Dragonlance 08 - Dragons of the Highlord Skies (31 page)

The knights led their charges safely into the hills, to the cave where they had made camp earlier. Brian could not sleep and he offered to take first turn at guard duty. He sat on the hillside and watched the flames flare and roar, then sink to a sputter, and then, when there was nothing left to consume, the fires died.

And so did Tarsis.

4

Iolanthe lies. Skie rebels.

ar from Tarsis, in the city of Neraka, in the small apartment over the mageware store, Iolanthe watched the image of Kitiara vanish, wafting away with the smoke and the wisps of hair.

“That is the last lock of her hair, my lord,” Iolanthe said. “Unless I can obtain more, I can no longer cast the spell.”

“It is not important.” Ariakas planted his hands on the table and leveraged himself to his feet. He stood long moments, still frowning at the last little trails of smoke. “I know all I need to know now.”

As he was leaving, he tossed over his shoulder, “I will require your presence at her trial.”

Iolanthe lifted her eyebrows. “Trial, my lord?”

Ariakas rarely bothered with such formalities. He made a gesture of resignation. “Kitiara is a Highlord. Her troops, and more importantly, her dragons are fiercely loyal to her. There would be trouble if I simply killed her. Her crimes must be made public. You will testify what your magic has revealed.”

“I cannot do that, my lord,” Iolanthe replied.

He halted in the door, his face dark with rage.

She added, humbly, “I have sworn on oath to Nuitari, God of the Dark Moon, that I would never reveal the secret of that spell. I may not break such an oath on peril of my life.”

“You are in peril of your life right now, Iolanthe,” growled Ariakas, clenching his fist.

Iolanthe trembled, but she did not back down.

“I honor and respect you, my lord,” she said in a low voice, “but Nuitari is my god.”

She was on safe ground. Ariakas believed in the gods, and although he did not serve Nuitari, having chosen to pledge his loyalty to Nuitari’s mother, Queen Takhisis, he revered the god of dark magic and feared him. Even the Emperor of Ansalon would be loathe to do anything to arouse Nuitari’s wrath.

Ariakas stared at her, trying to intimidate her. She stood impassive under his scrutiny, meeting his gaze. Ariakas gave a snarl and a grunt, then turned and stalked out of the room. He slammed the door behind him with such force the walls shook.

Iolanthe gasped and shuddered with relief and sank down in a chair, too weak and shaken to stand. She poured herself a glass of brandywine with a shaking hand, drank the fiery liquid, and felt better.

When her hands ceased to tremble, she reached into the silken bag and took out one more lock of curly black hair. Iolanthe twisted the lock thoughtfully in her fingers, as she gazed into the flames and smiled.

Kit arrived back at her camp in the gray dawn. She had been looking forward to finding Tanis here, waiting for her, only to discover Skie had not yet returned with the prize she’d sent him to fetch. Kit went to bed, leaving orders that the guards wake her the moment the dragon appeared. She slept the day through and well into the night. When she finally woke, there was still no sign of Skie.

Several days passed after that with no news of the dragons. Kitiara fumed, fretted and made life hell for the draconians, who kept out of her sight as much as possible. She had plenty of time to think not only about Tanis but also about her rival. Kit decided she was glad she hadn’t killed Laurana. Kitiara had always been competitive.

“I didn’t want Tanis until I found out another woman might take him from me,” Kit realized. “As it is, making him mine again will be that much sweeter.” She smiled the crooked smile. “Perhaps when I’m finished with him, I’ll send the elf maid whatever’s left.”

Lying in bed at night—alone—she entertained herself with thoughts of what she would do when Skie brought Tanis back.

“I will be angry with Tanis. I will tell him I have discovered his infidelity. I will accuse him of abandoning me for Laurana. He’ll deny it, of course, but I won’t listen. I’ll rant and rave and work myself into a passion. No tears. I can’t abide women who weep. He’ll beg my forgiveness. He’ll take me in his arms, and I’ll fight him. I’ll dig my nails into his flesh until the blood runs and he’ll stop my curses with his lips, and then I’ll relent slowly. Ever so slowly …”

Kitiara fell asleep with a smile on her lips, a smile that disappeared when Queen Takhisis paid her yet another visit in her dreams, urging, pleading, cajoling. Lord Soth, it seemed, had yet to enter the war. Kit woke groggy and in a bad temper to find that Skie and the other blue dragons had finally returned.

