2

The White Dragon.

Captured!

The dragon’s name was Sleet. She was a white dragon, a species of dragon smaller than other dragons dwelling in Krynn. Born and bred in the arctic regions, these dragons were able to withstand extreme cold, and controlled the ice-bound southern regions of Ansalon.

Because of their smaller size, the white dragons were the swiftest flyers of all dragonkind. The Dragon Highlords often used them for scouting missions. Thus Sleet had been away from her lair in Ice Wall when the companions, entered it in search of the dragon orb. The Dark Queen had received a report that Silvanesti had been invaded by a group of adventurers. They had managed—somehow—to defeat Cyan Bloodbane and were reportedly in possession of a dragon orb.

The Dark Queen guessed they might be traveling across the Plains of Dust, along the Kings Road, which was the most direct overland route to Sancrist where the Knights of Solamnia were reportedly trying to regroup. The Dark Queen ordered Sleet and her flight of white dragons to speed north to the Plains of Dust, now lying under a thick, heavy blanket of packed snow, to find the orb.

Seeing the snow glistening beneath her, Sleet doubted very much if even humans would be foolhardy enough to attempt to cross the wasteland. But she had her orders and she followed them. Scattering her flight, Sleet scoured every inch of land from the borders of Silvanesti on the east to the Kharolis Mountains on the west. A few of her dragons even flew as far north as New Coast, which was held by the blues.

The dragons met to report that they had seen no sign of any living being on the Plains when Sleet received word that danger had marched in the back door while she was out scouting the front.

Furious, Sleet flew back but arrived too late. Feal-thas was dead, the dragon orb missing. But her walrus-men allies, the Thanoi, were able to describe the group who had committed this heinous act. They even pointed out the direction their ship had sailed, although there was only one direction any ship could sail from Ice Wall—north.

Sleet reported the loss of the dragon orb to her Dark Queen, who was intensely angry and frightened. Now there were two orbs missing! Although secure in the knowledge that her force for evil was the strongest in Krynn, the Dark Queen knew with a nagging certainty that the forces of good still walked the land. One of these might prove strong and wise enough to figure out the secret of the orb.

Sleet, therefore, was ordered to find the orb and bring it not back to Ice Wall, but to the Queen herself. Under no circumstances was the dragon to lose it or allow it to be lost. The orbs were intelligent and imbued with a strong sense of survival. Thus they had lived this long when even those who created them were dead.

Sleet sped out over the Sirrion Sea, her strong white wings soon carrying her swiftly to within sight of the ship. But now Sleet was presented with an interesting intellectual problem, and she was not prepared to handle it.

Perhaps because of the inbreeding necessary to create a reptile that can tolerate cold weather, white dragons are the lowest in intelligence among dragonkind. Sleet had never needed to think much on her own. Feal-thas always told her what to do. Consequently, she was considerably perplexed over her current problem as she circled the ship: how could she get the orb?

At first she had just planned to freeze the ship with her icy breath. Then she realized this would simply enclose the orb in a frozen block of wood, making it extremely difficult to remove. There was also every probability the ship would sink before she could tear it apart. And if she did manage to take the ship apart, the orb might sink. The ship was too heavy to lift in her claws and fly to land. Sleet circled the ship and pondered, while down below she could see the pitiful humans racing around like scared mice.

The white dragon considered sending another telepathic message to her Queen, asking for help. But Sleet hesitated to remind the vengeful queen of either her presence or her ignorance. The dragon followed the ship all day, hanging just above it, pondering. Floating easily on the wind currents, she let her dragonfear stir the humans into a frenzy of panic. Then, just as the sun was setting, Sleet had an idea. Without stopping to think, she acted upon it at once.

Tasslehoff’s report of the white dragon following the vessel sent waves of terror through the crew. They armed themselves with cutlasses and grimly prepared to fight the beast as. long as they could, though all knew how such a contest must end. Gilthanas and Laurana, both skillful archers, fit arrows to their bows. Sturm and Derek held shield and sword. Tasslehoff grabbed his hoopak. Flint tried to get out of bed, but he couldn’t even stand up. Elistan was calm, praying to Paladine.

‘I have more faith in my sword than that old man and his god,’ Derek said to Sturm.

