Dragons of Spring Dawning Page 11

  Now he could make out what had been nothing more than a haze of pink light broken by the darker, pointed masses of the mountain range. The dwarf drew a deep, trembling breath. His eyes dimmed with tears. Quickly he snatched the glasses off his nose and put them back into their case, slipping them back into his pocket. But he’d worn the glasses just long enough to see the dawn touch the wings of dragons with a pink light, pink glinting off silver.

  “Put your weapons down, lads,” Flint said to the men around him, mopping his eyes with one of the kender’s handkerchiefs. “Praise be to Reorx. Now we have a chance. Now we have a chance.…”

  8

  The Oath of the Dragons.

  As the silver dragons settled to the ground on the outskirts of the great city of Palanthas, their wings filled the morning sky with a blinding radiance. The people crowded the walls to stare out uneasily at the beautiful, magnificent creatures.

  At first the people had been so terrified of the huge beasts that they were intent on driving them away, even when Laurana assured them that these dragons were not evil. Finally Astinus himself emerged from his library and coldly informed Lord Amothus that these dragons would not harm them. Reluctantly the people of Palanthas laid down their weapons.

  Laurana knew, however, that the people would have believed Astinus if he told them the sun would rise at midnight. They did not believe in the dragons.

  It wasn’t until Laurana herself walked out of the city gates and straight into the arms of a man who had been riding one of the beautiful silver dragons that the people begin to think there might be something to this children’s story after all.

  “Who is that man? Who has brought the dragons to us? Why have the dragons come?”

  Jostling and shoving, the people leaned over the wall, asking questions and listening to the wrong answers. Out in the valley, the dragons slowly fanned their wings to keep their circulation going in the chill morning.

  As Laurana embraced the man, another person climbed down off one of the dragons, a woman whose hair gleamed as silver as the dragon’s wings. Laurana embraced this woman, too. Then, to the wonder of the people, Astinus led the three of them to the great library, where they were admitted by the Aesthetics. The huge doors shut behind them.

  The people were left to mill about, buzzing with questions and casting dubious glances at the dragons sitting before their city walls.

  Then the bells rang out once more. Lord Amothus was calling a meeting. Hurriedly the people left the walls to fill the city square before the Lord’s palace as he came out onto a balcony to answer their questions.

  “These are silver dragons,” he shouted, “good dragons who have joined us in our battle against the evil dragons as in the legend of Huma. The dragons have been brought to our city by—”

  Whatever else the Lord intended to say was lost in cheering. The bells rang out again, this time in celebration. People flooded the streets, singing and dancing. Finally, after a futile attempt to continue, the Lord simply declared the day a holiday and returned to his palace.

  The following is an excerpt from the Chronicles, A History of Krynn, as recorded by Astinus of Palanthas. It can be found under the heading: “The Oath of the Dragons.”

  As I, Astinus, write these words, I look on the face of the elflord, Gilthanas, younger son of Solostaran, Speaker of the Suns, lord of the Qualinesti. Gilthanas’s face is very much like his sister Laurana’s face, and not just in family resemblance. Both have the delicate features and ageless quality of all elves. But these two are different. Both faces are marked with a sorrow not to be seen on the faces of elves living on Krynn. Although I fear that before this war is ended, many elves will have this same look. And perhaps this is not a bad thing, for it seems that, finally, the elves are learning that they are part of this world, not above it.

  To one side of Gilthanas sits his sister. To the other sits one of the most beautiful women I have seen walk on Krynn. She appears to be an elfmaid, a Wilder elf. But she does not deceive my eyes with her magic arts. She was never born of woman, elf or no. She is a dragon, a silver dragon, sister of the Silver Dragon who was beloved of Huma, Knight of Solamnia. It has been Silvara’s fate to fall in love with a mortal, as did her sister. But, unlike Huma, this mortal, Gilthanas, cannot accept his fate. He looks at her … she looks at him. Instead of love, I see a smoldering anger within him that is slowly poisoning both their souls.

