Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (26 page)

mered in the light of the newly risen moon. "The prize they

sought is within your grasp. You didn't particularly want it

before, but now that it is offered, why not take it?"

Silvan's reflection rippled as a breath of wind passed over the

surface of the water. Then the wind stilled, the water smoothed,

and his reflection was clear and unwavering.

"You must walk carefully. You must think before you speak,

think of the consequences of every word. You must consider your

actions. You must not be distracted by the least little thing.

"My mother is dead," he said, and he waited for the pain.

Tears welled up inside him, tears for his mother, tears for his

father, tears for himself, alone and bereft of their comfort and sup-

port. Yet, a tiny voice whispered deep inside, when did your par-

ents ever support you? When did they ever trust you to do

anything? They kept you wrapped in cotton wool, afraid you'd

break. Fate has offered you this chance to prove yourself. Take it!

A bush grew near the stream, a bush with fragrant white flow-

ers shaped like tiny hearts. Silvan picked a cluster of flowers,

stripped the blossoms from the leafy stems. "Honor to my father,

who is dead," he said and scattered the blossoms in the stream.

They fell upon the reflection that broke apart in the spreading rip-

ples. "Honor to my mother, who is dead."

He scattered the last of the blossoms. Then, feeling cleansed,

empty of tears and empty of emotion, he returned to the camp.

The elves started to rise, but he asked them to remain seated

and not disturb themselves on his account. The elves appeared

pleased with his modesty.

"I hope my long absence did not worry you," he said, know-

ing well that it had. He could tell they had been talking about

him. "These changes have all been so drastic, so sudden. I needed

time to think."

The elves bowed in acquiescence.

"We have been discussing how best to advance Your

Majesty's cause," said Rolan.

"You have the full support of the kirath, Your Majesty," Drinel

added.

Silvan acknowledged this with a nod. He thought on where

he wanted this conversation to go and how best to take it there

and asked mildly, "What is the 'kirath'? My mother spoke of

many things in her homeland but not of this."

"There is no reason why she should," Rolan replied. "Your

father created our order to fight the dream. We kirath were the

ones who entered the forest, searching for the parts that were still

held in thrall by the dream. The work took its toll on body and on

mind, for we had to enter the dream in order to defeat it.

"Other kirath served to defend the Woodshapers and clerics

who came into the forest to heal it. For twenty years we fought

together to restore our homeland, and eventually we succeeded.

When the dream was defeated we were no longer needed, and so

we disbanded, returned to the lives we had led before the war.

But those of us in the kirath had forged a bond closer than broth-

ers and'sisters. We kept in touch, passing news and information.

"Then the Dark Knights of Takhisis came to try to conquer the

continent of Ansalon, and after that came the Chaos War. It was

during this time that General Konnal took control of Silvanesti,

saying that only the military could save us from the forces of evil

at work in the world.

"We won the Chaos War, but at a great cost. We lost the gods,

who, so it is said, matle the ultimate sacrifice-withdrawing from

the world so that Krynn and its people might continue on. With

them went the magic of Solinari and healing powers. We grieved

long for the gods, for Paladine and MishakaL but we had to go on

with our lives.

"We worked to continue to rebuild Silvanesti. Magic came to

us again, a magic of the land, of living things. Though the war

was over, General Konnal did not relinquish control. He said that

now the threat came from Alhana and Porthios, dark elves who

wanted only to avenge themselves on their people."

"Did you believe this?" Silvan asked indignantly.

"Of course not. We knew Porthios. We knew the great sacri-

fices he had made for this land. We knew Alhana and how much

she loved her people. We did not believe him."

" And so you supported my father and mother?" Silvan asked.

"We did," Rolan replied.

"Then why didn't you aid them?" Silvan demanded, his tone

sharpening. "You were armed and skilled in the use of arms. You

were, as you have said, in close contact with one another. My

mother and father waited on the borders, expecting confidently

that the Silvanesti people would rise up and protest the injustice

that had been done to them. They did not. You did nothing. My

parents waited in vain."

"I could offer you many excuses, Your Majesty," Rolan said

quietly. "We were weary of fighting. We did not want to start a

civil war. We believed that over time this breach could all be

made right by peaceful means. In other words"-he smiled

faintly, sadly-"we pulled the blankets over our heads and went

back to sleep."

"If it is any comfort to you, Your Majesty, we have paid for

our sins," Drinel added. "Paid most grievously. We realized

this when the magical shield was erected, but by that time it

was too late. We could not go out. Your parents could not come

within."

Understanding came to Silvan in a flash, dazzling and shock-

ing as the lightning bolt that had struck right in front of him. All

had been darkness before and in the next thudding heartbeat all

was lit brighter than day, every detail clear cut and stark in the

white-hot light.

His mother claimed to hate the shield. In truth the shield was

her excuse, keeping her from leading her army into Silvanesti.

She could have done so anytime during the years before the

shield was raised. She and her father could have marched an

army into Silvanesti, they would have found support among the

people. Why hadn't they?

The spilling of elven blood. That was the excuse they gave

then. They did not want to see elf killing elf. The truth was that

Alhana had expected her people to come to her and lay the crown

of Silvanesti at her feet. They had not done so. As Rolan had said,

they wanted only to go back to sleep, wanted to forget Lorac's

nightmare in more pleasant dreams. Alhana had been the cat

yowling beneath the window, disturbing their rest.

