Dragonlance: Anthologies, Book 01 - The Search for Magic: Tales from the War of Souls by Margaret Weis

Author:Margaret Weis [Weis, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7869-1899-7
Publisher: Fanversion Publishing
Published: 2015-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

What paddle machines there were still working rapidly collapsed in the storm. Their mountings in the ice had melted loose, and the fierce wind smashed them down. Powerless, the great iceberg turned in the wind, plowing sideways through the heaving sea. Raegel got seasick again.

In the storehouse, the gnomes were furiously working-sewing hides together, painting hot pitch on wicker baskets, and other nonsensical doings. Mixun and Raegel shut the driftwood door and slid to the floor, their backs against the flimsy, quivering panel.

“It’s a cyclone all right,” Raegel said, wiping his face. “We’ll soon be aground at this rate.”

“I estimate we will reach Enstar in ninety-two minutes,” said the gnome who calculated the Splitting so accurately. Despite his earlier success, he instantly had fifty other gnomes disputing his estimate. Mixun ground his teeth.

“Time waits for gnome one,” Raegel said, leaning his head back.

“Shut up! Are we in danger?” asked Mixun.

“Danger enough, even if this floe isn’t a ship. It may be ice, but it’s solid. We’ll go aground and that’ll be that.”

The gnomes were not about to see their great project end so ignominiously. They sewed their store of hides into a gigantic sail, which they announced they would spread between the peaks atop the iceberg. Using the wind, they would sail the floe away from Enstar.

“And what,” Mixun asked, “are the baskets for?”

The explanation was lengthy, but the crux of the matter was that they were gnomish lifeboats, for use in case the iceberg broke apart.

Tied together by an endless rope, the gnomes ventured forth in the storm. Small as they were, they were carried hither and thither by the tempest, hopelessly snarling the makeshift sail. Driven to help by sheer exasperation, Mixun and Raegel climbed the ridge, dragging the heavy sail behind them. At the top, Mixun threw one leg over and surveyed the scene. His heart climbed into his mouth.

The coast of Enstar seemed close enough to touch. Above a white sand beach, a dark headland loomed. Trees tossed in the scouring wind. Under him, Mixun felt the huge floe roll and pitch as it drove relentlessly toward land. Raegel arrived a few seconds later, still dragging the gnomes’ useless sail.

“Forget it!” Mixun shouted. “Look!”

The deep underbelly of the berg struck sand, and the island heeled sharply, throwing the men over the ridge. They skittered down the melting face of the ridge, jolting to a stop in a ravine full of rain and melt-water. Soaked, Mixun tossed the wet hair out of his eyes. They were still a good fifty paces from dry land.

With amazing delicacy, the ponderous floe pivoted on its natural keel. The ‘bow’ of the island was pushed ashore by the thundering wind. A monstrous grinding filled the air. The ice quivered.

“Here we go!” Raegel shouted.

With a crack as loud as the Splitting, the fore-end of the iceberg, fully half a mile long, broke off. Fragments of ice the size of houses crashed into the raging ocean. Out of balance, the broken segment heeled over on its end and piled ashore amid heavy waves.

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