Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night (31 page)

The two spoke long with the Kaganesti, while the companions kept an uneasy watch downriver. Though they had been awake before dawn, starting as early as the Kaganesti felt was safe to travel through the swift water, they had, more than once, caught glimpses of the black boats pursuing them.

When Theros returned, his dark face was somber. Silvara’s was flushed with anger.

“My people will do nothing to help us,” Silvara reported. “They have been attacked by lizardmen twice in the last two days. They blame the coming of this new evil on humans who, they say, brought them here in a white-winged ship—”

“That’s ridiculous!” Laurana snapped. “Theros, didn’t you tell them about these draconians?”

“I tried,” the blacksmith stated. “But I am afraid the evidence is against you. The Kaganesti saw the white dragon above the ship, but they did not, apparently, see you drive her off. At any rate, they have finally agreed to let us pass through their lands, but they will give us no aid. Silvara and I both pledged our lives for your good conduct.”

“What are the draconians doing here?” Laurana asked, memories haunting her. “Is it an army? Is Southern Ergoth being invaded? If so, perhaps we should go back—”

“No, I think not,” Theros said thoughtfully. “If the armies of the Dragon Highlords were ready to take this isle, they would do so with flights of dragons and thousands of troops. These appear to be small patrols sent out to make this bad situation deteriorate further. The Highlords probably hope the elves will save them the trouble of a war by destroying each other first.”

“The Dragon High Command is not ready to attack Ergoth,” Derek said. “They haven’t got a firm hold on the north yet. But it is only a matter of time. That is why it is imperative we get the dragon orb to Sancrist and call a meeting of the Council of Whitestone to determine what to do with it.”

Gathering their supplies, the companions set out for the high country. Silvara led them along a trail beside the splashing silver river that ran from the hills. They could feel the unfriendly eyes of the Kaganesti follow them out of sight.

The land began rising almost immediately. Theros soon told them they had traveled into regions where he had never been before; it was up to Silvara to guide them. Laurana was not altogether pleased with this situation. She guessed something had happened between her brother and the girl when she saw them share a sweet, secret smile.

Silvara had found time, among her people, to change her clothing. She was now dressed as a Kaganesti woman, in a
long leather tunic over leather breeches, covered by a heavy fur cloak. With her hair washed and combed, all of them could see how she had come by her name. Her hair, a strange, metallic silver color, flowed from a peak on her forehead to fall about her shoulders in radiant beauty.

Silvara turned out to be an exceptionally good guide, pushing them along at a rapid pace. She and Gilthanas walked side by side, talking together in elven. Shortly before sundown, they came to a cave.

“Here we can spend the night,” Silvara said. “We should have left the pursuit behind us. Few know these mountains as well as I do. But we dare not light a fire. Dinner will be cold, I’m afraid.”

Exhausted by the day’s climb, they ate a cheerless meal, then made their beds in the cave. The companions, huddled in their blankets and every piece of clothing they owned, slept fitfully. They set the watch, Laurana and Silvara both insisting on taking turns. The night passed quietly, the only sound they heard was the wind howling among the rocks.

But the next morning Tasslehoff, squeezing out through a crack in the cave’s hidden entrance to take a look around, suddenly hurried back inside. Putting his finger to his lips, Tas motioned them to follow him outdoors. Theros pushed aside the huge boulder they had rolled across the mouth of the cave, and the companions crept after Tas. He led them to a stop not twenty feet from the cave and pointed grimly at the white snow.

On it were footprints, fresh enough that the blowing, drifting snow had not quite covered them. The light, delicate tracks had not sunk deeply into the snow. No one spoke. There was no need. Everyone recognized the crisp, clear outline of elven boots.

“They must have passed by us in the night,” Silvara said. “But we dare not stay here any longer. Soon they will discover they have lost the trail and will backtrack. We must be gone.”

“I don’t see that it will make much difference,” Flint grumbled in disgust. He pointed at their own, highly visible tracks. Then he looked up at the clear, blue sky. “We might as well just sit and wait for them. Save them time and save us bother. There’s no way we can hide our trail!”

“Maybe we cannot hide our trail,” said Theros, “but we can gain some miles on them, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Derek repeated grimly. Reaching down, he loosened his sword in its scabbard, then he walked back to the cave.

