Jean Rabe - The Day of the Tempest

Ulin tried to collect his thoughts; this news about Takhisis returning was amazing.

“Goldmoon believes the gods are merely away, watching mortals,” he said. “She believes they will someday return. But Takhisis…” He sagged against the smooth wall, sliding to the floor. “If the Dark Queen comes back, all is lost.”

“She will come back. It has been prophesied,” said one of the Dark Knights, standing up a bit taller.

Sunrise shot a glare at the prisoner. “Palin Majere must be told of Frost’s words,” Sunrise said. “He can warn others, including the other sorcerers he knows. But it is not Ulin who must do the telling.” The dragon-youth’s eyes sparkled.

Ulin returned the dragon’s gaze, remembering how he had called upon Sunrise’s magical aura to power his spell. “Gilthanas, I’m staying here, too.”

The dragon shimmed just above the lush canopy. Black as night, it stood out in the pale morning sky. The shadow dragon craned its featureless neck this way and that so it could better see through gaps in the branches. Not spotting what it was looking for, it reached out with its magical mind, searching for the lesser dragons in Beryl’s forest. The Green Peril, the great overlord who claimed the Qualinesti lands, had minion green dragons living in her realm.

It growled softly, a noise sounding like the wind blowing through a crack in a window, and clenched and unclenched its jet-black claws. It had planned to slay a green dragon this day, though by now it would settle for a black. And so it had confined its search to the rich forest and swampland where those types of dragons were more likely to be found.

“Perhaps to the northeast,” the shadow dragon growled, sounding like a gusting wind now. “A small black in Onysablet’s swamp. Or to the …” The words hung in the air. Something had caught its attention. It opened its black eyes wide and peered at two humans, an elf, and a dwarf who were working their way through the dense undergrowth.

“Palin Majere,” the shadow dragon observed. “And his wife, Usha.” It followed them, hovering so close to the canopy that its claws touched the topmost branches, listening to the sorcerer and his friends’ unnecessary banter and guessing at their purpose. “The elf. She has magic about her, too. Fascinating. And foolish. They have no clue they are being watched.”

The dragon had the patience to watch and wait—until it picked up the scent of a more interesting quarry only a few miles away. Its midnight nostrils quivered, and its eyes narrowed. “A black,” it breathed. It sniffed again. “A young one. Another time, Palin Majere.”

The shadow dragon banked to the north and let its magical mind lead it to its prey.

There was too much green as far as the dwarf was concerned. So much green he could barely see the sky or the ground. Of course, there was considerable variety in the shades—light green, dark green, drab green that matched Usha’s tunic and leggings, emerald green, olive green, green so dark it looked nearly black, and green so pale it looked practically white.

If the dwarf looked closely at the ground, between the swatches of thick grass and spreading ivy, he could also see dark brown—the mud left behind from the torrential rain that had washed over them just before dawn. They’d been put ashore a few days ago—when the sky was a brilliant blue and there were no hints of clouds. That quickly changed, however, and it had been raining every day since. The dampness made the green colors seem more vivid.

But if Jasper stared at the trees, he could see the lighter browns and grays of the trunks between the large patches of lime green moss and the thick veil of vines. There were bits of blue and purple here and there too, and splotches of red—flowers. But they were essentially beneath his notice next to all of the green. All that green made him sneeze and made his eyes water. “Gilthanas thought I’d slow them down in Southern Ergoth,” he chuckled as he wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. “Oh, nuts.” He felt his foot step on something soft, and at first he figured it was a patch of moss. But a quick glance revealed that in his effort to avoid a mud puddle, he’d just stepped into a moss-covered, rotting log. “Nuts. Nuts. Nuts.” He struggled to yank his foot free.

“Jasper, what’s wrong?” Usha asked.

“It’s not the green,” he muttered in answer. “It’s this place. I should’ve gone with Gilthanas. How are he and Ulin gonna be able to talk to Groller anyway? Should’ve argued with them.”

“Jasper?” It was Feril’s voice. The Kagonesti and Palin had been walking a few yards ahead, discussing Dhamon and the problem of the scale on his leg. They had noticed the sudden silence—the absence of the dwarf’s thrashing through the brush behind them.

“There was mud surrounding the log,” Jasper said. “I was just trying to keep my boots clean.”

Usha and the Kagonesti softly laughed. “There’s no way Jasper will truly appreciate these surroundings,” Feril told Palin’s wife.

“I’m having a little trouble appreciating them myself”

Usha softly returned, as she backed away from the struggling dwarf. “Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on coming along. I’m just tired of hearing about all of Palin’s exploits secondhand. I like to be part of them myself every now and then.”

Palin fell to freeing the dwarf. The rotting log was filled with mud, moss and insects. When the dwarf’s foot finally came loose, he hopped about on the other and looked for a relatively dry spot of ground. He found one at the base of a massive oak. The dwarf tugged off the offending boot, and water and mud spilled out. A cloud of gnats instantly formed around him.

Palin was patient enough to wait, gazing at his wife while he did so. He hadn’t protested too loudly when she said she had wanted to come along. He knew it might be dangerous, but Usha was right—no place on Krynn was truly safe anymore. He offered her a slight smile. Her eyes twinkled merrily. He thought she looked beautiful with all of the greenery around her.

“Didn’t mean to slow things,” the dwarf apologized. Until now he hadn’t slowed them down much, despite his short legs. He tugged his dagger free and ran the blade around the inside of the boot to get out as much of the mud as possible. Next he loosened his sash and used it to dry out the inside. Afterward Jasper stuffed the muddy sash in his pocket.

Usha offered him a kind word here and there, while Palin swatted at a foglike swarm of mosquitoes that had augmented the gnats. The Kagonesti stepped a few feet away, and listened to the peaceful woods.

“I could live in this place oh so easily,” she said.

“Bet Dhamon wouldn’t like it” Jasper cut in. “Too many bugs.” Satisfied with his cleaning effort, he thrust his foot inside the boot and grimaced. “Still a little wet,” he mumbled. “Well, it could’ve been worse. Could’ve stuck both feet in.”

Palin helped the dwarf to his feet. “Feril, decades ago this was a temperate forest, vastly different from this … jungle. I visited here then.”

“Beryl has changed it,” Feril said, frowning and glancing upward.

The largest trees stretched well more than a hundred feet into the air with trunks wider than a house, forming a dense canopy through which only the brightest light filtered down. Dozens of heady scents assailed her—rotting wood; the wet, rich earth; a profusion of wildflowers, most of them hidden behind giant fern leaves; the thick moss that spread across the ground and over stones and up the trunks of the trees. There were the scents of animals, too. The Kagonesti recognized fox, bear, raccoon, squirrel. There were other odors, musky ones she couldn’t quite identify, and these intrigued her.