"Of course!" Kit cuddled nearer. "I like the beard; stroking his face. "It hides those weak elvish features. How did you get into the army?"

How indeed? thought Tanis frantically.

"We . . . were captured in Silvanesti. One of the of winced me I was a fool to fight the D-Dark Queen:'

"And my little brothers?"

"We-we were separated;' Tanis said weakly.

"A pity;" Kit said with a sigh. "I'd like to see them again. Caramon must be a giant by now. And Raistlin-I hear he is quite a skilled mage. Still wearing the Red Robes?'

"I-I guess;' Tanis muttered. "I haven't seen him"

"That won't last long;" Kit said complacently. "He's like me. Raist always craved power . . :'

"What about you?" Tanis interrupted quickly. "What are you doing here, so far from the action? The fighting's north"

"Why, I'm here for the same reason you are;" Kit opening her eyes wide. "Searching for the Green Gemstone Man of course:"

"That's where I've seen him before!" Tanis said, flooding his mind. The man on the Perechon! The man in Pax Tharkas, escaping with poor Eben. The man with the green gemstone embedded in the center of his chest.

"You've found him!" Kitiara said, sitting up eagerly. "Where, Tanis? Where?" Her brown eyes glittered. •

"I'm not sure;' Tanis said, faltering. "I'm not sure it was him.I-we were just given a rough description . . . .

"He looks about fifty inhuman years;' Kit said in excitement, "but he has strange, young eyes, and his hands are young. And in the flesh of his chest is a green gemstone. We had reports. he was sighted in Flotsam. That's why the Dark Queen sent me here. Hes the key; Tanis! Find him-and no force on Krynn can stop us!"

"Why?" Tanis made himself ask calmly. "What's he got that's so essential to-uh-our side winning this war?"

'Who knows." Shrugging back in Tanis's arms. "You're shivering. Here, this will warm you.'' She kissed his neck, running her hands over his body."We were just told the most important thing we could do to end this war in one swift stroke is to find this man:'

Tarus swallowed, feeling himself warming to her touch.

"Just think," Kitiara whispered in his ear, her breath hot and moist against his skin, "if we found him-You and I-we woould have all of Krynn at our feet! The Dark Queen would reward us beyond anything we ever dreamed! You and I, together always, Tanis. Let's go now!.'

Her words echoed in his mind. The two of them,together,forever. Ending the war. Ruling Krynn., No, he thought. feeling his throat constrict. This as madness! Insanity ! My People, _. friends. . . . Yet, haven't I done enough? What do I owe any them, humans or elves? Nothing! They are the ones Who hurt me, derided me! All these years -a cast out. Me! It's time I thought about me for a change! This is the woman I've dreamed of f or so long. And she can be mine. Kitiara . . . so beautiful. so desirable....

'No?' Tanis said harshly, then, -No' he said more gently. Reaching out his hand, he pulled her back near him. 'Tomorrow will do. if it was him, he isn't going anywhere. I know-"

Kitiaca smiled and, with a sigh, Lay back down. Tanis bending over her, kissed her passionately. Far away he could hear the waves of the Blood Sea of Istar crashing on the shore.

 

 

The High Clerist's Tower. The Knighting.

 

By morning, the storm over Solamnia had blown itself out.. The sun rose-a disk of pale gold that warmed morning. The knights who stood watch upon the battlements of the Tower of the High Clerist went thankfully to their beds, talking of the wonders they had seen during the awful night. for such a storm as this hay not been known in the lands of Solamnia since the dlays after the Cataclysm. Those Who took over the watch from their fellow knights were nearly as weary; no one had slept.

Now they Looked out upon a plain covered with snow and ice. Here and there the landscape was dotted with flickering

flames where trees., blasted by the fagged lightning that had streaked out of the sky during the blizzard, burned eerily. But it was not to those strange flames the eyes of the knights turned as they ascended the battlements. It was to the flames that burned upon the horizon-hundreds and hundreds of flames, filling the clear, cold air with their foul smoke. The campfires of war. The campfires of the dragonarmies.

One thing stood between the Dragon Highlord and victory in Solamnia. That "thing" as the Highlord often referred to it was the Tower of the High Clerist.

Built long ago by siinas Salamnus, founder of the knights, in the only pass through the snow-capped, cloud-shrouded Vingaard Mountains. the Tower protected Palanthas; capital city of Solamnia, and the harbor known as the Gates of Paladine. Let the Tower fall, and Palanthas would belong to the dragonarrmies. It was a soft city-a city of wealth and beauty, a city that had turned its back upon the world to gaze with admiring eyes into its own mirror.

With Palanthas in her hands and the harbor under her control , the Highlard could easily starve the rest of Solamnia  into submission and then wipe out the troublesome knights.

The Dragon Higlilord, called the Dark Lady by her troops was not in camp this day. She was gone an secret business to the east. But she had left loyal ond able commanders behind, commanders Who would do anything to win her favor.

Of all the Dragon Highlords, the Dark Lady was known to sit highest in the regard of her Dark Queen. And so the troops of draconians, goblins, hobgoblins, ogres, and humans sat at their campfires, staring at the Tower with hungry eyes longing to attack and earn her conmendation.

The Tower was defenaed by a large garrison. of Knigts of Solamnia who had moved out from Palanthas only a few weeks ago. Legend recalled that the Tower had never fallen while men of faith held it, dedicated as it was to the Clerist -that position which, second only to the Grand Master, was most revered in the Knighthood.

The clerics of Paladine had lived in the High Clerists Tower during khe Age of Dreams. Here young knights had come for their religious training and indoctrination. There were many traces of the clerics' presence left behind.

It wasn't only fear of the legend that forced the dragonarmies to sit idle. It didn't take a legend to tell their commanders that taking this Tower was going to be costly.

"Time is in our favor," stated the Dark Lady before she left. "Our spies tell us the knights have received little help from Palanthas. We've cut off their supplies from Vingaard Keep to the east. Let them sit in their Tower and starve. Sooner or later their impatience and their stomachs will cause them to make a mistake. When they do, we will be ready."

"We could take it with a flight of dragons;" muttered a young commander. His name was Bakaris, and his bravery in battle and his handsome face had done much to advance him in the Dark Lady's favor. She eyed him speculatively, however, as she prepared to mount her blue dragon. Skie.

"Perhaps not;" she said coolly. "You've heard the reports of the discovery of the ancient weapon-the dragonlance?"

"Bah'. Children's stories!" The young commander laughed as he assisted her onto Skies back. The blue dragon stood glaring at the handsome commander with fierce, fiery eyes.

"Never discount children's stogies," the Dark Lady said, "for these were the same tales that were told of dragons: She shrugged. "Do not worry, my pet. If my mission to capture the Green Gemstone Man is successful, we will not need to attack the Tower, for its destruction will be assured. If not, perhaps I will bring you that flight of dragons you ask for."

With that, the giant blue lifted his wings and sailed off toward the east, heading far a small and wretched town called Flotsam on the Blood Sea of Istar.

And so the dragonarmies waited, warm and comfortable around their fires, while-as the Dark Lady had predicted-the knights in their Tower starved. But far worse than the lack of food was the bitter dissension within their own ranks.

The young knights under Sturm Brightblade's command had grown to revere their disgraced leader during the hard months that followed their departure from Sancrist. Although melancholy and often aloof, Sturm's honesty and integrity won him his mens respect and admiration. It was a costly victory, caus'ng Sturm a great deal of suffering at Derek's hands. A less noble man might have turned a blind eye to Derek's political maneuvers,or at least kept his mouth shut (as did Lord Alfred), but Sturm spoke out against Derek constantly-even though he knew it worsened his own cause with the powerful knight.

It was Derek who had completely alienated the people of Palanthas. Already distrustful, filled with old hatreds and bitterness,the people of the beautiful, quiet city were alarmed and angered by Derek's threats when they refused to allow the knights to garrison the city. It was only through Sturm's patient negotiations that the knights received any supplies at all.

The situation did not improve when the knights reached the High Clerist's Tower. The disruption among the knights lowered the morale of the footmen, already suffering from a lack of food. Soon the Tower itself became an armed camp-the majority of knights who favored Derek were now opposed by those siding with Lord Gunthar, led by Sturm. It was only because of the knights' strict obedience to the Measure that fights within the Tower itself had not yet broken out. But the demoralizing sight of the dragonarmies camped nearby as well as the lack of food, led to frayed tempers and nerves.

Too late, Lord Alfred realized their danger. He bitterly regretted his own folly in supporting Derek, for he Could clearly see now that Derek Crownguard was going insane.

The madness grew on him daily. Derek's lust for power ate away at him and deprived him of his reason. But Lord Alfred was powerless to act. So locked into their rigid structure were the knights that it would take-according to the Measure - months of Knights Councils to strip Derek of his rank. '

News of Sturm's vindication struck this dry and crackling forest like a bolt of lightning. As Gunthar had foreseen, this completely shattered Derek's hopes. What Gunthar had not foreseen was that this would sever Derek's tenuous hold on sanity.

On the morning following the storm, the eyes of the guards turned for a moment from their vigilance over the dragonamries to look down into the courtyard of the Tower of the High Clerist. The sun filled the gray sky with a chill, pale light that was reflected in tlhe coldly gleaming armor of the Knights of Solamnia as they assembled in the solemn ceremony awarding knighthood/

Above them, the flags with the Knight's Crest seemed frozen upon the battlements, hanging lifeless in the still, cold air. Then a trumpet's pure notes split the air, stirring the blood. At that clarion call, the knights lifted their heads proudly and marched into the courtyard.

Lord Alfred stood in the center of a circle of knights. Dressed in his battle armor, his red cape fluttering from his shoulders, he held an antique sword in an old, battered scabbard. The kingfisher, the rose, and the crown-ancient symbols of the Knighthood-were entwined upon the scabbard. The lord cast a swift, hopeful gaze around the assembly, but then lowered his eyes, shaking his head.

Lord Alfred's worst fears were realized. He had hoped bleakly that this ceremony might reunite the knights. But it was  having the opposite effect. There were great gaps in the Sacred Circle, gaps that the knights in attendance stared at uncomfortably. Derek and his entire command were absent.

The trumpet call sounded twice more, then silence fell upon the assembled knights. Sturm Brightblade, dressed in long, white robes, stepped out of the Chapel of the High Clerist where he had spent the night in solemn prayer and meditation as prescribed by the Measure. Accompanying him was an unusual Guard of Honor.

Beside Sturm walked an elven woman, her beauty shining in the bleakness of the day like the sun dawning in the spring. Behind her walked an old dwarf, the sunlight bright on his white hair and beard. Next to the dwarf came a kender dressed in bright blue leggings.

The circle of knights opened to admit Sturm and his escorts,. They came to a halt before Lord Alfred. Laurana, holding his helm in her hands, stood on his right. Flint, carrying his shield, stood on his left, and -after a poke in the ribs from the dwarf -Tasslehoff hurried forward with the knight's spurs.

Sturm bowed his head. His long hair, already streaked with gray though he was only in his early thirties, fell about his shoulders. He stood a moment in silent prayer, then, at a sign from. Lord Alfred, fell reverently to his knees,.

'Sturm Brightblade,:' Lord Alfred declared solemnly., opening a sheet of paper. 'the Knights Council, an hearing testimony given by Lauralanthalasa of the royal family of Qualineti,and further testimony by Flint Fireforge, hill dwarf of Solace township, has granted you Vindication from the charges brought against you. In recognition of your deeds of bravery and courage as related by these witnesses, you are hereby declared a Knight of Solamnia." Lord Alfreds voice softened as he looked down upon the knight. Tears streamed unchecked down Sturm's gaunt cheeks. "You have spent the night in prayer, Sturm Brightblade;" Alfred said quietly. "Do you consider yourself worthy of this great honor? "

"No, my lord;' Sturm answered, according to ancient ritual, "but I most humbly accept it and vow that I shall devote my life. to making myself worthy:" The knight lifted his eyes to the sky:. "'With Paladines help;' he said softly, "I shall do so."

Lord AlEred had been through many such ceremonies, but could not recall such fervent dedication in a man's face.

"I wish Tanis were here;' Flint muttered gruffly to Laurana who only nodded briefly.

She stood tall and straight, wearing armor specially made for her in Palanthas at Lard Gunthar's command. Her honey colored hair streamed from beneath a silver helm. Intricate gold designs glinted on her breastplate, her soft black leather skirt-slit up the side to allow freedom of movement, bruhed  the tips of her boots. Her face was pale and grim, for the situation in Palanthas and in the Tower itself was dark and seemingly without hope.

She could have returned to Sancrist. She had been ordered to, in Fact. Lord Gunthar had received a secret communique   from Lord Alfred relating the desperate straits the knights in and he had sent Laurana orders to cut short her stay.

But she had chosen to remain, at least for a while, The people of Palanthas had received her politely-she was, after all, royal blood and they were charmed with her beauty. They were also quite interested in the dlragonlance and asked for one to exhibit in their museum. But when Laurana mentioned the dragonarmies, they only shrugged and smiled.

Then Laurana found out from a messenger what was happening in the High Clerist's Tawer. The knights were under siege

The dragonnarmy numbering in the thousands waited upon the field. The knights needed the dragonlances, she decided. and there was no one but her to take the lances to the knights and teach them their use. She ignored Lord Gunthar's command to return to Sancrist.

