“No!” Feril screamed, as she watched the dragon plunge into the lake. The water rose up in a great tower. She scrambled down the hill, her feet flying over the slick rocks and mud. Rig and Palin followed, tumbling and sliding.
The rain was softer by the time they reached the shore. The wind was dying down. The clouds were thinning, letting the blue of the sky peek through and reflect itself in the lake’s roiling surface. The water was just starting to calm itself.
Feril stood at the shore, water gently lapping around her feet. She took a few steps out, until the water was just below her knees, then she extended her senses into the water, trying to find Dhamon, the dragon, any hint of life.
Palin moved up behind her, knelt, and touched his fingers to the water’s edge. He murmured words to a simple enchantment, and ripples raced away from him. “Dhamon,” Palin whispered. “Find Dhamon.” But the spell found no living trace of the former knight. The ripples dissipated.
Rig placed a hand on Feril’s shoulder, every bit as concerned as Palin and the Kagonesti.
A bubble formed in the center of the lake, then another and another, until Feril’s heart began to beat with faint hope. But then the bubbles stopped, as did the rain. The wind ceased. And hope died.
Palin stood and tugged her toward the shore. She buried her face in his shoulder. The sorcerer wrapped his arms comfortingly around her.
“He killed the dragon,” Palin said simply.
“That dragon had to be the Blue from the Northern Wastes,” Rig said quickly. “The one that created the spawn, controlled the ogres. Left alive, it could have destroyed Palanthas—and more. Dhamon won.”
“At the cost of his life,” Feril sobbed.
And Shaon’s life, the mariner silently added. Rig shouldered the lance. He guessed the weapon was his now to use against another dragon, perhaps the White in Southern Ergoth. He felt numb, and useless, however. And he couldn’t bring himself to leave the spot.
“Victory rarely comes without a considerable cost,” the mariner said, finally breaking the silence. He reached out and touched Feril. “I’m going to honor Shaon and Dhamon by continuing the struggle—whatever the cost.”
Feril nodded and looked up into Palm’s eyes.
“We’ve a mast to mend,” the sorcerer said, as he glanced toward Palanthas. “We’ve fallen friends to honor. And we’ve many more battles ahead of us.”
Feril edged away from him. Tears continued to spill from her cheeks, and her slight frame trembled.
Palin Majere took a last look at the lake, then turned toward the city. Rig and Feril fell in place behind him.