Dragonlance 10 - The Second Generation (10 page)

"That's true," said the big man, unperturbed.

"I've got an idea," Tanis said. He held out the blue cloak to Steel. "Put this on over your armor. Keep behind Caramon. I'll engage the knights at the gate in conversation and you two slip in past me…"

"No," said Steel.

"What do you mean, 'No'?" Tanis was exasperated.

"I won't hide myself or my allegiance. I won't creep in like… like a kender." Steel's voice was filled with scorn. "The knights will admit me as I am, knowing who and what I am, or not at all." Tanis's expression hardened. He was about to argue, when Caramon interrupted him by an outburst of laughter.

"I don't find this particularly amusing," Tanis snapped.

Caramon choked, then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Tanis, but, by the gods, Steel sounded so like Sturm, I couldn't help myself. Do you remember that time in the inn, when we found the blue crystal staff, and all those goblins and Seeker guards were coming up the stairs, ready to tie us to the stake and burn us? And we were all running for our lives, hoping to escape through the kitchen, except Sturm.

"He just sat at the table, calmly drinking his ale. 'What?' he said, when you told him to run. 'Flee? From this rabble?' My nephew's face, when he said that about the knights letting him in, put me in mind of Sturm that night."

"Your nephew's face puts me in mind of a lot of things," Tanis said grimly, "like how Sturm and his stubbornness and his honor nearly got us killed more than once."

"We loved him for it," said Caramon softly.

"Yes." Tanis sighed. "Yes, I did, though there were times, like now, when I could have wrung his knightly neck."

"Look at it this way, Half-Elven," Steel said in a mocking tone, "you could take this as a sign from your god, the great Paladine. If Paladine wants me inside, he'll see to it that I get in."

"Very well, young man, I'll take your challenge. I'll trust in Paladine. Perhaps, as you say, this will be a sign. But"—Tanis held up a warning finger—"don't say a word, no matter what I say. And don't do anything to cause trouble."

"I won't," Steel said, with ice-hard dignity and disdain. "My mother's up in those hills with a blue dragon, remember? If anything happens to me, Lord Ariakan will take out his rage on her." Tanis was regarding the young man intently. "Yes, we loved him for it," he said, beneath his breath.

Steel pretended he didn't hear. Turning his face toward the High Clerist's Tower, he climbed up out of the brush and stepped onto the causeway. He assumed his uncle and the half-elf would follow. Tanis and Caramon flanked the dark paladin, one on each side of him, as they proceeded down the broad road leading to the tower's main gate. Caramon had his hand on the hilt of his sword, a grim and threatening expression on his face. Tanis kept close watch on those who passed them, waiting tensely for the expression of loathing, shocked horror—the outcry that would bring down on them a squadron of knights.

Steel walked tall and proud, the cold and handsome face impassive. If he was at all nervous, he was keeping it to himself.

Few, however, spared them a glance. Most of those who traveled this road were absorbed with their own private worries and concerns. And who would notice three armed men in this bastion of armed men? The only ones who did take note of them were the pretty young women accompanying their knightly father to the tower. They smiled at the handsome young knight in admiration, did everything short of tumbling out of their carriage to attract Steel's attention.

Tanis was extremely puzzled by this. Did the symbols of terror and death the dark paladin wore plainly on his person no longer have any effect on people? Had the Solamnians forgotten the dread power of the Dark Queen? Or were they just mindlessly, stupidly complacent?

Tanis, glancing at Steel, saw the young man's lip curl in scorn. He was finding this amusing. Tanis quickened his pace. There was still the main gate to pass.

The half-elf had thought up and then discarded several arguments for allowing a Knight of Takhisis to enter the stronghold of Paladine. He had at last been forced to admit to himself that there could be no logical argument. As a last resort, he would use his standing as a renowned hero and respected government official to bully his way inside.

Wishing that he was decked out in his full ceremonial regalia, instead of his worn, albeit comfortable, traveling clothes, Tanis put on his you'll-do-what-I-say-and-like-it mask and strode up to the knights guarding the main gate.

Caramon and Steel came to a halt about a pace behind. Steel's face was hard, his dark eyes opaque, head thrown back in defiance.

One of the knights on guard duty stepped forward to meet them. His gaze swept over them with mild and friendly curiosity.

"Your names, gentle sirs," said the knight courteously. "And please state your business."