The journey from Palanthas to the Tower was nightmarish. Laurana started out accompanying two wagons filled with meager supplies and the precious dragonlances. The first wagon bogged down in snow only a few miles outside of the city. Its contents were redistributed between the few knights riding escort, Laurana and her party, and the second wagon. It, too, foundered. Time and again they dug it out of the snow drifts until, finally, it was mired fast. Loading the food and the lances onto their horses, the knights and Laurana, Flint, and Tas walked the rest of the way. Theirs was the last group to make it through. After the storm of last night, Laurana knewas did everyone in the Tower-no more supplies would be coming. The road to Palanthas was now impassable.

Even by strictest rationing, the knights and their footmen had food enough for only a few days. The dragonarmies seemed prepared to wait for the rest of the winter.

The dragonlances were taken from the weary horses who had barns them and, by Derek's orders, were stacked in the courtyard. A few of the knights looked at them curiously, then ignored them. The lances seemed clumsy, unwieldy weapons.

When Laurana timidly offered to instruct the knights in the use of the lances, Derek snorted in derision. Lord Alfred stared out the window at the campfires burning on the horizon. Laurana turned to Sturm to see her fears confirmed.

'"Laurana;' he said gently, taking her cold hand in his, "I don't think the Highlord will even bother to send dragons. If we cannot reopen the supply lines, the Tower will fall because there will be only the dead left to defend it:"

So the dragarulances lay in the courtyard, unused, forgotten, their bright silver buried beneath the snow.

 

 

A Keenders Curiousity. The Knights ride forth.

 

Sturm and Flint walked the battlements the night of Sturm"s knighting, reminiscing-

'A well of pure silver-shining like a jewel-within the heart of the Dragon Mountain;' Flint said, awe his voice. "And it was from that silver Theros forged the dragonlances:'

"I should have liked-above all things-to have seen Huma's Tomb' Sturm said quietly. Staring out at the campfires on the horizon, he stopped, resting his hand on the ancient stone wall. Torchlight from a nearby window shone on his thin face.

"You will", said the dwarf `When this is finished, we'll go back. Tas drew a map-not that it's likely to be any good-'

As he grumbled on about Tas, Flint studied his other old friend with concern. The knight's face was grave and melancholy-not unusual for Sturm. But there was something new, a calmness about him that came not from serenity, but from despair.

-We'll go there together;" he continued, trying to forget about his hunger. "You and Tanis and I. And the kender, too, I suppose, plus Caramon and Raistlin. I never thought I'd miss that skinny mage, but a magic-user might be handy now, it's just as well Caraman's not here. Can you imagine the belly-aching we'd hear about missing a couple of meals?"

Sturm smiled absently, his thoughts far away. When he spoke it was obvious he hadn't heard a word the dwarf said.

"Flint;` he began, his voice soft and subdued, "we need only one day of warm weather to open the road. When that day comes, take Laurana and Tas and leave. Promise me:'

"We should all leave if you ask me!" the dwarf snapped. "Pull ',he knights back to Palanthas. We could hold that town against e, en dragons, I'll wager. Its buildings are good solid stone. Not like this place!" The dwarf glanced around the human-built rower with scorn. "Palanthas could be defended:"

Sturm shook his head. "The people won't allow it. They cart only for their beautiful city. As fang as they think it can be saved, they won't fight. No, we must make our stand here."

"`you Nan't have a chance;" Flint argued.

"Yes, me dar' Sturm replied, "if we car just hold out until the apply lanes can be firmly established, lrVe've got enough manpower. 7" hat's why flee dragonarmies haven't attacked-'

"Tlrere~a another wax;" came .a vocre.

'Sturm, and Flint turned. The torchlight fell an a gaunt face, and Sturm's expression hardened.

"What way is that, L=ard Derek?" Sturm .asked with deliberate aolitenes.

'-You axed Gunthar ;believe 4•au have defeated me:' Derek said, ignc_ring the question. His voice eras soft and shaking with hatred as he shared at Sturm. "But you haven't! By one heroic act,. I twill leave the knights in my palrru'-Derek iield out 'hi's mailer" hand, the arr,or (Dashing in the firelight-"and you and C,anthar will be finished!.' Slowly, he clenched his fist.

 

"I was under the impression our war was out there, with the dragonarmies," Sturm said.

"Don't give me that self-righteous twaddle!" Derek snarled. "Enjoy your knighthood, Brightblade. You paid enough for it. What did you promise the elf woman in return for her lies? Marriage? 'Make a respectable woman of her?"

"I cannot fight you-according to the Measure-but I do not have to listen to you insult a woman who is as good as she is courageous;' Sturm said, turning upon his heel to leave.

"Don't you ever walk away From me!" Derek cried. Leaping forward, he grabbed Sturm's shoulder. Sturm whirled in anger, his hand on his sword. Derek reached for his weapon as well, and it seemed for a moment that the Measure might be forgotten. But Flint laid a restraining hand oar his friend. Sturm drew a deep breath arid lifted this hand away from the hilt.

"Say what you have to say, Derek!" Sturm's voice quivered,

"You're finished, Brightblade. Tomorrow I'm leading knights onto the field. No more skulking in this miserable r prison. By tomorrow night, my name will be legend!'

Flint looked up at Sturm in alarm. The knight's face drained of blood. "Derek;' Sturm said softly; "you're There are thousands of them! They'll cut you to ribbonst"

"Yes, that's what you'd like to see, isn't it?" Deaek snee 'Be ready at dawn, Brightblade:'

That eight, TasslehofE-cold, hungry, ands boreal-deci that the beak way to take his mind off his stomach was explore his surroundings. There are plenty of places to things here, thought Tas. This is one of the strangest bull I've ever sees.

The Torwer of the High Clerist sat =o:idly .against the west I• of the tNestgate Pass, the Dnly canyon pass, that crossed; Habbakuk Flange of mountains separating eastern Sole , from Pa]anthas. As the Dragon Hig~alord knew, anyone to reach Pal anthaa other than by this route would have vet hundreds of miles around the mountains, or Ehro deser:, ar by sea. And ships entering the Gates of Pal.adiare' easy targets for the gnomes' fire-throwing catapults.

The High. Clerist's Tavrea had beer. built during the ?Wok. Flint knew a lot .about the archi.=ecture of this

35'~

the dwarves having been instrumental in designing and building most of it. But they had not built ar designed this Tower. In fact, Flint wondered who had--figuring the person must have beenreither drunk or insane.

An outer curtain wall of stale formed an octagon as the Tower's base. Each point of the octagonal wall was surmounted by a turret. Battlements ran along the top of the curtain wall between turrets. A inner octagonal wall formed the base of a series of towers and buttresses tha t swept gracefully upward to the central Tower itself.

This was fairly standard design, but what puzzled the dwarf was the lack of internal defense points.. Three great steel doers breached the outer wall, instead of one door-as would seem most reasonable, since three doors took an incredible number of men to defend. Each door opened into a narrow courtyard at the far end of which stood a partcullia leading directly into a huge hallway. Each of these three h.a]]way^s met in the heart of the Tower itself!

"Might as well invite the enemy inside for tea!'` the dwarf had

grumbled. "Stupidest way to build a fortress I ever says;.^•

No one entered the Tower. To. the knights, it was i~a.G-i.olate.

The only one who could enter the Tower was the High Clerist t

himself, and since there was no High Clerist, the knig)4t.s would

defend the Tower walls with their lives, but not one of them could set foot in its sacred halls.

Originally the Tower had merely guarded the pass, not

blocked it. But the Palanthians had later built an addition to

the main structure that sealed off tl~:e pass, It was in this addition that the knights and the footmen were living- No one even thought of entering the Tower itself.

No one except Tasslehoff.

Driven by his insatiable curiosit~r and his gnawing hunger, the kender made his way along the to

knights on guard duty eyed him  p of the outer wall. The

one hand, their wari .IX 'gripping their swards

purses in the atiher„ Hut they relaxed' ass soon theas he passed, and Tas was able to. slip down the steps into the central courtyard. only shadows walked down here. The torches burned, no guard was posted. Broad steps le.d up to 6e steel portcullis Tas padded up the stairs toward the great yawning archway and peered eagerly through the bars. Nothing. He sighed. The darkness beyond was so intense he might have been staring into the Abyss itself.

Frustrated, he pushed up on the portcullis-more out of habit than hope, for only Caramon or ten knights would have the strength necessary to raise it.

To the kender's astonishment, the portcullis began to rise, making the most god-awful screeching! Grabbing for it, Tas dragged it slowly to a halt. The kender looked fearfully up at the battlements, expecting to see the entire garrison thundering .,' down to capture him. But apparently the knights were listening only to the growlings of their empty stomachs.

Tas turned back to the portcullis. There was a small space open between the sharp iron spikes and the stone workspace just big enough for a kender. Tas didn't waste any time or stop to consider the consequences. Flattening himself, he wriggled beneath the spikes.

He found himself in a large, wide hall-nearly fifty feet across. He could see just a short distance. There were of torches on the wall, however. After a few jumps, Tas reach one and lit it from Flint's tinder box he found in his pouch.

Now Tas could see the gigantic hall clearly. It ran strai ahead, right into the heart of the Tower. Strange c0Iru ' ranged along either side, like jagged teeth. Peering behind o he sale nothing but an alcove.

The hall itself was empty. Disappointed, Tas continued w ing down it, hoping to find something interesting. He came second portcullis, already raised, much to his chagrin. " thing easy is more trouble than it's worth;' was am old ke saying. Tas walked beneat:n that portcullis into a second way, narrower than the first-only about ten feet widewith the same strange-, toothlike columns on either side.

Why build a tower s,o easy to enter? Tas wondered.

outer wall was formidable, but once past that, five dwarves could take this place. Tas peered up. And w h''I hugO The main hall was thirty feet high!

Perhaps the knights back in. those days had been giants,kendEr speculated with irteTest as he crept down the hall, , ing into open doors and pakiing into corners.

At the -end of the se:orrd hallway, he found a third port ,

This one was different from the other two, and as strange as the rest of the Tower. This portcullis had two halves, which slid together to join in the center. Oddest of all, there was a large hole cut right through the middle of the doors!

Crawling through this hole, Tas found himself in a smaller

room. Across from him stood two huge steel doors. Pushing on them casually, he was startled to find them locked. None of the

portcullises had been locked. There was nothing to protect.

Well, at least here was something to keep him occupied and

make him forget about his empty stomach. Climbing onto a stone bench, Tas stuck his torch into a wall sconce, then began to fumble through his pouches. He Finally discovered the set of lock-picking devices that are a kenders birthright-I% insult the door's purpose by locking it?" is a favorite kender expression.

Quickly Tas selected the proper tool and set to work. The lock was simple. There was a slight click, and Tas pocketed his

tools with satisfaction as the door swung inward. The kender stood a moment, listening carefully. He could hear nothing. Peering inside, he could see nothing. Climbing up on the bench again, he retrieved his torch and crept carefully through the steel doors.

Holding his torch aloft, he found himself in a great, wide, circular room. Tas sighed. The great room was empty except for a dust-covered object that resembled .an ancient fountain

standing squarely in the center. This was the end of the corridor, too, for though there were tyro more sets of double doors leading out of the room, it was obvious to the kender that they

.

only led back up the other two giant hallways. This was the heart of the Tower. This was the sacred place. Ths was *,vhat all the fuss was about.

Nothing.

Tas walked around a bit, shining his t.orchlight here and there. Finally the disgruntled kender went to examine the fountain in the center of the room before leaving.

As Tas drew closer, he saw it wasn't a fountain at all, bu t the

dust was so thick, he couldn't figure it out, it was about as tall as the kender, standing four feet off the ground. 'I 'he round tap was supported on a slender three-legged) Stand..

Tas inspected the object closely, the he took a deep breath and blew as hard as he could. Dust flew up his nose and hHe sneezed violently, nearly dropping the torch. For a moment he couldn't see a thing. Then the dust settled and he could see the object. His heart leaped into his throat.

"Oh, no!" Tas groaned. Diving into another pouch, he pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed the object. The dust came off easily, and he knew now what it was. "Drat!" he said in despair. "L was right. Now what do I do?"

The sun rose red the next morning, glimmering through a haze of smoke hovering above the dragonarmies. In the court-.. yard of the Tower of the High Clerist, the shadows of night hats; not yet lifted before activity began. One hundred knight mounted their horses, adjusted the girths, called for shields, buckled on armor, while a thousand footmen milled aroun searching for their proper places in line.

Sturm, Laurana, and Lord Alfred stood in a dark doorw watching in silence as Lord Derek, laughing and calling jokes to his men, rode into the courtyard. The knight resplendent in his armor, the rose glistening on his breas in the first rays of the sun. His men were in good spirits, thought of battle making them forget their hunger.

"You've got to stop this, my lord;" Sturm said quietly.

"I can't!" Lord Alfred said, pulling on his gloves. His ` was haggard in the morning light. He had not slept since St awakened him in the waning hours of the night. "The I5I gives him the right to make this decision:"

In vain had Alfred argued with Derek, trying to co him to wait just a few more days! Already the wind was ffig to shift, bringing warm breezes from the north.