  Silvara speaks. Her voice is sweet and musical. The light of my candle gleams in her beautiful silver hair and in her deep night-blue eyes.

  “After I gave Theros Ironfeld the power to forge the dragonlances within the heart of the Monument of the Silver Dragon,” Silvara tells me, “I spent much time with the companions before they took the lances to the Council of Whitestone. I showed them through the Monument, I showed them the paintings of the Dragon War, which picture good dragons, silver and gold and bronze, fighting the evil dragons.

  “ ‘Where are your people?’ the companions asked me. ‘Where are the good dragons? Why aren’t they helping us in our time of need?’

  “I held out against their questions, as long as I could.…”

  Here Silvara stops speaking and looks at Gilthanas with her heart in her eyes. He does not meet her gaze but stares at the floor. Silvara sighs and resumes her story.

  “Finally, I could resist his—their—pressure no longer. I told them about the Oath.

  “When Takhisis, the Queen of Darkness, and her evil dragons were banished, the good dragons left the land to maintain the balance between good and evil. Made of the world, we returned to the world, sleeping an ageless sleep. We would have remained asleep, in a world of dreams, but then came the Cataclysm and Takhisis found her way back into the world again.

  “Long had she planned for this return, should fate give it to her, and she was prepared. Before Paladine was aware of her, Takhisis woke the evil dragons from their sleep and ordered them to slip into the deep and secret places of the world and steal the eggs of the good dragons, who slept on, unaware.…

  “The evil dragons brought the eggs of their brethren to the city of Sanction where the dragonarmies were forming. Here, in the volcanoes known as the Lords of Doom, the eggs of the good dragons were hidden.

  “Great was the grief of the good dragons when Paladine woke them from their sleep and they discovered what had occurred. They went to Takhisis to find out what price they would have to pay for the return of their unborn children. It was a terrible price. Takhisis demanded an oath. Each of the good dragons must swear that they would not participate in the war she was about to wage on Krynn. It was the good dragons who had helped bring about her defeat in the last war. This time she meant to insure that they would not become involved.”

  Here Silvara looks at me pleadingly, as if I were to judge them. I shake my head sternly. Far be it from me to judge anyone. I am a historian.

  She continues:

  “What could we do? Takhisis told us they would murder our children as they slept in their eggs unless we took the Oath. Paladine could not help us. The choice was ours.…”

  Silvara’s head droops, her hair hiding her face. I can hear tears choke her voice. Her words are barely audible to me.

  “We took the Oath.”

  She cannot continue, that is obvious. After staring at her for a moment, Gilthanas clears his throat and begins to speak, his voice harsh.

  “I, that is, Theros and my sister and I, finally persuaded Silvara that this Oath was wrong. There must be a way, we said, to rescue the eggs of the good dragons. Perhaps a small force of men might be able to steal the eggs back. Silvara was not convinced that I was right, but she did agree, after much talking, to take me to Sanction so that I could see for myself if such a plan might work.

  “Our journey was long and difficult. Someday I may relate the dangers we faced, but I cannot now. I am too weary and we do not have time. The dragonarmies are reorganizing. We can catch them offguard, if we attack soon. I can see Laurana b
urning with impatience, eager to pursue them, even as we are speaking. So I will make our tale short.

  “Silvara, in her ‘elven form’ as you see her now”—the bitterness in the elflord’s voice cannot be expressed—“and I were captured outside of Sanction and made prisoners of the Dragon Highlord, Ariakas.”

  Gilthanas’s fist clenches, his face is pale with anger and fear.

  “Lord Verminaard was nothing, nothing compared to Lord Ariakas. This man’s evil power is immense! And he is as intelligent as he is cruel, for it is his strategy that controls the dragonarmies and has led them to victory after victory.

  “The suffering we endured at his hands, I cannot describe. I do not believe I can ever relate what they did to us!”

  The young elflord trembles violently. Silvara starts to reach out a hand to comfort him, but he draws away from her and continues his story.

