The cataclysm

stunned. The useless wheel spun freely.

The Sunchaser heeled sharply to port. Dunvane shook the mist from his brain and stood, grasping Norry's arm for support.

The rudder had been carried away. The fallen crossyard had torn the puny trysail like a cobweb. SUNCHASER wallowed dead in the water. The racing current caught its blunt stern and swung the ship in a half circle. Scalding- hot spray, whipped up from the churning water, burst over the rail. Dunvane, his men, and Jermina sought vainly for cover.

Imkhian stood alone on the foredeck, clutching the capstan and staring into the hellish tempest. His hair was slicked down by the hot sea spray. His lips moved, though no one could hear his words. He gazed up at the heavens, as though praying.

Norry prodded Dunvane. The captain shielded his face from the droplets as his gaze followed the first mate's pointing arm.

Great piles of wreckage whirled on the sea's surface — fragments of gilded roofs and plastered walls, furniture, corpses, uprooted trees. The wreckage spun about in the blood-tinged water, then vanished into a gigantic whirlpool in the ocean. Dunvane knew then they were doomed. Smoke rose from the funnel, and lightning flashed in the skies above. 'This is the force that has drawn us on since yesterday morning,' Dunvane said.

One sailor shrieked a warning. A gigantic bronze statue was coming up fast on the starboard beam.

Dunvane grabbed the person nearest him — it happened to be Jermina — and held on. The hurtling statue smashed into the ship.

The Sunchaser heeled halfway over, burying its port rail in the blood-red sea. A sailor somersaulted over the rail into the water and was swept away by the current. The ship shuddered like a wounded beast, its timbers groaning as it slowly righted itself partway. It was impaled on the wreckage, and sinking by the bow.

The colossal statue — seared by fire, melted and misshapen — lay across the foredeck. 'Where's the Revered Son?' Dunvane demanded. He ran forward and found Imkhian crumpled against the capstan. Blood was running from a gash on his forehead.

'Revered Son! Are you all right?'

The priest blinked and looked up at the face of the statue. 'Kingpriest!' he cried hoarsely. 'You stood upon the arch of Paladine's Gate!' He covered his face with his hands and uttered a long, tearing wail. 'What has the world come to, that the most righteous nation on Krynn can be dealt such a blow? The Great Temple — the Kingpriest — the Revered Sons and Daughters — all thrown down! Istar is destroyed! Istar is destroyed!'

Imkhian bolted to the starboard rail. He stared straight into the whirling maelstrom and threw a leg over the rail.

'Stop, Imkhian!' Dunvane yelled.

The sound of his own name made the priest pause. He looked over his shoulder at the captain. His face was twisted with fury. 'The gods have abandoned us! The world is at an end.' Turning back to face the boiling sea, he raised his other leg over the rail.

'You don't have to die!' Dunvane shouted.

Imkhian's reply was a snarl. 'Fools! You are already dead!' He let go and fell from the ship.

Dunvane and Norry ran to the rail. To his horror, Dunvane saw Imkhian break the surface of the bubbling ocean, hands reaching up to the ruined image of the Kingpriest. Without a sound, he sank below the surface.

Hatch covers all over the ship burst off as the flooding seawater filled the hold. Norry pulled Dunvane away from the rail. The SUNCHASER was going down.

'Go aft!' Dunvane yelled. There was a small dinghy lashed to the transom stern. It was the only escape craft they had. Norry and the other sailor worked their way up the port side. Jermina and the captain crawled up the starboard. Blood-red saltwater lapped at Dunvane's heels.

'Don't let the dinghy fall!' Dunvane ordered. 'It'll break.' The sinking ship had lifted the stern so high he didn't dare release the lifeboat's moorings for fear of it plunging into the water and breaking apart. Norry and the sailor tried to free the dinghy, planning to drag it amidships and launch it there. They were so intent on cutting the knots that they didn't see the mizzen yard teeter above them.

'Look out!' the captain shouted.

Norry looked up in time to see the yard falling. He threw himself back. The railing he landed against gave way and, with a shocked outcry, he plunged overboard. The sailor, crouched by the dinghy, had no time to escape. The heavy yard crushed him and the dinghy in one devastating blow.

The ship's bow slipped under the waves. The bronze statue broke loose and was sucked away into the maelstrom by the racing current.

Water advanced slowly up the deck. Jermina clutched the captain's arm. 'There must be something we can do,' she pleaded.

'No one can live in that current,' Dunvane said grimly. 'The priest was right. The gods have abandoned us. We are as good as dead.'

'Not' Jermina cried. 'I don't believe it. The gods help those who help themselves.'

Seawater bubbled around the serpentine bowl. It remained lashed to the deck, though the mainmast yard had fallen across it. Steam billowed up as the hot water touched the cool stone.

'Will that float?' Jermina asked, pointing to the sacramental bowl.

'Float? Maybe. It's light for its size, but why — ?' 'Come on!' She seized his arm and dragged him along. They had to wade in ankle-deep blood-red water to reach the bowl. Dunvane was almost numb with shock. 'Hopeless,' he muttered, but he let Jermina carry him along.

They managed to climb into the gigantic serpentine bowl. Jermina snatched the captain's knife from his belt and tried to hack through the lashings. They were too thick, and she made little progress. At last, Dunvane took the knife from her and set to work. Jermina reached out and snagged a boat hook floating nearby.

When the last line parted, the bowl was free of the ship. Jermina pushed them away with the boat hook. The bowl slid off the canted deck and into the water. The rushing current caught them.

They huddled in the bottom of the sacramental bowl, clinging to each other. The stone's fireproof properties protected them from the heat of the water, but the low sides let gouts of hot spray wash over them. The maelstrom spun them in tighter and tighter spirals toward the huge column of smoke and flame in its heart. Other wreckage crashed into them. The roaring of the rushing water filled their ears. They coughed and gasped in the fiery, choking air.

The serpentine bowl struck hard against something — the statue of the Kingpriest. Dunvane, certain this was the end, shut his eyes. The heat overcame them. They both lost consciousness.

Jermina awoke, sat up slowly. She looked around, dazed. Behind them, the column of fire that marked the grave of the city of Istar burned and flashed. The serpentine bowl she and Dunvane were in, along with other wreckage and rubbish, had been propelled out of the maelstrom. They floated quietly in a backwater.

'Dunvane!' she said, shaking him. He sat up, staring in wonder.

A cool drop hit his face. Another followed, then another, and soon rain was pattering on the ocean. The shower strengthened. Dunvane lifted his head and let the water wash over him. The sound of hysterical laughter grated on his nerves. Jermina was laughing and sobbing at the same time.

'What's funny?' he asked.

'The Revered Son was wrong,' she said. 'We're alive.'

THE HIGH PRIEST OF HALCYON

Douglas Niles

From the Continuing Research of Foryth Teel, Chief Scribe Assisting Astinus, Eternal Lorekeeper of Krynn. Most Esteemed Historian: