At mention of Sable, the Baaz cringed. His kind feared Sable utterly. Brudas feared her, respected her, and hoped to betray her when the opportunity presented itself-which was why he had suggested this odorous and, so far, futile expedition.
Something had happened to the magic of Krynn, to all spellcasters, not simply Brudas. The sorcerers and other mortal spellcasters had noticed it first. Spells began to falter, then fail completely. Attempt after attempt left nothing but the taste of futility in the wield-er’s mouth. The sorcerers, of course, blamed it on the overlords.
Soon, though, the overlords too began to complain of the loss of their abilities. Brudas still recalled how Sable had for weeks blamed one rival or another for her faltering spells-until she had learned that her fellow dragons were having troubles, too. With that realization, she had turned to the same desperate remedy sought by the sorcerers-Sable sent her minions out to find whatever magical talismans and artifacts they could so she could drain the relics’ power and use their ancient magic for her her own magic.
Only a handful of her most trusted servants knew the complete truth and, of them, only Brudas knew the full extent of his mistress’s weakness.
“Many, many apologiesss, Massster Brudasss,” Drek babbled again. “It’sss jussst I think I may have found sssomething!”
“You found something?” Quickly, Brudas’s ire faded. He rose from his chair, his nearly seven-foot frame towering over the more compact Baaz. “Where is it? What is it? Bring it in, you dolt!”
“We can’t! Not… not yet! It’s in a chamber. We’re still excavating the entrance, but-”
“Lead me to it immediately!”
“Yesss, Massster Brudasss!” Drek turned and darted out of the tent.
Seizing his staff, Brudas followed after him. The Bozak momentarily decided to forgive the lowly creature for not holding the tent flap open for him. If Drek and the others had found something of value, it would be the first silver lining to this black-cloud of an adventure since their arrival more than two weeks before.
Damp and gloom greeted the draconian as he stepped onto the soft, drenched soil. He had chosen the most stable patch of ground for his tent, but still the moisture tended to seep everywhere. Not for the first time Brudas wondered what fascination a dragon could have with such a muddy, bug-infested quagmire.
With great care, the two wended their way through the hazy marsh into the heart of what had once been a thriving city. Although Sable had transformed much of her domain into swampland, Krolus had been destroyed in the Great Cataclysm centuries before. As happened with so many other cities, the people who lived here had been caught entirely offguard. In the veritable blink of an eye, their proud city had been swallowed up by the cracked earth and shifting wetlands. In the years since, the swamp had only encroached further on the ruins. Sable herself could not have created a more nightmarish place.
The spiraled tip of a watchtower jutted out of the brackish water to their left. A pair of long, emerald serpents crawled over the tiled roof of a stone building- possibly an inn once. Brudas’s gaze fell upon a statue of some human warrior, its head gone, with great cracks along its body. An arachnid as large as the Bozak’s hand had spun a web between the body and an upraised arm.
Although it was midday, the sulfur-ridden haze made it seem more like twilight. A dim glow up ahead marked one of the oil lamps that Brudas had commanded the Baaz to spread over the vague path leading to their latest digging site. Searching for dry wood in this soggy domain would have been fruitless and so the Bozak had commandeered numerous oil lamps for their journey. However, their supply of oil had already dwindled drastically, and Brudas suspected they had three days’ of lamplight left-at best. Not good, considering how little the expedition had to show for its efforts so far. If Drek’s latest find did not pan out…
Rubble from a massive, broken arch forced them to take a more circuitous route to their destination, but Brudas held his impatience in check. Drek would not have disturbed him without a good reason. The Baaz knew the penalty for that.
Brudas’s clawed feet sank an inch or two into the ground with every step. Nothing remained dry long here. Those buildings and structures that had not sunk entirely into the swamp were covered with mold and moss. Even though many of the citizenry had failed to escape- as evidenced by die skulls lying amid the grass-those who had some link to magic evidently had been luckier than most. The treasure trove of relics that the Bozak had hoped to find had so far proved nonexistent.
Sable would not like that. More importantly, Brudas did not like that.
One of the most intact structures was, of all things, a temple of Mishakal, the goddess of healing. As they approached on what had once been the main thoroughfare of the city, Brudas noted that the temple now listed to one side even more than on the first day he had glimpsed it. Some of the columns had begun to crack. Too soon this monument to a departed goddess would join so much else under the water and mud of the black dragon’s domain.
Who was to say that, long ago, some relic had not made its way into the temple, perhaps brought there by a pious follower who feared the sinister ways of magic and sought to keep at least one artifact out of the ambitious hands of the old wizards? Some of those magical artifacts might still remain within…
Yet, Drek led him past the temple, where the three Baaz were supposed to be digging, heading instead to the far quarter of Krolus that had suffered the worst destruction.
“You were supposed to finish exploring the temple!” Brudas snapped.
Drek looked even more miserable than usual. “Found nothing there, Brudasss!” he replied, forgetting to call the Bozak by his title. “We gave up yesssterday.”
Yesterday? And no one had informed him? The slim draconian opened his mouth to berate his underling-only to pause as the pair came to where the palace of the local ruler had once stood.
Once, this had been a fairly elegant abode that had towered over most of Krolus. The Cataclysm, however, seemed to have taken special interest in wreaking havoc on the building, for not only had a good portion of it disappeared beneath the swamp, but over time, rising water and vegetation had conquered the rest of the structure. Fearsome trees with sickly-green vines covered the interior. On all sides, the walls had crumbled or caved in.
Suspicious, Brudas halted. He knew that the Baaz hated their leader nearly as much as they feared him. Had their days in this monstrous ruin caused them to revolt? Did they hope to do away with him?
“Where are we going? Where is this supposed artifact, Drek?”
The lowly Baaz paused, gasping for breath. “You know how we could not find any way into the palace? Any way to reach the lower depthsss? There isss one!”
“Impossible! I led the search myself. Who found it?”
Drek had the audacity to look proud. “I did, Massster Brudasss!”
“Did you now? And how did you manage that?” To think that a Baaz could do what a Bozak could not…
Now the other draconian looked rather embarrassed. “I fell into it, mossst high one.”
Brudas laughed, despite himself. Yes, trust Drek to fall into a secret entrance. How else could this particularly useless creature succeed where more intelligent life failed? The laughter died as the Bozak considered the potential of what Drek had discovered. Surely the palace, of all places, held something.