“An amazing spell,” Blister said. “Very effective. Wouldn’t you say so, Jasper?”
The dwarf clutched his side, nodding in agreement. A wheeze escaped his thick lips. Though the wound Dhamon had inflicted on Jasper was mending—thanks to Feril’s ministrations—the dwarf would never be the same. His lung had been punctured. Though in earlier times he might have used his own clerical magic to heal himself, such power was now beyond his reach. His faith had died with Goldmoon, and with it had died his healing abilities. He offered Blister a slight smile.
“Amazing. Yes, Jasper thinks so, too. A very impressive spell,” she clucked. “You made us all invisible?”
“Not exactly,” Palin returned.
“You spirited us away to some other place?”
“Not precisely.”
“Then what?”
“For a few brief minutes, I disguised us, made us blend into the landscape. Then I created a magical illusion of us a short distance from where we were hiding. Khellendros slew the illusion. And, fortunately, he appeared to be in a hurry and left without examining his handiwork. Had he lingered a moment longer, his keen senses would have ferreted us out.”
“Wow. So how did you create this illusion?” the kender persisted in asking.
“It’s not important,” Jasper cut in. He glanced back at Groller, his deaf half-ogre friend. Fiona Quinti, the young Solamnic knight who recently joined their number, was using rudimentary sign language to translate what was being said, so Groller could understand. The dwarf turned to face Blister and pawed at a clump of mud stuck to his red-brown hair. “It’s not important at all. What is important Blister, is that...”
“Couldn’t Palin use some of his magic to find Dhamon? I want to go after Dhamon, find out why he went all crazy, hurt Jasper, and killed Goldmoon. We could...”
The mariner set a hand on the kender’s head, leveling his gaze at Palin. “We could kill him is what we could do. It was indirectly because of Dhamon that Shaon died. Now Goldmoon—there was nothing indirect about that. He almost killed Jasper, too. And he sank my ship.”
“Flint’s Anvil,” Jasper whispered. The dwarf had purchased the carrack many months ago, and his beloved vessel had taken them from Schallsea far north to Palanthas, then back again. It had been their means of transportation and their home.
“We should kill him before he causes any more harm,” Rig finished. The mariner motioned for the rest to gather around—Feril, the Kagonesti; Groller and his wolf, Fury; Fiona; Gilthanas, the lanky elven sorcerer whom they had rescued from a Knights of Takhisis stronghold; and Ulin, Palin’s son.
Swirling high above them were two dragons, a gold and a silver—Sunrise and Silvara—who had carried Ulin and Gilthanas to Schallsea and who had been instrumental in distracting Khellendros in order for Palin to cast his spell. The dragons and their riders had just returned from the Dragon Isles, where they had informed the good dragons there of what was transpiring across the face of Ansalon.
“Rig...” Feril cleared her throat to get the mariner’s attention. A breeze whipped her wild tangle of auburn hair about her face. “We need to find Dhamon. Help him fight the scale’s influence. We must have faith....”
“Faith?” Jasper looked up at her, fixed his eyes on the oak-leaf tattoo on her tanned cheek. His ruddy face was uncharacteristically grim. “He killed Goldmoon. We haven’t even had time to grieve for her, or to bury her properly. She preached faith—breathed faith. And forgiveness. But right now I have no faith and little forgiveness. Right now I’m siding with Rig.”
Feril closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “I’m angry, too, Jasper. Maybe I won’t ever be able to forgive him. But I have to know what happened and why.”
“It’s pretty obvious what happened,” Rig cut in. “He told us he once was a Knight of Takhisis. I’m betting he still is. Fooled us, like the scholar fooled us into collecting the damned artifacts. No ship. No Goldmoon. No Huma’s lance.”
“No medallions. Goldmoon’s medallion, and the second medallion I...” Jasper forced back a sob. “The one I took from her after she was dead. Both gone and in the hands of the dragon.”
“The only artifact we have left is the scepter,” the mariner said. He held it out. It was fashioned of wood and looked more like a mace, though it was bedecked with jewels.
“The Fist of E’li,” Feril whispered softly. “The Fist of Paladine.”
“What good’ll one lousy artifact do?” Blister asked as she looked up at the sorcerer. “We can’t increase the level of magic in the world with just one artifact.”
“The scholar tricked us into gathering artifacts for the dragon,” Palin said. “The dragon must want the ancient magic for an important reason. Maybe we should concentrate on finding other ancient artifacts. At the very least, we can keep them out of the dragon’s clutches. And at the most... somehow we might be able to use their energy to block Takhisis’s return to this world.”
“Father, Gellidus—Frost—claimed Takhisis’s return was imminent,” Ulin said. The younger Majere looked as Palin had, two decades earlier. He gestured to the silver and gold dragons circling above. “Sunrise and Silvara confirm what the white overlord boasted. Takhisis is coming back.”
“So where are we gonna get enough ancient magic to stop Takhisis?” Blister’s eyes widened.
“Dalamar’s ring,” Palin said. “That’s located in the Tower of Wayreth. The Master of the Tower said he would give it to me, but only when we knew how to use it and when we were safe from Khellendros.”
Ulin sniffed. “Safe! That will take a long time! Can you persuade the Master how important is our need for the ring?
Palin considered a moment, then nodded to his son. “Yes. Yes, I think I can.”
“With the Fist of E’li,” Blister said, pointing at the weapon in Rig’s hand, “That makes two artifacts.”
“I know of a third—the Crown of Tides,” Palin finished. “It rests in the realm of the Dimernesti, the sea elves, a long way from here.”
“Then we better get going,” the kender said.
“Wait a minute.” Rig scowled and shook his head. “I want nothing more than to take a stand against the dragons—even the Dark Queen herself if it comes to that. But there’s a little matter of justice that needs to be taken care of, too. I mean Dhamon.”
“Rig, please,” Feril appealed.
“We can’t let him wander around free—not with that weird glaive. No telling who or what else he’ll destroy.” The mariner’s eyes narrowed darkly.
“Rig!” The Kagonesti glared at him.
“Enough.” Palin eased himself away from Rig’s side. “Arguing won’t do us any good. Neither will revenge. But, yes, we also need to find Dhamon.”
The mariner grinned smugly.
“We especially need to find him because we need his weapon,” the sorcerer said.
“His weapon?.” Rig scowled.
“That glaive cuts metal like cloth. It must be some kind of artifact, perhaps as powerful as Huma’s lance,” Palin returned. “Even more powerful,” he added softly.
“So how are we gonna do both at the same time? Collect artifacts and find Dhamon?” Blister asked.
“I’ll need your help, Blister,” the sorcerer told the kender. “You and I will form one team and head to the Tower of Wayreth. My wife Usha is waiting for me there. We’ll use the resources in the tower to trace Dhamon.”
“And in the meantime, we’ll go after the crown,” Feril said excitedly.
“Great. How do we get off this island without a ship? Swim?” The mariner tucked the scepter into his belt and glanced to the west. It was too dark to see the Schallsea shore.