Laurana caught hold of Sturm. “It must not come to bloodshed!” she whispered frantically, alarmed by Derek’s action.

The knight shook his head as they followed the others. “We cannot allow your people to stop us from taking the orb to Sancrist.”

“I know!” Laurana said softly. Bowing her head, she entered the cave in silent misery.

The rest were ready within moments. Then Derek stood, fuming in the doorway, watching Laurana impatiently.

“Go ahead,” she told him, unwilling to let him see her cry. “I’ll be along.”

Derek left immediately. Theros, Sturm, and the others trudged out more slowly, glancing uneasily at Laurana.

“Go ahead.” She gestured. She needed a moment to be by herself. But all she could think of was Derek’s hand on his sword. “No!” she told herself sternly. “I will not fight my people. The day that happens is the day the dragons have won. I will lay down my own sword first—”

She heard movement behind her. Whirling around, her hand going reflexively to her sword, Laurana stopped.

“Silvara?” she said in astonishment, seeing the girl in the shadows. “I thought you had gone. What are you doing?”

Laurana walked swiftly to where Silvara had been kneeling in the darkness, her hands busy with something on the cavern floor. The Wilder elf rose quickly to her feet.

“N-nothing,” Silvara murmured. “Just gathering my things.”

Behind Silvara, on the cold floor of the cave, Laurana thought she saw the dragon orb, its crystal surface shining with a strange swirling light. But before she could look more closely, Silvara swiftly dropped her cloak over the orb. As she did so, Laurana noticed she kept standing in front of whatever it was she had been handling on the floor.

“Come, Laurana,” Silvara said, “we must hurry. I am sorry if I was slow—”

“In a moment,” Laurana said sternly. She started to walk past the Wilder elf. Silvara’s hand clutched at her.

“We must hurry!” she said, and there was an edge of steel in her low voice. Her grip on Laurana’s arm was painful, even through the thick fur of Laurana’s heavy cloak.

“Let go of me,” Laurana said coldly, staring at the girl, her green eyes showing neither fear nor anger. Silvara let fall her hand, lowering her eyes.

Laurana walked to the back of the shallow cave. Looking down, however, she could see nothing that made any sense. There was a tangle of twigs and bark and charred wood, some stones, but that was all. If it was a sign, it was a clumsy one. Laurana kicked at it with her booted foot, scattering the stones and sticks. Then she turned and took Silvara’s arm.

“There,” Laurana said, speaking in even, quiet tones. “Whatever message you left for your friends will be difficult to read.”

Laurana was prepared for almost any reaction from the girl—anger, shame at being discovered. She even half-expected her to attack. But Silvara began to tremble. Her eyes—as she stared at Laurana—were pleading, almost sorrowful. For a moment, Silvara tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Shaking her head, she jerked away from Laurana’s grasp and ran outside.

“Hurry up, Laurana!” Theros called gruffly.

“I’m coming!” she answered, glancing back at the debris on the cave floor. She thought of taking a moment longer to investigate further, but she knew she dare not take the time.

Perhaps I
am
being too suspicious of the girl, and for no reason, Laurana thought with a sigh as she hurried out of the cave. Then about half-way up the trail, she stopped so abruptly that Theros, walking rear-guard, slammed into her. He caught her arm, steadying her.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” Laurana answered, only half-hearing him.

“You look pale. Did you see something?”

“No. I’m fine,” Laurana said hurriedly, and she started up the rocky cliff again, slipping in the snow. What a fool she’d been!

What fools they’d all been! Once again, she could see clearly in her mind’s eye Silvara rising to her feet, dropping her cloak over the dragon orb. The dragon orb that was shining with a strange light!

She started to ask Silvara about the orb when suddenly her thoughts were scattered. An arrow zinged through the air and thudded into a tree near Derek’s head.

“Elves! Brightblade, attack!” the knight cried, drawing his sword.

“No!” Laurana ran forward, grabbing his sword arm. “We will not fight! There will be no killing!”

“You’re mad!” Derek shouted. Angrily breaking loose of Laurana’s grip, he shoved her backward into Sturm.

Another arrow flew by.

“She’s right!” Silvara pleaded, hurrying back. “We cannot fight them. We must reach the pass! There we can stop them.”

Another arrow, nearly spent, struck the chain-mail vest Derek wore over his leather tunic. He brushed it away irritably.