‘The Knights have always honored Paladine.’ Sturm said in rebuke.

‘I honor him—his memory,’ Derek said. ‘I find this talk of Paladine’s ‘return’ disturbing, Brightblade. And so will the Council, when they hear of it. You would do well to consider that when the question of your knighthood arises.’

Sturm bit his lip, swallowing his angry retort like bitter medicine.

Long minutes passed. Everyone’s eyes were on the whitewinged creature flying above them. But they could do nothing, and so they waited.

And waited. And waited. The dragon did not attack.

She circled above them endlessly, her shadow crossing and crisscrossing the deck with monotonous, chilling regularity. The sailors, who had been prepared to fight without question, soon began to mutter among themselves as the waiting grew unbearable. To make matters worse, the dragon seemed to be sucking up the wind, for the sails fluttered and drooped lifelessly. The ship lost its graceful forward momentum and began to flounder in the water. Storm clouds gathered on the northern horizon and slowly drifted over the water, casting a pall across the bright sea.

Laurana finally lowered her bow and rubbed her aching back and shoulder muscles. Her eyes, dazzled from staring into the sun, were blurred and watery.

‘Put ‘em in a lifeboat and cast ‘em adrift,’ she overheard one old grizzled sailor suggest to a companion in a voice meant to carry. ‘Perhaps yon great beast will let us go. It’s them she’s after, not us.’

It’s not even us she’s after, Laurana thought uneasily. It’s probably the dragon orb. That’s why she hasn’t attacked. But Laurana couldn’t tell this, even to the captain. The dragon orb must be kept secret.

The afternoon crept on, and still the dragon circled like a horrible seabird. The captain was growing more and more irritable. Not only did he have a dragon to contend with, but the likelihood of mutiny as well. Near dinnertime, he ordered the companions below decks.

Derek and Sturm both refused, and it appeared things might get out of hand when, ‘Land ho, off the starboard bow!’

‘Southern Ergoth,’ the captain said grimly. ‘The current’s carrying us toward the rocks.’ He glanced up at the circling dragon. ‘If a wind doesn’t come soon, we’ll smash up on them.’ At that moment, the dragon quit circling. She hovered a moment, then soared upwards. The sailors cheered, thinking she was flying away. But Laurana knew better, remembering Tarsis.

‘She’s going to dive!’ she cried. ‘She’s going to attack!’

‘Get below!’ Sturm shouted, and the sailors, after one hesitant look skyward, began to scramble for the hatches. The captain ran to the wheel.

‘Get below,’ he ordered the helmsman, taking over.

‘You can’t stay up here!’ Sturm shouted. Leaving the hatch, he ran back to the captain. ‘She’ll kill you!’

‘We’ll founder if I don’t,’ the captain cried angrily.

‘We’ll founder if you’re dead!’ Sturm said. Clenching his fist, he hit the captain in the jaw and dragged him below.

Laurana stumbled down the stairs with Gilthanas behind her. The elflord waited until Sturm brought the unconscious captain down, then he pulled the hatch cover shut.

At that moment, the dragon hit the ship with a blast that nearly sent the vessel under. The ship listed precariously. Everyone, even the most hardened sailor, lost his feet and went skidding into each other in the crowded quarters below deck. Flint rolled onto the floor with a curse.

‘Now’s the time to pray to your god,’ Derek said to Elistan.

‘I am,’ Elistan replied coolly, helping the dwarf up.

Laurana, clinging to a post, waited fearfully for the flaring orange light, the heat, the flames. Instead, there was a sudden sharp and biting cold that took her breath away and chilled her blood. She could hear, above her, rigging snap and crack, the flapping of the sails cease. Then, as she stared upwards, she saw white frost begin to sift down between the cracks in the wooden deck.

‘The white dragons don’t breathe flame!’ Laurana said in awe. ‘They breathe ice! Elistan! Your prayers were answered!’

‘Bah! It might as well be flame,’ the captain said, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. ‘Ice’ll freeze us up solid.’

‘A dragon breathing ice!’ Tas said wistfully. ‘I wish I could see!’

‘What will happen?’ Laurana asked, as the ship slowly righted itself, creaking and groaning.