Kit hurried to meet them, only to discover they had failed utterly.

“We chased the damn griffons for days,” Skie told her. “We couldn’t catch them and eventually lost them.”

The blue dragon was sullen.

“I have no idea where the half-elf is,” he added in response to her questions, “and I could not care less.”

Kitiara was enraged. The entire mission to Tarsis had been a waste of time, money, and energy. She needed someone to blame, and she settled on Toede. She was writing up a scathing report on the hobgoblin, recommending that he should be relieved of his command
and
his head, when a messenger arrived on dragonback, summoning her to Neraka for an emergency meeting of the Highlords.

“Don’t go,” Skie said abruptly, as Kitiara was putting on her helm.

“What? Don’t be silly. Of course, I’m going. I’ll make my charges against Toede in person. Much more effective. What’s the matter?” she demanded, seeing Skie lower his head and hunch his shoulder.

“What’s this urgent meeting about?” he asked.

Kitiara shrugged. “Ariakas didn’t say. Perhaps it will be about the debacle in Tarsis or maybe the matter of the death knight.”

Hands on her hips, arms akimbo, Kit stared at the dragon.

“Why shouldn’t I go?”

Skie was silent, brooding, then he said, “Because you were wrong. You were wrong to bring us here to chase after your lover. You were wrong to send us off in pursuit of him, and you were doubly wrong to risk your life seeking out your rival like some jealous whore—”

“Shut up!” Kitiara shouted angrily.

Skie kept quiet, but his tail twitched, his claws dug into the dirt, clenched and released and clenched again. He eyed her, then looked away.

“I am going to Neraka,” Kitiara stated.

“Then find another dragon,” said Skie, and he lifted his wings, pushed off with his hind legs, and soared into the sky, heading north, back to Solamnia.

Kitiara stood on the ground, staring after him. She watched in astonishment until he had finally disappeared. Then she took off her dragon helm, put it under her arm, turned, and walked away.

5

Fleeing Tarsis. Danger from above.

Laurana’s decision.

he next morning, the smoke of the burning funeral pyre that was now Tarsis continued to rise into the air. Snow started to fall and this would be forever known as the Day of the Black Snow, for the white flakes were tainted with soot and cinders. The black snow settled on the bodies in the street and on the comatose draconians who had passed out due to a surfeit of dwarf spirits. By the end of the day, their officers had sobered up enough to start rousing their men; the mighty force of the Red Dragonarmy—having no orders to do otherwise—started to straggle back north.

The three knights woke early from a sleep that had been brief, cold, and uncomfortable, and took stock of their situation. They had no horses; the beasts had either run off during the attack on the city, or, more likely, they had been stolen. They had found horse blankets in the stable and appropriated these to use for bedding. Tas had discovered a heavy, fur-lined, hooded coat for Laurana, who had been inside the inn when it was attacked and had been forced out into the cold wearing only a leather tunic of dwarven make over a woolen shirt and leather breeches tucked into leather boots. The rest had clothing suitable to the cold, but no food. They drank melted snow water, and that sparingly, for it tasted like blood.

Derek had spent the hours he was standing watch making plans.

“We travel south to Rigitt,” Derek stated. “Once there, we will separate—”

“What if Rigitt was attacked?” Aran interrupted. “We could be walking into another hell just like this one.” He jerked his thumb back at the smoldering ruins of the city.

“I don’t think Rigitt is in any danger,” said Derek. “The dragonarmies don’t have the will or the manpower to hold Tarsis. When we reach Rigitt, Aran will book passage on a ship and escort Gilthanas, Laurana and Elistan back to Solamnia. From there, the elves can search out their people and Elistan can do whatever it is he does. Brian and I will take the kender and sail to Icereach—”

Seeing Aran shaking his head, Derek halted his planning.