But Derek had been adamant. He would ride out and lienge the dragonarmies 4n the field. As for being outrvum he laughed in scorn. Since when do goblins fight lilee ' Solamnia? The Knights had been outnumbered fifty toV nhe Goblin and Ogre wars. of the Vingaard Keep one h years. ago, and they'd routed the creatures with ease!

"But you'll be fighting draconians;' Sturm warned. mot like goblins. They are intelligent and skilled. They have  magic-users among their ranks, and their weapons are the best in Krynn. Even in death they have the power to kill"

 

"I believe we can deal with them, Brightblade;" Derek interrupted harshly, "And now I suggest you ,make your men and tell them to make ready."

"I'm not going;" Sturm said steadily. "And I'm not ordering my men to go, either:'

Derek paled with fury. For a moment he could not speak, he

was so angry. Even Lord Alfred appeared shocked.

"Sturm," Alfred began slowly, "do you know what you are doing?"

"Yes, my lord;' Sturm answered. 'We are the only thing

standing between the dragonarmies' and Palanthas. We dare not leave this garrison unmanned. I'm keeping my command here: '

"Disobeying a direct order," Derek said, breathing heavily, "You are a witness, Lord Alfred. I'll have his headthis time!" He stalked out- Lord Alfred, his fate grim, Sturm alone, frollowed, leaving. In the end, Sturm had given his men a choice. They could stay with him at no risk to themselves--since they were simply obeying tile orders of their commanding officer-or they could accompany Derek. It was, he mentioned, the same choice Vinas 5olamnus had given his men long ago, when the Knights rebelled against the corrupt Emperor of Ergoth. The men did not need to be reminded of this legend. They saw ;,t as a sign

and, as with Solamnus, most of them, chose to stay with the commander they had come to respect and admire,

n'ow they stood' watching, their faces grim as their friend's

Prepared to ridb out. It was the firs.*, open break in the long history of the Knighthood, and tike moment was grievous,

Reconsider, St;lrm; " Load Alfred said as the knigFtt helped him mount his horse. "Lord Derek is right. The dragonarmies

obi trot been trained, natLike the,Y,„~r,ights. There`s everypaob-

y we'll routes them with barely a blow beingstruck' ,I pray that is trice, my lorc],•, Stu. said steadily.

Alfred regarded him sadly. "If et iatrue, Brightblade, Derek

x''"'IIlee You trie-d and executed for this, There'll benoth-ing urlthar can do to stop him:"

"I would willi•LgPyP die that death zI-ey lord; if it would' s'ap what I fear wili hopper,;' Stem repli,E~. .,Damn at, man!" Lord Alfred exploded. "If we are defeated, what will you gain by staying here? You couldn't hold off an army of gully dwarves with your small contingent of menl Suppose the roads do open up? You won't be able to hold the Tower long enough far Palanthas to send reinforcements:'

"At the least we can buy Palanthas time to evacuate her citizens, if-"

Card Derek Crownguard edged his horse between those of his men. Glaring down at Sturm, his eyes glittering from behind the slits in his helm, Lord Derek raised his hand for silence.

"According to the Measure, Sturm Brightblade," Derek began formally, "I hereby charge you with conspiracy and-"

'To the Abyss with the Measure!" Sturm snarled, his patience snagging. "Where has the Measure gotten us? Divided, jealous, crazed! Even our own people prefer to treat with the armies of oar enemies! Tine Measure has failed!"

A deathly hush settled over the knights in the courtyard, brakes only by the restless pawing of a horse or the jingle of armor as here and there a man shifted in his saddle.

"Pray for my death, Sturm Brightblade;" Derek said softly, "ar by the gods I'll slit your throat at your execution myself!" Without another word, he wheeled his horse around and cantered to the head of the column.

"Open t=Ie gates!" he called.

The morning sun climbed above the smoke, rising into the blue sky. The windsb:ew from the north, fluttering the flag flying bravely from the bog of the Tower. Armor flashed. There e was a clatter of swords against shields and the sound of a trumpet call as men rushed to open the thick wooden gates.

Derek raised his sword high in. the air.. Lifting his voice in the knight's sa:ute to the enemy, he galloped forward. The knights' behind him picked up his ringing challenge and rode forth out:;l onto the fields where-long age-Huma had ridden to glorious victor-y. The footmen marched, their footsteps beating a tattoo, upon the stone pavement. For a moment, lord Alfred seemed' about to speak to St-arm and the young krnights who stood, watching. But he on] y shook lvs head and r.oxle away..

The gates swung shut behind him. The heavy iron bar was dropped down to lock them securely. The men in Sturm's command ran to 6e battlements to watch.

Sturm stood silently in the center of the courtyard, his gaunt face expressionless.

The young and handsome commander of the dragonarmies in the Dark Lady's absence was just waking to breakfast and the start of another boring day when a scout galloped into camp.

Commander Bakaris glared at the scout in disgust. The man was riding through camp wildly, his horse scattering cooking pots and goblins. Draconian guards leaped to their feet, shaking their fists and cursing. But the scout ignored them.

"The Highlord!" he called, sliding off his horse in front of the tent. "I must see the Highlord''

"The Highlord's gone;' said the commander's aide.

"I'm in charge;' snapped Bakaris. "What's your business?"

The ranger looked around quickly, not wanting to make a mistake. But there was no sign of the dread Dark Lady or the big blue dragon she rode.

"The Knights have taken the field!"

"What I"' The commander's jaw sagged. "Are you certain?"

"Yes!" The scout was practically incoherent. "Saw them! Hundreds on horseback! Javelins, swords. A thousand foot:'

"She was right!" Bakaris swore softly to himself in admiration. "The fools have made their mistake!"

Calling for his servants, he hurried back to his tent. "Sound the alaam;" he ordered, rattling off instructions. "Have the captains here in five minutes for final orders:' His hands shook in eagerness as he strapped on his armor. "And send the wyvern to Flotsam with word for the Highlord :'

Goblin servants ran off in all directions, and soon blaring horn calls were echoing throughout the camp. The commander cast one last, quirk glance at the map on his table, then left to meet vr'th his officers

"Tao bad," he reflected coolly as he walked away. "The fight will probably be over by the time she gets the news. A pity. She would have wanted to be present at the fall of the High Clerist's Tower. Still;" he reflected, "perhaps tomorrow night we'll sleep in Palaruthas-she and I:"

 

 

Chapter I2

Death on the plains. Tasslehofs discovery.

 

The sun climbed high in the sky, The knights stood upon the battlements of the Tower, staring out across the plains until their eyes ached. All they could; see wan a great tide of black, crawling, figures swarming aver= the fields, .really to engulf tl~e slender spear of gleaming silver that advanr:ed steadily to meet it.

The a-rrnies met. The knights strained to see, but a misty gra veil crept across the land. The air became tainted with a foot smell, like hot iron. The must grew thicker, almost totally obscurihg, the sun.

Now they could see nothing. The Tower seemed afloat on a sea of fag. The heavy mist even deadened sound, for at first they heard the clash of weapons and the cries of the dying, But even that faded, and all was silent.

The day wore on. Laurana, pacing restlessly in her darkening chamber, lit candles that sputtered and flickered in the foul air. The kender sat with her. Looking down from her tower window, Laurana could see Sturm and Flint, standing on the battlements below her, reflected in ghostly torchlight.

A servant brought her the bit of maggoty bread and dried meat that was her ration far the day. It must be only midafternoan, she realized. Then movement down on the battlements caught her attention. She saw a man dressed in mud-splattered leather approach Sturm. A messenger, she thought. Hurriedly, she began to strap on her armor.

"Coming?" she asked Tas, thinking suddenly that the kender had been awfully quiet. "A messenger's arrived from Palanthas!"

"I guess;" Tas said without interest.

Laurana frowned, hoping he wasn't growing weak from lack of food. But Tas shook his head at her concern.

"I'm all right," he mumbled. "Just this stupid gray air:'

Laurana (argot about him as she hurried down the stairs.,

"News?" she asked Sturm, who peered over the walls in a vain effort to see out onto the field of battle. "I saw the messenger-

"~'Jh, yes:" He smiled wearily. "Good news, I suppose. The road to Palarlthas is open. The snow melted enough to get through. I have a rider standing 6y to take a message to Palanth.as in case we are def-" He stopped abruptly, then drew a deep breath. "I want you to be ready to go back to Palanthas with him."

Laurana had been expecting this and her answer was pTepared.. But noun that the time had come for her speech, she could now give it. The bitten air dried her mouth, her tongue seemed swollen, No, that wasn't it, she chided herself. She was frightened. Admit it. She wanted to go back to Palanthas! She wanted to get out of this gripe place where death lurked in the shadows. Clenching her fist, she beat her gloved hand nerz`nusly on the stone, gathering her courage.

 

"I'm staying here, Sturm;" she said. After pausing to get her voice under control, she continued, "I know what you're going. to say, so listen to me first. You're going to need all the skilled fighters you can get. You know my worth:'

Sturm nodded. What she said was true. There were few in his command more accurate with a bow. She was a trained swordsman, as well. She was battle-tested-something he couldn't say about many of the young knights under his command. So he nodded in agreement. He meant to send her away anyhow.

'I am the only one trained to use the dragonlance-"

"Flint's been trained;' Sturm interrupted quietly.

Laurana fixed the dwarf with a penetrating stare. Caught between two people he laved and admired, Flint flushed and cleared his throat. "That's true;" he said huskily, "but-I-uh- f must admit-er, Sturm, that I am a bit short:'

"Webs seen no sign of dragons, anyhow;' Sturm said as, Laurana flashed him a triumphant glance. "The reports say.:' they're south of -us, lighting for control of Thelgaard.

"But you believe the dragons are on the way" don't you2°` Laurana returned.

Sturm appeared uncomfortable. 'Perhaps;' he muttered,

"You can't lie Sturm, so don't start now. I'm staying. li what Tanis would do-'

'I)amn it, Laurana!" Sturm said, his face flushed. "Live y own life'. Ibu can't be Tans! f can"t be Tanis! He isn't he We've got to face that!" The knight turned away suddenly. ' isn't here," he repeated harshly.

Flint sighed, glancing sorrowfully at Laurana. No-one noticed Tasslehoff, who sat huddled miserably in a comer.

Laurana. put her arm around Sturm. "I knave I'm not.

friend Tanis is to you, Storm. I can never take his place. But do my best to help you. That's what I meant. You don't

treat me any differently from your knights='

"I know, Laurana," Sturm said. Putting his arms around her he held her close. "I'm sorry I snapped at you:" Sturm '

"And you know why I must send you away. Tanis would forgive me if anything happened to you:'

""Yes, he would;' Laurana answered softly. "He woraId up

stand. He told me anae that there comes a time when you've

THE DRAGONS OF WINTER NIGHT

to risk your life for something that means more than life itself. Don't you see, Sturm? If I fled to safety, leaving my friends behind, he would say he understood. But, deep inside, he wouldn't. Because it is so far from what he would do himself. Besides"-she smiled-"even if there were no Tanis in this world, I still could not leave my friends:"

Sturm looked into her eyes and saw that no words of his would make any difference. Silently, he held her close. His other arm went around Flint's shoulder and drew the dwarf near.

Tasslehoff.. bursting into tears, stood up and flung himself on them, sobbing wildly. They stared at him in astonishment.

"Tas, what is it7" Laurana asked, alarmed.

"It's atl my fault! I broke one! Am I doomed to go around the

world breaking these things?" Tas wailed incoherently.

"Calm down;" Sturm said, his voice stern, He gave the ken-

der a shake. 'What are you talking about?"

"I found another one," Tas blubbered. "Down below, in a big empty chamber:'

"Another what, you doorknob?" Flint said in exasperation.

"Another dragon orb!" Tas wailed.

iVight settled over the Tower like a thicker, heavier fog. The knights Iigluted torches, but the flame only peopled the dark-

ness with ghosts. The knights kept silent watch from the battlements, straining to hear or see something--anything. , .

Then, 'When it was nearly midnight, they were startled to hear, not the victorious shouts of their comrades or the flat, blaring horns of the enemy, but the jingle of harness, the soft

whinny of horses approaching the fortress.

Rushing to the edge of the battlements the knights shone Larches down into the fog. They heard the hootbeats slowly

came to a haft.

Sturm stood above the gate. yo rides to the Tower of the High Clerist?' he call,ed.

A .single torch flared below. Laurana, staring dawn into the

Misty darkness, felt her knees gaow weak and grabbed the stone wall to support herself. The knights cried out in horror.

The rider who held the flaming torch was dressed in the shin

ing arnlar of an officer in the draganarrrly 4tLlreg ~mf~cnr...,.

HefC

Was blonde, III5 cold, and cruel. H~e.led a .second! horse across which were thrown two bodies-one of them headless, both bloody, mutilated.

"I have brought back your officers;' the man said" his voice harsh and blaring. "One is quite dead, as you can see. The other, I believe, still lives. Or he did when I started on my journey. I hope he is still living, so that he can recount for you what took place upon the field of battle today. If you could even call it a battle:"

Bathed in the glare of his own torch, the officer dismounted. He began to untie the bodies, using one hand to strip away the ropes binding them to the saddle. Then he glanced up.

