Dragonlance 03 - Dragons of Spring Dawning

BOOK: Dragonlance 03 - Dragons of Spring Dawning
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Insane, desperate rage twisted Tanis’s face. Somehow he’d make Raistlin listen to reason! Somehow they would all use this strange magic to escape! Tanis started forward, then stopped. From nowhere—seemingly—had come a small silver dagger, long concealed, fastened to the mage’s wrist by a cunningly designed leather thong.

“All right,” Tanis said, breathing heavily. “You’d kill me without a second thought. But what about your brother? Caramon, stop him!”

Caramon took a step toward his twin. Raistlin raised the silver dagger warningly.

“Don’t make him come near me, Tanis,” Raistlin said. “I assure you. I am capable of this, truly. What I have sought all my life is within my grasp. I will let nothing stop me. Look at Caramon’s face, Tanis! He knows! I killed him once. I can do it again.…”

The War of the Lance nears its end … for good … or for evil.…

Volume Three
©1985 TSR, Inc.
Cover Copyright ©2000 Wizards of the Coast LLC

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Published by Wizards of the Coast LLC. W
, D
, D
& D
, D&D, and their respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries.

All Wizards of the Coast characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof are trademarks owned by Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Cover art by Matt Stawicki
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-65600

eISBN: 978-0-7869-5439-1

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To Angel and Curtis, my children, my hope, and my life
—Tracy Raye Hickman
To the Commons Bridge Group, University of Missouri, 1966-70:
Nancy Olson, Bill Fisher, Nancy Burnett, Ken Randolph,
Ed Bristol, Herb the fry cook,
And in memory of Bob Campbell and John Steele, who died in Viet Nam,
And to the rest of that wonderful group
of mismatched friends—
this book about friends is fondly dedicated—Margaret Weis



Kitiara, of all the days these days
are rocked in dark and waiting, in regret
The clouds obscure the city as I write this
delaying thought and sunlight, as the streets
hang between day and darkness. I have waited
past all decision, past the heart in shadows
to tell you this

In absences you grew

more beautiful, more poisonous, you were
an attar of orchids in the swimming night
where passion, like a shark drawn down a bloodstream
murders four senses, only taste preserving
buckling into itself, finding the blood its own
a small wound first, but as the shark unravels
the belly tatters in the long throat’s tunnel
And knowing this, the night still seems a richness
a gauntlet of desires ending in peace
I would still be part of these allurements
and to my arms I would take in the darkness
blessed and renamed by pleasure;

but the light

the light, my Kitiara, when the sun
spangles the rain-gorged sidewalks, and the oil
from doused lamps rises in the sunstruck water
splintering the light to rainbows! I arise
and though the storm resettles on the city
I think of Sturm, Laurana, and the others
but Sturm the foremost, who can see the sun
straight through the fog and cloudrack. How could I
abandon these?

And so into the shadow

and not your shadow but the eager grayness
expecting light, I ride the storm away

The Everman

hy, look, Berem. Here’s a path.… How strange. All the times we’ve been hunting in these woods and we’ve never seen it.”

“It’s not so strange. The fire burned off some of the brush, that’s all. Probably just an animal trail.”

“Let’s follow it. If it is an animal trail, maybe we’ll find a deer. We
been hunting all day with nothing to show for it. I hate to go home empty-handed.”

Without waiting for my reply, she turns onto the trail. Shrugging, I follow her. It is pleasant being outdoors today, the first warm day after the bitter chill of winter. The sun is warm on my neck and shoulders. Walking through the fire-ravaged woods is easy. No vines to snag you. No brush to tear at your clothing. Lightning, probably that thunderstorm which struck late last fall

But we walk for a long time and finally I begin to grow weary. She is wrong—this is no animal trail. It is a man-made path and an old one at that. We’re not likely to find any game. Just the same as it’s been all day. The fire, then the hard winter: The animals dead or gone. There’ll be no fresh meat tonight

More walking. The sun is high in the sky. I’m tired, hungry. There’s been no sign of any living creature

“Let’s turn back, sister. There’s nothing here.…”

She stops, sighing. She is hot and tired and discouraged, I can tell. And too thin. She works too hard, doing women’s work and men’s as well. Out hunting when she should be home, receiving the pledges of suitors. She’s pretty, I think. People say we look alike, but I know they are wrong. It is only that we are so close—closer than other brothers and their sisters. But we’ve had to be close. Our life has been so hard.…

“I suppose you’re right, Berem. I
seen no sign … Wait, brother … Look ahead. What’s that?”

I see a bright and shining glitter, a myriad colors dancing in the sunlight—as if all the jewels on Krynn were heaped together in a basket

Her eyes widen. “Perhaps it’s the gates of the rainbow!”

Ha! Stupid girlish notion. I laugh, but I find myself running forward. It is hard to catch up with her. Though I am bigger and stronger, she is fleet as a deer

We come to a clearing in the forest. If lightning did strike this
forest, this must have been where the bolt hit. The land around is scorched and blasted. There was a building here once, I notice. Ruined, broken columns jut up from the blackened ground like broken bones sticking through decaying flesh. An oppressive feeling hangs over the place. Nothing grows here, nor has anything grown here for many springs. I want to leave, but I cannot.…

Before me is the most beautiful, wonderful sight I have ever seen in my life, in my dreams.… A piece of a stone column, encrusted with jewels! I know nothing about gemstones, but I can tell these are valuable beyond belief! My body begins to shake. Hurrying forward, I kneel down beside the fire-blasted stone and brush away the dirt and filth

She kneels beside me

“Berem! How wonderful! Did you ever see anything like it? Such beautiful jewels in such a horrible place.” She looks around and I feel her shivering. “I wonder what this used to be? There’s such a solemn feeling about it, a holy feeling. But an evil feeling, too. It must have been a temple before the Cataclysm. A temple to the evil gods … Berem! What are you doing?”

I have taken out my hunting knife and I begin to chip away the stone around one of the jewels—a radiant green gemstone. It is as big as my fist and sparkles more brilliantly than the sun shining on green leaves. The rock around it comes away easily beneath my knife blade. “Stop it, Berem!” Her voice is shrill. “It—it’s desecration! This place is sacred to some god! I know it!”

I can feel the gemstone’s cold crystal, yet it burns with an inner green fire! I ignore her protests

“Bah! You said before it was the rainbow’s gates! You’re right! We’ve found our fortune, as the old story says. If this place was sacred to the gods, they must have abandoned it years ago. Look round, it’s nothing but rubble! If they wanted it, they should have taken care of it. The gods won’t mind if I take a few of these jewels.…”


An edge of fear in her voice! She’s really frightened! Foolish girl. She’s beginning to irritate me. The gemstone is almost free. I can wiggle it

BOOK: Dragonlance 03 - Dragons of Spring Dawning
2.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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