally don't put much stock in what those savage creatures might take it into their heads to draw—"

"Those 'savage creatures' have marked this island with their strongest warning!" Palin interrupted.

"No minotaur ship will land anywhere bearing that mark," he added, turning to his brothers.

"And there are few things in this world or the next that minotaurs fear," Tanin said, staring at the island, his face dark.

"What more proof do you need?" asked Dougan in a soft voice, following Tanin's gaze; the dwarf's dark, bright eyes were filled with hunger. "The Graygem is here! It is its power the minotaurs feel and fear!"

"What do you think, Palin?" Tanin turned to his youngest brother. "You're the magic-user. Surely you can sense it."

Once again, Palin felt the thrill of pleasure, seeing his older brothers, the two people he looked up to in this world most with the exception of his father—or maybe even more than his father—looking at him respectfully, awaiting his judgment. Gripping the Staff of Magius, Palin closed his eyes and tried to concentrate and, as he did so, a chill feeling clutched his heart with fingers of ice, spreading its cold fear through his body. He shuddered and opened his eyes to find Tanin and Sturm regarding him anxiously.

"Palin—your face! You're as pale as death. What is it?"

"I don't know…" Palin faltered, his mouth dry. "I felt something, but what I'm not sure. It wasn't danger so much as a lost and empty feeling, a feeling of helplessness. Everything around me was spinning out of control. There was nothing I could do to stop it—"

"The power of the gem," Dougan said. "You felt it, young mage! And now you know why it must be captured and returned to the gods for safekeeping. It escaped man's care before; it will escape again. The gods only know," the dwarf added sorrowfully, "what mischief it has wreaked upon the inhabitants of this wretched island."

Wagging his black beard, Dougan held out a trembling hand to Tanin. "You'll help me, lads, won't you?" he asked in heartfelt, pleading tones, so different from his usual braggadocio that Tanin was caught off guard, his anger punctured. "If you say no," continued Dougan, hanging his head, "I'll understand. Though I did win the wager, I guess it was wrong of me to get you drunk and take you prisoner when you were weak and helpless."

Tanin chewed his lip, obviously not welcoming this reminder.

"And I swear by my beard," said the dwarf solemnly, stroking it, "that if you say the word, I'll have the gnomes take you back to Ansalon. As soon as they get the ship repaired, that is."

"If they get the ship repaired!" Tanin growled at last. (This appeared unlikely. The gnomes were paying no attention whatsoever to the ship, but were arguing among themselves about who was supposed to have been on watch, who was supposed to be reading the gnomes' own map, and the committee that had drawn up the map in the first place. It was later decided that, since the cliff hadn't been marked on the map, it wasn't there. Having reached this conclusion, the gnomes were able to get to work.)

"Well, what do you two say?" Tanin turned to his brothers.

"I say that since we're here, we ought to at least take a look around," Sturm said in low tones. "If the dwarf is right and we could retrieve the Graygem, our admittance into the knighthood would be assured! As he said, we'd be heroes!"

"To say nothing of the wealth we might obtain," Tanin muttered. "Palin?" The young mage's heart beat fast. Who knows what magical powers the Graygem possesses? he thought suddenly. It could enhance my power, and I wouldn't need any great archmage to teach me! I might become a great arch-mage myself, just by touching it or… Palin shook his head. Raising his eyes, he saw his brothers' faces. Tanin's was ugly with greed, Sturm's twisted with ambition. My own face—Palin put his hand on it—what must it look like to them? He glanced down at his robes, and saw their white color faded to dirty gray. It might just be from the salt water, but it might be from something else…

"My brothers," he said urgently, "listen to us! Think what you just said! Tanin, since when did you ever go in search of wealth and not adventure!"

Tanin blinked, as if waking from a dream. "You're right! Wealth! What am I talking about? I never cared that much for money—"

"The power of the Graygem is speaking," Dougan cried. "It's beginning to corrupt you, as it corrupted others." His gaze went to the gnomes. The shoving and pushing had escalated into punching and tossing one another overboard.

"I say we should at least investigate this island," Palin said in a low voice so that the dwarf would not overhear. He drew his brothers closer. "If for no other reason than to find out if Dougan's telling the truth. If he is, and if the Graygem is here, and if we could be the ones to bring it back…"

"Oh, it's here!" Dougan said, eagerly poking his black-bearded face into their midst. "And when you bring it back, lads, why, the stories they tell of your famous father will be nothing compared to the legends they'll sing of you! And you'll be rescuing the poor people of this island from their sad fate," continued the dwarf in solemn tones.

"People?" Tanin said, startled. "You mean this place is inhabited?"

"Yes, there are people here," the dwarf said with a gusty sigh, though he was eyeing the brothers shrewdly.

"He's right," said Sturm, staring intently at the beach. "There are people on Gargath. And it doesn't look to me, Dougan Redhammer, like they want to be rescued!"