"I am Tanis Half-Elven." Tanis was so pent up, the words came out in an explosive bark, practically a shout. Forcing himself to calm down, he added in softer tones, "This is Caramon Majere…"

"Tanis Half-Elven and the famous Caramon Majere!" The young knight was impressed. "I am honored to meet you, sirs." In an undertone, he said to a cohort, "It's Tanis Half-Elven. Run and fetch Sir Wilhelm."

Probably the lord knight in charge of the gate.

"Please, there's no need to make a fuss," Tanis urged hastily, with what he hoped sounded like becoming modesty. "My friends and I are here on a pilgrimage to the Chamber of Paladine. We simply want to pay our respects, nothing more."

The young knight's face immediately assumed an expression of grave sympathy. "Yes, of course, my lord." His gaze shifted from Caramon, who glowered and appeared ready to take on the fortress single-handedly, then the knight looked at Steel.

Tanis tensed. He could already picture it. The young guard's astonishment changing to fury, the ringing trumpet call that would sound the alarm, bring down the portcullis, surround them with swords…

"I see you are a Knight of the Crown, sir, like myself," the young knight was saying… and he was saying it to Steel! The Solamnic Knight touched his breastplate, on which was the symbol of the lowest of the ranks of the Knights of Solamnia. He gave Steel the knight's salute on meeting a comrade, a lifting of the gloved hand to the helm. "I am Sir Reginald. You don't look familiar, Sir Knight. Where did you take your training?"

Tanis blinked, stared. Were they letting the nearsighted into the knighthood these days? He looked at Steel, saw black armor adorned with the Dark Queen's emblems: lily, axe, skull. Yet the Solamnic Knight was smiling and treating Steel as if they'd been barracks mates. Had Steel cast some sort of spell on the knight? Was it possible? Tanis looked at him sharply, then relaxed. No, Steel was obviously as confused about what was going on as Tanis. Defiance had seeped out of the young man. He looked dazed and a little foolish.

Caramon's mouth hung wide open. A sparrow could have flown in and nested there, and he wouldn't have noticed.

"Where did you take your training, sir?" the knight asked again, in a friendly fashion.

"K—Kendermore," Tanis said the first thing that came into his head. The young knight was immediately sympathetic. "Ah, rough duty, I hear. I'd rather patrol Flotsam myself. Is this your first visit to the tower? I have an idea." The knight turned to Tanis. "After you've paid your respects in the Chamber of Paladine, why don't you hand over your friend to me? I'm off duty in half an hour. I'll take him all around the tower, show him our defenses, fortifications—"

"I don't believe that would be a good idea!" Tanis gasped. He was shaking, sweating beneath the leather armor. "We… we're expected in Palanthas. Our wives are waiting for us, aren't they, Caramon?"

Caramon took the hint. His mouth snapped shut. He managed to mumble something incoherent about Tika.

"Perhaps another time," Tanis added regretfully. He stole a glance at Steel, thinking that the young man must be getting quite a laugh out of all this.

Steel was shaken, pale, his eyes wide. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. Well, thought Tanis, that's what happens when you brush up against a god. Sir Wilhelm arrived and took charge of them at once. He was, Tanis was sorry to note, one of the old-time, pompous, set-in-the-saddle type of knights; the kind who let the Oath and the Measure do his thinking for him. He was the type of knight Sturm Brightblade had always detested. Fortunately, there were far fewer of Sir Wilhelm's sort these days than there had been in the past. A pity some god—or goddess—had put him in their path.

And, of course, Sir Wilhelm was insisting on personally accompanying them to the tomb.

"Thank you, my lord." Tanis attempted to rid himself of the man. "But this is a very poignant moment for us, as you can imagine. We would prefer to be by ourselves…"

Impossible! (Harumph) Sir Wilhelm would never permit it. (Harumph) The famous Tanis Half Elven and the famous Caramon Majere and their young friend, a Knight of the Crown, paying his first visit to the Chamber of Paladine. No, no, (Harumph, harumph) this called for a full escort of knights!

Sir Wilhelm rounded up his escort, six knights, all armed. Forming them into ranks, he himself led the way to the Chamber of Paladine, marching with slow and solemn step, as though leading a funeral procession.

"Maybe he is," Tanis said into his beard. "Ours." He glanced at Caramon. The big man shrugged unhappily. They had no choice but to follow decorously along behind.

The knights headed for two closed iron doors marked with the symbol of Paladine. Beyond those doors, a narrow staircase led down into the sepulcher.

