Read Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun Online
Authors: Margaret Weis
grew bored with them-and had been looking forward for some
time for the chance to show off his prowess.
Pleased to have the opportunity, Silvan buckled the belt
around his slender waist and returned to the officers, the sword
clanking and banging against his thigh.
Elven runners continued to arrive with reports. The unnatural
fire was consuming the barricade at an alarming rate. A few ogres
had attempted to cross it. Illuminated by the flames, they had
provided excellent targets for the archers. Unfortunately, any
arrow that came within range of the fire was consumed by the
flames before it could strike its target.
The strategy for retreat settled-Silvan didn't catch much of
it, something about pulling back to the south where they would
meet up with a force from the Legion of Steel-the officers re-
turned to their commands. Samar and Alhana remained standing
together, speaking in low, urgent tones.
Drawing his sword from his sheath with a ringing sound,
Silvan gave it a flourish and very nearly sliced off Samar's arm.
"What the-" Samar glared at the bloody gash in his sleeve,
glared at Silvan. "Give me that!" He reached out and before
Silvan could react, snatched the sword from his grasp.
"Silvanoshei!" Alhana was angry, as angry as he had ever
seen her. "This is no time for such nonsense!" She turned her back
on him, an indication of her displeasure.
"It is not nonsense, Mother," Silvan retorted. "No, don't turn
away from me! This time you will not take refuge behind a wall
of silence. This time you will hear me and listen to what I have
to say!"
Slowly Alhana turned around. She regarded him intently, her
eyes large in her pale face.
The other elves, shocked and embarrassed, did not know
where to look. No one defied the queen, no one contradicted her,
not even her willful, headstrong son. Silvan himself was amazed
at his courage.
"I am a prince of Silvanesti and of Qualinesti," he continued.
It is my privilege, it is my duty to join in the defense of my
people. You have no right to try to stop me!"
"I have every right my son," Alhana returned. She grasped
his wrist her nails pierced his flesh. "You are the heir, the only
heir. You are all I have left. . . ." Alhana fell silent regretting her
words. "I am sorry. I did not mean that. A queen has nothing of
her own. Everything she has and is belongs to the people. You are
all your people have left Silvan. Now go collect your things," she
ordered, her voice tight with the need to control herself. "The
knights will take you deeper into the woods-"
"No, Mother, I will not hide anymore," Silvan said, taking
care to speak firmly, calmly, respectfully. His cause was lost if he
sounded like petulant child. "AII my life, whenever danger
threatened, you whisked me away, stashed me in some cave,
stuffed me under some bed. It is no wonder my people have
small respect for me." His gaze shifted to Samar, who was watch-
ing the young man with grave attention. "I want to do my part for
a change, Mother."
"Well spoken, Prince Silvanoshei," said Samar. "Yet the elves
have a saying. A sword in the hand of an untrained friend is
more dangerous than the sword in the hand of my foe.' One does
not learn to fight on the eve of battle, young man. However, if you
are serious about this pursuit I will be pleased to instruct you at
some later date. In the meanwhile, there is something you can do,
a mission you can undertake."
He knew the response this would bring and he was not
wrong. Alhana's arrow-sharp anger found a new target.
"Samar, I would speak with you!" Alhana said, her voice cold,
biting, imperious. She turned on her heeL stalked with rigid back
and uplifted chin to the rear of the burial mound. Samar, defer-
entiaL accompanied her.
Outside were cries and shouts, horns blasting, the deep and
terrible ogre war chant sounding like war drums beneath it. The
storm raged, unabated, giving succor to the enemy. Silvan stood
near the entrance to the burial mound, amazed at himselĀ£ proud
but appalled, sorry, yet defiant fearless and terrified all at the
same time. The jumble of his emotions confused him. He tried to
see what was happening, but the smoke from the burning hedge
had settled over the clearing. The shouts and screams grew
muted, muffled. He wished he could eavesdrop on the conversa-
tion, might have lingered near where he could hear, but he con-
sidered that childish and beneath his pride. He could imagine
what they were saying anyway. He'd heard the same conversa-
tion often enough.
In reality, he was probably not far wrong.
"Samar, you know my wishes for Silvanoshei," Alhana said,
when they were out of earshot of the others. "Yet you defy me
and encourage him in this wild behavior. I am deeply disap-
pointed in you, Samar."
Her words, her anger were piercing, struck Samar to the heart
and drew blood. But as Alhana was queen and responsible to her
people, so Samar was also responsible to the people as a soldier.
He was committed to providing his people with a present and a
future. In that future, the elven nations would need a strong heir,
not a milksop like Gilthas, the son of Tanis Half-Elven, who cur-
rently played at ruling Qualinesti.
Samar did not speak his true thoughts, however. He did not
say, "Your Majesty, this is the first sign of spirit I've seen in your
son, we should encourage it." He was diplomat as well as
soldier.
"Your Majesty," he said, "Silvan is thirty years old-"
" A child-" Alhana interrupted.
Silvan bowed. "Perhaps by Silvanesti standards, my queen.
Not by Qualinesti. Under Qualinesti law, he would have at-
tained ranking as a youth. If he were in Qualinesti, he would al-
ready be participating in military training. Silvanoshei may be
young in years, Alhana," Samar added, dropping the formal
title as he did sometimes when they were alone together, "but
think of the extraordinary life he has led! His lullabies were war
chants, his cradle a shield.. He has never known a home. Rarely
have his parents been both together in the same room at the
same time since the day of his birth. When battle called, you
kissed him and rode forth, perhaps to your death. He knew that
you might never come back to him, Alhana. I could see it -in
his eyes!"