‘We’re helpless,’ the captain snarled. ‘The riggin’ll snap beneath the weight of the ice, dragging the sails down. The mast’ll break like a tree in an ice storm. With no steerage, the current will smash her up on the rocks, and that’ll be an end of her. There’s not a damn thing we can do!’

‘We could try to shoot her as she flies past,’ Gilthanas said. But Sturm shook his head, pushing on the hatch.

‘There must be a foot of ice on top of this,’ the knight reported. ‘We’re sealed in.’

This is how the dragon will get the orb, Laurana thought miserably. She’ll drive the ship aground, kill us, then recover the orb where there’s no danger of it sinking into the ocean.

‘Another blast like that will send us to the bottom,’ the captain predicted, but there was not another blast like the first. The next blast was more gentle, and all of them realized the dragon was using her breath to blow them to shore.

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

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

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

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

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

‘She’s gone!’ said Gilthanas in astonishment.

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

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

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

‘No use, Derek,’ Sturm said. ‘The ship sank.’

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

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

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

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

‘Many another good man has found his final home beneath the waves. Yours won’t be the first—nor the last—I suppose, mores the pity,’ the captain added.

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

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

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

‘We sent your men north along the shore, captain,’ Laurana said, pointing. ‘There’s shelter there, within those trees.’

As if to verify her words, a bright light flared, the light of a huge bonfire.

‘Fools!’ Derek swore bitterly. ‘They’ll have the dragon back on us.’

‘It’s either that or catch our deaths of cold,’ the captain said bitterly over his shoulder. ‘Take your choice, sir knight. It matters little to me.’ He disappeared into the darkness.

Sturm stretched and groaned, trying to ease chilled, cramped muscles. Flint lay huddled in misery, shaking so the buckles on his armor jangled. Laurana, leaning down to tuck her cloak around him, realized suddenly how cold she was.

In the excitement of trying to escape the ship and fighting the dragon, she had forgotten the chill. She couldn’t even remember, in fact, any details of her escape. She remembered reaching the beach, seeing the dragon diving on them. She remembered fumbling for her bow with numb, shaking fingers. She wondered how anyone had presence of mind to save anything—

‘The dragon orb!’ she said fearfully.

‘Here, in this chest,’ Derek answered. ‘Along with the lance and that elvish sword you call Wyrmslayer. And now, I suppose, we should take advantage of the fire—’

‘I think not.’ A strange voice spoke out of the darkness as lighted torches flared around them, blinding them.

The companions started and immediately drew their weapons, gathering around the helpless dwarf. But Laurana, after an instant’s fright, peered into the faces in the torchlight.

‘Hold!’ she cried. ‘These are our people! These are elves!’

‘Silvanesti!’ Gilthanas said heartily. Dropping his bow to the ground, he walked forward toward the elf who had spoken. ‘We have journeyed long through darkness,’ he said in elven, his hands outstretched. ‘Well met, my broth’

He never finished his ancient greeting. The leader of the elven party stepped forward and slammed the end of his staff across Gilthanas’s face, knocking him to the sand, unconscious.

Sturm and Derek immediately raised their swords, standing back to back. Steel flashed among the elves.

‘Stop!’ Laurana shouted in elven. Kneeling by her brother, she threw back the hood of her cloak so that the light fell upon her face. ‘We are your cousins. Qualinesti! These humans are Knights of Solamnia!’

‘We know well enough who you are!’ The elven leader spit the words, ‘Qualinesti spies! And we do not find it unusual that you travel in the company of humans. Your blood has long been polluted. Take them,’ he said, motioning to his men. ‘If they don’t come peacefully, do what you must. And find out what they mean by this dragon orb they mentioned.’’

The elves stepped forward.

‘No!’ Derek cried, jumping to stand before the chest. ‘Sturm, they must not have the orb!’

Sturm had already given the Knight’s salute to an enemy and was advancing, sword drawn.

‘It appears they will fight. So be it,’ the leader of the elves said, raising his weapon.

‘I tell you, this is madness I’ Laurana cried angrily,. She threw herself between the flashing swordblades. The elves halted uncertainly. Sturm grabbed hold of her to drag her back, but she jerked free of his restraining hand.