"Yes, you could kill me now. I am a fine target, even in this fog. But you want. You're Knights of Solamn!a'"-his sarcasm was sharp-"your honor is your life. You wouldn't shoot an unarmed man returning the bodies of your leaders:' He gave the ropes a yank. The headless body slid to the ground. The officer dragged the other body off the saddle. He tossed the torch down into the snow next to the bodies. It sizzled, then went out, and the darkness swallowed him.

"You have a surfeit of honor out thereon the field," he called. The knights could hear the leather creak, his armor clang as he remounted his horse. "I'll give you until morning to surrender. , When the sun rises, lower your flag. The Dragon Highlord will.; deal with you mercifully-"

Suddenly there was the twang ©f a bow, the thwnk of an arrow striking into flesh, and the sound of startled swea.ring4' from below them. The knights turned around to stare in aston-. ishment at a lone figure standing an the wall, a bow in its hand.

"I am not a knight;' Laurana called out, lowering hey bow. "C am Lauralanth.alasa, -daughter of the Qualinesti. INe elves hafta our oven code of honor and, as I'm sure you know, f can sera you quite well in this darkness. l could have killed you. As it is,; I believe you vuill ha re some difficulty using that arm. Eor a to time. In fact, you may never hold a sword; again:'

"Take that as our answer to your Highlord:' Sturm s ' harshly. "We will lie cold in death before we lower our flag!'

"Indeed you will" the officer said through teeth clenched' pain. The sound of galloping hooves was lost in the darkness

"Bring in the bodes;' Sturm ordered.

autiouslhr the knights opened the gates. Several rushed to cover the others who gently lifted the bodies and bore them inside. Then the guard retreated back into the fortress and bolted the gates behind them.

Sturm knelt in the snow beside the body of the headless knight. Lifting the man"s hand, he removed a ring from the stiff, cold fingers. The knight's armor was battered and black with blood. Dropping the lifeless hand back into the snow, Sturm bowed his head. "Lord Alfred;" he said tonelessly.

"Sir;" said one of the young knights, "the other is Lord Derek. The foul dragon officer was right-he is still alive:"

Sturm rose and walked over to where Derek lay on the cold stone. The lord's face was white his eyes wide and glittering feverishly. Blood caked his lips, his skin was clammy. One of the young knights supporting him held a cup of water to his lips, but Derek could not drink.

Sick with horror, Sturm saw Derek"s hand was pressed over his stomach, where his life's blood was yelling out, but not fast

enough to end the agonizing pain. Giving a ghastly smile, Derek clutched Sturm's arm with a bloody hand.

"Victory!" he croaked. "They ran before us and we pursued!

It was glorious, glorious! And I-I will be Grand Master!" He choked and blood spewed from his mouth as he fell back into the arms of the young knight, who looked up at Sturm, his youthful face hopeful.

"Do you suppose he's right, sir? Maybe that was a ruse-'

His voice died at the sight of Sturm's grim face, and he looked back at Derek with pity. "He"s mad, isn't he, sir?T'

"He's dying-bravely-like a true knight;' Sturm said.

"'Victor-%,!" Derek whispered, then his, eyes fixed in his head and he gazed sightlessly into the fog.

"No, you musts"t break it;' said Laurana.

"But Fizban said-"

"I know what he said;' Laurana replied impatiently. "It isn't e•ail, it isn't good, it's sat anything, it's everything. That"-she muttered-"is so like Fizban!'

She .and Tas stand in front of the dragon orb. The orb rested On its stand in the center of the round room, still covered with dust except for the spat Tas had rubbed ream. The roam was dark and eerily silent, so quiet, in fart, that Tas arid Laurana

363

DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES

felt compelled to whisper.

Laurana stared at the orb, her brow creased in thought. Tas stared at Laurana unhappily, afraid he knew what she was thinking.

"These orbs have to work, Tas!" Laurana said finally. "They were created by powerful magic-users! People like Raistlin who do eat tolerate failure. If only we knew how-"

"I know how;" Tas said in a broken whisper.

"IhJllat7" Laurana asked. "You know! Why didn't you-"

"I didn't know I knew-so to speak;' Tas stammered. "It just came to me. Gnosh-the gnome-told me that he discovered writing inside the orb, letters that swirled around in the mist. He couldn't read them, he said, because they were written in some sort of strange language-"

"The language of magic:'

"Yes, that's what t said and-"

"But that want help us! We can't either of us speak it. If only Raistlin-"

'We don't need Raistlin;' Tas interrupted- "I can't speak it, but I can read it. You see, I have these glasses-glasses of true seeing, Raistlin called there. They let me read languages-even the language of magic. I know because he said if he caught me reading any of his scrolls he'd turn me into a cricket and swallow me whole."

"And you think you can read the orb?"

"7.cantry,"Tashedged" "but, Laurana, Sturm said there probably wouldn't be any dragons. Why should we risk even bath-: sting with the arb7 Fizbam said only the most powerful: magic-users dared use it,"

"Listen to me, Tasslehoff BuxeEaot;" Laurana said softly„] kneeling down beside the kender and staring him straight in the eye. 'If they bring even one dragon here, we're finished. That's why they gave us time to surrender instead of just storming the place They're using the extra time to bring im dragons. 4

~ mruust take this chance!"

.r'I dark path and a light path. Tasslehoff remembered T~ ban's. words and hung his head. Death of those you ,love, be yon have .t`5e covrage.

Slowly Tanis reached into the post of his fleecy vest, pulls ovn the glasses, and fit the wire frames over his pointed ears,

I3

EJ'he sun rises. Darkness descends.

- _~e fog lifted with the coming of morning. The day dawned bright and clear-so clear that Sturm, walking Che battlements, could see the snow-covered grasslands of his birthplace near Vingaard Keep-lands now cc~mp]etely contr©l led by the dragonarmies. The sun's first rays

struck the flag ef the Knights-kingfisher beneath a golden cr.:)',vn, holding a sword decorated with a rose in his claws. The golden emblem glittered in the morning light. Then Sturm

herd the harsh, blaring horns.

The dragonarmies marched upon the Tower at dawn,

DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES

The young knights-the hundred or so that were left-stood silently on the battlements watching as the vast army crawled across the land with the inexorability of devouring insects. At first Sturm had wondered about the knight's dying words. "They ran before us!" Why had the draganarmy run? Then it became clear to him-the dragonmen had used the knights :: own vainglory against them in an ancient, yet sample, maneuver. Fall back before your enemy . . . not too fast, just let the front lines show enough fear and terror to be believable. Let them seem to break in panic, Then let your enemy charge after you, overextending his lines. And let your armies close in, surround him, and cut hire to shreds.

It didn't need the sight of the bodies-barely visible in the-# distant trampled, bloody snow-to tell Sturm he had judged= correctly. They lay where they had tried desperately to regroup for a final stand. Not that it mattered how they died. He wo ,' dered who would) look an his body when it was all over.

Flint peered out from a crack in the wall. "At least I'll die dry land.," the dwarf muttered.

Sturm smiled slightly, stroking his moustaches. His eyes went to the east. As he thought about dying, he looked up the land where he'd been born -a home he had barely known, a father he barely remembered, a country that had driven his family into exile. He was about to give his life to defend that country^. Why? Why didn't he just leave and go back to Palanthas?

All of his life he had followed the Code and the Measure.

Code: Est Suiax'us oth Mithas-My Honor Is My Life. The Code was all he had left. The Measure was gone. It was Rigld, inflexible, the Measure had encased the Knights in heavier than their armor. The Knights, isolated, Eigl-.tingta_ vive, had dung to the Measure in despair-not realizing twas dal anchor, weighing them down..

Why was I different? Sturm wondered. But he knew the answer, even as he listened to the dwarf grumble. It' because of the dwarf, the kender, the mage~, the half-elf.

They had taught .him ko see the world. through other ,slanted eyes, smaller eyes, even hourglass eyes. I~nig~t~

Derek saw the world in stark black and white.. Sturm had: the world in all its radiant colors, in all its bleak grays.

"It's time;' he said to Flint. The two descended from the high lookout point just as the first of the enemy's poison-tipped arrows arched over the walls.

With shrieks and yells the blaring of horns, and clashing of shield and sword, the dragonarmies struck the Tower of the High Clerist as the sun's brittle light filled the sky.

By nightfall, the flag still flew. The Tower stood.

But half its defenders were dead.

The living had no time during the day to shut the staring eyes

or compose the contorted, agonised limbs, The living had all they could do to stay alive. Peace came at last with the night, as the dragonarmies withdrew to rest and wait for the morrow.

Sturm paced the battlements, his body aching with weariness. Yet every time he tried to rest taut muscles twitched and danced, his brain seemed an fire. And so he was driven to pace again-back and forth, back and forth with slow, measured tread. He could not know that his steady pace drove the day's ?lorrors from the thoughts of the young knights who listened.

:nights in the courtyard, laying out the bodies of friends and comrades, thinking that tomorrow someone might be doing this for them, heard Sturm's steady pacing and felt their fears for tomorrow eased.

The ringing sound of the knight's footfalls brought comfort to even-one, in fact; except to the knight himself. Sturm's thoughts were dark and tormented: thoughts of defeat;

thoughts of dying ignobly; without honor; tortured memories of the dream, seeing his body harked and mutilated by the foul creatures camped beyond. Would the dream came true? he wondered, shivering. 'A'ou]dhe falter at the end, unable to con-

quer fear? Would the -Code tail him, as had the h9easure7

Step. . . ste p . . step . . . step, .

Stop this! Sturm told himself angrily. You'll soon be mad as pour Derek. Spinning abruptly on his heel to break .his stride, the knight turned to find Laurana behind him. His eyes met hers, and the black thoughts „„,ere brightened by her light. As l°nq as such peace and beauty as hers existed in this world there

was h~ape, p-fe smiled at her and she smiled back.-a strained sn'"le-but it erased lines of )fatigue surd wogry in her face.

„Rest;' he told her. "You look exhausted."

"I tried to sleep;' she murmured, "but I had terrible dreamshands encased in crystal, huge dragons flying through stone hallways' She shook her head, then sat down, exhausted, in a corner sheltered from the chill wind.

Sturm's gaze moved to Tasslehoff, who lay beside her. The kender was fast asleep, curled into a ball. Sturm looked at him with a smile. Nothing bothered Tas. The kendei d had a truly glorious day-one that would live in his memory forever.

"I've never been at a siege before;' Sturm had heard Tas confide to Flint just seconds before the dwarf's battle-axe swept off a goblin"s head.

"You know were all going to die;' Flint growled, wiping black blood from his axe blade.

"That"s what you said when we faced that black dragon in, Xak Tsaaoth;' Tas replied. "Then you said the same thing '

Tharbardin; and then there was the boat-'

"This time we're .going to die!" Flint roared in a rage. '"lf have to kill you myself!'

But their hadn't died-at least not today. There's alwa tomorrow, Sturm thought, his gaze resting on the dwarf leaned against a stone wall, carving at a block of wood.

Flint looked up. 'When will it start?" he asked.

Sturm sighed, has gaze shifting out to the eastern 'Dawn," he replied. "A few hours yet."

The dwarf nodded. "Can we hold?" His voice was matter fact, the hand that held the wood firm and steady.

"4~,'e must;' Sturm replied. "The messenger will read& Pa thas tonight. If they act at once, a•s still a two-day march reach u:;.- a must give them two. days-"

"If they act at oncefi" Flint grunted.

"I know . . ;' Sturrcv said softly, sighing. "You should les

he turned to Laurana, who carne out of her reverie witha s! "Go to f 'al.anthas. Convince them of the danger."

"Your messenger must .da that" Laurana said tiredly. "If no words of mine will sway them:'

"Laurana:" he began.

"Do. grow geed me" she asked abruptly. "Am I of use

"You know you are," Sturm answered. He had the elfmaid's unflagging strength, Ih~er courage, and her with the bar.

"Then I'm staying;' Laurana said simply. Drawing the blanround her, she closed her eyes. "I can't sleep, she whispered. But within a few momentskender's.

Sturm shook his head, swallowing a choking thickness in his throat. His glance met Flint's. The dwarf sighed and went back to his carving, Neither spoke, both men thinking the same thing. Their deaths would be bad if the draconians overran the Tower. Laurana's death could be a thing of nightmares.

The eastern sky was brightening, foretelling the sun's approach, when the knights were roused from their fitful slumber by the blaring of horns. Hastily they rose, grabbed their weapons, and stood to the walls, peering out across the dark land-

The campfires of the dragonarmies burred low, allowed to go out as daylight neared. They could hear the sounds of life returning to the horrible body. The knights gripped their weap-

ons, wading, Then they turned to each other, bewildered.

The dragonarmies were retreating! Although only dimly seen in the faint &alflight, it was obvious that the black tide was slowly withdrawing. Stucrn Tnratched puzzled. The armies moved back, just over the horizon. But they were still out there, Sturm knew, He sensed them.

Some of the Younger knights began to cheer.

