Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night (15 page)

“But how could they be defeated?” Tanis said incredulously.

“Can you ask that, knowing what you do of your mage friend? Powerful he is, but he must have rest. Even the strongest must have time to renew their spells, recommit them to memory. Even the eldest of the order—wizards whose might has not been seen on Krynn since—had to sleep and spend hours reading their spellbooks. And then, too, as now, the number of magic-users was small. There are few who dare take the tests in the Towers of High Sorcery, knowing that to fail is to die.”

“Failure means death?” Tanis said softly.

“Yes,” Alhana replied. “Your friend is very brave, to have taken the Test so young. Very brave, or very ambitious. Didn’t he ever tell you?”

“No,” Tanis murmured. “He never speaks of it. But go on.”

Alhana shrugged. “When it became clear that the battle was hopeless, the wizards themselves destroyed two of the Towers. The blasts devastated the countryside for miles around. Only three remained—the Tower of Istar, the Tower of Palanthas, and the Tower of Wayreth. But the terrible destruction of the other two Towers scared the Kingpriest. He granted the wizards in the Towers of Istar and Palanthas safe passage from these cities if they left the Towers undamaged, for the wizards could have destroyed the two cities, as the Kingpriest well knew.

“And so the mages traveled to the one Tower which was never threatened—the Tower of Wayreth in the Kharolis Mountains. To Wayreth they came to nurse their wounds and to nurture the small spark of magic still left in the world. Those spellbooks they could not take with them—for the number of books was vast and many were bound with spells of protection—were given to the great library at Palanthas, and there they still remain, according to the lore of my people.”

The silver moon had risen, its moonbeams graced their daughter with a beauty that took Tanis’s breath away, even as its coldness pierced his heart.

“What do you know of a third moon?” he asked, staring into the night sky, shivering. “A black moon …”

“Little,” Alhana replied. “The magic-user draws power from the moons: the White Robes from Solinari, the Red Robes from Lunitari. There is, according to lore, a moon that gives the Black Robes their power, but only they know its name or how to find it in the sky.”

Raistlin knew its name, Tanis thought, or at least that other voice knew it. But he did not speak this aloud.

“How did your father get the dragon orb?”

“My father, Lorac, was an apprentice,” Alhana replied softly, turning her face to the silver moon. “He traveled to the Tower of High Sorcery at Istar for the Tests, which he took and survived. It was there he first saw the dragon orb.” She fell silent for a moment. “I am going to tell you what I have never told anyone, and what he has never told, except to me. I tell you only because you have a right to know what—what to expect.

“During the Tests, the dragon orb …”—Alhana hesitated, seeming to search for the right words—“
spoke
to him, to his mind. It feared some terrible calamity was approaching. ‘You must not leave me here in Istar,’ it told him. ‘If so, I will perish and the world will be lost.’ My father—I suppose you could say he stole the dragon orb, although he saw himself as rescuing it.

“The Tower of Istar was abandoned. The Kingpriest moved in and used it for his own purposes. Finally the mages left the Tower of Palanthas.” Alhana shivered. “Its story is a terrible one. The Regent of Palanthas, a disciple of the Kingpriest, arrived at the Tower to seal the gates shut—so he said. But all could see his eyes lingering on the beautiful Tower greedily, for legends of the wonders within—both fair and evil—had spread throughout the land.

“The Wizard of the White closed the Tower’s slender gates of gold and locked them with a silver key. The Regent stretched out his hand, eager for the key, when one of the Black Robes appeared in a window in one of the upper stories.

“ ‘The gates will remain closed and the halls empty until the day when the master of both the past and the present returns with power,’ he cried. Then the evil mage leaped out, hurling
himself down at the gates. As the barbs pierced the black robes, he cast a curse upon the Tower. His blood poured down on the ground, the silver and golden gates withered and twisted and turned to black. The shimmering tower of white and red faded to ice-gray stone, its black minarets crumbling to dust.