“What’s wrong?” Derek demanded, annoyed.

“There won’t be a sailing vessel left in the city, Derek,” Aran explained testily. He kept reaching for his flask, only to remember that it was empty, and he was in an uncharacteristic bad mood. “Even if Rigitt hasn’t been attacked, its people will be certain they’re next and they’ll be fleeing the city in anything that floats.”

Derek frowned, but he couldn’t very well argue against the wisdom of this.

“I’m going to Icereach with you,” Aran continued firmly. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I had no intention of ‘getting rid of you’,” said Derek. “I am concerned for the welfare of the elf brother and sister. They are royalty, after all. I am also worried about the older gentleman. That is why I proposed sending you with them. I still believe this is a good idea. If we can find a ship—”

Aran began to argue, and Brian hurriedly intervened.

“We might hire a fishing vessel,” he suggested. “Fishermen are a hardy lot. They don’t scare easily and they’ve their livelihood to make. They aren’t likely to run off in a panic.”

Both Derek and Aran agreed his suggestion was sound, though Aran grumbled some. That ended the argument, however, and the three continued to talk of this and consider other options, and, for the moment, the matter of how they would split the party was forgotten.

Gilthanas stood at the entrance to the cave, listening to the knights. Hearing footsteps behind him, he half-turned. He saw it was Laurana and put his finger to his lips, cautioning her to be silent.

“Why?” she whispered.

“So I can hear what they are plotting,” he returned. “Plotting?” Laurana repeated, bewildered. “You talk of the knights as if they were the enemy.”

“And
they
talk of going to Icereach to find a dragon orb,” said Gilthanas.

He shushed her when she would have said more and continued to listen. The knights’ conversation had ended, however. They had risen to their feet, stretching to ease the kinks in stiff, chilled muscles.

Gilthanas took hold of Laurana and steered her hurriedly away from the entrance, drawing her deeper into the darkness where Flint, Elistan and Tasslehoff were still asleep, huddled together for warmth.

Laurana looked at them enviously.

She was sick with fatigue, yet she had not been able to sleep. Every time she dozed off, she saw those ruthless dark eyes, she felt the knife prick her throat, and the terror returned, jolting her into wakefulness. When she was awake, she remembered Tanis and her grief tore at her so that she bled inside. He was dead, and her soul had died with him. She did not even have the poor comfort of being able to lay him to rest, sing the hymns of praise and love that would guide him on his way to the next stage of his life’s journey. If only she could have gone with him …

“Laurana, are you listening to me?” Gilthanas demanded. “This is important.”

“Yes, Gil,” Laurana lied. She dredged up some vague memory of what he had been saying. “You were talking about dragon orbs. What are they?”

Gilthanas saw her pallor. He saw the dark circles that smudged the skin beneath her eyes, and the red-rimmed, swollen eyelids and the tear-streaked grime on her cheeks. He put his arm around her and she leaned against him, grateful for his comfort.

“I know you don’t care about any of this,” he said softly, “but you must. It’s important—”

Laurana shook her head. “Nothing’s important anymore, Gil. Nothing matters.”

“This does, Laurana. Listen to me! Dragons orbs are powerful magical artifacts created by wizards long ago. I heard talk of them when I was studying magic. I asked my master about them, but he could tell me little, except that he believed they were either destroyed by the Kingpriest or by the mages themselves during the Lost Battles. All he knew was that those who mastered the orbs were supposed to have the ability to control dragons.

“At that time, we had no idea that dragons remained in the world, so none of us thought much about them.” The elf’s expression grew dark. “If a dragon orb has been found, it must not fall into the hands of humans! That knight, that Derek, means to be rid of us. He wants to ship us back home, and I know why. The Solamnics plan to use the orb to save themselves. Never a thought for our people!” he added bitterly.

