Read Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun Online
Authors: Margaret Weis
had spoken them. He had been five or six. They were camping in
the wilderness near Qualinesti. It was night. Silvan was asleep.
Suddenly a cry pierced his dreams, brought him wide awake. The
fire burned low, but by its light he could see his father grappling
with what seemed a shadow. More shadows surrounded them.
He saw nothing else because his mother flung her body over his,
pressed him to the ground. He could not see, he could not
breathe, he could not cry out. Her fear, her warmth, her weight
crushed and smothered him.
And then it was allover. His mother's warm, dark weight was
lifted from him. Alhana held him in her arms, cradling him,
weeping and kissing him and asking him to forgive her if she
hurt him. She had a bloody gash on her thigh. His father bore a
deep knife wound in his shoulder, just missing the heart. The
bodies of three elves, clad all in black, lay around the fire. Years
later Silvanoshei woke suddenly in the night with the cold real-
ization that one of those assassins had been sent to murder him.
They dragged away the bodies, left them to the wolves, not
considering them worthy of proper burial rites. His mother
rocked him to sleep, and she spoke those words to him to comfort
him. He would hear them often, again and again.
Perhaps now she was dead. His father dead. Their dream
lived, however, lived in him.
He turned away from the shield. "1 will come with you," he
said to Rolan of the kirath.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE HOLY FIRE
In the old days, the glory days, before the War of the Lance,
the road that led from Neraka to the port city of Sanction
had been well maintained, for that road was the only route
through the mountains known as the Lords of Doom. The road-
known as the Hundred Mile Road, for it was almost one hundred
miles long, give or take a furlong or two-was paved with
crushed rock. Thousands of feet had marched over the crushed
rock during the intervening years; booted human feet, hairy
goblin feet, clawed draconian feet. So many thousand that the
rock had been pounded into the ground and was now deeply
embedded.
During the height of the War of the Lance, the Hundred Mile
Road had been clogged with men, beasts, and supply wagons.
Anyone who had need of speed took to the air, riding on the
backs of the swift-flying blue dragons or traversing the skies in
floating citadels. Those forced to move along the road could be
delayed for days, blocked by the hundreds of foot soldiers who
slogged along its torturous route, either marching to the city of
Neraka or marching away from it. Wagons lurched and jolted
along the road. The grade was steep, descending from the high
mountain valley all the way to sea level, making the journey a
perilous one.
Wagons loaded with gold, silver, and steel, boxes of stolen
jewels, booty looted from people the armies had conquered,
were hauled by fearsome beasts known as mammoths, the only
creatures strong enough to drag the heavily laden wagons up
the mountain road. Occasionally one of the wagons would tip
over and spill its contents or lose a wheel, or one of the mam-
moths would run berserk and trample its keepers and anyone
else unfortunate enough to be in its path. At these times, the
road was shut down completely, bringing everything to a halt
while officers tried to keep their men in order and fumed and
fretted at the delay.
The mammoths were gone, died out. The men were gone too.
Most of them now old. Some of them now dead. All of them now
forgotten. The road was empty, deserted. Only the wind's
whistling breath blew across the road, which, with its smooth,
inlaid gravel surface, was considered one of the man-made won-
ders of Krynn.
The wind was at the backs of the Dark Knights as they gal-
loped down the winding, twisting snake's back that was the Hun-
dred Mile Road. The wind, a remnant of the storm, howled
among the mountain tops, an echo of the Song of Death they had
heard in Neraka, but only an echo, not as terrible, not as fright-
ening. The Knights rode hard, rode in a daze, rode without any
clear idea of why they rode or where they were heading. They
rode in an ecstasy, an excitement that was unlike anything they
had ever before experienced.
Certainly Galdar had felt nothing like it. He loped along at
Mina's side, running with new-found strength. He could have
run from here to Ice Wall without pause. He might have credited
his energy to pure joy at regaining his severed limb, but he saw
his awe and fervor reflected in the faces of the men who made
that exhilarating, mad dash alongside him. It was as if they
brought the storm with them-hooves thundering among the
mountain walls, the iron shoes of the horses striking lightning
bolts from the rock surface.
Mina rode at their head, urging them on when they would
have stopped from fatigue, forcing them to look into themselves
to find just a bit more strength than they knew they possessed.
They rode through the night, their way lit by lightning flashes.
They rode through the day, halting only to water the horses and
eat a quick bite standing.
When it seemed the horses must founder, Mina called a halt.
The Knights had traversed well over half the distance. As it was,
her own roan, Foxfire, could have continued on. He appeared to
actually resent the stop, for the horse stamped and snorted in dis-
pleasure, his irritated protests splitting the air and bouncing back
from the mountain tops.
Foxfire was fiercely loyal to his mistress and to her alone. He
had no use for any other being. During their first brief rest stop,
Galdar had made the mistake of approaching the horse to hold
Mina's stirrup as she dismounted, as he had been trained to do for
his commander and with much better grace than he'd used for
Ernst Magit. Foxfire's lip curled back over his teeth, his eyes
gleamed with a wild, wicked light that gave Galdar some idea of
how the beast had come by his name. Galdar hastily backed away.
Many horses are frightened by minotaurs. Thinking this
might be the problem, Galdar ordered one of the others to attend
the commander.
Mina countermanded his order. "Stay back, all of you. Foxfire
has no love for any being other than myself. He obeys only my
commands and then only when my commands agree with his
own instincts. He is very protective of his rider, and I could not
prevent him from lashing out at you if you came too near."