Steel edged alongside Tanis. "What did you do back there?" he demanded, speaking in a low voice, his distrustful gaze divided between the half-elf beside him and the knights marching ahead of him.

"Me? Nothing," Tanis returned.

Steel didn't believe him. "You're not some sort of mage, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Tanis answered testily. They weren't out of this yet, not by a long shot. "I don't know what happened, except I could suppose that you got your sign!" Steel was pale. The awe—and the fear—was plain on his face. Tanis relented toward the young man.

Oddly enough, he found himself liking him.

"I know how you feel," Tanis told him, speaking softly. The knights had come to the iron doors and were handing out torches to light the way down the dark staircase. "I once confronted Her Dark Majesty. Do you know what I wanted to do? I wanted to fall down on my knees and worship her."

Tanis shivered at the memory, though it had happened years ago. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Queen Takhisis is not my god, but she is a god. I'm just a poor, puny mortal. How could I help but revere her?"

Steel made no answer. He was thoughtful, stern, withdrawn to some inner core of himself. Paladine had given the young knight the sign he'd mockingly demanded. What meaning did it hold for him—if any?

The iron doors swung open. The knights, marching with solemn tread, began to descend the stairs.

The half-elf's explanation made sense to Steel. Paladine was a god—a weak and sniveling god, compared to his opposite, the Dark Queen,, but a god nonetheless. It was right and proper for Steel to feel awed in Paladine's presence—if that's what had truly happened back there at the gate.

Steel even tried to laugh at the incident—it was too funny, these pompous knights leading their most feared enemy around by the hand.

The laughter died on his lips.

They had begun to descend the steps that led into the sepulcher—a place of awful majesty, holy and sacred. Here lay the bodies of many brave men, among them Sturm Brightblade. Est Sularus oth Mithas. My Honor is My Life.

Steel heard a voice, deep and resonant, repeat those words. He looked quickly around, to see who had spoken.

No one had. All walked silently down the stairs, voices muted in respect and reverence. Steel knew who had spoken. He knew himself to be in the presence of the god, and the young man was daunted.

Steel's challenge to Tanis had been made out of sheer bravado, made in order to quell the sudden aching longing that seared Steel's soul, the longing to know himself. Part of Steel wanted desperately to believe that Sturm Brightblade—noble, heroic, tragic knight—was truly his father. Another part was appalled.

A curse if you find out, Ariakan had warned him.

Yes, so it would be, but… to know the truth!

And therefore, Steel had challenged the god, dared Paladine to tell him. It seemed the god had taken the young man's dare.

His heart subdued, Steel's soul bowed down in worship.

The Chamber of Paladine was a large rectangular room lined with stone coffins that held the heroes of the ancient past and the more recent dead of the War of the Lance.

Following the entombment of the bodies of Sturm Brightblade and the other knights who had fallen defending the tower, the iron doors to the chamber were shut and sealed. If the tower fell into enemy hands, the bodies of the dead would not be desecrated.

A year after the war had ended, the knights broke the seals, opened the chamber, and made it a place of pilgrimage, as they had done with Huma's Tomb. The Chamber of Paladine had been rededicated;

Sturm Brightblade was made a national hero. Tanis had been present that day, as had his wife, Laurana; Caramon and Tika; Porthios and Alhana—rulers of Silvanesti and Qualinesti, the elven nations; and the kender, Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Raistlin Majere, Master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas and already turned to darkness, had not come, but he had sent a message of respect for his old comrade and friend.

The bodies of the dead had been laid unceremoniously on the floor during the dark days of the war. At this ceremony, they were given proper and seemly burial. A special catafalque had been built to hold Sturm's body. Made of marble and carved with images of the knight's heroic exploits, the catafalque stood in the very center of the chamber. Sturm's body lay on it, not entombed.

Some sort of magic had kept the body from decay these twenty-some years. No one was certain, but most believed the magic emanated from the elven jewel, given to him in love by Alhana Starbreeze. The jewel was a token exchanged between lovers; it was not supposed to have any such powerful arcane properties. But, then, love works its own magic. Tanis had not visited the chamber since that day. That solemn occasion had been far too painful and blessed for him to repeat. Now he had returned, but he didn't feel either solemn or blessed. Looking around the room, with its ancient coffins, covered with dust, the catafalque standing in the center, Tanis felt trapped. If anything went wrong, they were a long way from the stairs, the iron doors, and escape.