Under Maquesta’s orders, men scrambled aloft to reef the remaining sails. Another parry worked desperately to clear the broken mast that was swinging around wildly. The sailors attacked it with axes, cutting away the ropes, letting it fall into the blood-red water. Free of the mast’s dragging weight, the ship slowly righted itself. Though still tossed by the wind, under shortened sail, the Perechon seemed capable of riding out the storm, even with one mast gone.
The immediate peril had nearly driven all thoughts of dragons from their minds. Now that it seemed they might live a few moments longer, the companions turned to stare through the driving, leaden gray rain.
“Do you think we’ve lost them?” Caramon asked. The big warrior was bleeding from a savage cut on his head. His eyes showed the pain. But his concern was all for his brother. Raistlin staggered beside him, uninjured, but coughing so he could barely stand.
Tanis shook his head grimly. Glancing around quickly to see if anyone was hurt, he motioned the group to keep together. One by one, they stumbled through the rain, clinging to the ropes until they were gathered around the half-elf. All of them stared back out over the tossing seas.
At first they saw nothing; it was hard to see the bow of the ship through the rain and wind-tossed seas. Some of the sailors even raised a ragged cheer, thinking they had lost them.
But Tanis, his eyes looking to the west, knew that nothing short of death itself would stop the Highlord’s pursuit. Sure enough, the sailor’s cheers changed to cries of shock when the head of a blue dragon suddenly cleaved the gray clouds, its fiery eyes blazing red with hatred, its fanged mouth gaping open.
The dragon flew closer still, its great wings holding steady even though buffeted by gusts of wind and rain and hail. A Dragon Highlord sat upon the blue dragon’s back. The Highlord held no weapon, Tanis saw bitterly. She needed no weapon. She would take Berem, then her dragon would destroy the rest of them. Tanis bowed his head, sick with the knowledge of what would come, sick with the knowledge that he was responsible.
Then he looked up. There was a chance, he thought frantically. Maybe she won’t recognize Berem . . . and she wouldn’t dare destroy them all for fear of harming him. Turning to look at the helmsman, Tanis’s wild hope died at birth. It seemed the gods were conspiring against them.
The wind had blown Berem’s shirt open. Even through the gray curtain of rain, Tanis could see the green jewel embedded in the man’s chest glow more brilliantly than the green lightning, a terrible beacon shining through the storm. Berem did not notice. He did not even see the dragon. His eyes stared with fixed intensity into the storm as he steered the ship farther and farther into the Blood Sea of Istar.
Only two people saw that glittering jewel. Everyone else was held in thrall by the dragonfear, unable to look away from the huge blue creature soaring above them. Tanis saw the gemstone—as he had seen it before, months ago. And the Dragon Highlord saw it. The eyes behind the metal mask were drawn to the glowing jewel, then the Highlord’s eyes met Tanis’s eyes as the half-elf stood upon the storm-tossed deck.
A sudden gust of wind caught the blue dragon. It veered slightly, but the Highlord’s gaze never wavered. Tanis saw the horrifying future in those brown eyes. The dragon would swoop down upon them and snatch Berem up in its claws. The Highlord would exult in her victory for a long agonizing moment, then she would order the dragon to destroy them all....
Tanis saw this in her eyes as clearly as he had seen the passion in them only days before when he held her in his arms.
Never taking her eyes from him, the Dragon Highlord raised a gloved hand. It might have been a signal to the dragon to dive down upon them; it might have been a farewell to Tanis. He never knew, because at that moment a shattered voice shouted above the roar of the storm with unbelievable power.
“Kitiara!” Raistlin cried.
Shoving Caramon aside, the mage ran toward the dragon. Slipping on the wet deck, his red robes whipped about him in the wind that was blowing stronger every moment. A sudden gust tore the hood from his head. Rain glistened on his metallic-colored skin, his hourglass eyes gleamed golden through the gathering darkness of the storm.
The Dragon Highlord grabbed her mount by the spikey mane along his blue neck, pulling the dragon up so sharply that Skie roared in protest. She stiffened in shock, her brown eyes grew wide behind the dragonhelm as she stared down at the frail half-brother she had raised from a baby. Her gaze shifted slightly as Caramon came to stand beside his twin.
“Kitiara?” Caramon whispered in a strangled voice, his face pale with horror as he watched the dragon hovering above them, riding the winds of the storm.
The Highlord turned the masked head once more to look at Tanis, then her eyes went to Berem. Tanis caught his breath. He saw the turmoil in her soul reflected in those eyes.
To get Berem, she would have to kill the little brother who had learned all of what he knew about swordsmanship from her. She would have to kill his frail twin. She would have to kill a man she had—once—loved. Then Tanis saw her eyes grow cold, and he shook his head in despair. It didn’t matter. She would kill her brothers, she would kill him. Tanis remembered her words, “Capture Berem and we will have all Krynn at our feet. The Dark Queen will reward us beyond anything we ever dreamed!”
Kitiara pointed at Berem and loosed her hold upon the dragon. With a cruel shriek, Skie prepared to dive. But Kitiara’s moment of hesitation proved disastrous. Steadfastly ignoring her, Berem had steered the ship deeper and deeper into the heart of the storm. The wind howled, snapping the rigging. Waves crashed over the bows. The rain slashed down like knives and hailstones began to pile up on the deck, coating it with ice.
Suddenly the dragon was in trouble. A gust of wind hit him, then another. Skie’s wings beat frantically as gust after gust pummeled him. The hail drummed upon his head and threatened to tear through the leathery wings. Only the supreme will of his master kept Skie from fleeing this perilous storm and flying to the safety of calmer skies.
Tanis saw Kitiara gesture furiously toward Berem. He saw Skie make a valiant effort to fly closer to the helmsman.
Then a gust of wind hit the ship. A wave broke over them. Water cascaded around them, foaming white, knocking men off their feet and sending them skidding across the deck. The ship listed. Everyone grabbed what they could—ropes, netting, anything—to keep from being washed overboard.
Berem fought the wheel, which was like a living thing, leaping in his hands. Sails split in two, men disappeared into the Blood Sea with terrifying screams. Then, slowly, the ship righted itself again, the wood creaking with the strain. Tanis looked up quickly.
The dragon—and Kitiara—were gone.
Freed from the dragonfear, Maquesta sprang into action, determined once more to save her dying ship. Shouting orders, she ran forward and stumbled into Tika.
“Get below, you lubbers!” Maquesta shouted furiously to Tanis above the storm wind. “Take your friends and get below! You’re in our way! Use my cabin.”
Numbly, Tanis nodded. Acting by instinct, feeling as if he were in a senseless dream filled with howling darkness, he led everyone below.
The haunted look in Caramon’s eyes pierced his heart as the big man staggered past him, carrying his brother. Raistlin’s golden eyes swept over him like flame, burning his soul. Then they were past him, stumbling with the others into the small cabin that shivered and rocked, tossing them about like rag dolls.
Tanis waited until everyone was safely inside the tiny cabin, then he slumped against the wooden door, unable to turn around, unable to face them. He had seen the haunted look in Caramon’s eyes as the big man staggered past, he had seen the exultant gleam in Raistlin’s eyes. He heard Goldmoon weeping quietly and he wished he might die on this spot before he had to face her.