The Shadowmask Read online

  But was I any less crazy?

  All too soon, the rocky outcropping where Elbeth said the cave would be was right in front of us.

  It was a two-tiered natural rock formation. A stone cliff rose perhaps twenty feet up on the left. A similar face dropped another ten feet to the right. A narrow path snaked between the two. At high tide, the lower rock would be completely covered by the sea. But the tide was nearly out, and fully seven feet of dark, jagged rock was clearly visible. The jags made fine handholds, and I had no trouble at all climbing down. The water was still several feet deep at the base, but just above the lapping waves I saw a dark slit—the top of a cave.

  “What do you see?” Joen called down.

  “We’re gonna have to get wet,” I yelled back.

  “Oi, on with it, then,” she said, pulling herself over the lip and starting the short climb down.

  I blew a sigh under my breath, wishing I could gather the courage to tell her, once and for all, that she could not come in, that I could not let her risk her own safety for my sake. But I had no such courage, so I dropped into the water instead.

  I paddled forward. From my vantage point the whole mouth of the cave was visible. I drew out my stiletto, ignited the blue flame, and held it into the opening; just past the cave mouth, a narrow tunnel sloped upward. I swam for the edge, and scrambled out, happy to be out of the ice-cold water.

  A splash behind me told me Joen had dropped into the water, and she quickly joined me in the cave. Together we slipped into the tunnel.

  The roof scraped against my back, though I crawled flat on my belly. The rocks were wet and slick for the first dozen yards, but they rose steadily, soon clearing the highest water levels of high tide. The air there was much warmer—a blessing: my wet clothes would not freeze.

  The tunnel flattened out and gained enough height that we could walk upright. I tried to illuminate the ground in front of us, but the light cast by my flaming stiletto was meager, and many times each we tripped over a jag or a crack in the stone passage.

  We walked for what seemed like an hour in silence before the landscape changed. There was no gradual widening of the tunnel, no growth of the cave into a cavern. All of a sudden, the walls and ceiling just disappeared, stretching out around a massive chamber. My light seemed tiny indeed, a pinprick of blue on a great black tapestry.

  I thought I heard a sound: a low rumble, rhythmic, and slow. I held out my hand. “Wait!” I whispered. “I think I hear something.”

  But after a few moments of standing there, I felt only a deep dark silence.

  “Don’t be a baby. The dragon’s out hunting or fast asleep.” Joen pushed my shoulder. “On with it, eh?”

  Not wanting to seem the coward, I stepped deliberately into the cavern, one step, two, three … I saw a glint ahead and moved toward it.

  Suddenly the darkness was gone. The light from my magical dagger caught the thing I had seen ahead: a strange sphere with many glassy mirrored facets. The sphere seemed to grab at the light, then project it out from each of those mirrors, amplified ten times over. The whole of the room filled with a pale blue glow.

  With my heart in my throat, I quickly scanned the room. There were piles of gold coins, sapphires and emeralds, silver necklaces dotted with rubies. Shortswords and longswords and scale armor, masterfully crafted and probably enchanted. Against one wall stood what looked like an ancient desk and delicately carved bookshelves, filled with leather bound books and scrolls and vials of blue and green liquid.

  But I could see no sign of a dragon.

  I blew out a low sigh. Joen skipped past me, smiling broadly, practically dancing her way into the treasure. She bent low to scoop up a handful of coins, then let most of it trickle through her fingers as she laughed. A few coins she pocketed, then made to repeat the action.

  “No,” I whispered harshly. “We’re here for something specific, remember?”

  “Oi, right, sure,” she said, still staring at the coins. “What’s it look like, then?”

  “It’s a leather sash with a large pouch on the front,” I said. “The pouch should hold something heavy.”

  “Right,” she said. “We should split the search. You go that way,”—she pointed to the wall with the books and magical equipment—“and I’ll go this way.” She moved off into the largest piles of treasure, giggling like the silly girl I knew she wasn’t.

