Kishalkuz rose sheer from the flat sea and climbed to a mist-wreathed pinnacle like an ancient fortress. There was just enough wind in the sail to move their boat slowly towards it, but even the gentle splash of waves against the prow was muted in the deep hush that emanated from the island. It was like the silence of a temple, though more so. This was no house built by men to hold worshippers, this was the abode of the gods themselves. This was Kishalkuz, the dragon isle.
As they drew near the island resolved itself from the blue haze into sheer black cliffs that plunged into the sea. Nowhere, it appeared, was there anywhere to land. They could hear waves splashing against the cliffs and the occasional cry of a gull, but otherwise all nature held a respectful silence.
Azkun’s blood pounded. Here again he would see his masters face to face. They would remove his guilt and fulfil the promises he had made in their name to save himself and his friends from the Gashans. At last Menish and Vorish would see the truth. Hrangil would not, and for this Azkun was saddened.
The dolphin chuckling irreverently into his mind interrupted his thoughts.
“Dragons, dragon place. Lead you here, what game now?”
“No games. This is most serious.” He sent an image of the most serious thing he could think of: death.
For once the dolphin stopped laughing and considered Azkun’s answer, then it chuckled and said “Land things, dolphins do not die. Not-dolphin not play.” Without further good-byes it streaked away from the boat.
Shelim muttered a curse and he wrenched on the tiller, trying to follow its lead as he had done for so many days, but Azkun stopped him.
“He is gone. We do not need him any more. This is Kishalkuz.”
Shelim nodded and steadied the tiller. He had known, of course, and his action had been a reflex.
“Where do we land, M’Lord?”
His question assumed that Azkun had been here before.
“Circle the island. There will be a place.” He spoke with the certainty that comes of proven faith.
They had to weigh sail to turn the boat across the wind, but Azkun left that to Althak and Thalissa. He stood at the prow, unwilling to take his eyes off the island of his masters. Tenari stood beside him, silent and impassive as ever, but her hand clenched tightly on his arm and the knuckles were white as if she too felt some of the awe of this place.
“The dragons will free you from the Monnar.” She gave no reaction to his promise.
The boat drifted lazily on the wind now and presently they rounded a bluff. Beyond it lay a small, shelly beach surrounded by cliffs. At one end of the beach a wide shelf of rock thrust out into the sea.
“The dragons smile on us, see? Here is our landing place. They have even provided a pier to tie up at.”
Shelim looked dubiously at the rock alongside but Althak, standing at the prow, assured him that the water was deep enough. It was crystal clear and they could see fish darting amongst the seaweed.
In the next few moments the tranquillity of the dragon isle was temporarily lost as they quickly pulled down the sail and fended off the edge of the shelf with poles to stop the boat crashing into it. Althak was first off the boat. He jumped down to the rock shelf and Azkun threw him a line to make fast to a heavy boulder that lay near the edge. Another line secured the stern. The boat rocked up and down on the small swell but it was moored as well as it would have been in any Vorthenki port.
When Azkun jumped off the boat and landed for the first time on Kishalkuz he knelt and kissed the ground. As he rose there were tears in his eyes.
“Look, a cave,” said Althak.
“Not a cave,” said Shelim with a shudder in his voice. “A tunnel.”
Sure enough, at the base of the cliff, and hidden by a small outcrop of rock so that they had not seen it before, was a dark hole that looked like a cave. But a second glance showed that it was regularly shaped and faced with ancient blocks of stone.
“Of course,” said Azkun. “It is the way in.”
They picked their way across the rock shelf carefully, for it was slippery and covered with sea lichen. It was obviously sometimes covered by the high tide. When they reached the beach Shelim stopped them.
“Do you mean we're to go into the tunnel, M’Lord?”
“Of course.”
“I… I won’t go in there, that is, I can’t. I have to mind the boat. The tide might slip the moorings and-”
“You are afraid.”
“I can’t abide tunnels, M’Lord. The weight of the ground above me… It's not the dragons. But I can’t go in there.”
Azkun laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“The dragons will provide another way for you. That is not difficult for them. Meanwhile wait here for us. But do not worry about the boat. I doubt if we will wish to return to the lands of men. The dragons will not need to send us back, for they will defeat Gashan themselves.”
So they left Shelim behind as they crunched their way across the shelly beach to the mouth of the tunnel.
They entered not a little gingerly and made their way into the darkness with seashells still crunching under their feet and the mouth of the tunnel receding behind them. The sound of the waves on the beach became fainter and fainter.
“Azkun, we can't go further without light,” said Althak. “If this tunnel twists and turns we'll be lost.”
“But we have no lamps. This is the way the dragons have given us.” He stood silent for a moment. Surely the dragons would not leave them in darkness, not after having come so far. At that moment a dull flickering could be seen above them in the tunnel. They all looked up, Thalissa with a moan of wonder. A small, bright globe of light hovered and flickered near the roof directly over Azkun’s head, casting as much light as a lamp.
“Azkun,” gasped Thalissa, “did you do that?”
“No.” He smiled. “That is the power of the dragons. They watch over us.”
But she was not convinced. She had heard the tales of Azkun but she had never seen magic before with her own eyes. Her son had called a magic light out of the air.
They continued along the tunnel, the globe of light dancing lightly above Azkun’s head. They could see the stones were much less worn here, sheltered as they were from the sea and, before they had walked much further, the tunnel came to a halt. It ended in a stone wall and, carved on it in relief, was a large double-headed axe.
On their left was a shelf in the wall about waist height and wide steps led up to a dark opening.
“I know what this is!” shouted Althak, his voice echoing in the tunnel. “It's a wharf. This tunnel where we now stand was once filled with water up to the level of the shelf there. Boats were unloaded onto the shelf and traffic went up the steps. It must have been made to overcome the steepness of the cliffs.”
“But who would build such a thing on the dragon isle?” asked Thalissa.
“Perhaps the same folk who built the Gashan city,” said Althak, nodding towards the double axe symbol on the wall.
“That is of no account,” said Azkun, “we go up the steps.” He had expected to land on a heavenly isle where dragons pondered great thoughts all alone, yet the hand of man was clear here. Above him the globe of light danced and bobbed. It did not matter. The dragons were here, they were watching over him. Perhaps, long ago, they had had more traffic with men. Perhaps, before the corruption came.
They clambered onto the stone shelf and looked around. It was carved out of the solid rock and smoothed carefully. There was a pile of dust in one corner and a few scraps of metal scattered across the floor. That was all that remained of whatever had been left there. It had obviously not been used for a very long time.
Although the steps were wide enough to walk four abreast they went in single file, the women in the middle and Althak at the rear. Azkun had expected a short flight of steps and then a landing or passage, but the stairway climbed upwards into the darkness as far as he could see. Here and there the walls were decorated with strange designs of birds and beasts that seemed to writhe and intertwine they were so intricate. They too were reminders of the Gashan city. Azkun saw a bear-like creature staring at them from the stone and, once, he saw something that looked like the Duzral Eye carved on the wall, but it had many eyes staring from it instead of just one.
The air grew stale and musty as they climbed away from the entrance. It was dusty and still, the rush and gurgle of the surf grew fainter and fainter until it was merely an echo in their minds. The dust grew thicker and thicker on the stairs and cobwebs began to appear on the walls.
