Read Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun Online
Authors: Margaret Weis
the lockpick back in a front pocket.
"I thought you might be asleep. I didn't want to bother you.
Do you have anything to eat?" The kender entered the room,
making himself at home.
"Look, Tas," Palin said, trying hard to be patient, "this isn't a
good time. I am very tired. I didn't sleep well-"
"Me neither," said Tas, marching into the parlor and plunking
himself down on a chair. "I guess you don't have anything to eat.
That's all right. I'm not really hungry."
He sat in silence, swinging his feet back and forth, looking out
at the sky and the sea. The kender was silent for several whole
minutes put together.
Palin, recognizing this as an extraordinarily unusual phenom-
enon, drew up another chair and sat down beside him.
"What is it, Tas?" he asked gently: . .
"I've decIded to go back," Tas saId, not looking at Palin, but
still looking out at the empty sky. "1 made a promise. I never
thought about it before, but a promise isn't something you make
with your mouth. You make a promise with your heart. Every
time you break a promise, your heart breaks a little until pretty
soon you have cracks running all through it. I think, all in all, it's
better to be squished by a giant."
"You are very wise, Tas," said Palin, feeling ashamed of .
self. "You are far wiser than I am."
He paused a moment. He could hear again his father's voice.
Don't kill Tas! The vision was real, much more real than any dream. A
mage learns to trust his instincts, to listen to the inner voices of heart
and soul, for those are the voices that speak the language of magic.
He wondered if, perhaps, this dream wasn't that inner voice caution-
ing him to slow down, take no drastic actions, do further study.
"Tas," said Palin slowly. "I've changed my mind. I don't want
you to go back. At least not yet."
Tas leaped to his feet. "What? I don't have to die? Is that true?
Do you mean it?"
"I said only that you didn't have to go back yet," Palin ad-
monished. "Of course, you have to go back sometime."
His words were lost on the excited kender. Tas was skipping
around the room, scattering the contents of his pouches every
which way. "This is wonderful! Can we go sailing off in a boat
like Goldmoon?"
"Goldmoon went off in a boat?" Palin repeated, amazed.
"Yes," said Tas cheerfully. "With the gnome. At least I guess
Conundrum caught up with her. He was swimming awfully fast.
I didn't know gnomes could swim so well."
"She has gone mad," Palin said to himself. He headed for
the door. "We must alert the guards. Someone will have to go
rescue her."
"Oh, they've gone after them," Tas said casually, "but I don't
think they'll find them. You see, Conundrum told me that the De-
structible can dive down under the water just like a dolphin. It's a
sub-sup-soop-whatchamacallit. A boat that travels under
water. Conundrum showed it to me last night. It looks exactly like
a gigantic steel fish. Say, I wonder if we could see them from here?"
Tasslehoff ran to the window. Pressing his nose against the
crystal, he peered out, searching for some sight of the boat. Palin
forgot the strange vision in his amazement and consternation. He
hoped very much that this was just another of Tasslehoff's tales
and that Goldmoon had not sailed away in a gnomish contraption.
He was about to go downstairs, to find out the truth of the
matter, and was heading for the door when the morning stillness
was split by a trumpet blast. Bells rang out, loudly, insistently. In
the hallway voices could be heard demanding to know what was
going on. Other voices answered, sounding panicked.
"What's that?" Tas asked, still peering out the window.
"They're sounding the call to arms," Palin said. "I wonder
why-"
"Maybe it has something to do with those dragons," Tassle-
hoff said, pointing.
Winged shapes, black against the morning sky, flew toward
the citadel. One shape, flying in the center, was larger than the
rest, so large that it seemed the green tinge in the sky was a re-
flection of the sunlight on the dragon's scales. Palin took one
good look. Appalled, he drew back into the center of the room,
into the shadows, as if, even at that distance, the dragon's red
eyes might find him.
"That is Beryl!" he said, his throat constricting. "Beryl and her
minions!"
Tas's eyes were round. "1 thought it was finding out that I
didn't have to go back to die that was making me feel all squirmy
inside. It's the curse, isn't it?" He gazed at Palin. "Why is she
coming here?"
A good question. Of course, Beryl might have decided to
attack the citadel on a whim, but Palin doubted it. The Citadel of
Light was in the territory of Khellendros, the blue dragon who
ruled this part of the world. Beryl would not encroach on the
Blue's territory unless she had desperate need. And he guessed
what that need was.
"She wants the device," Palin said.
"The magical device?" Tasslehoff reached into a pocket and
drew forth the magical artifact.
"Ugh!" He brushed his hand over his face. "You must have
spiders in here. I feel all cobwebby." He clutched the device pro-
tectively. "Can the dragon sniff it out, Palin? How does she know
we're here?"
"I don't know," Palin said grimly. He could see it all quite
clearly. "It doesn't matter." He held out his hand. "Give me the
device."
"What are we going to do?" Tas asked, hesitating. He was still
a bit mistrustful.
"We're going to get out of here," Palin said. "The magical
device must not come into her possession."
Palin could only imagine what the dragon might do with it. -
The magic of the device would make the dragon the undisputed
ruler of Ansalon. Even if there was no longer past, she could go
back to the point after the Chaos War when the great dragons had
first come to Ansalon. She could go back to any point in time and
change events so that she emerged victorious from any battle. At
the very least, she could use the device to transport her great
bloated body to circumnavigate the world. No place would be
safe from her ravages.
"Give me the device," Palin repeated urgently, reaching for it.
"We have to leave. Hurry, Tas!"
"Am I coming with you?" Tas asked, still hanging onto the
device.
"Yes!" Palin almost shouted. He started to add that they
didn't have much time-but time was the one thing they did
have. "Just. . . give me the device."