"Keep quiet!" Sturrn commanded harshly, Their shouts

grated an his raw nerves. Laurana came to stand beside him and glanced at him in astonishment. His face was gray and hag-

gard in the flickering torchlight. His gloved Fists, resting atop the battle=rents, clenched and unclenched nervously. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward staring eastward,

La'srana, sensing the rising fear within IIirn, fell her own body grov, chill. She remembered what she had told Tas. "Is it what we feared" she asked, her hand an his arm. "P ay we are wrong!'' he spoke softl•r,. in a broker; voice. Minutes passed. Nothing happened. Flint came to join them, cla.mLeI.2.,g up on a huge slab of broken stone to see over the

edge of !he L%~all. 'Tas woke, yawning. "When.'s breakfast?" the kender inquired' cheerfully, but no one Paid any attention to, him.

Still they watched and waited. Now all the knights, each of them feeling the same rising fear, lined the walls, staring eastward without any clear idea why. "What is it?" Tas whispered. Climbing up to stand beside Flint, he saw the small red sliver of sun burning on the horizon, its orange fire turning the night sky purple, dimming the stars. "What are we looking at?" Tas whispered, nudging Flint. "Nothing" Flint grumbled. "Then why are we looking-" The kender caught his breath with a sharp gulp. "Sturm-° he quavered. "Mat is it?" the knight demanded, turning in alarm. Tas kept staring. The rest followed his gaze, but their eyes were no match for the kender's. "Dragons . . :' Tasslehoff replied. "Blue dragons." 'I thought as much; Sturm said softly. "The draganfear. That's why they pulled the armies back.. The humans fighting among them could not withstand it. How many dragonsd" 'Three,"' answered Laurana. "I can see them now:' "Three," Sturm repeated, his voice empty, expressionless. "Listen, Sturm-" Laurana dragged him back away from the wall. I-we-weren't going to say anything. It might not have mattered, but it does now. Tasslehoff and I know haw to usethe dragon orb!"

'Dragon orb?'4 Sturm muttered, not really listening,  D

'The orb here, Stux^rnl" Laurana persisted, her hands clutching him eagerly. 'The one below the Tower. in the very center. Tay shared it to me. Three long, wide hallways lead to it and-I and-` Her voice died. Suddenly she saw vividly, as her subconscioushad seen during the night, dragons flying down sion halls . . . .

"Sturrrt!" she shouted, shaking him in her excitement. know how the orb worksl I know how to kill the drago Now, if we dust have the time-"

Sturm, caught, held of her, his strong hands grasping her the shoulders. In all the months he flail known her, Hle could recall seeing her more beautiful. Her fac pale with wearing was alight with excitement.

"Tell me, quickly,"' he ordered.

Laurana explain, her words falling over themselves as she painted a picture to him that became clearer as her as

talked. Flint and Tas watched from behind Sturm, the dwarf's face aghast, the kender's face filled with consternation.

"Who'll use the orb?" Sturm asked slowly.

"I will," Laurana replied.

"But, Laurana;' Tasslehoff cried, "Fizban said-'

"Tas, shut up!" Laurana said through clenched teeth. "Please, Sturm!" she urged. "It's our only hope. We have the dragonlances-and the dragon arbl"

The knight looked at her, then toward the dragons speeding out of the ever-brightening east.

"Very well;" he said finally. "Flint, you and Tas go down and gather the men together in the center courtyard. Hurry!"

Tasslehoff, giving Laurana a last, troubled glance, jumped down from the rock where he and the dwarf had been standing. Flirt came after him more slowly, his face somber and thoughtful. Reaching the ground, he walked up to Sturm.

Must you? Flint asked Sturm silently, as their eyes met.

Sturm nodded once. Glancing at Laurana, he smiled sadly. "I'll tell her," he said softly. "Take cam of the kender. Good-bye, my friend:"

Flint swallowed, shaking his old head. Then, his face a mask of sorrow, the dwarf brushed his gnarled hand across his eyes and gave Tas a shove in the back.

"Get moving!" the dwarf snapped.

Tas turned to look at him do astonishment, then shrugged and ran skipping along the tap of the battlements, his shrill voice shouting out to the startled knights.

Laurana's face glowed. "You come, too, Sturml" she said, tugging at him like a child eager to show a parent a new toy. "I'll explain this to the men if you want. Then you can give the orders and ,arrange the battle disposition-"

"You're in command, Laurana," Sturm said.

"What?" Laurana stopped, fear replacing the hope in her heart so suddenly the pain made her gasp.

"You said you needed time;" Sturm said, adjusting his swordbelt, avoiding her eyes. "You're right. You must get the men in

Position. You must have tune to use the orb. I will gain you that time." Re picked up a bow and aquiver of .arrows.

"No! Sturm! " Laurana shivered with terror. 'You can't mean this! I can't command! I need you! Sturm, don't -do this to yourself!" Her voice died to a whisper, "Don't do this to me!"

"You can command, Laurana," Sturm said, taking her head in his hands. Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. "Farewell, elEmaid;' he said softly. "Your light will shine in this world. It is time for mine to darken. Don't grieve, dear one. Don't cry:" He held her close. "The Forestmaster said to us, in Darken Wood, that we should not mourn those who have fulfilled their destiny. Mine is fulfilled. Now, hurry, Laurana. You'll need every second:'

"At least take the dragonlance with you;' she begged.

Sturm shook his head, his hand on the antique sword of his father. "I don't know how to use it. Good-bye, Laurana. Tell Tanis-" He stopped, then he sighed. "No;" he said with a slight smile. "He will know what was in my heart."

"Sturm , . :" Laurana's tears choked her into silence. She could only stare at hire in mute appeal.

"Go;' he said.

Stumbling blindly, Laurana turned around and somehow made her way dawn the stairs to the courtyard below. Here she felt a strong, hand grasp hers.

"Flint;" she began, sobbing painfully, "he, Sturm . . :'

"I know, Laurana," the dwarf replied. "I saw it in his face. I think I've seen it there for as long as I can remember. It"s up to you now. You can't fail him."

Laurana drew a deep breath, then wiped her eyes with her hands, cleaning her tear-streaked face as best she could. Taking . another breath, she lifted her head. ,

"There;" she said, keeping her voice firm and steady. "Um,

ready. Where's Tas?"  `

"Here;' said) a small voice.

"Go on down. You read the words in the orb once before. -i head them again. Make absolutely certain you've got it right" -'i

"Yes, Laurana ' Tas.gulped and ran off..

"The knights are assembled,'" Flint said. "Waiting your command"

"Waiting my command';' Laurana repeated absently.

Hesitating, she looked up. The red rays of the sun flashed off Sturm's bight armor as the knight climbed the narrow sk ' that led tos high. wallnear the central Tower- Sighing. shela ferect her gaze to the courtyard where the knights waited.

 

Laurana drew another deep breath, then walked toward them, the red crest fluttering from her helmet, her golden hair flaming in the morning light.

The cold and brittle sun stained the sky blood red, deepening into the velvet blue-blackness of receding night. The Tower stood in shadow still, though the sun's rays sparkled off the golden threads in the fluttering flag.

Sturm reached the top of the wall. The Tower soared above him. The parapet Storm stood upon extended a hundred feet or moue to his left, Its stone surface was smooth, providing no shelter, no cover.

Looking east, Sturm saw the dragons.

They were blue dragons, and on the back of the lead dragon in the formation sat a Dragon Highlord, the blue-black draganscale armor gleaming in the sunlight. He could see the hideous horned mask, the black cape fluttering behind. Two other blue dragons with riders followed the Dragon Highlord. Sturm gave them a brief, perfunctory glance. They did not concern him. His battle was with the leader, the Highlord.

The knight looked into the courtyard far below him. Sunlight was just climbing the walls. Sturm saw it flicker acct off the tips of the silver dragonlances that each man held now in his hand _ He saw it burn on Laurana's golden hair. He saw the men look up at him. Grasping his sword; he raised it into the air. Sunlight trashed from the ornately carved blade.

Smiling up at him, though she could barely see him through her tears. Laurana raised her dragonlance into the air in answer-in good-bye.

Comforted by her smile. Sturm turned back to face his enemy.

I'Valking to the center of the wall, he seemed a small figure poised halJivay between land and sky. The dragons could fly past him.. or circle around h:na, but that wasn't what he wanted. They must see him as a threat. They must take time to fight him.

Sheathing;his svrord, Sturm fit an arrow to his bow and took careful aim at the lead dragon. Patiently he waited, holding his breath. I cranrnat waste this, '~.e thought. Wait . . , wait . . .

The dragon was in range. Sturm's arrow„ sped through the morning brilliance. His aim was true. The arrow struck the blue dragon in the neck. It did little damage, bouncing off the dragon's blue scales, but the dragon reared its head in pain and irritation-slowing its flight. Quickly Sturm fired again, this time at the dragon flying directly behind the leader.

The arrow tore into a wing, and the dragon shrieked in rage. Sturm fired once more. This time the lead dragon's rider steered it clear. But the knight had accomplished what he set out to do: capture their attention, prove he was a threat, force them to fight him. He could hear the sound of running footsteps in the courtyard and the shrill squeak of the winches raising the portcullises.

Now Sturm could see the Dragon Highlord rise to his feet in the saddle. Built like a chariot, the saddle could accommodate its rider in a standing position for battle. The Highlord carried a spear in his gloved hand. Sturm dropped his bow. Picking up his shield and drawing his sword, he stood upon the wall, watching as the dragon flew closer and closer, its red eyes flaring, its white teeth gleaming.

Then-Ear away-Sturm heard the clear, clarion call of a j trumpet, its music cold as the air from the snow-covered mouetains of his homeland in the distance. Pure and crisp, the trumi pet call pierced his heart, rising bravely above the darkness death and despair that surrounded him.

Sturm answered the call with a wild battle-cry, raising sword to meet his enemy. The sunlight flashed red on his bla '~' The dragon swooped' in low.

Again the trumpet sounded, and again Sturm answered, voice rising in a shout. But this time his voice faltered, for s denly Sturm realized he had heard this trumpet before.

The dream!

Sturm stopped, gripping his s4,rord in a hand that wars ing inside its glove. The dragon loomed above him. Astride dragon was the Highlord, the horns of his mask nieke ' blood-red, his spear poised. and ready.

Fear knotted Sturm's stomach, hi., skin grew cold. The . call sounded a third tune. It had sounded three timies in dream, and .after the third .-.all he had fallen. The drag was averwhelmdng him.. Escape!'. his brain screamed. -

Escape! The dragons would swoop into the courtyard - the knights could not be ready yet, they would die, Laurana, Flint, and Tas .... The Tower would fall.

No! Sturm got hold of himself. Everything else was gone: his ideals, his hopes, his dreams. The Knighthood was collapsing. The Measure had been found wanting. Everything in his life was meaningless. His death must not be .so. He would buy Laurana tine, buy it with his life, since that was all he had to

give. And he would die according to the Code, since that was all he had to cling to.

Raising his sword in the air, he gave the knight's salute to an enemy. To his surprise, it was returned with grave dignity by

the Dragon Highlord. Then the dragon dove, its jaws open, prepared to slash the knight apart with its razor-sharp teeth. Sturm swung his sword do a vicious arc, forcing the dragon to rear its head back or risk decapitation. Sturrn hoped to disrupt its flight. But the creature's wings held it steady, its rider guiding it with a sure hand while holding the gleaming-tipped spear in the other.

Sturm faced east. Half-blinded by the sun's brilliance, Sturm saw the dragon as a thing of blackness. He saw the creature dip in its flight, diving below the level of the wall, and he realized the blue was ,going to came up frown beneath, giving its rider the roam needed to attack. The other two dragon. riders held back, watching, waiting to see if their lard required help finishing this insolent knight.

For a moment the sun-drenched sky was empty, then the dragon burst up over the edge of the wall, its horrifying scream splitting Sturm's eardrums, filling his head with pain. The breath from: its gaping mouth ,gagged him, He staggered dizzily but managed to keep his feet as he slashed out with leis sword.

The ancient blade struck the dragon's left nostril. Black. blood spurted into the air. The dragon roared in fury.

But the blow was costly. Sturm had no time to recover.

The Dragon Highlord raised his spear, its tip flaming in the sun- Leaning down, he thrust it deep, piercing through armor, flesh, and bone. Sturm's sun shattered.

 

 

Dragan orb. Dragonlance.

 

Tle knights surged past Laurana into the High Clerist's Tower, taking their places where had told them. Although at first skeptical, hope dawned as Laurana explained her plan.

The Courtyard was empty after the knightg departure.

Laurana knew she should hurry. already she should be with Tas , preparing herself to use the dragon orb. But Laurana r,.at leave that gleaming, solitary figure standing all waiting-upon the wall.

Then, :s'ilhouetted in the rising sun, she sate" the dra~gQ~

Sword and spear flashed in the brilliant sunlight.

Laurana's world stopped turning. Time slowed to a dream.

The sward drew blood. The dragon screamed. The spear held poised far an eternity. The sun stood still.

The spear struck.

,a, glittering abject fell slowly from the top of the wall into the courtyard. The object was Sturm's sward, dropped from his lifeless hand, and it was-to Laurana-the only movement in a static world. The knight's body stood still, impaled upon the spear of the Dragon Highland. The dragon hovered above, its wings poised. Nothing mowed, everything held perfectly still.