“The Regent and the people fled in terror. To this day, no one has dared enter the Tower of Palanthas—or even approach its gates. It was after the cursing of the Tower that my father brought the dragon orb to Silvanesti.”

“But surely your father knew something about the orb before he took it,” Tanis persisted. “How to use it—”

“If so, he did not speak of it,” Alhana said wearily, “for that is all I know. I must rest now. Good-night,” she said to Tanis without looking at him.

“Good-night, Lady Alhana,” Tanis said gently. “Rest easily this night. And don’t worry. Your father is wise and has lived through much. I’m certain everything is all right.”

Alhana started to sweep past without a word, then, hearing the sympathy in his voice, she hesitated.

“Though he passed the Test,” she said so softly Tanis had to step closer to hear, “he was not as powerful in his magic as your young friend is now. And if he thought the dragon orb was our only hope, I fear—” Her voice broke.

“The dwarves have a saying.” Sensing for a moment that the barriers between them had been lowered, Tanis put his arm around Alhana’s slender shoulders and drew her close. “ ‘Trouble borrowed will be paid back with interest compounded on sorrow.’ Don’t worry. We’re with you.”

Alhana did not answer. She let herself be comforted for just an instant, then, slipping free of his grasp, walked to the entrance of the cave. There she stopped and looked back.

“You are worried about your friends,” she said. “Do not be. They escaped the city and are safe. Though the kender was close to death for a time, he survived, and now they travel to Ice Wall in search of a dragon orb.”

“How do you know this?” Tanis gasped.

“I have told you all I can.” Alhana shook her head.

“Alhana! How do you know?” Tanis asked sternly.

Her pale cheeks stained with pink, Alhana murmured, “I—I gave the knight a Starjewel. He does not know its power, of
course, nor how to use it. I don’t know why I gave it to him, even, except—”

“Except what?” Tanis asked, amazed beyond belief.

“He was so gallant, so brave. He risked his life to help me, and he didn’t even know who I was. He helped me because I was in trouble. And—” Her eyes glimmered. “And he wept, when the dragons killed the people. I’ve never seen an adult weep before. Even when the dragons came and drove us from our home, we did not weep. I think, perhaps, we’ve forgotten how.”

Then, as if realizing she had said too much, she hastily pulled aside the blanket and entered the cave.

“In the name of the gods!” Tanis breathed. A Starjewel! What a rare and priceless gift! A gift exchanged by elven lovers forced to part, the jewel creates a bond between souls. Thus linked, they share the innermost emotions of the loved one and can grant strength to each other in times of need. But never before in Tanis’s long life, had the half-elf heard of a Starjewel being given to a human. What would it do to a human? What kind of effect would it have? And Alhana—she could never love a human, never return love. This must be some sort of blind infatuation. She had been frightened, alone. No, this could only end in sorrow, unless something changed drastically among the elves or within Alhana herself.

Even as Tanis’s heart expanded with relief to know Laurana and the others were safe, it contracted with fear and grief for Sturm.

T
he third day, they continued their journey, flying into the sunrise. They had lost the dragons, apparently, although Tika, keeping watch behind, thought she could see black dots upon the horizon. And that afternoon, as the sun was sinking behind them, they neared the river known as Thon-Thalas—Lord’s River—which divided the outside world from Silvanesti.

All of his life, Tanis had heard of the wonder and beauty of the ancient Elven Home, though the elves of Qualinesti spoke of it without regret. They did not miss the lost wonders of Silvanesti, for the wonders themselves became a symbol of the differences that had developed between the elven kin.

The elves in Qualinesti lived in harmony with nature, developing and enhancing its beauty. They built their homes among the aspens, magically gilding the trunks with silver
and gold. They built their dwellings of shimmering rose quartz, and invited nature to come dwell with them.