“They’re not aiming to kill,” Laurana added. “If they were, you would be dead by now. We must run for it. We can’t fight here, anyhow.” She gestured at the thick woods. “We can defend the pass better.”

“Put your sword away, Derek,” Sturm said, drawing his blade. “Or you’ll fight me first.”

“You’re a coward, Brightblade!” Derek shouted, his voice shaking with fury. “You’re running from the enemy!”

“No,” Sturm answered coolly, “I’m running from my friends.” The knight kept his sword drawn. “Get moving, Crownguard, or the elves will find they have arrived too late to take you prisoner.”

Another arrow flew past, lodging in a tree near Derek. The knight, his face splotched with fury, sheathed his sword and, turning, plunged ahead up the trail. But not before he had cast Sturm a look of such intense enmity that Laurana shuddered.

“Sturm—” she began, but he only grabbed her by the elbow and hustled her forward too fast to talk. They climbed rapidly. Behind her, she could hear Theros crashing through the snow, occasionally stopping to send a boulder bouncing down after them. Soon it sounded like the entire side of the mountain was sliding down the steep trail, and the arrows ceased.

“But it’s only temporary,” the smith puffed, catching up with Sturm and Laurana. “That won’t stop them for long.”

Laurana couldn’t answer. Her lungs were on fire. Blue and gold stars burst before her eyes. She was not the only one suffering. Sturm’s breath rasped in his throat. His grasp on her arm was weak and his hand shook. Even the strong smith was
blowing like a winded horse. Rounding a boulder, they found the dwarf on his knees, Tasslehoff trying vainly to lift him.

“Must … rest …” Laurana said, her throat aching. She started to sit down, but strong hands grabbed her.

“No!” Silvara said urgently. “Not here! Just a few more feet! Come on! Keep going!”

The Wilder elf dragged Laurana forward. Dimly she was aware of Sturm helping Flint to his feet, the dwarf groaning and swearing. Between them, Theros and Sturm dragged the dwarf up the trail. Tasslehoff stumbled behind, too tired even to talk.

Finally they came to the top of the pass. Laurana slumped into the snow, past caring what happened to her. The rest sank down beside her, all except Silvara who was staring below them.

Where does she get the strength? Laurana thought through a bleak haze of pain. But she was too exhausted to question. At the moment, she was too tired to care whether the elves found her or not. Silvara turned to face them.

“We must split up,” she said decisively.

Laurana stared at her, uncomprehending.

“No,” Gilthanas began, trying without success to get to his feet.

“Listen to me!” Silvara said urgently, kneeling down. “The elves are too close. They will catch us for certain, then we must either fight or surrender.”

“Fight,” Derek muttered savagely.

“There is a better way,” Silvara hissed. “You, knight, must take the dragon orb to Sancrist alone! We will draw off the pursuit.”

For a moment no one spoke. Everyone stared silently at Silvara, considering this new possibility. Derek lifted his head, his eyes gleaming. Laurana flashed a look of alarm at Sturm.

“I do not think one person should be charged with such a grave responsibility,” Sturm said, his breath coming haltingly. “Two of us should go—at least.”

“Meaning yourself, Brightblade?” Derek asked angrily.

“Yes, of course, Sturm should go,” Laurana said, “if anyone.”

“I can draw a map through the mountains,” Silvara said eagerly. “The way is not difficult. The outpost of the knights is only a two-day journey from here.”

“But we can’t fly,” Sturm protested. “What about our tracks? Surely the elves will see we’ve split up.”

“An avalanche,” Silvara suggested. “Theros throwing the boulders down behind us gave me the idea.” She glanced up. They followed her gaze. Snow-covered peaks towered above them, the snow hanging over the edges.

“I can cause an avalanche with my magic,” Gilthanas said slowly. “It will obliterate everyone’s tracks.”

“Not entirely,” cautioned Silvara. “We must allow ours to be found once again—though not too obviously. After all, we want them to follow us.”

“But where will we go?” asked Laurana. “I don’t intend to wander aimlessly through the wilderness.”

“I—I know a place.” Silvara faltered, her gaze dropping to the ground. “It is secret, known only to my people. I will take you there.” She clasped her hands together. “Please, we must hurry. There isn’t much time!”