Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

It was an excellent plan, and one of which Sleet was rather proud. She skimmed after the ship, letting the current and the tide carry it to shore, giving it a little puff now and then. It was only when she saw the jagged rocks sticking up out of the moonlit water that the dragon suddenly saw the flaw in her scheme. Then the moon’s light was gone, swept away by the storm clouds, and the dragon could see nothing. It was darker than her Queen’s soul.

The dragon cursed the storm clouds, so well suited to the purposes of the Dragon Highlords in the north. But the clouds worked against her as they blotted out the two moons. Sleet could hear the rending and cracking sounds of splintering wood as the ship struck the rocks. She could even hear the cries and shouts of the sailors-but she couldn’t see! Diving low over the water, she hoped to encase the miserable creatures in ice until daylight. Then she heard another, more frightening sound in the darkness-the twanging of bow strings.

An arrow whistled past her head. Another tore through the fragile membrane of her wing. Shrieking in pain, Sleet pulled up from her steep dive. There must be elves down there, she realized in a fury! More arrows zinged past her. Cursed, nightseeing elves! With their elvensight, they would find her an easy target, especially crippled in one wing.

Feeling her strength ebb, the dragon decided to return to Ice Wall. She was tired from flying all day, and the arrow wound hurt abominably. True, she would have to report another failure to the Dark Queen, but-as she came to think of it-it wasn’t such a failure after all. She had kept the dragon orb from reaching Sancrist, and she had demolished the ship. She knew the location of the orb. The Queen, with her vast network of spies on Ergoth, could easily recover it.

Mollified, the white dragon fluttered south, traveling slowly. By morning she had reached her vast glacier home. Following her report, which was moderately well-received, Sleet was able to slip into her cavern of ice and nurse her injured wing back to health.

“She’s gone!” said Gilthanas in astonishment.

“Of course.” said Derek wearily as he helped salvage what supplies they could from wrecked ship. “Her vision cannot match your elfsight. Besides, you hit her once.”

“Laurana’s shot, not mine,” Gilthanas said, smiling at his sister, who stood on shore, her bow in her hand.

Derek sniffed doubtfully. Carefully setting down the box he carried, the knight started back out into the water. A figure looming out of the darkness stopped him.

“No use, Derek.” Sturm said. “The ship sank.”

Sturm carried Flint on his back. Seeing Sturm stagger with weariness, Laurana ran back into the water to help him. Between them, they got the dwarf to shore and stretched him on the sand. Out to sea, the sounds of cracking timber had ceased, replaced now by the endless breaking of the waves.

Then there was a splashing sound. Tasslehoff waded ashore after them, his teeth chattering, but his grin as wide as ever. He was followed by the captain, being helped by Elistan.

“What about the bodies of my men?” Derek demanded the moment he saw the captain. “Where are they?”

“We had more important things to carry” Elistan said sternly. “Things needed for the living, such as food and weapons.”

“Many another good man has found his final hoarse beneath the waves. Yours won’t be the first-nor the last-! suppose, mores the pity,” the captain added.

Derek seemed about to speak, but the captain, grief and exhaustion in his eyes, said, “I’ve left six of my own men there this night, sir. Unlike yours, they were alive when we started this voyage. To say nothing of the fact that my ship and my livelihood lies down there, too. I wouldn’t consider adding anything further, if you take my meaning. Sir.”

“I am sorry for your loss, captain,” Derek answered stiffly. “And I commend you and your crew for all you tried to do.”

The captain muttered something and stood looking aimlessly around the beach, as if lost.