The Silvanesti, however, loved uniqueness and diversity in all objects. Not seeing this uniqueness existing naturally, they reshaped nature to conform to their ideal. They had patience and they had time, for what were centuries to elves whose life spans measured in the hundreds of years? And so they reformed entire forests, pruning and digging, forcing the trees and flowers into fantastic gardens of incredible beauty.

They did not ‘build’ dwellings, but carved and molded the marble rock that existed naturally in their land into such strange and wondrous shapes that—in the years before the races were estranged—dwarven craftsmen traveled thousands of miles to view them, and then could do nothing but weep at the rare beauty. And, it was said, a human who wandered into the gardens of Silvanesti could not leave, but stayed forever, enraptured, caught in a beautiful dream.

All this was known to Tanis only through legend, of course, for none of the Qualinesti had set foot in their ancient home since the Kinslayer wars. No human, it was believed, had been allowed in Silvanesti since a hundred years before that.

“What about the stories,” Tanis asked Alhana as they flew above the aspens on the backs of the griffons, “the stories of humans trapped by the beauty of Silvanesti, unable to leave? Do my friends dare go to this land?”

Alhana glanced back at him.

“I knew humans were weak,” she said coldly, “but I did not think they were
that
weak. It is true humans do not come to Silvanesti, but that is because we keep them out. We certainly wouldn’t want to keep any in. If I thought there was danger of that, I would not allow you into my homeland.”

“Not even Sturm?” he couldn’t help asking wryly, nettled by her stinging tone.

But he was not prepared for the answer. Alhana twisted to face him, whipping around so fast her long black hair flailed his skin. Her face was so pale with anger, it seemed translucent and he could see the veins pulse beneath her skin. Her dark eyes seemed to swallow him in their black depths.

“Never speak of that to me!” she said through clenched teeth and white lips. “Never speak of him!”

“But last night—” Tanis faltered, astonished, putting his hand to his burning cheek.

“Last night never happened,” Alhana said. “I was weak, tired, frightened. As I was when … when I met Sturm, the knight. I regret speaking of him to you. I regret telling you of the Starjewel.”

“Do you regret giving it to him?” Tanis asked.

“I regret the day I set foot in Tarsis,” Alhana said in a low, passionate voice. “I wish I had never gone there! Never!” She turned away abruptly, leaving Tanis to dark thoughts.

The companions had just reached the river, within sight of the tall Tower of the Stars, shining like a strand of pearls twisting into the sun, when the griffons suddenly halted their flight. Tanis, glancing ahead, could see no sign of danger. But their griffons continued to descend rapidly.

Indeed, it seemed hard to believe that Silvanesti had been under attack. There were no thin columns of campfire smoke rising into the air, as there would be if the draconians occupied the country. The land was not blackened and ruined. He could see, below him, the green of the aspens gleaming in the sunlight. Here and there, the marble buildings dotted the forest with their white splendor.

“No!” Alhana spoke to the griffons in elven. “I command you! Keep going! I must reach the Tower!”

But the griffons circled lower and lower, ignoring her.

“What is it?” Tanis asked. “Why are we stopping? We’re in sight of the Tower. What’s the matter?” He looked all around. “I see nothing to be concerned over.”

“They refuse to go on,” Alhana said, her face drawn with worry. “They won’t tell me why, only that we must travel on our own from here. I don’t understand this.”

Tanis didn’t like it. Griffons were known as fierce, independent creatures, but once their loyalty was gained, they served their masters with undying devotion. The elven royalty of Silvanesti have always tamed griffons for their use. Though smaller than dragons, the griffons’ lightning speed, sharp talons, tearing beak, and lion-clawed hind feet made them enemies to be respected. There was little they feared on Krynn, so Tanis had heard. These griffons he remembered, had flown into Tarsis through swarms of dragons without apparent fear.

Yet now the griffons were obviously afraid. They landed on the banks of the river, refusing all of Alhana’s angry, imperious commands to fly farther. Instead, they moodily preened themselves and steadfastly refused to obey.