Stephen Sullivan - The Dragon Isles

Sunlight streamed over the aquamarine ocean, reflecting from the whitecaps and filling the air with dazzling color, as the Dragon Isles rose majestically from the sea.

Wreathed in fire, they came, but quickly cooled. In an instant, green life took root and covered them to all but the highest, cloudcapped peaks. Fish surrounded them and animals swarmed to their fertile shores. Soon the isles teemed with life.

The azure sky flashed like lightning. A thousand brilliant stars hung in the heavens-silver, orange, yellow, red, golden. No, not stars… metallic dragons.

They swarmed over the isles, changing the shape and nature of the land. They pushed up mountains, felled forests, and altered the course of rivers. They built mighty edifices and founded settlements. The good peoples of the world swarmed to their shores.

The people shaped the land now as well. With the help of the dragons, settlements became towns, and towns became cities. Metallic dragons soared the skies, and noble ships plied the crystal blue ocean.

Temples sprang up-some dedicated to lost gods, others to the glory of the isles themselves. Treasure flowed into the temples and the towns and the cities, and the Dragon Isles became wealthy.

To protect the isles, a mighty enchantment was raised: the Veil. A special treasure-filled temple was built for the spell at the top of a volcano in a remote corner of the archipelago. The fires in the belly of the isle and the plumes of ash rising to the heavens connected the enchantment to the world below and the sky above: earth, air, and fire, surrounded by water.

At the sacred mountain’s base, a second, devotionary temple rose up beneath the waves of the placid sea. The dragons and the free peoples of the isles gave their sweat, money, and magic to the effort. A great, bejeweled key in four pieces was made to seal the pact-one piece for each element: diamond for earth, emerald for water, opal for air, and ruby for fire. The dragons set a monstrous blue-white diamond at the upper temple’s summit-above a hoard of treasure-to commemorate the deed.

Stone guardians, each in the shape of dragons with glittering diamond eyes, rose from the sea bedrock. The Veil arced up between them, suffusing earth, sky, and sea. The spell set the isles apart from the world-only those who knew its secret, dragons and favored mortals, could pass its defenses.

Captain Mikal Vardan sprinted to the rail of Kingfisher and dived over the side into the pounding surf. The storm lashed his body, trying to tear away his dagger, as he plunged into the water. Mik gripped the knife tightly between his teeth; if he lost the weapon, his friend would surely die.

The magic from his enchanted fish necklace suffused Mik’s body. The gale-tossed water cleared before his sight, and warm, sweet air filled his lungs. One day, Mik knew, the necklace’s erratic magic would fail him; thankfully, today was not that day.

He spotted the struggling form of Tripleknot Shellcracker in the azure darkness before him. The kender kicked his small feet and briefly poked his head above the surface before the sea monster pulled him under once more.

The creature circled the kender tightly with its green-scaled tentacles, trying to drag Trip farther into the deep. The creature was like nothing Mik had ever seen before-a hideous cross between a serpent and an octopus. Whiplike tendrils surrounded its serpentine head, while a dozen fat tentacles sprang from its slender body. The thing had surged out of the storm onto Kingfisher’s deck and killed three sailors before retreating over the side with the kender in its grasp.

Fire had driven it off the ship, but Mik could not fight it with fire here. All he had was an enchanted necklace that let him breathe under water, a diver’s stout dagger, and his wits. He prayed they would be enough to save his friend.

Trip had weapons of his own, but the creature held the kender’s arms pinned against his sides. Though he struggled mightily, Trip couldn’t reach his slender pearl-handled knives.

Mik swam toward his friend as rapidly as he could, fighting against the heaving waters. The storm’s fury slowed the monster as well. Gigantic waves surged up from the deep and thrust the beast back toward the surface.

A tentacle flashed by the sea captain’s head. Mik grabbed it and pulled himself hand-over-hand, like a sailor scaling the rigging, toward the creature’s bloated body.

The monster spewed smaller tendrils at the sailor. Mik pulled his dagger from between his teeth and slashed, severing the limbs before they could grab him. Purplish blood clouded the ocean, swirling before Mik’s eyes.

“Hang on, Trip!” he called. “I’m coming!” The sea garbled his words, and he couldn’t tell whether the kender heard him. He could barely make out his friend through the turbulent waters.

A tentacle clouted Mik on the back of the head, and lights danced before his eyes. He felt a snake-like appendage wrap around his mid-section, trying to squeeze the life out of him. Even with his necklace turning the water to air, he still needed to breathe. Black unconsciousness closed in around him.

Fighting back the darkness, he plunged his knife into the tentacle at his waist and tore sideways. The tentacle ripped nearly in half and lost its grip. Mik swam free and shot across the gap separating him from his friend.

Trip could hold his breath for longer than almost anyone Mik knew, but he was looking pale and blue as the ship captain reached him. Mik thrust his dagger into the tentacles holding the kender and quickly cut them away.

The sea monster shrieked, its piercing wail audible even above the crashing surf and the raging storm.

Mik pushed Trip upward, and the kender kicked weakly toward the surface.

The beast thrashed in the surging water, stirring up whirlpools of bubbles and staining the water with its purplish blood. Tendrils whipped against the sea captain, biting into his skin as he clawed for the surface.

Two thick tentacles wrapped around Mik’s ankles and dragged him down as the monster lurched back into the deep. Mik stabbed at them with his dagger, but as he did, another tentacle wrapped around his arm. He tried to wriggle out of the thing’s grip, but the creature’s strength was too great.

He grappled with the ensnaring limb, trying to free his knife as they sank ever deeper into the brine.

Another tentacle came to seize him, and another, and another. He twisted from side to side, trying to deny their deadly grip. One brushed across his throat, threatening to rip away his enchanted necklace. Mik imagined himself drowning even as the creature crushed him to death.

He refused to give up.

Using both hands, he twisted his dagger sideways and slashed it across the ensnaring arm. The tentacle’s flesh tore, but it did not let go.

Something flashed by him in the storm-tossed gloom-a shark, perhaps, or sharp-toothed razorfish. A grim smile crossed the sailor’s bearded face. So many ways to die in the deep.