Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [14]
“Truly spoken, barbarian.” Maquesta looked at the tall, handsome Plainsman with admiration. “But then, your people are farmers, or so I’ve heard, and know a lot about soil. If you put your hand into the water, you can feel the grit of the dirt. Supposedly there is a maelstrom in the center of the Blood Sea that whirls with such force it drags the soil up from the bottom. But whether that is true or another one of Pig-face’s stories, I cannot say. I have never seen it, nor have any I’ve sailed with and I’ve sailed these waters since I was a child, learning my craft from my father. No one I ever knew was foolish enough to sail into the storm that hangs over the center of the sea.”
“How do we get to Mithras, then?” Tanis growled. “It lies on the other side of the Blood Sea, if your charts are correct.”
“We can reach Mithras by sailing south, if we are pursued. If not, we can circle the western edge of the sea and sail up the coast north to Nordmaar. Don’t worry, Half-Elven.” Maq waved her hand grandly. “At least you can say you’ve seen the Blood Sea. One of the wonders of Krynn.”
Turning to walk aft, Maquesta was hailed from the crow’s nest.
“Deck ho! Sail to the west!” the lookout called.
Instantly Maquesta and Koraf both pulled out spyglasses and trained them upon the western horizon. The companions exchanged worried glances and drew together. Even Raistlin left his place beneath the shielding sail and walked across the deck, peering westward with his golden eyes.
“A ship?” Maquesta muttered to Koraf.
“No,” the minotaur grunted in his corrupt form of Common. “A cloud, mebbe. But it go fast, very fast. Faster any cloud I ever see.”
Now they all could make out the specks of darkness on the horizon, specks that grew larger even as they watched.
Then Tanis felt a wrenching pain inside of him, as if he’d been pierced by a sword. The pain was so swift and so real he gasped, clutching hold of Caramon to keep from falling. The rest stared at him in concern, Caramon wrapping his big arm around his friend to support him.
Tanis knew what flew toward them.
And he knew who led them.
3
Gathering darkness.
A flight of dragons,” said Raistlin, coming to stand beside his brother. “Five, I believe.”
“Dragons!” Maquesta breathed. For a moment, she clutched the rail with trembling hands, then she whirled around. “Set all sail!” she commanded.
The crew stared westward, their eyes and minds locked onto the approaching terror. Maquesta raised her voice and shouted her order again, her only thoughts on her beloved ship. The strength and calmness in her voice penetrated the first faint feelings of dragonfear creeping over the crew. Instinctively a few sprang to carry out their orders, then more followed. Koraf with his whip helped as well, striking briskly at any man who didn’t move quickly enough to suit him. Within moments, the great sails billowed out. Lines creaked ominously, the rigging sang a whining tune.
“Keep her near the edge of the storm!” Maq yelled to Berem. The man nodded slowly, but it was hard to tell from the vacant expression on his face if he heard or not.
Apparently he did, for the Perechon hovered close to the perpetual storm that shrouded the Blood Sea, skimming along on the surface of the waves, propelled by the storm’s fog-gray wind.
It was reckless sailing, and Maq knew it. Let a spar be blown away, a sail split, a line break, and they would be helpless. But she had to take the risk.
“Useless,” Raistlin remarked coolly. “You cannot outsail dragons. Look, see how fast they gain on us. You were followed, Half-Elf.” He turned to Tanis. “You were followed when you left the camp … either that”—the mage’s voice hissed—“or you led them to us!”
“No! I swear—” Tanis stopped.
The drunken draconian! … Tanis shut his eyes, cursing himself. Of course, Kit would have had him watched! She didn’t trust him any more than she trusted the other men who shared her bed. What a damn egotistical fool he was! Believing he was something special