  I moved off toward the wall, not wanting to argue. Besides, the stone could well be that way, and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t mind a chance to look through the ancient books. I had just picked one up when I heard Joen call out to me.

  “Oi, this it, then?” she said, and I looked back to see her holding up a leather sash—my leather sash.

  “That’s it!” I called. “Is the stone in it?”

  “Some kind of stone, yeah. Big and black. That’s what you’re after, eh? The stone?”

  “That’s right,” I said, walking toward her. I had hated the burden of the stone when I had carried it, but all I could think about was holding it again.

  “Oi, and look at this!” she shrieked, holding up a jewel-studded belt. “Was lying there, right next to yours! And look, it’s got some matching knives on it too. I could use a new pair, you know, ever since your captain took mine.”

  “Put it back,” I said forcefully.

  “What, you get to steal from the dragon but I don’t?”

  “I’m not stealing. I’m reclaiming what’s mine.”

  “You think he’s gonna see it that way?” Defiantly, she strapped the belt to her waist. “What, he shows up you gonna say, ‘hey mister dragon, this was mine before, I’m just taking it back,’ and he’s gonna let you go?”

  “No,” growled a voice, deep as thunder and echoing about the cave endlessly. “I will not.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The pile beneath Joen’s feet churned and rose several feet. The topmost coins rolled and slid down, and Joen nearly followed with them. She held her balance, but a moment later we both wished she had slipped.

  A great head rose up right in front of her, sporting horns longer than I was tall and a mouth large enough to swallow us both at the same time. Up, up, up stretched its great serpentine neck—ten feet long, twenty, and still it rose. Bronze scales glistened in the pale light.

  I had read about the many types of dragons on Toril, and though the light was poor, I was certain it was a bronze dragon. I recounted the passage from Volo in my head, trying to steady my racing pulse: A reclusive sea-dwelling dragon, the bronze dragon is not evil, but it is paranoid and protective of its treasures.

  Still, paranoid and protective was far superior to many of the other possibilities. Had the dragon been a red, we would already be dead.

  The dragon’s slitted eyes narrowed at each of us in turn.

  “Hardly a meal worth eating,” it growled. “If you weren’t stealing, I might have let you go.”

  Joen stood frozen right behind its head. If it had a mind to kill her, it wouldn’t take but a moment.

  “The Circle sent me!” I blurted out. I glared at Joen meaningfully, hoping to distract the dragon long enough that she could get to the exit. “They gave you something to guard, right? They want it back!”

  “You are speaking of the stone, I presume?” the dragon said as it stretched its long neck down to me, its snakelike eyes staring unblinking into my own. “It is not theirs to reclaim. And the Circle knows it, whelp. You are a thief, and a liar.”

  “No!” I said. “I am no thief.” I glared at Joen. Why was she not moving?

  “But a liar, you admit to?” the beast said. I had no idea dragons could laugh, but it seemed to be laughing at me.

  “No, because the stone is mine to reclaim,” I said. Behind the dragon, Joen finally snapped from her stupor and began to pick her way down the loose slope of coins, careful not to make a sound. “If the Circle hadn’t told me where to find the stone, how would I have known to come here?”

  The d
ragon blinked for the first time, staring at me curiously. “That may be so,” it said, sounding unsure. I got the distinct impression it was trying to sort through the circumstances that had brought the stone to its possession.

  “It is!” I said. “The Circle stole the stone from me. And now they want me to have it back. I am here to reclaim what is rightfully mine.” Joen had reached the base of the pile, and was moving quickly to the narrow cave entrance we’d used to enter.

  The dragon sniffed at the air, its eyes growing wide. “Thieves!” it bellowed. “Thieves and liars! You’ll not leave this place, fools!” Its head shot around to where Joen had been standing, crashing against the pile, sending gold and silver and gems flying everywhere.

  I took off running, racing Joen to the exit. Sali Dalib’s boots hastened my step, but I wasn’t quite fast enough. The dragon’s head turned on me once again, and I heard the beast’s sharp intake of breath. I reached the tunnel just as it exhaled.

