Jean Rabe: Dragons of a New Age

“The magic is gone from this portal, from all of the portals.”

“Who are you?” the dragon boomed in a voice that could be heard above the thunder.

“No one of consequence,” the voice replied.

“How do you know this?”

“I know there is little magic left on Krynn.”

“Reveal yourself!” Khellendros snapped, as his tail lashed out again and knocked over two more stones.

“Careful!” the speaker cautioned, at last showing himself.

One of the ancient stones pulled back from the circle, shimmered dully, shrank, and, like clay being worked by a skilled potter, formed itself into a small, humanlike image. The man was little more than a foot tall, naked and gray. He had no ears, only tiny holes on the sides of his head, and his eyes were large and black, without pupils. His fingers were reed thin and pointed, like his small teeth.

The dragon moved forward, raised a paw, and drove it down to squash the little man. But the speaker was fast. He darted to the side, clung to one of the stones, and made “tsk-tsk” sounds.

“Killing me will not make the portals work.”

“What are you?” Khellendros boomed.

“A huldrefolk,” the man replied.

“A faerie,” the blue dragon hissed, his eyes narrowing.

“You know of us?”

Khellendros lowered his head until his nose was mere inches from the huldrefolk’s small form. “One of Krynn’s lost races,” the dragon intoned flatly. “A shapeshifter, a master of elements. A master of earth?”

The gray man nodded his bald head.

“You live in The Gray.”

“Or wherever suits my tastes. Suited ,” he quickly corrected himself.

“I want to access The Gray,” Khellendros growled.

“As do I,” the huldrefolk said. “I prefer it to other realms. But the magic is gone from this world. The battle in the Abyss saw to that.”

“The Abyss?” Khellendros’s golden eyes grew wide. The kapak had mentioned a battle in the Abyss, but the dragon had paid no attention to the creature and its ramblings.

“Weren’t you there?” the huldrefolk began. “I thought all the dragons were in the Abyss, summoned by Takhisis.”

“I was... elsewhere.” The blue dragon’s words were iced with menace. “What happened to provoke such a battle?”

“The Graygem—the stone that held the essence of Chaos, the all-father—was shattered. He was released, and he was furious he’d been imprisoned for so many centuries. He threatened to destroy Krynn as punishment to his children, who had trapped him in the gem. So his children, the lesser gods, joined together to fight him. The dragons helped, as well as many humans—plus elves, kender, and the like.”

“Takhisis?”

“She’s gone,” the small man said.

“How could she abandon her children, especially if they fought at her behest?”

“In the end all the gods abandoned their children. Chaos could not be truly bested, though somehow his essence was captured again in the Graygem. The lesser gods vowed to leave Krynn if Chaos would promise not to destroy it. And when he agreed, they left, taking the three moons and magic with them. There’s only one moon now.”

Khellendros stared up at the large orb so unlike the other moons. “All the magic is gone?”

The huldrefolk shrugged. “The magic that powers the portals—that’s gone. The magic sorcerers call on to cast their spells is gone too. There’s a little magic left here and there in the earth, in old weapons and baubles, and in creatures like you and me,” he continued. “But that’s all. They call this the Age of Mortals, but I call it the Age of Despair.”

Khellendros stared beyond the huldrefolk, through the sheets of rain that continued to drive against the ground. “Magical items still have power?”

The huldrefolk nodded.

“The tower in Palanthas,” the dragon said. “There are magical items stored there, lots of them. Kitiara told me about them once, and about a portal below the tower that leads to the Abyss.”

“The fight in the Abyss is over,” the small man interrupted. “You missed it, remember? Which was probably a good thing, because you might have died. At least half the dragons who fought are dead. The men who fought there are dead or gone. And there’s nothing you could do there now except pick over the bones.”

Khellendros seemed not to hear him. “I shall use the magical items in the tower to open the portal, and from the Abyss I can access The Gray. I shall yet succeed and save Kitiara.”

“Aren’t you listening to me?” the gray man persisted. “The gods are gone. The world is different. Doesn’t any of this matter to you?”

Only Kitiara matters, Khellendros thought. He tensed his legs, pushed off from the ground, and joined the terrible storm.

Palin awoke in a sweat, the sheets drenched and his long auburn hair plastered to the sides of his face. His chest heaved, and he took in great gulps of air trying to calm himself.

Usha stirred next to him. He tried to get out of bed without waking her, but he didn’t succeed.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered. She sat up and ran her fingers across Palin’s forehead. “You’ve a fever! You’ve had that dream again.”

“Yes,” he replied softly. “But this time it was worse than before.” His feet stretched to the cold stone floor, and he stood and padded to the window. He pulled back the heavy curtain and peered toward the east, where the sun was just starting to show itself. “This time I’m convinced it’s more than a dream.”

Usha shuddered and climbed out of bed, drawing a silk robe about her. She glided toward him and rested her head on his bare shoulder. “It was the blue dragon?”

He nodded. “I saw him flying toward Palanthas again. This time he reached the city.” He turned toward her, wrapped his arms around her slight frame, and bent his head down and brushed his lips over her cheek. He stared into her golden eyes and combed his fingers through her disheveled silvery hair. The strands caught the first rays of the sun and glimmered. Even just roused from sleep, she was beautiful. “I think you’ve married a madman, Usha.”

She hugged him tightly. “I think I married a wonderful man,” she returned. “And I think, husband, you might have inherited your Uncle Raistlin’s ability to see the future.”

They were married less than a month ago, after Usha had convinced Palin she was no relation to Raistlin, though she had golden eyes and silvery white hair. Raistlin had not been seen for some time. The two had taken up residence in Solace, though Palin visited the Tower of Wayreth frequently.

Palin edged away from her. His intense green eyes peered out the window and over the Solamnian countryside. The tower sat just outside the city of Solanthus now, as it had for several weeks. Tomorrow it might be somewhere else. The tower never stayed in one spot too long, and it sometimes moved at Palin’s behest. The tower’s ability to manipulate space was one of the enchantments that remained with Krynn despite the disappearance of the gods of magic. Palin had learned that things imbued with magic before the war against Chaos, retained their magic.

“Let’s see if I can give this dream... this premonition,” he corrected himself, “a little more substance.” He walked over to a large oak bureau in one corner of the room, retrieved a pewter hand mirror from the top drawer, and returned to Usha’s side. Turning his back to the window, he drew his concentration to a spot in the center of the mirror’s glassy surface as she intently leaned forward, her elbows resting on the sill.

There was a flash of light as the sun struck the mirror, and then the air shimmered and sparkled and a large, pale green oval frame materialized within the glass. Inside the frame, a picture took shape. At first the hues ran together like water-colors, but then the image sharpened and came into lifelike focus. The sun was setting on the Palanthas harbor, and a large bird was skimming across the top of the gentle waves, angling itself toward the western shoreline.