“The isles will be destroyed!” Mik called. “There will be no trade!”
“Fight back!” Trip yelled.
Mik and Trip broke through the line of enthralled fish and ran up the stairs toward Karista. The fish remaining in the plaza tried to follow them, but the stairs’ enchantment pushed them back down. A few left the plaza to try and circle down from above, though the ocean’s surface left them little room to do so.
“Karista!” Mik called.
She turned and looked back.
Mik pulled his dagger and threw it at her.
Mog stepped between them and batted the blade aside. It settled on the stairway near the dragonspawn’s feet.
Madness played across the aristocrat’s face. She turned toward her former companions and extended the key.
“Flee or I shall kill you!” she cried.
The gems on the key blazed to life, and lightning flashed from the artifact toward Mik and Trip. They dodged aside, and the bolt cracked a coral pillar in the plaza behind them. The kender hurtled off the stairway and into the swirling waters beyond.
Mik picked himself off the stairs and kept climbing.
Mog charged down the stairway at Mik. The sailor ducked under Mog’s spearthrust and grabbed the dragonspawn by the front of its stolen armor. The sailor fell backward, thrusting hard with his legs as he did.
Tempest’s lieutenant sailed over Mik’s head, down the stairs, and into the cracked pillar. The column broke into smaller pieces and toppled onto the startled dragonspawn, burying him beneath it.
Mik ran up the stairs and retrieved his dagger from where it had fallen. “Karista,” he called, surging forward, “I don’t want to hurt you, but you must stop.”
“I can’t!” she cried. The power of the key coursed around her, building for another strike. She pointed her hand toward Mik’s heart, her fingers glowing with deadly energy.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The storm that had been lingering above the 1 ocean for days gathered into a typhoon and whipped the waves into titanic mountains of water. Jerick the Red harked frantic orders to his crew, hying to keep his galleon from floundering in the terrible weather. Exploring the strange stairway and temple that had suddenly appeared on the side of the volcano would have to wait.
Only a bow shot away from Red Wake, the crew of Kell’s trireme struggled as well. The brass-covered gunwales of their ship were not as high above the water as Red Wake’s. Huge whitecaps washed over their decks, threatening to swamp the galley with every surge.
Jerick cursed himself for sailing so close to the Veil during typhoon season. The Isle of Fire had no harbor, no shelter from the storm. Its rocky shores were treacherous. They could easily rip the bottoms out of Red Wake and Kell’s galley.
The red-bearded captain had ordered both ships away from the shore into open water, but they were still far too close for Jerick’s comfort.
As the captain of Red Wake worried about the shoals, the sea nearby began to heave and roil. Suddenly, the dragon was upon them.
Tempest burst from the waves, her immense bulk sailing high into the air. She crashed down between the two ships, sundering the deck of the galley with her titanic claws and smashing Red Wake with her flukes.
The two ships spun precariously in the water, like toy boats in a bathtub. Sailors flew from the rigging and slid off the decks into the heaving surf.
Tempest rose up and smashed down upon them again. She laughed at the screams of the dying crews. Then she dived under once more.
A huge breaker washed Jerick to the shattered rail of his galleon. Red Wake listed badly to starboard, taking on a frightening amount of water.
Just to port, Kell’s brass-armored ship lay in splinters. Its keel had been broken, and each wave threatened to pull it to the bottom.
The cries of wounded sailors in the water and aboard the crippled vessels echoed above the wail of the wind. Sharks and razorfish swarmed in the dragon’s wake, attacking anything that moved. The sailors in the water stood no chance of swimming to the Isle of Fire’s rocky shore.
Jerick spat the brine and blood from his whiskers and called to his men. “Sing out if you’re injured! Those who aren’t, help the rest! Get our people out of the water! Throw some lines to the remains of that galley, too-maybe we can save some of them as well! Then bail for all you’re worth and pray to the gods that the dragon doesn’t return!”
It took Mog only a moment to recover his bearings. The huge pillar pinning him resisted his strength, so he changed himself into a scavenger eel and wriggled out from under it. As he did, Lord Kell somehow grabbed him by the tail.
Mog changed back to his draconian form just in time to ward off a blow from the brass lord’s dagger. Kell stabbed at him again but, as he did, Mog lunged forward. The dragonspawn’s forehead smashed hard into the human lord’s gut.
Kell reeled back, and Mog clouted him across the helmet with a scaly fist. Benthor Kell grunted, and Mog kicked him hard in the belly.
The armored man fell back, head over heels, crashing into the stairs and rolling down them into the undersea darkness. Mog turned and loped up the steps to join Karista.
Kell thudded to a halt halfway down to the next landing. His head spun, and every muscle in his body ached. He groped his way to his feet and began to climb once more.
A tiny figure streaked down the stairs through the water and grabbed Karista around the waist, spoiling her aim. The deadly energies coruscating at her fingertips ripped wildly through the depths. The spell missed Mik and smashed into the stairway near the last plaza.
“Good work, Trip!” Mik called, realizing the kender had circled around from the upper part of the stairway.
Now Trip brought his small fist up and clouted Karista in the jaw. The aristocrat reeled back but did not let go of the pulsating key. She screamed in pain and frustration.
Mik surged ahead, slashing at her with his cutlass. Karista stepped back, out of the way, confusion clouding her steely eyes. “Keep at her!” Mik said. “If she can’t concentrate, she can’t summon a spell to kill us.”
“I hope you’re right,” Trip replied.
Karista punched Trip on the chin, and the kender reeled and tumbled down the stairs. She pointed at Mik, energy blasting from her fingertips.
Mik dived out of the way and almost fell off the stairs. He grabbed hold of the edge of the steps and hung on as the surging waters outside the stairway’s enchantment tried to rip him away into the sea.
Karista turned and staggered up the silver stairs, out of the raging surf, and into the open air. The stairway’s preternatural calm fell away at the nexus of water and wind. The swirling waves tugged at Karista, like breakers crashing against the shore. She stumbled and nearly lost her grip on the key.
Trip helped Mik pull himself back onto the stairs, and they both ran after her. The waves buffeted them as they made the transition from sea to land. Mik gasped for air and noticed that a half-dozen gems had flaked off his enchanted necklace.
Trip’s waterlogged cloak clung to his skin, and its long hem tangled under his feet. He fell to his knees, the waves lapping at his back. Mik struggled to keep going.
Karista reached the next plaza and turned toward the sailor, a mixture of murder and regret in her eyes. She raised the key to blast him again-but, depleted from her previous efforts, its energy glowed more faintly this time.
The sailor crested the platform and dove under her arms. White lightning blasted from Karista’s hands, searing over Mik’s head. He grabbed the aristocrat around her slender waist, and they fell hard onto the wet flagstones.