  The air around me tingled with energy, an electric charge building for just one brief moment. Something slammed against my back, with the force of a thunderstroke and a sound to match. I flew through the air, crashing against Joen. We both tumbled into the narrow passage.

  She scrambled to her feet, half-sobbing, her limp hand around my arm. I pulled myself up beside her, bruised but mostly unhurt. The look on her face was a mix of horror and confusion.

  “You …” she whispered, her voice quivering. “Your …” I thought I saw a tear drip down her cheek, but she brushed it aside and shook her head vigorously. “Your cloak,” she said, her voice normal again. “It looks a bit worse for the wear, eh?”

  I pulled my cloak over my shoulder. Indeed it looked worse: the brilliant royal blue was marked with a great black scar, with small red veins running the length of it.

  An image of Perrault leaped into my mind: galloping atop his white steed Haze with the cloak flowing out behind him.

  I shook my head, trying to suppress the sick feeling in my gut. “No time to waste, we have to move,” I said.

  It had seemed an hour getting to the treasure. But it felt like a mere minute before we were crawling down the narrow sloped tunnel toward freedom. Somewhere along the way, I had taken the sash from Joen and placed it over my head. Though it was on top of my shirt, not under it as I used to wear it, its familiar weight felt good against my chest. It was like it was inside my chest, inside my very being. Even through the illness it had caused, I had not noticed how much I had missed the stone until the moment I finally had it back.

  We scrambled out of the cave into the predawn light. The tide had gone out further, and there was less than a foot of water beneath out feet. We stopped to catch our breath before starting the short climb and long walk back to the camp.

  “How do you suppose the dragon got in there?” Joen asked me. “You think it crawled in when it was tiny, and just outgrew the entrance?”

  “Then how would it have all that treasure?” I said. “And what did it eat to grow so large?”

  “I dunno, maybe the Circle feeds it and brings it gifts.” She shrugged.

  “Or maybe there’s another, larger, entrance,” I said.

  Her response was cut short by a loud splashing noise. A few hundred yards out to sea, the water bubbled, and a great reptilian head emerged, followed by the rest of the dragon, wings spread wide, a hundred feet long, wingspan twice that across.

  It let loose a roar so loud the rock shook beneath our feet. The mighty beast beat its wings against the air, and turned to the shore—to us.

  “Time to go,” I said quietly. But Joen was no longer standing beside me; she was halfway up the cliff and climbing fast.

  I followed her, quick as I could, thankful for the easy handholds. My palms were sweaty, and my fingers trembled. I doubted I could have navigated a more difficult cliff.

  When I crested the rise, my heart beat even faster.

  Joen stood, her daggers drawn, her feet set in a defensive stance. Behind her stood a figure with black boots and pants and a white silk shirt stretched over a broad red chest. The twisted metal hilt of a horrible demonic sword rose up beside the wicked, angular face.

  “Impressive,” Asbeel said with feigned friendliness. “I half expected you’d never return from that cave. Then again, you did have some luck,”—he looked pointedly at the sash across my chest—“on your side.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  One, two, three times I slashed at Asbeel, left to right. After all that training with the masters of Waterdeep, my swordwork had vastly improved since the last time Asbeel and I had crossed swords. But against Asbeel, it didn’t seem to make much difference.

  Each time, I struck out at him, his own massive sword was in line for the block.

  Joen crouched low to my right. Her heels dangled off the cliff, as she stabbed out with her newly stolen daggers.

  Asbeel brought his sword around quickly, aiming a swing at her head. But Joen darted to her left.

  I stepped forward, my saber leading. Asbeel had to cut his swing short and retreat another step.

  I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting the dragon to descend upon us. But the dragon seemed to have disappeared.

  With each motion Joen and I were more in tune. My first instinct had been to protect her, to keep myself between the demon and Joen. Though I knew firsthand that she could fight, the thought of Asbeel hurting her made me nauseous. But on the narrow ledge overlooking the dragon’s cave, I had no way to stand between them.

  And so we fought as one.