‘Goblins and draconians, in all their hideous evil, do not sink to fighting among themselves’—her voice shook with rage—’while we elves, the ancient embodiment of good, try to kill each other! Look!’ She lifted the lid of the chest with one hand and threw it open. ‘In here we have the hope of the world! A dragon orb, taken at great peril from Ice Wall. Our ship lies wrecked in the waters out there. We drove away the dragon that sought to recover this orb. And, after all this, we find our greatest peril among our own people! If this is true, if we have sunk so low, then kill us now, and I swear, not one person in this group will try to stop you.’

Sturm, not understanding elven, watched for a moment, then saw the elves lower their weapons. ‘Well, whatever she said, it seems to have worked.’ Reluctantly, he sheathed his weapon. Derek, after a moment’s hesitation, lowered his sword, but he did not put it back in its scabbard.

‘We will consider your story,’ the elven leader began, speaking haltingly in Common. Then he stopped as shouts and cries were heard from down the beach. The companions saw dark shadows converge on the campfire. The elf glanced that direction, waited a moment until all had quieted, then turned back to the group. He looked particularly at Laurana, who was bending over her brother. ‘We may have acted in haste, but when you have lived here long, you will come to understand.’

‘I will never understand this!’ Laurana said, tears choking her voice.

An elf appeared out of the darkness. ‘Humans, sir.’ Laurana heard him report in elven. ‘Sailors by their appearance. They say their ship was attacked by a dragon and wrecked on the rocks.’

‘Verification?’

‘We found bits of wreckage floating ashore. We can search in the morning. The humans are wet and miserable and halfdrowned. They offered no resistance. I don’t think they’ve lied.’

The elven leader turned to Laurana. ‘Your story appears to be true,’ he said, speaking once more in Common. ‘My men report that the humans they captured are sailors. Do not worry about them. We will take them prisoner, of course. We cannot have humans wandering around this island with all our other problems. But we will care for them well. We are not goblins,’ he added bitterly. ‘I regret striking your friend—’

‘Brother,’ Laurana replied. ‘And younger son of the Speaker of the Suns. I am Lauralanthalasa, and this is Gilthanas. We are of the royal house of Qualinesti.’

It seemed to her that the elf paled at this news, but he regained his composure immediately. ‘Your brother will be well tended. I will send for a healer—’

‘We do not need your healer!’ Laurana said. ‘This man’— she gestured toward Elistan— ‘is a cleric of Paladine. He will aid my brother -’

‘A human?’ the elf asked sternly.

‘Yes, human’’ Laurana cried impatiently. ‘Elves struck my brother down! I turn to humans to heal him. Elistan—’

The cleric started forward, but, at a sign from their leader, several elves quickly grabbed him and pinned his arms behind him. Sturm started to go to his aid, but Elistan stopped him with a look, glancing at Laurana meaningfully. Sturm fell back, understanding Elistan’s silent warning. Their lives depended on her.

‘Let him go!’ Laurana demanded. ‘Let him treat my brother!’

‘I find this news of a cleric of Paladine impossible to believe, Lady Laurana,’ the elf leader said. ‘All know the clerics vanished from Krynn when the gods turned their faces from us. I do not know who this charlatan is, or how he has tricked you into believing him, but we will not allow him to lay his human hands upon an elf!’

‘Even an elf who is an enemy?’ she cried furiously.

‘Even if the elf had killed my own father,’ the elf said grimly. ‘And now, Lady Laurana, I must speak to you privately and try to explain what is transpiring on Southern Ergoth.’

Seeing Laurana hesitate, Elistan spoke, ‘Go on, my dear. You are the only one who can save us now. I will stay near Gilthanas.’

‘Very well,’ Laurana said, rising to her feet. Her face pale, she walked apart with the elven leader.

‘I don’t like this,’ Derek said, scowling. ‘She told them of the dragon orb, which she should not have done.’

‘They heard us talking about it,’ Sturm said wearily.

‘Yes, but she told them where it was! I don’t trust her—or her people. Who knows what kind of deals they are making?’ Derek added.

‘That does it!’ grated a voice.