Then the Highlord jerked the spear free and Sturm's body crumpled where he stood, a dark mass against the sun. The dragon roared in outrage and a bolt of lightning streaked from the blue's blood-frothed mouth and struck the High Clerist's Tower. With a booming explosion, the stone burst apart. Flames flared, brighter than the sun. The other two dragons dove for the courtyard as Sturm's sword clattered to the pavement with a ringing sound.

Time began.

Laurana saw the dragons diving at her. The ground around leer shook as stone and rock rained down upon her and smoke and dust filled the air. Step Laurana could not move. To move would make the tragedy real. Some inane voice kept whispering in her brain-if yau,stand perfectly still, this will not have happened.

But there lay tile sward, only a few feet from her. And, as she watched, she saw the Dragon Highlord wane the spear, signaling to the dragonarmies that waited out upon the plains, telling them to attack. Laurana heard the blaring of the horns. In her mind's eye, she could see the dr,aganarmies surging across the snow-revered land.

Again the ground shook beneath her feet. Laurana hesitated one Instant more, bidclirig a silent Eaf,eweh to the spirit of the knight, Then she ran forward, .stumbLin.g as 'he ground heaved and the air crackled with terrinring lightning blasts. Reaching down: she grabbed Sturm's sward and raises it defiantly in the air_

~S°l'-'si Ar'atlFr?" shoe cried in elven, her voice ringing above the sounds of destruction in challenge to the attacking dragons.

The dragon riders laughed, shouting their scornful challenges in return. The dragons shrieked in cruel enjoyment of the kill. Two dragons who had accompanied the Highlord plummeted after Laurana into the courtyard.

Laurana ran toward the huge, gaping portcullis, the entryway into the Tower that made so little sense. The stone walls were a blur as she fled past then,. Behind her she could hear a dragon swooping after her. She could hear its stertorous breathing, the rush of air past its wings. She heard the dragon rider's command that stopped the dragon from following her right into the Tower. Goodl Laurana smiled grimly to herself.

Running through the wide hallway, she sped swiftly past the second portcullis. Knights stood there, poised and ready to drop it.

"Keep it open!" she gasped breathlessly. "Remembers"

They nodded. She sped on., Now she was in the dark, oarrawer chamber where the oddly shaped, toothlike pillars slanted toward her with razor sharpness. Behind the pillars, she saw white faces beneath gleaming helms. Here and there, light sparkled oar a dragonlance. The knights peered at her as she

past. ,

"Get back!" she shouted. "Stay behind the pillars."

II.5urrn'I" one asked.

Latxrana shook her head, too exhausted to talk. She through the tb:ird portcullis-the strange one, the one with hale in the center. Here stood font knights, along with Flini This was the key position. Laurana wanted someone here sI could depend on, She had no time for more than an exchange a glances with the d•rrarE, but that was enough. Flint read tE story of his friend in her faze. The dwarf's head bowed far moment,I'ds hand covering his eyes.

Laurana ran on. Through this small room, beneath d doors made of solid steel and then into the chamber of dragon ofrb.

Tasslehoff had dusted the .orb with his han

dker

Laurana cbuldsee inside ix now, a faint red mist swirling

myriad o3lors. The kender stood before it, staring inrlo it,

rjragical ,glasses. perched upon his small nose. -_

""What do I do?"'Lavaarna gasped, out of breath..

"Laurana;' Tas pegged, "don't do this!. I've read-if yes.

to control the essence of the dragons within the orb, the dragons will come, Laurana, and take control of you!"

"Tell me what I need to do!" Laurana said firmly.

"Put your hands on the orb;' Tas faltered, "and-no, wait, Laurana!"

It was too late. Laurana had already placed both slender hands upon the chill crystal globe. There was a flash of color from inside the orb, so bright Tas had to avert his eyes.

"Laurana!" he cried in his shrill voice. "Listen! You must concentrate, clear your mind of everything except bending the orb to your will? Laurana. . :"

If she heard him, she made no response, and Tas realized she

was already caught up in the battle for control of the orb. Fearfully he remembered Fizban's warning, death for those you love, worse-the loss of the soul. Only dimly did he understand the dire wards written in the flaming colors of the orb, but he knew enough to realize that Laurana's said was at balance here.

In agony he watched her, longing to help-fret knowing that he did oat dare do anything. Laurana stood for long moments

without snowing, her hands upon the orb, her face slowly draining of all life. Her eyes stared deep info the spinning, swirling colors. The kender grew dizzy looking at it and turned away, Eeelirg sick. There was another explosion outside. Dust driEked down from the ceiling. Tas stirred uneasily. But Laurana never moved.

Her eyes closed, her head bent Forward. She clutched the orb, her hands whitening from the pressure she exerted. Then she began to whimper and shake her head. "II0," she moaned,

and it seemed as if she were trying desperately to pull her hands away.. But the orb held them fast.

Tas wondered bleakly what they should do. He longed to run up and pull her away. He wished he had broken this orb, but there was nothing he could do now. He could only stand and watch helplessly.

Laurana's body gave a convulsive shudder. Tas saw her drop to her knee, her hands still holding fast to, the orb. Then

Laurana shook her head armgrily. Muttering unfamiliar words in elven, she fought to stand, using the orb to, drag herself up. Her hands turned white with the strain and sweat trickled down her face. She was exerting every ounce of strength she possessed. With agonizing slowness, Laurana stood.

The orb flared a final time, the colors swirled together, becoming many colors and none. Then a bright, beaming, pure white light poured from the orb. Laurana stood tall and straight before it. Her face relaxed. She smiled.

And then she collapsed, unconscious, to the floor.

In the courtyard of the High Clerist's Tower, the dragons were systematically reducing the stone walls to rubble. The army was nearing the Tower, draconians in the forefront, preparing to enter through the breached walls and kill anything left alive inside. The Dragon Highlord circled above the chaos, his blue dragon's nostril black with dried blood. The Highlord supervised the destruction of the Tower. All was proceeding well when the bright daylight was pierced by a pure white light beaming out from the three huge, gaping entryways into the Tower.

The dragon riders glanced at these light beams, wondering casually what they portended. Their dragons, however, reacted differently. Lifting their heads, their eyes lost all focus. The dragons heard the call.

Captured by ancient magic-users, brought under control by an elfmaiden-the essence of the dragons held within the orb did as it was bound to do when commanded. It sent forth its irresistible call. And the dragons had no choice but to answer that call and try desperately to reach its source.

In vain the startled dragon riders tried to turn their mounts. But the dragons no longer heard the riders' commanding voices, they heard only a single voice, that of the orb. Both dragons swooped toward the inviting portcullises while their riders shouted and kicked wildly.

The white light spread beyond the Tower, touching the front ranks of the dragonarmies, and the human commanders stared as their army went mad.

The orb's call sounded clearly to dragons. But draconians, who were only part dragon, heard the call as a deafening voice shouting garbled commands. Each one heard the voice differently, each one received a different call.

Some draconians fell to their knees, clutching their heads in agony. Others turned and fled an unseen horror lurking in the Tower. Still others dropped their weapons and ran wildly, straight toward the Tower. Within moments an organized, wellplanned attack had turned into mass confusion as a thousand draconians dashed off shrieking in a thousand directions. Seeing the major part of their force break and run, the goblins promptly fled the battlefield, while the humans stood bewildered amidst the chaos, waiting for orders that were not forthcoming.

The Dragon Highlord's own mount was barely kept in control by the Highlord's powerful force of will. But there was no stopping the other two dragons or the madness of the army. The Highlord could only fume in impotent fury, trying to determine what this white light was and where it was coming from. And-if possible-try to eradicate it.

The first blue dragon reached the first portcullis and sped inside the huge entryway, its rider ducking just in time to avoid having his head taken off by the wall. Obeying the call of the orb, the blue dragon flew easily through the wide stone halls, the tips of her wings just barely brushing the sides.

Through the second portcullis she darted, entering the chamber with the strange, toothlike pillars. Here in this second chamber she smelled human flesh and steel, but she was so in thrall to the orb she paid no attention to them. This chamber was smaller, so she was forced to pull her wings close to her body, letting momentum carry her forward.

Flint watched her coming. In all his one hundred forty-some years, he had never seen a sight like this . . . and he hoped he never would again. The dragonfear broke over the men confined in the room like a stupifying wave. The young knights, lances clutched in their shaking hands, fell back against the walls, hiding their eyes as the monstrous, blue-scaled body thundered past them.

The dwarf staggered back against the wall, his nerveless hand resting feebly on the mechanism that would slide shut the portcullis. He had never been so terrified in his life. Death would be welcome if it would end this horror. But the dragon sped on, seeking only one thing-to reach the orb. Her head glided under the strange portcullis.

Acting instinctively, knowing only that the dragon must not reach the orb, Flint released the mechanism. The portcullis closed around the dragon's neck, holding it fast. The dragon's head was now trapped within the small chamber. Her struggling body lay helpless, wings pressed against her sides, in the chamber where the knights stood, dragonlances ready.

Too late, the dragon realized she was trapped. She howled in such fury the rocks shuddered and cracked as she opened her mouth to blast the dragon orb with her lightning breath. Tasslehoff,trying frantically to revive Laurana, found himself staring into two flaming eyes. He saw the dragon's jaws part, he heard the dragon suck in her breath.

Lightning crackled from the dragon's throat, the concussion knocking the kender flat. Rock exploded into the room and the dragon orb shuddered on its stand. Tas lay on the floor, stunned by the blast. He could not move, did not even want to move, in fact. He just lay there, waiting for the next bolt which he knew would kill Laurana-if she wasn't already dead-and him, too. At this point, he really didn't much care.

But the blast never came.

The mechanism finally activated. The double steel door slammed shut in front of the dragon's snout, sealing the creature's head inside the small room.

At first it was deathly silent. Then the most horrible scream imaginable reverberated through the chamber. It was highpitched, shrill, wailing, bubbling in agony, as the knights lunged out of their hiding places behind the tooth-like pillars and drove the silver dragonlances into the blue, writhing body of the trapped dragon.

Tas covered his ears with his hands, trying to block out the awful sound. Over and over he pictured the terrible destruction he had seen the dragons wreak on towns, the innocent people they had slaughtered. The dragon would have killed him, too, he knew-killed him without mercy. It had probably already killed Sturm. He kept reminding himself of that, trying to harden his heart.

But the kender buried his head in his hands and wept.

Then he felt a gentle hand torch him.

"Tas," whispered a voice.

"Laurana!" He raised his head. "Laurana! I'm sorry. I shouldn't care what they do to the dragon, but I can't stand it, Laurana! Why must there be killing? I can't stand it!" Tears streaked his face.

"I know;" Laurana murmured, vivid memories of Sturm's death mingling with the shrieks of the dying dragon. "Don't be ashamed, Tas. Be thankful you can feel pity and horror at the death of an enemy. The day we cease to care-even for our enemies-is the day we have lost this battle:"

The fearful wailing grew even louder. Tas held out his arms and Laurana gathered him close. The two clung to each other, trying to blot out the screams of the dying dragon. Then they heard another sound-the knights' calling out a warning. A second dragon had entered the other chamber, slamming its rider into the wall as it struggled to enter the smaller entryway in response to the beaming call of the dragon orb. The knights were sounding the alarm.

At that moment, the Tower itself shuddered from top to foundation, shaken by the violent flailings of the tortured dragon.

"Come on!" Laurana cried. "We've got to get out of here!" Dragging Tas to his feet, she ran stumbling toward a small door in the wall that would lead them out into the courtyard. Laurana yanked open the door, just as the dragon's head burst into the room with the orb. Tas could not help stopping, just a moment, to watch. The sight was so fascinating. He could see the dragon's flaring eyes-mad with rage at the sounds of his dying mate, knowing-too late-that he had flown into the same trap. The dragon's mouth twisted into a vicious snarl, he sucked in his breath. The double steel doors dropped in front of the dragon-but only halfway.

"Laurana, the door's stuck!" Tas shouted. "The dragon orb-"

"Come on!" Laurana yanked at the kender's hand. Lightning flashed, and Tas turned and fled, hearing the roam behind him explode into flame. Rock and stone filled the chamber. The white light of the dragon orb was buried in the debris as the Tower of the High Clerist collapsed on top of it.

The shock threw Laurana and Tas off balance, sending them slamming against the wall. Tas helped Laurana to her feet, and the two of them kept going, heading for the bright daylight.

Then the ground was still. The thunder of falling rock ceased. There was only a sharp crack now and again or a low rumble. Pausing a moment to catch their breath, Tas and Laurana looked behind them. The end of the passage was completely blocked, choked by the huge boulders of the Tower.

"What about the dragon orb?" Tas gasped.

"It is better destroyed:"

Now that Tas could see Laurana more clearly in the daylight, he was stunned at the sight. Her face was deathly white, even her lips drained of blood. The only color was in her green eyes, and they seemed disturbingly large, shadowed by purple smudges.

"I could not use it again;' she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I nearly gave up. Hands . . . I can't talk about it!" Shivering, she covered her eyes. "Then I remembered Sturm, standing upon the wall, facing his death alone. If I gave in, his death would be meaningless. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let him down:" She shook her head, trembling. "I forced the orb to obey my command, but I knew I could do it only once. And I can never, never go through that again!"

