Stephen Sullivan - The Dragon Isles

Ula thrust her head above water. Every bone in her body ached, and lights danced before her eyes. The entire world seemed distant and unreal-some nightmare reality unconnected to her.

Lighting crashed into the sea, and the waves heaved up like mountains. Red Wake , not so terribly far away, listed horribly, as though it might sink at any moment.

From the sky above, Shimmer fluttered down toward Tempest, who writhed upon the steep slopes of the Isle of Fire. The bronze dragon looked worse than Ula had ever seen him, but somehow he persevered. And was that Mik on Shimmer’s back?

Yes, it was! The sailor held Kell’s coral lance in his hands, poised to strike Tempest’s black heart.

As Ula’s friends drew near the sea dragon, though, Tempest turned toward them, steam leaking from between her hideous teeth.

“Look out!” Ula cried, though the crashing of the waves and the din of the storm smothered her warning.

Tempest threw her jaws wide and belched a cloud of boiling steam at the bronze dragon and his rider.

Shimmer thrust the remnants of his tattered wings wide, trying to shield Mik from Tempest’s scalding blast. The bronze dragon’s eyes and scales blistered, and the membranes covering his wings sizzled away, but his stratagem worked.

Mik gasped for breath, and his skin scorched, but he held on. “Shimmer!” he cried, but the bronze dragon could not hear him. Blindly, Shimanloreth fell toward the Isle of Fire.

Tempest snapped at them, but missed, as they passed her awful head.

Shimmer crashed heavily into the plaza below the Temple of the Sky.

The bronze dragon’s weight shook the 1 courtyard and smashed the marble flagstones into shards. The landing’s decorative columns toppled like ninepins, but the silver stair persevered.

The bone-jarring impact of the landing threw Mik from Shimmer’s back. The sailor twisted in the air and hit hard in the rubble near the base of the final stair. Thunder roared in Mik’s ears; he fought to keep from blacking out.

Shimmer, slowly shrinking into a smaller, half-human form, lay broken and bleeding amid the remnants of the plaza. He breathed in ragged, shallow gasps, but otherwise did not move. Rain cascaded down around them, pelting Mik’s scorched skin like a thousand tiny needles.

The coral lance lay near the mariner’s right hand, and he picked it up. Groggily, he got to his feet and peered toward the ocean below. What he saw froze his heart.

Half-blinded and maimed, but not nearly dead, the immense form of Tempest crawled up the silver stair toward them. In her remaining yellow eye burned all the fires of hatred within the evil dragon’s soul.

“Thank you… for bringing me… my key… little man!” she hissed, her voice shaking the mountain.

She belched another gout of boiling steam, but Mik ducked back toward the upper stairway, and the angle of the plaza shielded him from the blast.

He turned and ran up the stairs toward the temple, his exhausted muscles burning with every step.

Tempest reached the shattered landing and glowered up at him. A long trail of her blood covered the stairs below, and her heaving breath shook the broken flagstones. With barely a sideways glance, she batted Shimmer’s body off the plaza. The bronze knight sailed through the air, trailing streamers of blood, and crashed into the sea at the mountain’s base.

Mik reached the Temple of the Sky. The ancient key burned on his chest, and the great diamond flared in its presence. The cornerstone of the Veil shown nearly as bright as the sun, chasing away the storm’s dark shadows.

The sailor cursed himself. He was no magician, as Karista had once been. He didn’t know how to turn the power of the gem or the key against the monster pursuing him. He had already used every trick he knew. Before him lurked the sea dragon, at his back, the fiery maw of the volcano. All his friends were dead, and he had no place left to turn.

The coral lance throbbed within his grasp and Mik fought to maintain his grip. His scorched, blood-stained hands looked ghostly pale-almost white in the blinding light from the glittering diamond. The key hanging at his chest burned almost as brightly. He could not bear to look at either of them.

A deadly smile drew slowly over Mik Vardan’s battered and bloody face.

Roaring her pain and rage, Tempest lumbered up the steps and into the temple. She cast her undamaged baleful eye around the temple plaza, seeking her foe, but did not see him.

The great diamond burned at the center of the temple, bright as the sun. She could not look at it and turned away. As she did, Mikal Vardan stepped from behind the diamond and thrust the coral lance into her remaining eye.

Tempest shrieked and thrashed her head, yanking the lance from Mik’s hand. The weapon shot out of her punctured eye and soared through the air into the surf far below. The weapon, though, had done its work.

Blinded, Tempest surged toward Mik, smashing the temple’s columns as she came.

The sailor grabbed the keystone diamond and dove out of her way-not quite fast enough.

Tempest’s body hit him hard, and he flew through the courtyard into a fallen column. Agony like lightning shot up his back, and the huge diamond slipped from his grasp.

The sea dragon barreled on, unaware in her agony that she had already struck her enemy. She thundered through the temple, howling in rage and pain. By the time her webbed foretalons hit the rim of the volcano, she had too much momentum to stop.

With a startled shriek, Tempest fell over the edge of the crater and into the volcano’s fiery heart. In an instant, the lava consumed her.

Dazed and bleeding, Mik rose to his feet.

The island shuddered with the dragon’s passing, and the volcano stirred to life.

Though the Temple of the Sky lay in ruins, miraculously, the rune-carved column at its center remained standing. Mik retrieved the great diamond-glowing only dimly now-and placed it back on its pedestal.

He took a long, deep breath, but it cleared his head only a little. The temple floor trembled again, and the red glow from the crater beyond increased.

Mik gazed down at the key hanging around his neck. Its bejeweled surface sparkled seductively, and a picture formed in his mind-a monstrous, glittering diamond, not nearly so precious now as the friends he had lost.

The treasures in the pit surrounding the pedestal glowed bright red-the color of blood. The diamonds and jewels whispered to him. In his mind’s eye, Mikal Vardan saw himself surrounded by wealth, he saw the Veil fading into the mists of time, and he saw the Dragon Isles fall.

“No,” Mik said softly.

He pulled the jeweled key from around his neck and cast it into the rising lava.

As the key’s magic abated, the temple around him grew transparent, like a mirage that disappears when approached. Mik felt the flagstones under his feet quiver. He cursed himself for a fool and sprinted toward the stairs.

“Serves me right for not understanding more about magic,” he said to no one in particular.

Mik leaped down the silver stairway, taking three or four steps at a time. As he neared the plaza below, though, the stairs seemed less like stone and more like clouds beneath his feet.

Knowing he had little time left before the silver stair disappeared altogether, he raced to the precipice and threw himself over the edge. He cleared the volcano’s cliff-like face easily enough, but his mind was still groggy, and the ocean below seemed to be rushing up to greet him awfully fast.

Mik hit the surging waves like a sack of bricks; the ocean smashed the breath from his weary body.

He tumbled head over heels through the breakers and sank below the surface. Instinctively, he reached for his enchanted fish necklace, only then remembering it was gone.