The Second Generation

The brothers looked. At first all they could see was a con fused mass of split sail, dangled ropes, broken beams, and gnomes waving their hands, arguing furiously, and shoving each other about. The motion of the ship through the water had ceased, due, no doubt, to the presence of a cliff, which had bashed in the figurehead, part of the hull, and snapped the sail in two.

His face grim, Tanin made his way through the wreckage, followed by Sturm and Palin, several bickering gnomes, and the dwarf. Reaching the prow, he clung to the side and stared out past the cliff face toward the island. The sun was rising behind them, shedding its bright light upon a stretch of sandy beach that curved out of sight to the north, vanishing in a patch of gray fog. Strange-looking trees with thin, smooth trunks that erupted in a flourish of frondlike leaves at the top surrounded the beach. Beyond the wide, sandy strip, towering above the trees and the cliff face upon which the boat now rested, was a gigantic mountain. A cloud of gray smoke hung over it, casting a pall upon the beach, the water, and the ship.

“The Isle of Gargath,” Dougan repeated triumphantly.

“Gargath?” Palin gaped. “You mean—”

“Aye, laddie. The lord himself followed the Graygem, if you remember, when it escaped. He built a ship and sailed after it as it vanished over the western horizon, and that was the last anyone on Ansalon ever heard of him. His family figured he had dropped off the edge of the world. But, a few years back, I happened to be drinking with a group of minotaurs. One thing led to another, there was a game, as I recall, and I won this map off them.” Reaching into the pocket of his red velvet coat (now much the worse for wear and salt water), Dougan pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Tanin.

“It’s a minotaur map, all right,” Tanin said, setting it down on the listing rail and smoothing it out, trying to keep his balance at the same time.

Sturm lurched over to see, and Palin crowded next to him, bracing himself on the Staff of Magius. Though it was written in the uncouth language of the man-beasts, the map was drawn with the precision and skill for which minotaurs are grudgingly renowned by the civilized races of Krynn. There was no mistaking the continent of Ansalon or, much farther to the west, a tiny island with the word “Gargath” written out to the side.

“What does that mean,” Sturm asked, pointing to an ominous-looking symbol next to the island, “that thing that looks like a bull’s head with a sword stuck through it?”

“That?” repeated Dougan, shrugging nonchalantly. Snatching the map from Tanin, he rolled it up hastily. “Some minotaur doodle, no doubt—”

“The minotaur 'doodle' for danger,” Palin said grimly. “Isn’t that right?”

Dougan flushed, thrusting the map back into his pocket. “Well, now, laddie, I believe you may be on to something there, although I personally don’t put much stock in what those savage creatures might take it into their heads to draw—”

“Those 'savage creatures' have marked this island with their strongest warning!” Palin interrupted. “No minotaur ship will land anywhere bearing that mark,” he added, turning to his brothers. “And there are few things in this world or the next that minotaurs fear,” Tanin said, staring at the island, his face dark.

“What more proof do you need?” asked Dougan in a soft voice, following Tanin’s gaze; the dwarf’s dark, bright eyes were filled with hunger. “The Graygem is here! It is its power the minotaurs feel and fear!”

“What do you think, Palin?” Tanin turned to his youngest brother. “You’re the magic-user. Surely you can sense it.”

Once again, Palin felt the thrill of pleasure, seeing his older brothers, the two people he looked up to in this world most with the exception of his father—or maybe even more than his father—looking at him respectfully, awaiting his judgment. Gripping the Staff of Magius, Palin closed his eyes and tried to concentrate and, as he did so, a chill feeling clutched his heart with fingers of ice, spreading its cold fear through his body. He shuddered and opened his eyes to find Tanin and Sturm regarding him anxiously.

“Palin—your face! You’re as pale as death. What is it?”

“I don’t know....” Palin faltered, his mouth dry. “I felt something, but what I’m not sure. It wasn’t danger so much as a lost and empty feeling, a feeling of helplessness. Everything around me was spinning out of control. There was nothing I could do to stop it—”

“The power of the gem,” Dougan said. “You felt it, young mage! And now you know why it must be captured and returned to the gods for safekeeping. It escaped man’s care before; it will escape again. The gods only know,” the dwarf added sorrowfully, “what mischief it has wreaked upon the inhabitants of this wretched island.”

Wagging his black beard, Dougan held out a trembling hand to Tanin.