"Sturm's dead?" Tas's voice quavered.

Laurana looked at him, her eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Tas," she said. "I didn't realize you didn't know. He-he died fighting a Dragon Highlord :'

"Was it-was it . . :' Tas choked.

"Yes, it was quick;' Laurana said gently. "He did not suffer long."

Tas bowed his head, then raised it again quickly as another explosion shook what was left of the fortress.

"The dragonarmies . . :' Laurana murmured. "Our fight is not ended:' Her hand went to the hilt of Sturm's sword, which she had buckled around her slender waist. "Go find Flint."

Laurana emerged from the tunnel into the courtyard, blinking in the bright light, almost surprised to see it was still day. So much had happened, it seemed to her years might have passed. But the sun was just lifting over the courtyard wall.

The tall Tower of the High Clerist was gone, fallen in upon itself, a heap of stone rubble in the center of the courtyard. The entryways and halls leading to the dragon orb were not damaged, except where the dragons had smashed into them. The walls of the outer fortress still stood, although breached in places, their stone blackened by the dragons' lightning bolts.

But no armies poured through the breaches. It was quiet, Laurana realized. In the tunnels behind her, she could hear the dying screams of the second dragon, the hoarse shouts of the knights finishing the kill.

What had happened to the army? Laurana wondered, looking around in confusion. They must be coming over the walls. Fearfully she looked up at the battlements, expecting to see the fierce creatures pouring over them.

And then she saw the flash of sunlight shining on armor. She saw the shapeless mass lying on the top of the wall.

Sturm. She remembered the dream, remembered the bloody hands of the draconians hacking at Sturm's body.

It must not happen! she thought grimly. Drawing Sturm's sword, she ran across the courtyard and immediately realized the ancient weapon would be too heavy for her to wield. But what else was there? She glanced around hurriedly. The dragonlances! Dropping the sword, she grabbed one. Then, carrying the lightweight footman's lance easily, she climbed the stairs.

Laurana reached the top of the battlements and stared out across the plain, expecting to see the black tide of the army surging forward. But the plain was empty. There were only a few groups of humans standing, staring vaguely around.

What could it mean? Laurana had no idea, and she was too exhausted to think. Her wild elation died. Weariness descended on her now, as did her grief. Dragging the lance behind her, she stumbled over to Sturm's body lying in the blood-stained snow.

Laurana knelt beside the knight. Putting her hand out, she brushed back the wind-blown hair to look once more upon the face of her friend. For the first time since she had met him, Laurana saw peace in Sturm's lifeless eyes.

Lifting his cold hand, she pressed it to her cheek. "Sleep, dear friend;" she murmured, "and let not your sleep be troubled by dragons:' Then, as she lay the cold white hand upon the shattered armor, she saw a bright sparkle in the blood-stained snow. She picked up an object so covered with blood she could not see what it was. Carefully Laurana brushed the snow and blood away. It was a piece of jewelry. Laurana stared at it in astonishment.

But before she could wonder how it came to be here, a dark shadow fell over her. Laurana heard the creak of huge wings, the intake of breath into a gigantic body. Fearfully she leaped to her feet and whirled around.

A blue dragon landed upon the wall behind her. Stone gave way as the great claws scrabbled for a hold. The creature's great wings beat the air. From the saddle upon the dragon's back, a Dragon Highlord gazed at Laurana with cold, stern eyes from behind the hideous mask.

Laurana took a step backwards as the dragonfear overcame her. The dragonlance slipped from her nerveless hand, and she dropped the jewel into the snow. Turning, she tried to flee, but she could not see where she was going. She slipped and fell into the snow to lie trembling beside Sturm's body.

In her paralyzing fear, all she could think of was the dream! Here she had died-as Sturm had died. Laurana's vision was filled with blue scales as the creature's great neck reared above her.

The dragonlance! Scrambling for it in the blood-wet snow, Laurana's fingers closed over its wooden shaft. She started to rise, intending to plunge it into the dragon's neck.

But a black boot slammed down upon the lance, narrowly missing her hand. Laurana stared at the shining black boot, decorated with gold work that gleamed in the sun. She stared at the black boot standing in Sturm's blood, and she drew a deep breath.

"Touch his body, and you will die;" Laurana said softly. "Your dragon will not be able to save you. This knight was my friend, and I will not let his killer defile his body:"

"I have no intention of defiling the body" the Dragon Highlord said. Moving with elaborate slowness, the Highlord reached down and gently shut the knight's eyes, which were fixed upon the sun he would see no more.

The Dragon Highlord stood up, facing the elfmaid who knelt in the snow, and removed the booted foot from the dragonlance. "You see, he was my friend, too. I knew-the moment I killed him:"

Laurana stared up at the Highlord. "I don't believe you;' she said tiredly. "How could that be?"

Calmly, the Dragon Highlord removed the hideous horned dragonmask. "I think you might have heard of me, Lauralanthalasa. That is your name, isn't it?"

Laurana nodded dumbly, rising to her feet.

The Dragon Highlord smiled, a charming, crooked smile. "And my name is-"

"Kitiara:"

"How did you know?"

"A dream. . :" Laurana murmured.

"Oh, yes-the dream:" Kitiara ran her gloved hand through her dark, curly hair. "Tanis told me about the dream. I guess you all must have shared it. He thought his friends might have:" The human woman glanced down at the body of Sturm, lying at her feet. "Odd, isn't it-the way Sturm's death came true? And Tanis said the dream came true for him as well: the part where I saved his life:'

Laurana began to tremble. Her face, which had already been white with exhaustion, was so drained of blood it seemed transparent. "Tanis? . . . You've seen Tanis?"

"Just two days ago;" Kitiara said. "I left him in Flotsam, to look after matters while I was gone:"

Kitiara's cold, calm words drove through Laurana's soul like the Highlord's spear had driven through Sturm's flesh. Laurana felt the stones start to shift from under her. The sky and ground mixed, the pain cleaved her in two. She's lying, Laurana thought desperately. But she knew with despairing certainty that-though Kitiara might lie when she chose-she was not lying now.

Laurana staggered and nearly fell. Only the grim determination not to reveal any weakness before this human woman kept the elfmaiden on her feet. Kitiara had not noticed. Stooping down, she picked up the weapon Laurana had dropped and studied it with interest.

"So this is the famed dragonlance?" Kitiara remarked.

Laurana swallowed her grief, forcing herself to speak in a steady voice. "Yes;" she replied. "If you want to see what it's capable of, go look within the walls of the fortress at what's left of your dragons:"

Kitiara glanced down into the courtyard briefly, without a great deal of interest. "It was not these that lured my dragons into your trap;" she said, her brown eyes appraising Laurana coolly, "nor scattered my army to the four winds:'

Once more Laurana glanced across the empty plains.

"Yes;' Kitiara said, seeing the dawning comprehension on Laurana's face. "You have won-today. Savor your victory now, Elf, for it will be short-lived." The Dragon Highlord dexterously flipped the lance in her hand and held it aimed at Laurana's heart. The elfmaid stood unmoving before her, the delicate face empty of expression.

Kitiara smiled. With a quick motion, she reversed the killing stroke. "Thank you for this weapon;" she said, standing the lance in the snow. "We've received reports of these. Now we can find out if it as formidable a weapon as you claim."

Kitiara made Laurana a slight bow from the waist. Then, replacing the dragonmask over her head, she grasped the dragonlance and turned to go. As she did, her gaze went once more to the body of the knight.

"See that he is given a knight's funeral;" Kitiara said. "It will take at least three days to rebuild the army. I give you that time to prepare a ceremony befitting him."

"We will bury our own dead;" Laurana said proudly. "We ask you for nothingl"

The memory of Sturm's death, the sight of the knight's body, brought Laurana back to reality like cold water poured on the face of a dreamer. Moving to stand protectively between Sturm's body and the Dragon Highlord, Laurana looked into the brown eyes, glittering behind the dragonmask.

"What will you tell Tanis?" she asked abruptly.

"Nothing;" Kit said simply. "Nothing at all." Turning, she walked away.

Laurana watched the Dragon Highlord's slow, graceful walk, the black cape fluttering in the warm breeze blowing from the north. The sun glinted off the prize Kitiara held in her hand. Laurana knew she should get the lance away. There was an army of knights below. She had only to call.

But Laurana's weary brain and her body refused to act. It was an effort just to remain standing. Pride alone kept her from falling to the cold stones.

Take the dragonlance, Laurana told Kitiara silently. Much good it will do you.

Kitiara walked to the giant blue dragon. Down below, the knights had come into the courtyard, dragging with them the head of one of her blue dragons. Skie tossed his own head angrily at the sight, a savage growl rumbling deep within his chest. The knights turned their amazed faces toward the wall where they saw the dragon, the Dragon Highlord, and Laurana . More than one drew his weapon, but Laurana raised her hand to stop them. It was the last gesture she had strength to make.

Kitiara gave the knights a disdainful look and laid her hand upon Skie's neck, stroking him, reassuring him. She took her time, letting them see she was not afraid of them.

Reluctantly, the knights lowered their weapons.

Laughing scornfully, Kitiara swung herself onto the dragon.

"Farewell, Lauralanthalasa;' she called.

Lifting the dragonlance in the air, Kitiara commanded Skie to fly. The huge blue dragon spread his wings, rising effortlessly into the air. Guiding him skillfully Kitiara flew just above Laurana.

The elfmaid looked up into the dragon's fiery red eyes. She saw the wounded, bloodied nostril, the gaping mouth twisted in a vicious snarl. On his back, sitting between the giant wings, was Kitiara-her dragon-scale armor glistening, the sun glinting off the horned mask. Sunlight flashed from the point of the dragonlance.

Then, glittering as it turned over and over, the dragonlance fell from the Dragon Highlord's gloved hand. Clattering on the stones, it landed at Laurana's feet.

"Keep it;' Kitiara called to her in a ringing voice. "You're going to need it!"

The blue dragon lifted his wings, caught the air currents, and soared into the sky to vanish into the sun.

 

 

 

The Funeral

 

Winter's night was dark and starless. The wind had become a gale, bringing driving sleet and snow that pierced armor with the sharpness of arrows, freezing blood and spirit. No watch was set. A man standing upon the battlements of the High Clerist's Tower would have frozen to death at his post.

There was no need for the watch. All day, as long as the sun shone, the knights had stared across the plains, but there was no sign of the dragonarmies' return. Even after darkness fell, the knights could see few campfires on the horizon.

On this winter's night, as the wind howled among the ruins of the crumbled Tower like the shrieks of the slaughtered dragons, the Knights of Solamnia buried their dead.

The bodies were carried into a cavelike sepulcher beneath the Tower. Long ago, it had been used for the dead of the Knighthood. But that had been in ages past, when Huma rode to glorious death upon the fields beyond. The sepulcher might have remained forgotten but for the curiosity of a kender. Once it must have been guarded and well kept, but time had touched even the dead, who are thought to be beyond time. The stone coffins were covered with a fine sifting of thick dust. When it was brushed away, nothing could be read of the writings carved into the stone.

Called the Chamber of Paladine, the sepulcher was a large rectangular room, built far below the ground where the destruction of the Tower did not affect it. A long, narrow staircase led down to it from two huge iron doors marked with the symbol of Paladine-the platinum dragon, ancient symbol of death and rebirth. The knights brought torches to light the chamber, fitting them into rusted iron sconces upon the crumbling stone walls.

The stone coffins of the ancient dead lined the walls of the room. Above each one was an iron plaque giving the name of the dead knight, his family, and the date of his death. A center aisle led between the rows of coffins toward a marble altar at the head of the room. In this central aisle of the Chamber of Paladine, the knights lay their dead.

There was no time to build coffins. All knew the dragonarmies would return. The knights must spend their time fortifying the ruined walls of the fortress, not building homes for those who no longer cared. They carried the bodies of their comrades down to the Chamber of Paladine and laid them in long rows upon the cold stone floor. The bodies were draped with ancient winding sheets which had been meant for the ceremonial wrapping. There was no time for that either. Each dead knight's sword was laid upon his breast, while some token of the enemy-an arrow perhaps, a battered shield, or the claws of a dragon-were laid at his feet.

When the bodies had been carried to the torch-lit chamber, the knights assembled. They stood among their dead, each man standing beside the body of a friend, a comrade, a brother. Then, amid a silence so profound each man could hear his own heart beating, the last three bodies were brought inside. Carried upon stretchers, they were attended by a solemn Guard of Honor.

This should have been a state funeral, resplendent with the trappings detailed by the Measure. At the altar should have stood the Grand Master, arrayed in ceremonial armor. Beside him should have been the High Clerist, clad in armor covered with the white robes of a cleric of Paladine. Here should have stood the High Justice, his armor covered by the judicial robes of black. The altar itself should have been banked with roses. Golden emblems of the kingfisher, the crown, and the sword should have been placed upon it.

But here at the altar stood only an elfmaiden, clad in armor that was dented and stained with blood. Beside her stood an old dwarf, his head bowed in grief, and a kender, his impish face ravaged by sorrow. The only rose upon the altar was a black one, found in Sturm's belt; the only ornament was a silver dragonlance, black with clotted blood.