Both men turned in astonishment to see Flint staggering to his feet. His teeth still chattered, but a cold light glinted in his eyes as he looked at Derek. ‘II’ve had aabout enough of yyou, S-Sir High and M-Mighty.’ The dwarf gritted his teeth to stop shivering long enough to speak.

Sturm started to intervene, but the dwarf shooed him aside to confront Derek. It was a ludicrous sight, and one Sturm often remembered with a smile, storing it up to share with Tanis. The dwarf, his long white beard wet and scraggly, water dripping from his clothes to form puddles at his feet, stood nearly level with Derek’s belt buckle, scolding the tall, proud Solamnic knight as he might have scolded Tasslehoff.

‘You knights have lived encased in metal so long it’s shaken your brains to mush!’ The dwarf snorted. ‘If you ever had any brains to begin with, which I doubt. I’ve seen that girl grow from a wee bit of a thing to the beautiful woman she is now. And I tell you there isn’t a more courageous, nobler person on Krynn. What’s got you is that she just saved your hide. And you can’t handle that!’

Derek’s face flushed dark in the torchlight.

‘I need neither dwarves nor elves defending me—’ Derek began angrily when Laurana came running back, her eyes glittering.

‘As if there is not evil enough,’ she muttered through tight lips, ‘I find it brewing among my own kindred!’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Sturm.

‘The situation stands thus: There are now three races of elves living in Southern Ergoth—’

‘Three races?’ interrupted Tasslehoff, staring at Laurana with interest. ‘What’s the third race? Where’d they come from? Can I see them? I never heard—’

Laurana had had enough. ‘Tas,’ she said, her voice taut. ‘Go stay with Gilthanas. And ask Elistan to come here.’

‘But—’

Sturm gave the kender a shove. ‘Go!’ he ordered.

Wounded, Tasslehoff trailed off disconsolately to where Gilthanas still lay. The kender slumped down in the sand, pouting. Elistan patted him kindly as he went to join the others.

‘The Kaganesti, known as Wilder Elves in the Common tongue, are the third race,’ Laurana continued. ‘They fought with us during the Kinslayer wars. In return for their loyalty, Kith-Kanan gave them the mountains of Ergoth—this was before Qualinesti and Ergoth were split apart by the Cata-clysm. I am not surprised you have never heard of the Wilder Elves. They are a secretive people and keep to themselves.Once called the Border Elves, they are ferocious fighters and served Kith-Kanan well, but they have no love for cities. They mingled with Druids and learned their lore. They brought back the ways of the ancient elves. My people consider them barbarians—just as your people consider the Plainsmen bar-baric.

‘Some months ago, when the Silvanesti were driven from their ancient homeland, they fled here, seeking permission of the Kaganesti to dwell in Ergoth temporarily. Then came my people, the Qualinesti, from across the sea. And so they met, at last, kindred who had been separated for hundreds of years.’

‘I fail to see the relevance—’ Derek interrupted.

‘You will,’ she said, drawing a deep breath. ‘For your lives depend upon understanding what is happening on this sad isle.’ Her voice broke. Elistan moved near her and put his arm around her comfortingly.

‘All started out peacefully enough. After all, the two exiled cousins had much in common—both driven from their beloved homelands by the evil in the world. They established homes upon the Isle—the Silvanesti upon the western shore, the Qualinesti upon the eastern, separated by a strait known as Thon-Tsalarian, which means the ‘River of the Dead’ in Kaganesti. The Kaganesti live in the hill country north of the river.

‘For a time, there was even some attempt to establish friendships between the Silvanesti and the Qualinesti. And that is where the trouble began. For these elves could not meet, even after hundreds of years, without the old hatreds and misunderstandings beginning to surface.’ Laurana closed her eyes a moment. ‘The River of the Dead could very well be known as Thon-Tsalaroth—’River of Death: ‘

‘There now, lass,’ Flint said, touching her hand, ‘The dwarves have known it, too. You saw the way I was treated in Thorbardin—a hill dwarf among mountain dwarves. Of all the hatreds, the ones between families are the cruelest.’

