Paul Thompson - Riverwind

“The copper deposits in this cave are very rich.”

The plainsman took Di An's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked at him and smiled. “You are a very kind master, Mors.”

Suddenly, the staff, which had been lying across River-wind's knees, began to glow. Riverwind jumped up, holding it out like a blazing torch. “On your feet,” he said, staring at the staff. “Something's happening!”

Even at the distance of almost a mile, Riverwind could feel the leading edge of the dragonfear projected by Khi-santh. The dragon was coming. He jerked Di An to her feet and started down the sloping sand to the water's edge.

A black shape rose in the twilight sky above the ruined city. Even in her muddled state, Di An felt the dragonfear. She gasped with apprehension and pulled her hand free of Riverwind's-not to run away from him, but to run ahead of him.

They splashed into the dirty water. Scum clung to their legs, browning the elf girl's pale white skin. Riverwind wouldn't look back to see if the dragon was coming. The staff was glowing brighter, like a beacon in the half-light. As they slogged through the shallow mire, a gust of wind swept over them as Khisanth's wings disturbed the air.

The Blue Crystal Staff went dark as suddenly as it had begun to glow. The dragon circled around for an attack.

“No!” Riverwind shouted, shaking the inert wooden rod. “Don't leave! What did I do wrong?”

Khisanth extended her long, snaky neck. Her mouth gaped as she drew in air. “Meddling vermin!” she roared. A steaming mist of acid gushed from the dragon's throat. It settled over the swamp like a lethal fog. Riverwind saw the yellowish cloud descending, but the Staff of Mishakal was useless wood in his grip.

“Get down!” he said to the weeping Di An.

“Help me, Mors!” she pleaded fearfully. Riverwind grabbed her arms and threw her down in the brackish water. He followed close behind.

It was dark and unpleasantly warm in that muddy soup. He held Di An close and stayed under for as long as he could hold his breath. Then, he raised his head cautiously. The poisonous acid was drifting away on the wind, but the iron-claw trees on a nearby high point showed signs of withering. Their hard, shiny leaves shriveled, turned black, and dropped like dead birds into the water.

Khisanth was flapping hard to regain height. Dragging Di An along by the wrist, Riverwind splashed into shallower water, toward a bed of marsh reeds. The dragon was banking left, circling around for another attack.

Working fast, Riverwind lopped off two stalks and snapped the flowering heads off the reeds. He pushed Di An down into the soft, muddy clot of roots. “Put this end in your mouth,” he explained hurriedly. “Breathe through it. And don't move until I tell you, all right?”

Riverwind made sure she had the reed in her mouth. He eased her down into the black gruel of mud, then lay down beside her and submerged himself. Warm mud trickled in his ears. Reed roots poked him in the sides and back. Riverwind lay very still, listening, listening-

He distinctly heard the whoosh as the dragon passed over. Khisanth screeched, “Where are you, worms? You cannot hide from me!”

The dragon flew back and forth over the swamp, crying maledictions and spewing acid on anything that moved. An hour passed. Then two. The creatures of the swamp returned to their habits even as Riverwind and Di An lay embedded in their home. Slithery things slipped over and around him; crawling things with many legs marched up and down his motionless body. He wanted to yell, to scrape the itchy, filthy mud from his skin, but he knew that Khisanth was waiting, watching, circling, ready to tear them both to pieces.

The dragon eventually ceased its frustrated crying and kept watch silently, tempting her prey to reveal themselves. But Riverwind's resolve never weakened. He waited for what seemed like half the night before raising himself to the surface. Foul water ran off his face. He opened his eyes. A glistening green face was only inches from his.

He puckered his lips, blew hard, and the frog hopped away. The two bright moons of Krynn were up, their combined light casting a pinkish aura over the swamp. The sky was clear of clouds and the dragon. Riverwind sat up. Gobs of gray mud slid off his chest. He reached over and roused Di An. She was slow to respond. He shook her. Di An sat up, mudbugs scurrying off her shoulders and neck. “Hello, Father,” she said. “I'm hungry.”

“I know. I'm hungry, too.” He turned his head slowly, listening and looking. “I think the dragon has gone.” River-wind stood. Di An gave a mild exclamation. “What is it?” he asked.

“You have warts.”

“Warts? What?” Riverwind ran a hand down the back of one leg and felt soft lumps on his skin. He twisted around to see.

“Filthy leeches!” he cried. Nearly a dozen spotted the backs of his legs. Di An rose. She hadn't a one. Apparently Hestite blood didn't appeal to them.

“My eye for a crock of salt!” he groaned. “Or a heated brand!”

“Shall I make a fire, Father?” the elf girl asked.

“No!” Riverwind said sharply. “The dragon might see it.” Shivering with disgust, Riverwind used his sword to scrape the nasty creatures off. When he was done, his legs were streaked with blood. He looked as if he'd been in a fearsome battle.

“We've got to get out of this swamp,” he said. “We'll be better off in the highlands even if the dragon does continue to hunt us.” Di An's answer was dreamy and nonsensical.

With the stars to guide him, Riverwind chose a path that led due west. It took them through the black heart of the Cursed Lands, Fever Lake. They tramped all night in slimy water up to Riverwind's thighs. He remembered the leeches and shook with revulsion. Di An hummed a repetitive tune.

“Do you have to do that?” he asked through chattering teeth. She paid him no heed, and he turned on her in a quick blaze of fury. “Be quiet!”

Di An stared blankly at him, unmindful of the flies and gnats that crawled across her face.

Riverwind passed a hand across his forehead. The heat of his dry brow was evident. “I've got the fever,” he said. “And no wonder. Lying in the mud all night, and those damned bloodsuckers-” Di An aroused such pity in him that his anger went away as quickly as it had arisen. “I'm sorry I shouted,” Riverwind said. A chill swept over him. “It's- ahh-not your fault.”

“You are kind.” She pushed a strand of mud-caked hair behind her high-pointed ear. “Mors, are you certain this is the right tunnel?”

Riverwind looked west across the flat, marshy plain and sighed. “It's the only tunnel we've got,” he said. He hooked his arm in hers. “Come. Let's not waste the darkness.”

Shanz and his remaining draconian soldiers stood on a dry spit of sand not far from the temple of Mishakal. Hulking large above them was the upright form of Khisanth.

“They have entered Fever Lake,” Shanz said. His reptilian eyes could pierce the dark of night and follow Riverwind and Di An by the heat of their trail. From where he stood now, he could see their path twisting dimly away.

“No warm-blood has ever crossed the lake and lived,” the dragon said smugly.

“What is your bidding, Great One?” Shanz asked.

Khisanth's massive foreclaw rested lightly on the dracon-ian's bare head. She petted Shanz as a woman would stroke a cat. “We have much work to do here. In a few days, go out and recover that staff. I cannot allow so powerful a talisman to fall into human hands.”

“It shall be done, Great One.”

“Excellent. Then I shall see to the enlargement of your garrison. Prepare for the arrival of more troops.”

Shanz asked, “The end of Krago's plan does not distress you?”