Laurana shrugged. “What does it matter anyway, Gil? What could one of these orbs do to help us even if we did have it? What could hundreds of orbs do? We can’t win against the Dark Queen’s might. We can only hope to survive for a day or a week or month, knowing all the while that in the end the evil will find us …”

She wept in quiet despair. Her brother pressed her close, but even as he soothed his sister, he remained fixated on the dragon orbs.

“Apparently, Tasslehoff knows something about this dragon orb,” Gilthanas whispered. “Perhaps you could persuade him to tell you—”

Laurana smiled through her tears. “If the knights are relying on Tasslehoff for information about this orb, I do not think you have anything to fear, brother. Tas has undoubtedly made up this wondrous tale, and the knights have been gullible enough to believe him.”

“They are not fools. Say nothing of this!” he warned Laurana, and he walked abruptly out the cave as the knights were entering, bumping his shoulder rudely into Brian as he passed him. The elf’s ire was so apparent that Brian stopped to stare after him in wonder.

Laurana sighed softly, despairingly, as she watched the black snow fall outside.

“None of it matters, Gil,” she repeated wearily. “We cannot win. We just wait our turn to die.”

The snow stopped falling, but the gray clouds remained with them all day and into the night. No dragons appeared and no one felt the sense of unease and foreboding that comes with a dragon presence in the area. Derek decided that it would be safe to venture forth, and they set out, traveling south. They avoided the main road, for fear of the dragonarmies, and the going was slow. Tasslehoff, wrapped for extra warmth in a horse blanket, was still weak and though he was game, his legs “let him down,” as he stated, going all wobbly.

Laurana walked as in a trance, moving her feet, going where she was told to go, stopping when she was told to stop, but with little idea of where she was or why. She kept reliving those last moments in the inn when they heard the dragon roaring overhead and then the explosion and the thick beams in the ceiling groaning beneath the weight of the top levels caving in and then the cracks that foretold the ceiling about to give way. Tanis had caught hold of her and picked her up and hurled her as far as he could, throwing her clear of the destruction, and perishing beneath it.

She was not alone in her grief. Sturm’s sorrow was etched on his pallid face. Flint remained silent and stoic, though his grief over the loss of his longtime friends must run deep as the fathomless sea. Tasslehoff pulled out a handkerchief he thought had once belonged to Caramon and had to fight off a snuffle. Yet they carried on bravely, even finding the strength to murmur a gruff and awkward word of sympathy to her or give her a kind pat on the hand. Elistan tried to comfort her and at his gentle touch, she felt her sorrow ease a little, but when his hand was removed and his voice was silent, she sank back into misery.

Laurana also sensed the mounting impatience of the knights. “At this rate,” Derek was heard to state grimly, “we might reach Rigitt by springtime!” She sensed the tension and the fear that kept everyone watching the skies. She felt she should try to crawl out of this well of black despair into which she had fallen, but she did not want to leave the darkness. The light up top was too bright. Voices were too loud, jarring. She found comfort in the silence. She dreamed of pulling the rocks and dirt down on top of her and letting them bury her, as the debris had buried Tanis, and put an end to her suffering.

They walked on until darkness overtook them. Laurana discovered that if the day had been bad, the night was worse, for again she could not sleep. Morning broke, cold and cheerless, and they started out. After a time, night and day began to merge together for Laurana. She walked in a waking dream in one, and dreamed she walked in another. She had no idea what time it was, how far they had come, or how many days they had traveled. She could not eat. She drank water only because someone thrust the water skin into her hands. She walked, numb with grief and fatigue and cold, heedless of all around her. She knew her friends were growing increasingly concerned about her and she wanted to tell them not to bother, but even that called for more effort than she had to give.

Then came the day when shouts of alarm roused her from her somnambulist state.

She saw everyone looking into the sky, pointing and exclaiming. Aran was armed with a bow, and he had nocked an arrow on the string. Derek had grabbed hold of Tasslehoff and tossed him into a snow-filled ditch. Brian was urging the rest of them to take cover.

Laurana stared into the clouds and could see nothing, at first, and then ten enormous winged beasts appeared, spiraling down out of the sky.