Tanin, Palin, Sturm, and the dwarf were ferried across the water from the Miracle by a party of gnomes in a dinghy. Bringing along the dinghy on board the Miracle had been the dwarf's idea, and the gnomes were enchanted with something so practical and simple. The gnomes had themselves designed a lifeboat to be attached to the Miracle. Roughly the same weight and dimensions as the ship itself, the lifeboat had been left behind, to be studied by a committee.

As the boat drew nearer to shore, surging forward with the waves and the incoming tide, the brothers could see the welcoming party. The rising sun glinted off spears and shields carried by a crowd of men who were awaiting their arrival on the beach. Tall and muscular, the men wore little clothing in the balmy clime of the island. Their skin was a rich, glistening brown, their bodies adorned with bright beads and feathers, their faces stern and resolute. The shields they carried were made of wood and painted with garish designs, the spears handmade as well—wooden with stone tips.

"Honed nice and sharp, you can believe me," said Sturm gloomily. "They'll go through flesh like a knife through butter."

"We're outnumbered at least twenty to one," Tanin pointed out to Dougan, who was sitting in the prow of the boat, fingering a battle-axe that was nearly the size of the dwarf.

"Bah! Primitives!" said Dougan contemptuously, though Palin noted the dwarf's face was a bit pale.

"First sight of steel, they'll bow down and worship us as gods."

The "gods'" arrival on the beach was something less than majestic. Tanin and Sturm did look quite magnificent in their bright steel armor of elven make and design—a gift from Porthios and Alhana of the United Elven Kingdoms. The breastplates glittered in the morning sun; their helms gleamed brightly.

Climbing out of the boat, they sank to their shins in the sand and, within minutes, were both firmly mired.

Dougan, dressed in his suit of red velvet, demanded that the gnomes take him in to shore, so he would not ruin his clothes. The dwarf had added to his costume a wide-brimmed hat decorated with a white plume that fluttered in the ocean breeze, and he was truly a wonderful sight, standing proudly in the prow of the boat with his axe at his side, glaring sternly at the warriors drawn up in battle formation on the beach.

The gnomes obeyed his injunction to the letter, running the boat aground on the beach with such force that Dougan tumbled out headfirst, narrowly missing slicing himself in two with his great battle-axe. Palin had often imagined his first battle—fighting at the side of his brothers, combining steel and magic. He had spent the journey to shore committing the few spells he knew to memory. As they drew toward land, his pulse raced with what he told himself was excitement, not fear. He was prepared for almost any eventuality… with the exception of helping a cursing, sputtering, irate dwarf to his feet; trying to dislodge his brothers from the wet sand; and facing an army of silent, grim, half-naked men.

"Why don't they attack us?" Sturm muttered, floundering about in the water, trying to keep his balance. "They could cut us to ribbons!"

"Maybe they have a law that prohibits them from harming idiots!" snapped Tanin irritably. Dougan had managed, with Palin's help, to stagger to his feet. Shaking his fist, he sent the gnomes on their way back to the ship with a parting curse, then turned and, with as much dignity as he could bluster, stomped across the beach toward the warriors. Tanin and Sturm followed more slowly, hands on the hilts of their swords. Palin came after his brothers more slowly still, his white robes wet and bedraggled, the hem caked with sand.

The warriors waited for them in silence, unmoving, their faces expressionless as they watched the strangers approach. But Palin noticed, as he drew near, that occasionally one of the men would glance uneasily back into the nearby jungle. Observing this happening more than once, Palin turned his attention to the trees. After watching and listening intently for a moment, he drew nearer Tanin.

"There's something in those trees," he said in an undertone.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Tanin growled. "Probably another fifty or so warriors."

"I don't know," Palin said thoughtfully, shaking his head. "The warriors appear to be nervous about it, maybe even—"

"Shush!" Tanin ordered sharply. "This is no time to talk, Palin! Now keep behind Sturm and me, like you're supposed to!"

"But—" Palin began.

Tanin flashed him a look of anger meant to remind the young man who was in charge. With a sigh, Palin took up his position behind his brothers. But his eyes went to the jungle and he again noticed that more than one of the warriors allowed his gaze to stray in that direction as well.

"Hail!" cried Dougan, stumping through the sand to stand in front of the warrior who, by standing out slightly in front of his fellows, appeared to be the chief. "Us gods!" proclaimed the dwarf, thumping himself on the chest. "Come from Land of Rising Sun to give greeting to our subjects on Isle of Gargath."

"You're a dwarf," said the warrior glumly, speaking excellent Common. "You've come from Ansalon, and you're probably after the Graygem."

"Well… uh… now…" Dougan appeared flustered. "That's… uh… a good guess, lad. We are, as it happens, mildly interested in… uh… the Graygem. If you'd be so good as to tell us where we might find it—"

"You can't have it," said the warrior, sounding depressed. He raised his spear. "We're here to stop you."