Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles Read Online Free Page A

destroyed many ships recently.
Her servants, Mog included, delighted at the charnel larder laid before them.
                 Mog,
though, knew that the mistress did not destroy ships in the Turbidus Ocean merely because she could—she did so because
of the anger burning within her immense belly.
                 The
dragonspawn did not completely understand his mistress’ fury. He had seen the
object of her desire many times, hut he could not comprehend what fascinated
her about those small hits of isolated rock. In the part of his reptilian brain
that he shared with Tempest, Mog knew these islands as the Dragon Isles. He
knew that she, Tempest the Great, somehow stood barred from entering the isles.
He knew that the magic standing in her way was very ancient and that it was
called The Veil.
                 Mog
had difficulty comprehending that anything could thwart his mistress. Yet when
she or her minions tried to approach the isles, they found themselves confused
and disoriented. Always the Dragon Isles slipped away, out of their grasp.
                 Tempest
lusted after the islands. Once, they had been home to many good dragons of
Ansalon—gold, silver, brass, bronze, and copper. Now, however, many of the
metallic dragons had fled, and the isles stood as mere shadows of their former
selves.
                 Tempest
lusted after the islands and the genuine treasures they contained—not the sanguine,
meaty treasures that thrilled Mog, but wealth and power and magic. Such things
were the hoard of dragons.
                 But
The Veil kept her out. And so Tempest summoned storms and vented her rage upon
ships passing through the Turbidus Ocean . Ships she feared might pierce the Veil and
reach the Dragon Isles.
                 Her
servants grew strong and fat on the blood of her victims. Yet Tempest remained
no closer to her goal.
                 Her
desire to reach the isles burned in her mind and, therefore, it burned in Mog
as well.
                 All
of Tempest’s dragonspawn were strong, but Mog was the strongest. He was the
first she had made, forming him out of the bodies of captured draconians as
well as from her own blood and sinew and magic. He was, therefore, most closely
connected to her, most clever, most powerful. He was the only one who could
assume the shapes of both the sea’s denizens and his mistress’ two-legged
enemies.
                 Mog
was well-suited to the job of killing. Iron-like scales covered his humanoid
body and limbs. The tips of his fingers and toes ended in sharp spikes. His
webbed talons propelled him swiftly through the brine. His blood-red eyes
easily pierced the gloom of the deep. Mog’s rasp-like mouth could rip the flesh
from any enemy he encountered.
                 Yet
all this was still not enough to penetrate The Veil.
                 Tempest’s
unholy desire burned within him.
                 Mog
groomed the blood from his scales and waited impatiently for the next ship.
     
              

 

     
 
Four
     
     
    The Prophecy
     
                 To
seven cities’ light
                 By
silver water course
                 Before
the second night
                 Discover
then the source.”
     
                 Karista
Meinor looked around the assembled crew as she read the ancient parchment. A
contagious fervor gleamed in her steely eyes. The sailors before her stood in
rapt attention.
                 There
was more to the prophecy, Mik knew, but Karista didn’t read it all to the
anxious crew of Kingfisher. She had,
in fact, left out the most interesting parts—the sections about the temple and
treasure, and the ways to find the hidden riches. The crew didn’t need to know
those details.
                 Mik
remained unsure, in fact, if Lady Meinor believed in the prophecy.