‘There has been no killing yet, but so shocked were the elders at the thought of what might happen—elves killing their own kindred—that they decreed no one may cross the straits on penalty of arrest,’ Laurana continued. ‘And this is where we stand. Neither side trusts the other. There have even been charges of selling out to the Dragon Highlords! Spies have been captured on both sides.’

‘That explains why they attacked us,’ Elistan murmured.

‘What about the Kag—Kag—’ Sturm stammered over the unfamiliar elven word.

‘Kaganesti.’ Laurana sighed wearily. ‘They, who allowed us to share their homeland, have been treated worst of all. The Kaganesti have always been poor in material wealth. Poor, by our standards, though not by theirs. They live in the forests and mountains, taking what they need from the land. They are gatherers, hunters. They raise no crops, they forge no metal. When we arrived, our people appeared rich to them with our golden jewelry and steel weapons. Many of their young people came to the Qualinesti and the Silvanesti, seeking to learn the secrets of making shining gold and silver—and steel.’

Laurana bit her lip, her face hardened. ‘I say it to my shame, that my people have taken advantage of the Wilder Elves’ poverty. The Kaganesti work as slaves among us. And, because of that, the Kaganesti elders grow more savage and warlike as they see their young people taken away and their old way of life threatened.’

‘Laurana!’ called Tasslehoff.

She turned. ‘Look,’ she said to Elistan softly. ‘There is one of them now.’ The cleric followed her gaze to see a lithe young woman—at least he supposed it was a young woman by the long hair; she was dressed in male clothing—kneel down beside Gilthanas and stroke his forehead. The elflord stirred at her touch, groaning in pain. The Kaganesti reached into a pouch at her side and began busily to mix something in a small clay cup.

‘What is she doing?’ Elistan asked.

‘She is apparently the ‘healer’ they sent for,’ Laurana said, watching the girl closely. ‘The Kaganesti are noted for their Druidic skills.’

Wilder elf was a suitable name, Elistan decided, studying the girl intently. He had certainly never seen any intelligent being on Krynn quite so wild-looking. She was dressed in leather breeches tucked into leather boots. A shirt, obviously cast off by some elflord, hung from her shoulders. She was pale and too thin, undernourished. Her matted hair was so filthy it was impossible to distinguish its color. But the hand that touched Gilthanas was slender and shapely. Concern and compassion for him was apparent in her gentle face.

‘Well,’ Sturm said, ‘what are we to do in the midst of all this?’

‘The Silvanesti have agreed to escort us to my people,’ Laurana said, her face flushing. Evidently this had been a point of bitter contention. ‘At first they insisted that we go to their elders, but I said I would go nowhere without first bidding my father greeting and discussing the matter with him. There wasn’t much they could say to that.’ Laurana smiled slightly, though there was a touch of bitterness in her voice. ‘Among all the kindred, a daughter is bound to her father’s house until she comes of age. Keeping me here, against my will, would be viewed as kidnapping and would cause open hostility. Neither side is ready for that.’

‘They are letting us go, though they know we have the dragon orb?’ Derek asked in astonishment.

‘They are not letting us go,’ Laurana said sharply. ‘I said they are escorting us to my people.’

‘But there is a Solamnic outpost to the north,’ Derek argued, ‘We could get a ship there to take us to Sancrist—’

‘You would never live to reach those trees if you tried to escape,’ Flint said, sneezing violently.

‘He is right,’ Laurana said. ‘We must go to the Qualinesti and convince my father to help us get the orb to Sancrist.’ A small dark line appeared between her eyebrows which warned Sturm she didn’t believe that was going to be as easy as it sounded. ‘And now, we’ve been talking long enough. They gave me leave to explain things to you, but they’re getting restless to go. I must see to Gilthanas. Are we agreed?’

Laurana regarded each knight with a look that was not so much seeking approbation as simply waiting for an acknowledgement of her leadership. For a moment, she appeared so like Tanis in the firm set of her jaw and the calm, steady deliberation in her eyes that Sturm smiled. But Derek was not smiling. He was infuriated and frustrated, the more so because he knew there wasn’t a thing he could do.

Finally, however, he snarled a muttered reply that he supposed they must make the best of it and angrily stalked over to pick up the chest. Flint and Sturm followed, the dwarf sneezing until he nearly sneezed himself off his feet.