The Guard carried the bodies to the front of the chamber and reverently laid them before the three friends.

On the right lay the body of Lord Alfred MarKenin, his mutilated, headless corpse mercifully shrouded in white linen. On the left lay Lord Derek Crownguard, his body covered with white cloth to hide the hideous grin death had frozen upon his face. In the center lay the body of Sturm Brightblade. He was not covered by a white sheet. He lay in the armor he had worn at his death: his father's armor. His father's antique sword was clasped in cold hands upon his breast. One other ornament lay upon his shattered breast, a token none of the knights recognized.

It was the Starjewel, which Laurana had found in a pool of the knight's own blood. The jewel was dark, its brilliance fading even as Laurana had held it in her hand. Many things became clear to her later, as she studied the Starjewel. This, then, was how they shared the dream in Silvanesti. Had Sturm realized its power? Did he know of the link that had been forged between himself and Alhana? No, Laurana thought sadly, he had probably not known. Nor could he realize the love it represented. No human could. Carefully she had placed it upon his breast as she thought with sorrow of the dark-haired elven woman, who must know the heart upon which the glittering Starjewel rested was stilled forever.

The Honor Guard stepped back, waiting. The assembled knights stood with heads bowed for a moment, then lifted them to face Laurana.

This should have been the time for proud speeches, for recitals of the dead knights' heroic deeds. But for a moment, all that could be heard was the wheezing sobs of the old dwarf and Tasslehoff's quiet snuffle. Laurana looked down into Sturm's peaceful face, and she could not speak.

For a moment she envied Sturm, envied him fiercely. He was beyond pain, beyond suffering, beyond loneliness. His war had been fought. He was victorious.

You left me l Laurana cried in agony. Left me to cope with this

by myself! First Tanis, then Elistan, now you. I can't! I'm not= strong enough! I can't let you go, Sturm. Your death was sense-: less, meaningless! A fraud and a sham! I won't let you go. Not` quietly! Not without anger!

Laurana lifted her head, her eyes blazing in the torchlight. ,

"You expect a noble speech;" she said, her voice cold as the of the sepulcher. "A noble speech honoring the heroic deeds these men who have died. Well, you won't get it. Not me!"

The knights glanced at each other, faces dark.

"These men, who should have been united in a brotherhood forged when Krynn was young, died in bitter discord, brought about by pride, ambition, and greed. Your eyes turn to Derek Crownguard, but he was not totally to blame. You are. All of you! All of you who took sides in this reckless bid for power."

A few knights lowered their heads, some paled with shame and anger. Laurana choked with her tears. Then she felt Flint's hand slip into hers, squeezing it comfortingly. Swallowing, she drew a deep breath.

"Only one man was above this. Only one man here among you lived the Code every day of his life. And for most of those days, he was not a knight. Or rather, he was a knight where it meant the most-in spirit, in heart, not in some official list:"

Reaching behind her, Laurana took the blood-stained dragonlance from the altar and raised it high over her head. And as she lifted the lance, her spirit was lifted. The wings of darkness that had hovered around her were banished. When she raised her voice, the knights stared at her in wonder. Her beauty blessed them like the beauty of a dawning spring day.

"Tomorrow I will leave this place;" Laurana said softly, her luminous eyes on the dragonlance. "I will go to Palanthas. I will take with me the story of this day! I will take this lance and the head of a dragon. I will dump that sinister, bloody head upon the steps of their magnificent palace. I will stand upon the dragon's head and make them listen to me! And Palanthas will listen! They will see their danger! And then I will go to Sancrist and to Ergoth and to every other place in this world where people refuse to lay down their petty hatreds and join together. For until we conquer the evils within ourselves-as this man didwe can never conquer the great evil that threatens to engulf us!"

Laurana raised her hands and her eyes to heaven. "Paladine!" she called out, her voice ringing like the trumpet's call. "We come to you, Paladine, escorting the souls of these noble knights who died in the High Clerist's Tower. Give us who are left behind in this war-torn world the same nobility of spirit that graces this man's death!"

Laurana closed her eyes as tears spilled unheeded and unchecked down her cheeks. No longer did she grieve for Sturm. Her sorrow was for herself, for missing his presence, for having to tell Tanis of his friend's death, for having to live in this world without this noble friend by her side.

Slowly she laid the lance upon the altar. Then she knelt before it a moment, feeling Flint's arm around her shoulder and Tassslehoff's gentle touch upon her hand.

As if in answer to her prayer, she heard the knights' voices rising behind her, carrying their own prayers to the great and ancient god, Paladine.

Return this man to Huma's breast: Let him be lost in sunlight, In the chorus of air where breath is translated; At the sky's border receive him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies Have you set your lodgings, In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

Grant to him a warrior's rest. Above our singing, above song itself, May the ages of peace converge in a day May he dwell in the heart of Paladine.

And set the last spark of his eyes In a fixed and holy place Above words and the borrowed land too loved As we recount the ages.

Free from the smothering clouds of war As he once rose in infancy The long world possible and bright before him, Lord Huma, deliver him.

Upon the torches of the stars Was mapped the immaculate glory of childhood; From that wronged and nestling country, Lord Huma, deliver him.

Let the last surge of his breath Perpetuate wine, the attar of flowers; From the vanguard of love, the last to surrender, Lord Huma, deliver him.

Take refuge in the cradling air From the heart of the sword descending,

From the weight of battle on battle; Lord Huma, deliver him.

Above the dreams of ravens where His dreams first tried a rest beyond changing, From the yearning for war and the war's ending, Lord Huma, deliver him.

Only the hawk remembers death In a late country; from the dusk, From the fade of the senses, we are thankful that you, Lord Huma, deliver him.

Then let his shade to Huma rise Out of the body of death, of the husk unraveling; From the lodging of mind upon nothing, we are thankful that you, Lord Huma, deliver him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skies Have you set your lodgings, In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

Return this man to Huma's breast Beyond the wild, impartial skies; Grant to him a warrior's rest And set the last spark of his eyes Free from the smothering clouds of wars Upon the torches of the stars. Let the last surge of his breath Take refuge in the cradling air Above tire dreams of ravens where Only the hawk remembers death. Then let his shade to Huma rise Beyond the wild, impartial skies.

The chant ended. Slowly, solemnly the knights walked forward one by one to pay homage to the dead, each kneeling for

a moment before the altar. Then the Knights of Solamnia left the Chamber of Paladine, returning to their cold beds to try and find some rest before the next day's dawning.

Laurana, Flint, and Tasslehoff stood alone beside their friend, their arms around each other, their hearts full. A chill wind whistled through the open door of the sepulcher where the Honor Guard stood, ready to seal the chamber.

"Kharan bea Reorx;" said Flint in dwarven,wiping his gnarled and shaking hand across his eyes. "Friends meet in Reorx:" Fumbling in his pouch, he took out a bit of wood, beautifully carved into the shape of arose. Gently he laid it upon Sturm's breast, beside Alhana's Starjewel.

"Good-bye, Sturm," Tas said awkwardly. "I only have one gift that-that you would approve of. I-I don't think you'll understand. But then again, maybe you do now. Maybe you understand better than I do:" Tasslehoff placed a small white feather in the knight's cold hand.

"Quisalan elevas;" Laurana whispered in elven. "Our lovesbond eternal:'She paused, unable to leave him in this darkness.

"Come, Laurana," Flint said gently. "We've said our goodbyes. We must let him go. Reorx waits for him:"

Laurana drew back. Silently, without looking back, the three friends climbed the narrow stairs leading from the sepulcher and walked steadfastly into the chill, stinging sleet of the bitter winter's night.

Far away from the frozen land of Solamnia, one other person said good-bye to Sturm Brightblade.

Silvanesti had not changed with the passing months. Though Lorac's nightmare was ended, and his body lay beneath the soil of his beloved country, the land still remembered Lorac's terrible dreams. The air smelled of death and decay. The trees bent and twisted in unending agony. Misshapen beasts roamed the woods, seeking an end to their tortured existence.

In vain Alhana watched from her room in the Tower of the Stars for some sign of change.

The griffons had come back-as she had known they would once the dragon was gone. She had fully intended to leave Silvanesti and return to her people on Ergoth. But the griffons carried disturbing news: war between the elves and humans.

It was a mark of the change in Alhana, a mark of her suffering these past months, that she found this news distressing. Before she met Tanis and the others, she would have accepted war between elves and humans, perhaps even welcomed it. But now she saw that this was only the work of the evil forces in the world.

She should return to her people, she knew. Perhaps she could end this insanity. But she told herself the weather was unsafe for traveling. In reality, she shrank from facing the shock and the disbelief of her people when she told them of the destruction of their land and her promise to her dying father that the elves would return and rebuild-after they had helped the humans fight the Dark Queen and her minions.

Oh, she would win. She had no doubt. But she dreaded leaving the solitude of her self-imposed exile to face the tumult of the world beyond Silvanesti.

And she dreaded-even as she longed-to see the human she loved. The knight, whose proud and noble face came to her in her dreams, whose very soul she shared through the Starjewel. Unknown to him, she stood beside him in his fight to save his honor. Unknown to him, she shared his agony and came to learn the depths of his noble spirit. Her love for him grew daily, as did her fear of loving him.

And so Alhana continually put off her departure. I will leave, she told herself, when I see some sign I may give my people-a sign of hope. Otherwise they will not come back. They will give up in despair. Day after day, she looked from her window.

But no sign came.

The winter nights grew longer. The darkness deepened. One evening Alhana walked upon the battlements of the Tower of the Stars. It was afternoon in Solamnia then, and-on another Tower-Sturm Brightblade faced a sky blue dragon and a Dragon Highlord called the Dark Lady. Suddenly Alhana felt a strange and terrifying sensation-as though the world had ceased to turn. A shattering pain pierced her body, driving her to the stone below. Sobbing in fear and grief, she clutched the Starjewel she wore around her neck and watched in agony as its light flickered and died.

"So this is my sign!" she screamed bitterly, holding the darkened jewel in her hand and shaking it at the heavens. "There is no hope! There is nothing but death and despair!"

Holding the jewel so tightly that the sharp point bit into her flesh, Alhana stumbled unseeing through the darkness to her room in the Tower. From there she looked out once moue upon her dying land. Then, with a shuddering sob, she closed and locked the wooden shutters of her window.

Let the world do what it will, she told herself bitterly. Let my people meet their end in their own way. Evil will prevail. There is nothing we can do to stop it. I will die here, with my father.

That night she made one final journey out into the land.

Carelessly she threw a thin cape over her shoulders and headed for a grave lying beneath a twisted, tortured tree. In her hand, she held the Starjewel.

Throwing herself down upon the ground, Alhana began to dig frantically with her bare hands, scratching at the frozen ground of her father's grave with fingers that were soon raw and bleeding. She didn't care. She welcomed the pain that was so much easier to bear than the pain in her heart.

Finally, she had dug a small hole. The red moon, Lunatari, crept into the night sky, tinging the silver moon's light with blood. Alhana stared at the Starjewel until she could no longer see it through her tears, then she cast it into the hole she had dug. She forced herself to quit crying. Wiping the tears from her face, she started to fill in the hole.

Then she stopped.

Her hands trembled. Hesitantly, she reached down and brushed the dirt from the Starjewel, wondering if her grief had driven her mad. No, from it came a tiny glimmer of light that grew even stronger as she watched. Alhana lifted the shimmering jewel from the grave.

"But he's dead;" she said softly, staring at the jewel that sparkled in Solinari silver light. "I know death has claimed him. Nothing can change that. Yet, why this light-"

A sudden rustling sound startled her. Alhana fell back, fearing that the hideously deformed tree above Lorac's grave might be reaching to grasp her in its creaking branches. But as she watched she saw the limbs of the tree cease their tortured writhing. They hung motionless for an instant, then-with a sighturned toward the heavens. The trunk straightened and the bark became smooth and began to glisten in the silver moonlight. Blood ceased to drip from the tree. The leaves felt living sap flow once more through their veins.

Alhana gasped. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she looked around her land. But nothing else had changed. None of the other trees were different-only this one, above Lorac's grave.

I am going mad, she thought. Fearfully she turned back to look at the tree upon her father's grave. No, it was changed. Even as she watched, it grew more beautiful.

Carefully, Alhana hung the Starjewel back in its place over her heart. Then she turned and walked back toward the Tower. There was much to be done before she left for Ergoth.

The next morning, as the sun shed its pale light over the unhappy land of Silvanesti, Alhana looked out over the forest. Nothing had changed. A noxious green mist still hung low over the suffering trees. Nothing would change, she knew, until the elves came back and worked to make it change. Nothing had changed except the tree above Lorac's grave.

"Farewell, Lorac;' Alhana called, "until we return:'

Summoning her griffon, she climbed onto its strong back and spoke a firm word of command. The griffon spread its feathery wings and soared into the air, rising in swift spirals above the stricken land of Silvanesti. At a word from Alhana, it turned its head west and began the long flight to Ergoth.

Far below, in Silvanesti, one tree's beautiful green leaves stood out in splendid contrast to the black desolation of the forest around it. It swayed in the winter wind, singing soft music as it spread its limbs to shelter Lorac's grave from the winter's darkness, waiting for spring.

 

 

 

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