His mother had refused to admit this to herself and thus,

though she railed against the raising of the shield, in reality the

shield had been a relief to her: Oh, she had done all she could to

try to destroy it. She had done all she could to prove to herself

that she wanted desperately to penetrate the barrier. She had

thrown her armies against the shield, thrown herself against it.

But all the while, secretly, in her heart, she did not want to enter

and perhaps that was the reason the shield had been successful in

keeping her out.

Drinel and Rolan and the rest of the elves were inside it for the

very same reason. The shield was in place, the shield existed, be-

cause the elves wanted it. The Silvanesti had always yearned to

be kept safe from the world, safe from the contamination of the

crude and undisciplined humans, safe from the dangers of ogre

and goblin and minotaur, safe from the dragons, safe amidst ease

and luxury and beauty. That was why his mother had wanted to

find a way inside-so that she too could finally sleep in warmth

and in safety, not in burial mounds.

He said nothing, but he realized now what he had to do.

"You pledge your allegiance to me. How do I know that when

the path grows dark you will not abandon me as you abandoned

my parents?"

Rolan paled. Drinel's eyes flashed in anger. He started to

speak, but his friend laid a calming hand on his arm.

"Silvanoshei is right to rebuke us, my friend. His Majesty is

right to ask this question of us." Rolan turned to face Silvan.

"Hand and heart, I pledge myself and my family to You.

Majesty's cause. May my soul be held in thrall on this plane of ex-

istence if I fail."

Silvan nodded gravely. It was a terrible oath. He shifted his

gaze to Drinel and the other two members of the kirath. Drinel

was hesitant.

"You are very young," he said harshly. "How old are you?

Thirty years? You are considered an adolescent among our

people."

"But not among the Qualinesti," Silvanoshei returned. " And I

ask you to think of this," he added, knowing that the Silvanesti

were not likely to be impressed by comparisons with their more

worldly (and therefore more corrupt) cousins. "1 have not been

raised in a pampered, sheltered Silvanesti household. I have been

raised in caves, in shacks, in hovels-wherever my parents could

find safe shelter. I can count on my two hands the number of

nights I have slept in a room in a bed. I have been twice wounded

in battles. I bear the scars upon my body."

Silvan did not add that he had not received his wounds while

fighting in those battles. He did not mention that he had been

injured while his body guards were hustling him off to a place of

safety. He would have fought, he thought to himself, if anyone

had given him a chance. He was prepared to fight now.

"I make the same pledge to you that I ask of you," Silvan said

proudly. "Heart and hand, I pledge to do everything in my power

to regain the throne that is mine by right. I pledge to bring wealth,

peace, and prosperity back to our people. May my soul be held in

thrall on this plane of existence if I fail."

Drinel's eyes sifted, searched that soul. The elder elf appeared

satisfied with he saw. "1 make my pledge to you, Silvanoshei, son

of Porthios and Alhana. By aiding the son, may we make restitu-

tion for our failures in regard to the parents."

"And now," said Rolan. "We must make plans. We must find

a suitable hiding place for His Majesty-"

"No," said Silvan firmly. "The time for hiding is past. I am the

rightful heir to the throne. I have a lawful claim. I have nothing to

fear. If I go sneaking and skulking about like a criminal, then I

will be perceived as a criminal. If I arrive in Silvanost as a king, I

will be perceived as a king."

"Yet, the danger-" Rolan began.

"His Majesty is right, my friend," Drinel said, regarding

Silvan with now marked respect. "He will be in less danger by

making a great stir than he would be if he were to go into

hiding. In order to placate those who question his rule, Konnal

has stated many times that he would gladly see the son of

Alhana take his rightful place upon the throne. He could make

such a promise easily enough, for he knew-or thought he

knew-that with the shield in place, the son could not possibly

enter.

"If Your Majesty arrives triumphantly in the capital, with the

people cheering on all sides, Konnal will be forced to make some

show of keeping his promise. He will find it difficult to make the

rightful heir disappear, as have others in the past. The people

would not stand for it."

"What you say has merit. Yet we must never underestimate

Konnal," said Rolan. "Some believe he is mad, but if so, his is a

cunning, calculating madness. He is dangerous."

"So am I," said Silvan. "As he will soon discover."

He sketched out his plan. The others listened, voiced their ap-

proval, offered changes he accepted, for they knew his people

best. He listened gravely to the discussion of possible danger, but

in truth, he paid little heed.

Silvanoshei was young,and the young know they will live

forever.

CHAPTER NINE

GALLIVANTING

The same night that Silvanoshei accepted the rulership of

the Silvanesti, Tasslehoff Burrfoot slept soundly and

peacefully-much to his disappointment.

The kender was deposited for safekeeping in a room inside

the Solamnic garrison in Solace. Tas had offered to return to

the wonderful kender-proof Solace jail, but his request was

firmly denied. The garrison room was clean and neat, with no

windows, no furniture except a stern-looking bed with iron

railings and a mattress so stiff and rigid that it could have

stood at attention with the best of the Knights. The door had

no lock at all, which might have provided some light after-

dinner amusement but was held in place by a wooden bar

across the outside.

" All in all," Tas said to himself as he sat disconsolately on his

bed, kicking his feet against the iron railings and looking wist-

fully about, "this room is the single most boring place I've ever

been in my life with the possible exception of the Abyss."

Gerard had even taken away his candle, leaving Tas alone in

the dark. There seemed nothing to do but go to sleep.

Tasslehoff had long thought that someone would do a very

good service to mankind by abolishing sleep. Tas had mentioned