Tas handed it over. "Where are we going?" he asked eagerly.
A good question. In all the turmoil, Palin had not given that
important matter any thought.
"Solace," he said. "We will go back to Solace. We'll alert the
Knights. The Solamnic Knights in the garrison ride silver drag-
ons. They can come to the aid of the people here."
The dragons were closer now, much closer. The sun shone on
green scales and red. Their broad wings cast shadows that glided
over the oily water. Outside the door the bells clamored, urging
people to seek shelter, to flee to the hills and forests. Trumpets
sounded, blaring the call to arms. Feet pounded, steel clashed,
voices shouted terse orders and commands.
He held the device in his hands. The magic warmed him,
calmed him like a draught of fine brandy. He closed his eyes,
called to mind the words of the spell, the manipulation of the
device.
"Keep close to me!" he ordered Tas.
The kender obediently clamped his hand firmly onto the
sleeve of Palin's robes.
Palin began to recite the spell.
"Thy time is thy own. . .'"
He tried to turn the jeweled face of the pendant upward.
Something was not quite right. There was a catch in the mecha-
nism. Palin applied a bit more force, and the face plate shifted.
"Though across it you travel. . .'"
Palin adjusted the face plate right to left. He felt something
scrape, but the face plate moved.
"Its expanses you see. . .'"
Now the back plate was supposed to drop to form two
spheres connected by rods. But quite astonishingly, the back plate
dropped completely off. It fell to the floor with a clatter.
"Oops," said Tas, looking down at the spherical plate that lay
rolling like a crazed top on the floor. "Did you mean for that to
happen?"
"No!" Palin gasped. He stood holding in his hands a single
sphere with a rod protruding from one end, staring down at the
plate in horror.
"Here, I'll fix it!" Tas helpfully picked up the broken piece.
"Give it to me!" Palin snatched the plate. He stared helplessly
at the plate, tried to fit the rod into it, but there was no place for
the rod to go. A misty film of fear and frustration swam before his
eyes, blinding him.
He spoke the verse again, terse, panicked. "'Its expanses you
see!" He shook the sphere and the rod, shook the plate. "Work!"
he commanded in anger and desperation. "Work, damn you!"
The chain dropped down, slithered out of Palin's grasping
fingers to lie like a glittering silver snake on the floor. The rod
separated from the sphere. Jewels winked and sparkled in the
sunlight. And then the room went dark, the light of the jewels
vanished. The dragons' wings blotted out the sun.
Palin Majere stood in the Citadel of Light holding the shat-
tered remnants of the Device of Time Journeying in his crippled
hands.
The dead! Goldmoon had told him. They are feeding off you!
He saw his father, saw the river of dead pouring around him.
A dream. No, not a dream. Reality was the dream. Goldmoon had
tried to tell him.
"This is what is wrong with the magic! This is why my spells
go awry. The dead are leeching the magical power from me. They
are all around me. Touching me with their hands, their lips. . . ."
He could feel them. Their touch was like cobwebs brushing
across his skin. Or insect wings, such as he had felt at Laurana's
home. So much was made clear now. The loss of the magic. It
wasn't that he had lost his power. It was that the dead had sucked
it from him. ~
"Well," said Tas, "at least the dragon won't have the artifact."
"No," said Palin quietly, "she'll have us."
Though he could not see them, he could feel the dead all
around him, feeding.
CHAPTER THIRTYTWO
THE EXECUTION
The candle that kept count of the hours stood beside
Silvan's bed. He lay on his belly, watching the hours melt
with the wax. One by one, the lines that marked the hours
vanished until only a single line was left. The candle had been
crafted to bum for twelve hours. Silvan had lit it at midnight.
Eleven hours had been devoured by the flame. The time was
nearly noon, the time set for Mina's execution.
Silvan extinguished the candle with a breath. He rose and
dressed himself in his finest clothes, clothes he had brought to
wear on the return march-the victory march- into Silvanost.
Fashioned of soft pearl gray, the doublet was stitched with
silver that had been twisted and spun into thread. His hose
were gray, his boots gray. Touches of white lace were at his
wrist and neck.
"Your Majesty?" a voice called from outside his tent, "it is
Kiryn. May I come in?"
"If you want," said Silvan shortly, "but no one else."
"I was here earlier," Kiryn said, upon entering. "You didn't
answer. You must have been asleep."
"I have not closed my eyes," Silvan said coldly, adjusting his
collar.
Kiryn was silent a moment, an uncomfortable silence. "Have
you had breakfast?" he asked.
Silvan cast a him a look that would have been a blow to
anyone else. He did not even bother to respond.
"Cousin, I know how you feel," Kiryn said. "This act they
contemplate is monstrous. Truly monstrous. I have argued with
my uncle and the others until my throat is raw from talking, and
nothing I say makes any difference. Glaucous feeds their fear.
They are all gorging themselves on terror."
"Aren't you dining with them?" Silvan asked, half-turning.
"No, Cousin! Of course not!" Kiryn was astonished. "Could
you imagine that I would? This is murder. Plain and simple. They
may call it an 'execution' and try to dress it up so that it looks re-
spectaple, but they cannot hide the ugly truth. I do not care if this
humart is the worst, most reprehensible, most dangerous human
who ever lived. Her blood will forever stain the ground upon
which it falls, a stain that will spread like a blight among us."
Kiryn's voice dropped. He cast an apprehensive glance out
the tent. "Already, Cousin, Glaucous speaks of traitors among our
people, of meting out the same punishment to elves. My uncle
and the Heads of House were all horrified and utterly opposed to
the idea, but I fear that they will cease to feed on fear and start to
feed on each other.
"Glaucous," Silvan repeated softly. He might have said more,