She dismounted nimbly, without aid. Removing her own
saddle and bridle, she led Foxfire to drink. She fed him and
brushed him down with her own hands. The rest of the soldiers
tended to their own weary mounts, saw them safely settled for
the night. Mina would not allow them to build a campfire. So-
lamnic eyes might be watching, she said. The fire would be
visible a long distance.
The men were as tired as the horses. They'd had no sleep for
two days and a night. The terror of the storm had drained them,
the forced march left them all shaking with fatigue. The excite-
ment that had carried them this far began to ebb. They looked like
prisoners who have wakened from a wonderful dream of free-
dom to find that they still wear their shackles and their chains.
No longer crowned by lightning and robed with thunder,
Mina looked like any other girl, and not even a very attractive
girl, more like a scrawny youth. The Knights sat hunched over
their food in the moonlit darkness, muttering that they'd been led
on a fool's errand, casting Mina dark looks and angry glances.
One man even went so far as to say that any of the dark mystics
could have restored Galdar's arm, nothing so special in that.
Galdar could have silenced them by pointing out that no dark
mystic had restored his arm, though he had begged them often
enough. Whether they refused because their powers were not
strong or because he lacked the steel to pay them, it was all the
same to him. The dark mystics of the Knights of Neraka had not
given him an arm. This strange girl had and he was dedicated to
her for life. He kept quiet, however. He was ready to defend Mina
with his life, should that become necessary, but he was curious to
see how she would handle the increasingly tense situation.
Mina did not appear to notice that her command was slowly
slipping away. She sat apart from the men, sat above them,
perched on an enormous boulder. From her vantage point, she
could look out across the mountain range, jagged black teeth
taking a bite out of the starry sky. Here and there, fires from the
active volcanoes were blots of orange against the black. With-
drawn, abstracted, she was absorbed in her thoughts to the point
that she seemed totally unaware of the rising tide of mutiny at
her back.
"I'll be damned if I'm riding to Sanction!" said one of the
Knights. "You know what's waiting for us there. A thousand of
the cursed Solamnics, that's what!"
"I'm off to Khur with the first light," said another. "I must
have been thunderstruck to have come this far!"
"I'll not stand first watch," a third grumbled. "She won't let us
have a fire to dry out our clothes or cook a decent meal. Let her
stand first watch."
" Aye, let her stand first watch!" The others agreed.
"I intend to," said Mina calmly. Rising from her seat, she de-
scended to the road. She stood astride it, her feet planted firmly.
Arms crossed over her chest, she faced the men. "I will stand all
the watches this night. You will need your rest for the morrow.
You should sleep."
She was not angry. She was not sympathetic. She was cer-
tainly not pandering to them, did not seem to be agreeing with
them in hope of gaining their favor. She was making a statement
of fact, presenting a logical and rational argument. The men
would need their rest for the morrow.
The Knights were mollified, but still angry, behaving like chil-
dren who've been made the butt of a joke and don't like it. Mina
ordered them to make up their beds and lie down.
The Knights did as they were told, grumbling that their blan-
kets were still wet and how could she expect them to sleep on the
hard rock? They vowed, one and all, to leave with the dawn.
Mina returned to her seat upon the boulder and looked out
again at the stars and the rising moon. She began to sing.
The song was not like the Song of Death, the terrible dirge
sung to them by the ghosts of Neraka. Mina's song was a battle
song. A song sung by the brave as they march upon the foe, a
song meant to stir the hearts of those who sing it, a song meant to
strike terror into the hearts of their enemies.
Glory calls us
With trumpet's tongue,
calls us do great deeds
on the field of valor,
calls us to give our blood
to the flame,
to the ground,
the thirsty ground,
the holy fire.
The song continued, a paean sung by the victors in their
moment of triumph, a song of reminiscence sung by the old sol-
dier telling his tale of valor.
Closing his eyes, Galdar saw deeds of courage and bravery,
and he saw, thrilling with pride, that he was the one performing.
these heroic feats. His sword flared with the purple white of the
lightning, he drank the blood of his enemies. He marched from
one glorious battle to the next, this song of victory on his lips.
Always Mina rode before him, leading him, inspiring him, urging
him to follow her into the heart of the battle. The purple white
glow that emanated from her shone on him.
The song ended. Galdar blinked, realized, to his astonishment
and chagrin, that he had fallen asleep. He had not meant to, he
had intended to stand watch with her. He rubbed his eyes,
wished she would start singing again. The night was cold and
empty without the song. He looked around to see if the others felt
the same.
They slumbered deeply and peacefully, smiles on their lips.
They had laid their swords within reach on the ground beside
them. Their hands closed over the hilts as if they would leap up
and race off to the fray in an instant. They were sharing Galdar's
dream, the dream of the song.
Marveling, he looked at Mina to find her looking at him.
He rose to his feet, went to join her upon her rock.
"Do you know what I saw, Commander?" he asked.
Her amber eyes had caught the moon, encased it. "1 know,"
she replied.
"Will you do that for me, for us? Will you lead us to victory?"
The amber eyes, holding the moon captive, turned upon him.
"I will."
"Is it your god who promises you this?"
"It is," she replied gravely.
"Tell me the name of this god, that I may worship him," said
Galdar.
Mina shook her head slowly, emphatically. Her gaze left the