Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [13]
Suffering from bouts of seasickness and torn by gnawing guilt, Tanis hunched miserably upon the deck, staring out to sea. Goldmoon’s healing powers had helped him recover somewhat, though there was apparently little even clerics could do for the turmoil in his stomach. But the turmoil in his soul was beyond her help.
He sat upon the deck, staring out to sea, fearing always to see the sails of a ship on the horizon. The others, perhaps because they were better rested, were little affected by the erratic motion of the ship as it swooped through the choppy water, except that all were wet to the skin from an occasional high wave breaking over the side.
Even Raistlin, Caramon was astonished to see, appeared quite comfortable. The mage sat apart from the others, crouched beneath a sail one of the sailors had rigged to help keep the passengers as dry as possible. The mage was not sick. He did not even cough much. He just seemed lost in thought, his golden eyes glittering brighter than the morning sun that flickered in and out of view behind the racing storm clouds.
Maquesta shrugged when Tanis mentioned his fears of pursuit. The Perechon was faster than the Highlords’ massive ships. They’d been able to sneak out of the harbor safely, the only other ships aware of their going were pirate ships like themselves. In that brotherhood, no one asked questions.
The seas grew calmer, flattening out beneath the steady breeze. All day, the storm clouds lowered threateningly, only to be finally blown to shreds by the freshening wind. The night was clear and starlit. Maquesta was able to add more sail. The ship flew over the water. By morning, the companions awakened to one of the most dreadful sights in all of Krynn.
They were on the outer edge of the Blood Sea of Istar.
The sun was a huge, golden ball balanced upon the eastern horizon when the Perechon first sailed into the water that was red as the robes the mage wore, red as the blood that flecked his lips when he coughed.
“It is well-named,” Tanis said to Riverwind as they stood on deck, staring out into the red, murky water. They could not see far ahead. A perpetual storm hung from the sky, shrouding the water in a curtain of leaden gray.
“I did not believe it,” Riverwind said solemnly, shaking his head. “I heard William tell of it and I listened as I listened to his tales of sea dragons that swallow ships and women with the tails of fish instead of legs. But this—” The barbarian Plainsman shook his head, eyeing the blood-colored water uneasily.
“Do you suppose it’s true that this is the blood of all those who died in Istar when the fiery mountain struck the Kingpriest’s temple?” Goldmoon asked softly, coming to stand beside her husband.
“What nonsense!” Maquesta snorted. Walking across the deck to join them, her eyes flicked constantly around to make certain that she was getting the most out of her ship and her crew.
“You’ve been listening to Pig-faced William again!” She laughed. “He loves to frighten lubbers. The water gets its color from soil washed up from the bottom. Remember, this is not sand we’re sailing over, like the bottom of the ocean. This used to be dry land—the capital city of Istar and the rich countryside around it. When the fiery mountain fell, it split the land apart. The waters from the ocean rushed in, creating a new sea. Now the wealth of Istar lies far beneath the waves.”
Maquesta stared over the railing with dreamy eyes, as if she could penetrate the choppy water and see the rumored wealth of the glittering lost city below. She sighed longingly. Goldmoon glanced at the swarthy ship’s captain in disgust, her own eyes filled with sadness and horror at the thought of the terrible destruction and loss of life.
“What keeps the soil stirred up?” Riverwind asked, frowning down at the blood-red water. “Even with the motion of the waves