Laurana walked back to her brother, moving quietly along sand in her soft leather boots. But the Wilder elf heard her approach. Raising her head, she gave Laurana a fearful look and crept backward as an animal cringes at the sight of man. But Tas, who had been chatting with her in an odd mixture of Common and elven, gently caught hold of the Wilder elf’s arm.

‘Don’t leave,’ said the kender cheerfully. ‘This is the elflord’s sister. Look, Laurana. Gilthanas is coming around. It must be that mud stuff she stuck on his forehead. I could have sworn he’d be out for days.’ Tas stood up. ‘Laurana, this is my friend—what did you say your name was?’

The girl, her eyes on the ground, trembled violently. Her hands picked up bits of sand, then dropped them again. She murmured something none of them could hear.

‘What was it, child?’ Laurana asked in such a sweet and gentle voice that the girl raised her eyes shyly.

‘Silvart.’ she said in a low voice.

‘That means ‘silver-haired’ in the Kaganesti language, does it not?’ Laurana asked. Kneeling down beside Gilthanas, she helped him sit up. Dizzily, he put his hand to his face where the girl had plastered a thick paste over his bleeding cheek.

‘Don’t touch,’ Silvart warned, clasping her hand over Gilthanas’s hand quickly. ‘It will make you well.’ She spoke Common, not crudely, but clearly and concisely.

Gilthanas groaned in pain, shutting his eyes and letting his hand fall. Silvart gazed at him in deep concern. She started to stroke his face, then—glancing swiftly at Laurana—hurriedly withdrew her hand and started to rise.

‘Wait,’ Laurana said. ‘Wait, Silvart.’

The girl froze like a rabbit, staring at Laurana with such fear in her large eyes that Laurana was overcome with shame.

‘Don’t be frightened. I want to thank you for caring for my brother. Tasslehoff is right. I thought his injury was grave indeed, but you have aided him. Please stay with him, if you would.’

Silvart stared at the ground. ‘I will stay with him, mistress, if such is your command.’

‘It is not my command, Silvart.’ Laurana said. ‘It is my wish. And my name is Laurana.’

Silvart lifted her eyes. ‘Then I will stay with him gladly, mis—Laurana, if that is your wish.’ She lowered her head, and they could barely hear her words. ‘My true name, Silvara, means silver-haired. Silvart is what they call me.’ She glanced at the Silvanesti warriors, then her eyes went back to Laurana. ‘Please, I want you to call me Silvara.’

The Silvanesti elves brought over a make—shift litter they had constructed of a blanket and tree limbs. They lifted the elflord—not ungently—onto the litter. Silvara walked beside it. Tasslehoff walked near her, still chattering, pleased to find someone who had not yet heard his stories. Laurana and Elistan walked on the other side of Gilthanas. Laurana held his hand in hers, watching over him tenderly. Behind them came Derek, his face dark and shadowed, the chest with the dragon orb on his shoulder. Behind them marched a guard of Silvanesti elves.

Day was just beginning to dawn, gray and dismal, when they reached the line of trees along the shore. Flint shivered. Twisting his head, he gazed out to sea. ‘What was that Derek said about a—a ship to Sancrist?’

‘I am afraid so,’ Sturm replied. ‘It is also an island.’

‘And we’ve got to go there?’

‘Yes.’

‘To use the dragon orb? We don’t know anything about it!’

‘The knights will learn,’ Sturm said softly. ‘The future of the world rests on this.’

‘Humpf!’ The dwarf sneezed. Casting a terrified glance at the night—dark waters, he shook his head gloomily. ‘All I know is I’ve been drowned twice, stricken with a deadly disease—’

‘You were seasick.’

‘Stricken with a deadly disease,’ Flint repeated loudly, ‘and sunk. Mark my words, Sturm Brightblade—boats are bad luck to us. We’ve had nothing but trouble since we set foot in that blasted boat on Crystalmir Lake. That was where the crazed magician first saw the constellations had disappeared, and our luck’s gone straight downhill from there. As long as we keep relying on boats, it’s going to go from bad to worse.’

Sturm smiled as he watched the dwarf squish through the sand. But his smile turned to a sigh. I wish it were all that simple, the knight thought.