  “Finally, with help, we escaped. We were in Sanction itself, a hideous town, built in the valley formed by the volcanoes, the Lords of Doom. These mountains tower over all, their foul smoke corrupts the air. The buildings are all new and modern, constructed with the blood of slaves. Built into the sides of the mountains is a temple to Takhisis, the Dark Queen. The dragon eggs are held deep within the heart of the volcanoes. It was here, into the temple of the Dark Queen, that Silvara and I made our way.

  “Can I describe the temple, except to say it is a building of darkness and of flame? Tall pillars, carved out of the burning rock, soar into the sulphurous caverns. By secret ways known only to the priests of Takhisis themselves, we traveled, descending lower and lower. You ask who helped us? I cannot say, for her life would be forfeit. I will add only that some god must have been watching over us.”

  Here Silvara interrupts to murmur, “Paladine,” but Gilthanas brushes that aside with a gesture.

  “We came to the very bottom chambers and here we found the eggs of the good dragons. At first it seemed all was well. I had … a plan. It matters little now, but I saw how we might have been able to rescue the eggs. As I said, it matters little. Chamber after chamber we passed, and the shining eggs, the eggs tinged with silver, gold, and bronze lay gleaming in the fire’s light. And then …”

  The elflord pauses. His face, already paler than death, grows more pallid still. Fearing he might faint, I beckon to one of the Aesthetics to bring him wine. On taking a sip, he rallies and keeps on talking. But I can tell by the far-off look in his eyes that he sees the remembered horror of what he witnessed. As for Silvara, I will write of her in its place.

  Gilthanas continues:

  “We came to a chamber and found there … not eggs … nothing but the shells … shattered, broken. Silvara cried out in anger, and I feared we might be discovered. Neither of us knew what this portended, but we both felt a chill in our blood that not even the heat of the volcano could warm.”

  Gilthanas pauses. Silvara begins to sob, very softly. He looks at her and I see, for the first time, love and compassion in his eyes.

  “Take her out,” he tells one of the Aesthetics. “She must rest.”

  The Aesthetics lead her gently from the room. Gilthanas licks lips that are cracked and dry, then speaks softly.

  “What happened next will haunt me, even after death. Nightly I dream of it. I have not slept since but that I waken, screaming.

  “Silvara and I stood before the chamber with the shattered eggs, staring at it, wondering … when we heard the sound of chanting coming from the flame-lit corridor.

  “ ‘The words of magic!’ Silvara said.

  “Cautiously we crept nearer, both of us frightened, yet drawn by some horrid fascination. Closer and closer we came, and then we could see …”

  He shuts his eyes, he sobs. Laurana lays her hand on his arm, her eyes soft with mute sympathy. Gilthanas regains control and goes on.

  “Inside a cavern room, at the bottom of the volcano, stands an altar to Takhisis. What it may have been carved to represent, I could not tell, for it was so covered with green blood and black slime that it seemed a horrid growth springing from the rock. Around the altar were robed figures—dark clerics of Takhisis and magic-users wearing the Black Robes. Silvara and I watched in awe as a dark-robed cleric brought forth a shining golden dragon egg and placed it upon that foul altar. Joining hands, the Black Robed magic-users and the dark clerics began a chant. The words burned the mind. Silvara and I clung to each other, fearing we would be driven mad by the evil we could feel but could not understand.

  “And then … then the golden egg upon the altar began to darken. As we watched, it turned to a hideous green and then to black. Silvara began to tremble.

  “The blackened egg upon the altar cracked open … and a larva-like creature emerged from the shell. It was loathsome and corrupt to look upon, and I retched at the sight. My only thought was to flee this horror, but Silvara realized what was happening and she refused to leave. Together we watched as the larva split its slime-covered skin and from its body came the evil forms of … draconians.”

  There is a gasp of shock at this statement. Gilthanas’s head sinks into his hands. He cannot continue. Laurana puts her arms around him, comforting him, and he holds onto her hands. Finally he draws a shuddering breath.

  “Silvara and I … were nearly discovered. We escaped Sanction, with help once again, and, more dead than alive, we traveled paths unknown to man or elf to the ancient haven of the good dragons.”

