“But the helm-”

“Mister Yandars, this is our only chance, so just do as you’re ordered! Unless, of course, you’re willing to trust your fate to them.” The captain pointed emphatically toward the dark shapes astern, three hulking ships slowly closing on the small, crippled merchantman. “Tyreen’s got to hold it together till then. If my rudders are right, that'll be Krynn below us. There’s a fair-sized continent down there-Ansalon it’s called on the charts. We’ll make to land on it. Once we’re down, Tyreen can make his repairs."

Mister Yandars fearfully glanced back at their pursuers, his face pale. “Aye, Captain,” he said weakly, “I’ll see your orders are carried out.”

“Very good, mister. Helmsman, take us into the clouds,” commanded the bloodied captain. The rigging creaked slightly as the Penumbra nosed downward.

‘Dragon!”

Teldin Moore stopped in midswing, and the hoe he held almost flew from his grasp. Liam’s excited shout, practically in Teldin’s ear, was as startling as the word itself. “Liam, by the returned gods,” Teldin snapped as he dug the hoe into the ground, “I’m right here!” The tall farmer swung around to give an icy, blue-eyed glare at his shorter, older neighbor, but a dribble of sweat, brought out by the setting sun, dripped down his forehead. Teldin blinked as it dropped into his eyelashes, ruining the reproachful glare he hoped to achieve.

The pair were standing in the middle of the melon field, which filled one small corner of Teldin’s land. The farmer’s property extended from his cabin to a wooded ridge an acre away, beyond which lay Liam’s farm. Teldin scanned the horizon as he tried to guess just what had gotten his neighbor so excited.