Imkhian straightened. He ran his fingers through his mussed hair and tugged his wrinkled robe into a semblance of order. "I am certain the city of Istar is safe, Captain. The Kingpriest's power is proof against any catastrophe or evil magic."
Imkhian's voice was strong, positive, calm. But this time, the captain's fears were not stilled. The two men stared at each other for a long minute.
"I hope you're right, Revered Son," said Dunvane at last. He rolled up his chart. "I'd best take the wheel. We're in unknown waters now, and a captain's place is at the helm."
He turned to go, but Imkhian caught his arm. "Leave the lantern," he said. "I wish to pray."
Dunvane pulled the cabin door shut quietly. Norry came up behind him.
"The trysail's been rigged, sir," he reported, "and we've spotted lightning. Looks to be a terrible storm, dead ahead."
What else could happen? Dunvane sighed and followed his mate to the wheel. A red glow lit up the horizon, too early and too easterly to be the dawn. "What is that?" asked the captain, staring.
"Dunno, sir. Could be a ship on fire."
Dunvane squinted through the tangle of rigging, masts, and the billowing trysail. "If so, it's a big one," he muttered.
"Aye."
Lightning flickered around the scarlet glow. An uncommonly warm wind blew over them; patches of mist rose from the cooling sea. They could hear the sound of thunder. The previously calm sea was roughened by rising swells. The Sunchaser wallowed in the waves. The motion roused Jernina, who came aft to see what was going on.
"What's that light?" she asked, clutching at the binnacle for support.
Before anyone could reply, Imkhian, white robe flapping in the increasingly hot wind, appeared like a pale ghost at the captain's elbow.
"Let the gods steer your ship, Captain," he commanded. "We are in their hands now."
"Every sailor is in the hands of the gods," Dunvane said, "but my hands stay on this wheel, Holy One."
A thunderclap was punctuated by a stinging hail of dust. The wind crackled the frail trysail. The ship glided along with the speeding current. The dust storm passed quickly, replaced by a steady blast of furnace-hot air. The sailors and Jermina coughed and covered their faces. Dunvane blinked through the grit lodged in his eyes and stared at the rapidly brightening red glow. It soon filled the sky from port to starboard. From its midst rose a column of smoke, reaching from the sea surface up to the sky, where it spread into a flat-topped cloud.
"The whole world's on fire!" Norry gasped.
"The water's starting to seethe like a soup kettle," cried the lookout.
Dunvane stared over the bow. Steam rose from the sea. The water was the color of blood. "I'm putting about," Dunvane said and tried to put the helm over to starboard.
Imkhian's long white fingers gripped the wheel. "Go forward, Captain. In my prayers I was given to know that we must seek out the fire, not hide from it. Fire purifies all it touches. The gods will protect us."
The priest's voice was calm, his gaze fixed upon the crimson glow before them.
Dunvane shook his head. "We must turn away, Revered Son. The ship would go up like a torch."
The priest made his way past the sailors and stood by the rail. His gaze roved around the spectacle before them, the unknown red light, the pillar of smoke, the steaming, blood-red water. He turned abruptly, his eyes blazing. "Keep going!"
Lightning flickered overhead as the hot, glowing column of smoke closed out the last bit of night. The red glow lit them like a bloody sunrise. Dunvane spun the wheel left and right, but the Sunchaser could not break out of the rushing stream that propelled it.
"It doesn't look as if we've got much choice," Dunvane said bitterly. Norry and the other two crewmen began to fidget and cast anxious looks at the churning sea.
Something boomed against the hull. A sailor bent over the side and sang out, "Timbers! There's timbers in the water! Heading straight for us!"
Unable to steer, Dunvane could do nothing. Massive building timbers rammed into the SUNCHASER. Dunvane held grimly to the wheel. The ship rolled and pitched and they were still being drawn toward the great shaft of smoke, fire and lightning.
"Have no fear!" called Imkhian above the thunder and booming waves. "We are being tested! We must not be afraid! Istar lies beyond the wall of fire; we must penetrate the wall!" The priest knelt by the great serpentine bowl, clinging to its smooth surface.
Norry staggered across the canted deck. "Captain! What can we do?"
A bolt of lightning struck the mainmast. The foot-thick oak mast splintered down its length, and the heavy crossyard crashed to the deck, knocking Dunvane back from the wheel. He hit the sterncastle and slid down, 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.