The Kagonesti’s hands were behind her back, tied with a hard, bumpy cord that cut into her wrists so tightly that her fingers were numb. Her ankles were similarly bound, and she was propped uncomfortably against the cave wall.
She concentrated on the odors in the still air and immediately picked up the stench of the wyverns—she was within several yards of them. The Kagonesti’s keen sense of smell noticed other scents, too: sweat, blood, the faintly musky odor of the mariner, the smell of leather—most likely her companions’ sandals and belts. There was an unusual fetor that she couldn’t quite place, but it hung heavy in the air. Spawn, she decided. She listened now, trying to block out the absurd jabbering of the trapped wyverns. There—breathing, regular, human. Rig and Palin still lived. And there was a soft shuffling sound. It was coming closer.
Feril focused on the shuffling, glanced in its direction and forced her eyes to search for heat. Her exceptional elven vision pierced the blanket of darkness ever so slightly, and she saw large spots of pale gray—the wyverns, and a small blob that seemed to be groping its way along the side of the cave toward her. Her vision had not yet completely recovered from the blinding explosion of the spawn earlier.
“Feril?” the blob whispered.
“Blister?”
“Hear something,” the large wyvern announced.
“Prisoners wake?”
Feril heard a groan—Rig’s voice.
“Dark one wake. See?” the wyvern observed. “Dark one wiggle.”
The Kagonesti scowled. The wyverns could somehow see through the darkness, which meant they might also be able to see the kender sneaking toward her.
“Feril?”
“Shh,” the elf softly returned.
“Elf wake,” the smaller wyvern growled. “Elf hate. Made floor swallow feet Elf bad.”
Feril felt Blister behind her, the kender softly whimpering as she forced her fingers to untie the cords that bound Feril’s wrist. The Kagonesti shifted her position so that she was interposed between Blister and the wyverns, hoping they might not be able to notice the diminutive kender busy behind her back.
“First I was gonna go back to the ship,” Blister whispered, “get Jasper and Groller to come help. Then I figured I might not be able to find the ship, since I don’t have a map. I used to have lots of maps, but they were mostly for other places. Anyway, I couldn’t ask anybody for directions. I can’t talk to animals, and I didn’t want to be out in the desert by myself.”
“Elf talk much,” the smaller wyvern observed.
“Talk to self,” the other decided.
“Elf quiet!” the small wyvern barked.
“You want quiet?” Rig bellowed. “Then come over here and try to make us be quiet! Why, I’ll just talk—” The mariner’s sentence was cut off by a flash of lightning and a muted rumble of thunder.
A ball of lightning continued to crackle, like dozens of angry fireflies held in the palm of the approaching spawn’s hand. Its glow provided enough light for Feril to see what was nearby.
The wyverns were several yards away. But only a few feet from her she spotted Rig and Palin—trussed up, back to back, their necks bound together by a gold chain. Necklaces with dozens of thumb-sized jewels had been used to tie their feet and hands together, and Rig’s sash had been wrapped around the waists of both men and tied with a huge knot. The mariner’s shirt was gone, as were all of his daggers. The spawn were smart enough not to leave him any weapons. A sheen of sweat covered Rig’s muscular frame. He was still suffering from the ill effects of the poisonous wyverns.
The kender continued to work furiously. Feril felt her fingers tingle, the circulation starting to return. She was almost free.
Rig strained against his bonds, the chain digging into his throat as he glanced toward the Kagonesti. The sorcerer gasped with pain as Rig’s movements made the gold cut into his flesh, too. The spawn stepped closer to the men, the lightning glowing brighter in its hand.
“Struggling shall only hurt you,” it hissed.
“Old one live,” the larger wyvern said. “See! Spawn said none dead. You said old one dead. Spawn not like you. Spawn smart.”
“Spawn not stuck,” the smaller wyvern muttered.
The scaly blue sentry circled Palin and Rig once, then stood before the wyverns, its back to the prisoners. “I shall go find our master, the Storm Over Krynn,” it said. “The Storm shall be pleased by what we have caught.”
“You go?” the larger wyvern asked. “Who guard?”
“My brothers shall stand watch over the prisoners.”
“All spawn watching?”
“No.” The spawn shook its head. “Only two—these.” The creature gestured with its lightning-sparking hand, and two more spawn stepped from a shadowy alcove and glided toward Rig and Palin. “They are more than enough to handle the prisoners. The rest of my brothers shall stay below.”
“Free us,” the smaller wyvern implored as it looked down at its feet and then into the spawn’s golden-yellow eyes. “Please.”
The spawn hissed and took flight. In a matter of seconds, it flew up the slope toward the desert, taking its illumination f with it.
“Feril, are you all right?” Rig asked.
“Hold your tongue, human,” the shorter of the spawn sneered. The creature had a barrel-like chest and thick, powerful-looking legs. Its scales glimmered faintly in the dim light. It stared malevolently at the sorcerer, raising its upper lip in a sneer. Traces of lightning darted across its teeth, faintly illuminating part of the cave. “The Storm Over Krynn shall return soon. He shall make you like us, and you shall be added to the army below. You shall know the pleasure and power of being spawn.”
Feril bristled. So that was why they were being kept alive— they were to be transformed into spawn! She felt one last tug around her wrists, and then her bonds slipped away. Feril wriggled her fingers, then slowly brought her hands around in front of her and inched them toward her ankles. Blister remained crouched behind her.
“How many spawn are below?” Palin asked.
“That is not your concern,” the taller spawn replied icily.
“You’ll have to excuse me if we’re a little curious,” Rig said tersely.
“Your only concern shall be serving the master.”
Feril finished loosening the pearl strands around her ankles and could see that the mariner was quietly working on one of the necklaces that held his and Palin’s wrists together.
“We proud to serve master,” the larger wyvern cut into the conversation. “Only two of us. Wyvern special.”
“Many spawn,” the smaller wyvern said. “Many humans at stronghold waiting be spawn. Be big army. Only two of special us.”
“What stronghold?” Rig pressed.
“Stronghold in desert near—” A glare from both spawn cut the smaller wyvern off. “Stronghold secret.”
The mariner wouldn’t let the subject drop. “Why does the dragon need such a big army?” Rig had only one necklace left to go, and his strong fingers made short work of it. He reached for the band of his pants and quietly worked at a seam until it came loose. A moment later, he tugged free a three-inch long blade that had been concealed there. He started cutting at the sash around the waists of he and the sorcerer.
“Stop asking so many questions!” the taller spawn snarled. Lightning shot from its claws to the cave ceiling, bursting in a ball and bathing the chamber in a bright white light.
“The elf is free!” the shorter spawn shouted, pointing at Feril. “And there is a little one with her.”
“A little one you can’t catch!” Blister taunted as she stepped out from behind the Kagonesti. She whipped her sling wildly about her head and released it, sending a shower of pearls toward the two spawn.