  Gilthanas sighs. A look of peace comes to his face.

  “Compared to the horrors we had endured, this was like sweet rest after a night of feverish nightmares. It was difficult to imagine, amid the beauty of the place, that what we had seen really occurred. And when Silvara told the dragons what was happening to their eggs, they refused at first to believe it. Some even accused Silvara of making it up to try to win their aid. But, deep within their hearts, all knew she spoke truly, and so, at last, they admitted that they had been deceived and that the Oath was no longer binding.

  “The good dragons have come to aid us now. They are flying to all parts of the land, offering their help. They have returned to the Monument of the Dragon, to aid in forging the dragonlances just as they came to Huma’s aid long ago. And they have brought with them the Greater Lances that can be mounted on the dragons themselves, as we saw in the paintings. Now we may ride the dragons into battle and challenge the Dragon Highlords in the sky.”

  Gilthanas adds more, a few minor details that I need not record here. Then his sister leads him from the library to the palace, where he and Silvara may find what rest they can. I fear it will be long before the terror fades for them, if it ever does. Like so much that is beautiful in the world, it may be that their love will fall beneath the darkness that spreads its foul wings over Krynn.

  Thus ends the writing of Astinus of Palanthas on the Oath of the Dragons. A footnote reveals that further details of the journey of Gilthanas and Silvara into Sanction, their adventures there, and the tragic history of their love were recorded by Astinus at a later date and may be found in subsequent volumes of his Chronicles.

  Laurana sat late at night, writing up her orders for the morrow. Only a day had passed since the arrival of Gilthanas and the silver dragons, but already her plans for pressing the beleaguered enemy were taking shape. Within a few days more, she would lead flights of dragons with mounted riders, wielding the new dragonlances, into battle.

  She hoped to secure Vingaard Keep first, freeing the prisoners and slaves held there. Then she planned to push on south and east, driving the dragonarmies before her. Finally she would catch them between the hammer of her troops and the anvil of the Dargaard Mountains that divided Solamnia from Estwilde. If she could retake Kalaman and its harbor, she could cut the supply lines the dragonarmy depended on for its survival on this part of the continent.

  So intent was Laurana on her plans that she ignored the ringing challenge of the guard outside her door, nor did she hear the answer. The door opened, but, assuming it was one of her
aides, she did not look up from her work until she had completed detailing her orders.

  Only when the person who entered took the liberty of sitting down in a chair across from her did Laurana glance up, startled.

  “Oh,” she said, flushing, “Gilthanas, forgive me. I was so involved.… I thought you were … but, never mind. How are you feeling? I was worried—”

  “I’m all right, Laurana,” Gilthanas said abruptly. “I was just more tired than I realized and I—I haven’t slept very well since Sanction.” Falling silent, he sat staring at the maps she had spread on her table. Absently he picked up a freshly sharpened quill pen and began to smooth the feather with his fingers.

  “What is it, Gilthanas?” Laurana asked softly.

  Her brother looked up at her and smiled sadly. “You know me too well,” he said. “I never could hide anything from you, not even when we were children.”

  “Is it Father?” Laurana asked fearfully. “Have you heard something—”

  “No, I’ve heard nothing about our people,” Gilthanas said, “except what I told you, that they have allied with the humans and are working together to drive the dragonarmies from the Ergoth Isles and from Sancrist.”

  “It was all because of Alhana,” Laurana murmured. “She convinced them that they could no longer live apart from the world. She even convinced Porthios.…”

  “I gather she has convinced him of more than that?” Gilthanas asked without looking at his sister. He began to poke holes in the parchment with the point of the quill.

  “There has been talk of a marriage,” Laurana said slowly. “If so, I am certain it would be a marriage of convenience only, to unite our people. I cannot imagine Porthios has it in his heart to love anyone, even a woman as beautiful as Alhana. As for the elven princess herself—”

  Gilthanas sighed. “Her heart is buried in the High Clerist’s Tower with Sturm.”