  The demon rushed forward. I stepped to the side. Then Joen darted in, stabbing at his exposed side. Again and again we repeated the maneuver, until we had turned Asbeel in a full circle.

  “I’m done playing with you, children.” With murder in his eyes, Asbeel lifted his sword for a final attack.

  But another, larger, form rose up behind him.

  The bull walrus raised its head and let loose a mighty barking roar. Then it brought its wicked tusks, one broken but the other sharp, down at the demon’s back. Asbeel tumbled to the ground.

  The demon rolled over quickly, bringing his wicked jagged sword to bear against the walrus. The walrus raised its head and let out another bark. Its sharp tusk glinted in the sunrise.

  “Come on,” Joen said, grabbing my arm and pulling me. “We’ve got more important things to do than sit here watching, eh?”

  I didn’t argue. Off we ran, down the beach to Sea Sprite and the two crews. At first Joen led, but soon I had passed her, running so fast with my boots, pulling her along behind. I said a silent thanks to the bull walrus. It wouldn’t last long against the likes of Asbeel.

  The sun had crested the eastern horizon, and its brilliant light sparkled on the ocean. I looked up to the sky above it. The dragon soared there in a wide arc, exultant in the cold air. It seemed to have lost any concern with us; instead, it swept over the ocean.

  “Where do you think he’s going?” I asked no one in particular.

  “She,” Joen responded. “And I think she’s headed for the ships. Dragons are smart, you know? Maybe she knows we can’t get off the island without a ship.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” I said. “We should probably run faster then, don’t you think?”

  “Oi, sounds like a plan.”

  The wind went from still to gale in an instant. The new dawn was swept away by the black clouds of an oncoming storm.

  We rounded the last bend and saw Sea Sprite at the edge of the water. Dozens of sailors scrambled over her, trying to get her into the water. On deck at the stern rail, Captain Deudermont called out his orders. Lightning flashed behind him, casting him in silhouette.

  With that captain at the helm, Sea Sprite would be ready to go, I knew, and no hail nor gale nor thunder would stop her.

  The dragon’s wide arc brought it back toward land, making a straight line for the still-beached ship.

  The air was suddenly lit, but not by lightning. Out of
nowhere, a great ball of fire exploded, high up in the dragon’s face.

  Its roar took on a deeper timbre, of rage and agony mingled. It let loose its breath, a blast of electrical energy to rival the storm above.

  But its aim was not good, and the thunderstroke hit nothing but the beach, throwing up only sand and stone.

  “Nice one, kids,” called Robillard, standing calmly at the edge of the camp, casting another fireball as we ran by. “Felt the need to wake a dragon, did you? Not saying I’ve never had that urge myself, but this really doesn’t seem the best time for it.”

  Joen laughed. “Once in a lifetime opportunity, you know? She was there. How could we pass up the chance?”

  “A fair point,” Robillard conceded. He muttered an arcane incantation, moved his hands about in some odd gestures, and again a great blast of fire filled the sky, right in the dragon’s path.

  “And I see you’ve decided to rile it up even more,” I said sarcastically.

  “Just making it ready for our friends,” he said.

  “Friends?”

  At the next flash of lightning, Robillard pointed to some smaller shapes flying toward the dragon. Ravens.

  “Oi, nice idea!” Joen said.

  “Get to the ship already, would you?” Robillard said dryly, and again he fell into spellcasting.

  We didn’t need to be told twice. The ship had caught a wind-whipped wave and was floating. The crew who had not yet reached the deck were climbing lines.

  Suddenly, a wall of fire shot up between us and the ship, cutting across the beach from sea to cliff. I turned behind me. Another fire wall sprang up, blocking our retreat.

  Asbeel ambled through the tunnel of fire, looking none the worse for his encounter with the walrus.

  “Enough of this,” he said. “You will come with me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I heard Asbeel’s words echoing in the back of my head, compelling me to obey. I strained against them, trying to call up happier times with Perrault, Elbeth, Joen. Anything to get Asbeel’s voice out of my mind. But still I found my feet moving, one shuffling step, then another.