"I tried to protect him from all that," she said, her gaze going
to her son. He looked so like his father at that moment that her
pain overwhelmed her. "If I lose him, Samar, what reason do I
have to prolong this bleak and hopeless existence?"
"You cannot protect him from life, Alhana," Samar countered
gently. "Nor from the role he is destined to play in life. Prince
Silvanoshei is right. He has a duty to his people. We will let him
fulfill that duty and"-he laid emphasis on the word-"we will
take him out of harm's way at the same time."
Alhana said nothing, but by her look, she gave him reluctant
permission to speak further.
"Only one of the runners has returned to camp," Samar con-
tinued. "The others are either dead or are fighting for their lives.
You said yourself, Your Majesty, that we must send word to the
Legion of Steel, warning them of this attack. I propose that we
send Silvan to apprise the knights of our desperate need for
help. We have only just returned from the fortress, he remem-
bers the way. The main road is not far from the camp and easy
to find and follow.
"The danger to him is small. The ogres have not encircled us.
He will be safer away from camp than here." Samar smiled. "If
I had my way, my Queen, you would go back to the fortress
with him."
Alhana smiled, her anger dissipated. "My place is with my
soldiers, Samar. I brought them here. They fight my cause. They
would lose all trust and respect if I deserted them. Yes, I concede
that you are right about Silvan," she added ruefully. "No need to
rub salt in my many wounds."
"My queen, I never meant-"
"Yes, you did, Samar," Alhana said, "but you spoke from
the heart, and you spoke the truth. We will send the prince
upon this mission. He will carry word of our need to the Legion
of Steel."
"We will sing his praises when we return to the fortress," said
Samar. "And I will purchase him a sword suited to a prince, not
a clown."
"No, Samar," said Alhana. "He may carry messages, but he
will never carry a sword. On the day he was born, I made my vow
to the gods that he would never bear arms against his people.
Elven blood would never be spilled because of him."
Samar bowed, wisely remained silent. A skilled commander,
he knew when to bring his advance to a halt, dig in, and wait.
Alhana walked with stiff back and regal mien to the front of
the cave.
"My son," Alhana said and there no emotion in her voice, no
feeling. "I have made my decision."
Silvanoshei turned to face his mother. Daughter of Lorac,
ill-fated king of the Silvanesti, who had very nearly been his
people's downfall, Alhana Starbreeze had undertaken to pay
for her father's misdeeds, to redeem her people. Because she
had sought to unite them with their cousins, the Qualinesti, be-
cause she had advocated alliances with the humans and the
dwarves, she was repudiated, cast out by those among the Sil-
vanesti who maintained that only by keeping themselves aloof
and isolated from the rest of the world could they and their cul-
ture survive.
She was in mature adulthood for the elves, not yet nearing her
elder years, incredibly beautiful, more beautiful than at any other
time of her life. Her hair was black as the depths of the sea, sunk
far below where sunbeams can reach. Her eyes, once amethyst,
had deepened and darkened as if colored by the despair and pain
which was all they saw. Her beauty was a heartbreak to those
around her, not a blessing. Like the legendary dragonlance,
whose rediscovery helped bring victory to a beleaguered world,
she might have been encased in a pillar of ice. Shatter the ice,
shatter the protective barrier she had erected around her, and
shatter the woman inside.
Only her son, only Silvan had the power to thaw the ice, to
reach inside and touch the living warmth of the woman who was
mother, not queen. But that woman was gone. Mother was gone.
The woman who stood before him, cold and stem, was his queen.
Awed, humbled, aware that he had behaved foolishly, he fell to
his knees before her.
"I am sorry, Mother," he said. "1 will obey you. I will leave-"
"Prince Silvanoshei," said the queen in a voice he recognized
as being her court voice, one she had never used to him. He did
not know whether to feel glad or to weep for something irrevo-
cably lost. "Commander Samar has need of a messenger to run
with all haste to the outpost of the Legion of Steel. There you will
apprise them of our desperate situation. Tell the Lord Knight that
we plan to retreat fighting. He should assemble his forces, ride
out to meet us at the crossroads, attack the ogres on their right
flank. At the moment his knights attack we will halt our retreat
and stand our ground. You will need to travel swiftly through
the night and the storm. Let nothing deter you, Silvan, for this
message must get through."
"I understand, my queen," said Silvan. He rose to his feet,
flushed with victory, the thrill of danger flashing like the light-
ning through his blood. "I will not fail you or my people. I thank
you for your trust in me."
Alhana took his face in her hands, hands that were so cold
that he could not repress a shiver. She placed her lips upon his
forehead. Her kiss burned like ice, the chill struck through to his
heart. He would always feel that kiss, from that moment after. He
wondered if her pallid lips had left an indelible mark.
Samar's crisp professionalism came as a relief.
"You know the route, Prince Silvan," Samar said. "You rode it
only two days before. The road lies about a mile and a half due
south of here. You will have no stars to guide you, but the wind
blows from the north. Keep the wind at your back and you will
be heading in the right direction. The road runs east and west,
straight and true. You must eventually cross it. Once you are on
the road, travel westward. The storm wind will be on your right
cheek. You should make good time. There is no need for stealth.
The sound of battle will mask your movements. Good luck,
Prince Silvanoshei."
"Thank you, Samar," said Silvan, touched and pleased. For
the first time in his life, the elf had spoken to him as an equal,
with even a modicum of respect. "I will not fail you or my
mother."
"Do not fail your people, Prince," said Samar.
With a final glance and a smile for his mother, a smile she did
not return, Silvan turned and left the burial mound, striking out