Dragonlance 10 - The Second Generation (52 page)

At a nudge from Rashas, Gilthas bowed to the crowd politely. He was exceedingly pale.

"The Thalas-Enthia has carefully examined the lineage of Prince Gilthas. We find it completely satisfactory."

"What about the fact that his father's a half-human?" One of the younger elves was making a final try.

Rashas smiled benignly. "Surely, in these enlightened times, such a factor should not count against the prince. Don't you agree?"

The young man scowled, unable to answer. He and his cohorts had been neatly caught in their own trap. If they protested against Gilthas further, they would appear as bigoted and rigid as their elders.

The young Heads of Household exchanged glances. Then, of one accord, they turned and walked out of the proceedings.

A troubled murmur, like the rumble of thunder, rolled around the chamber. The elves didn't like this. Some appeared to be having second thoughts. Rashas gave instructions to the White Robe and made a gesture. Apparently, she was being ordered to go after the rebellious members. She seemed to remonstrate, but Rashas frowned. His gesture was repeated, this time more forcibly. The White Robe, with a shake of her head, left the rostrum and hurried out of the chamber.

"Thank you, Takhisis!" Dalamar breathed.

Tanis offered a similar prayer to Paladine.

The two slipped forward, began moving cautiously through the crowd. "Don't bump into anyone!" Dalamar warned. "We may be invisible, but we're not wraiths!" The elves in the chamber were restless, muttering among themselves.

Rashas saw the situation rapidly deteriorating. Obviously, he had to wrap this up swiftly. He called for silence. The elves gradually settled down, gave him their full attention.

"We will proceed with the Taking of the Vow," he said, casting a sweeping glance around the chamber.

No one said a word in challenge now. Tanis and Dalamar had very nearly reached the rostrum. Gilthas was gripping the rostrum with white-knuckled hands, as if he needed its support to hold him up. He seemed oblivious to what was going on around him. Tanis glided near. He kept fast hold of the magic ring.

Rashas had turned to face Gilthas. "Do you, Gilthas of the House of Solostaran, hereby agree, of your own free will, to take the Vow of the Sun and Stars? To serve your people for the rest of your days as their Speaker?"

Gil's face was without expression, his eyes lifeless. Moistening parched lips, he opened his mouth.

"No, Son! Stop!" Tanis yanked the ring off.

Gil stared in amazement at his father, who had apparently leapt straight out of nothing. Tanis grasped hold of his son's arm. "Take off the sun medallion!" he commanded. "Quickly!" Dalamar appeared on Gil's left. The young man looked dazedly from his father to the dark elf. A babble of confused sound broke out, shouts and cries. Gil's hand closed spasmodically over the medallion.

Rashas, standing next to the young man, said something to him in a low voice. Tanis ignored the senator. He would deal with him later.

"Gil, take the medallion off," Tanis repeated quietly, patiently. "Don't worry! You'll be safe. I've come to bring you home."

Tanis's words jolted the young man to action, though not the action Tanis wanted.

Gil pulled himself away from his father's grasp. The young man was deathly pale, but his voice was strong.

"You are wrong, Father." Gil glanced at Rashas. "I am already home." Rashas began calling out loudly for the guards. At the sound of the commotion, the White Robe wizardess ran into the room.

"Quickly, my friend!" Dalamar urged in a low voice. "Unless you want to see a magical battle that will bring this tower down around our ears!"

"Gil, listen to me," Tanis began angrily.

"No, Father, you listen to me." Gilthas was calm. "I know what I'm doing."

"You're a child!" Tanis raged. "You have no idea what you're doing—" A crimson streak stained Gil's face, as though Tanis had struck him. Wordlessly, he gazed at his father, silently asking for his trust, for his understanding. The medallion—holy artifact of the elves—gleamed on his breast, its bright light reflected in blue eyes. How many times, when Tanis was a child, had he looked up to see that medallion gleaming above him, like the sun itself, far out of reach?

"Take that damn thing off!" He stretched out his hand.

White light flashed like the sun itself exploding. Pain burned through Tanis's arm, pain terrible enough to burst his heart. He was falling. Strong hands caught him, supported him, and a strong voice was chanting strange words.

He heard, as from a far distance, Gilthas say, "I will take the vow. I will be the Speaker of the Sun and Stars."

Tanis fought to free himself, but the room grew darker, the darkness began to swirl around him, and he realized, in frustrated despair, that he was trapped inside Dalamar's magic.

The next instant, Tanis was on his hands and knees, kneeling on a grassy lawn, blinking in the bright sunlight. He was dizzy and half sick, his arm ached, and his hand felt useless and numb. Sitting back on his heels, he stared around. Dalamar stood over him.

"Where in the Abyss are we?" Tanis demanded.

"Hush! Keep quiet!" Dalamar ordered in a low voice. "We are outside Rashas's house. Put the ring on! Swiftly. Before someone sees us."

"His house?" Tanis found the ring in a pocket. With his left hand, he struggled to replace the ring on a finger that had no feeling in it. His right arm could move, but it didn't seem to be his arm.

"Why did you bring us here?"

"My reasons will soon become apparent. Keep silent and come with me." Dalamar strode rapidly across the lawn. Tanis hurried to catch up.

"Send me back to that chamber. I'll go alone!"

Dalmar shook his head. "As I told you, my friend, there's something sinister going on here." When they were in sight of the house, Dalamar halted.

A Wilder elf stood guard, blocking the door.

Putting his hand to the side of his mouth, Dalamar called out, speaking the Kagonesti tongue, "Come quickly! I need you!"

The guard jumped, turned around, and peered into a grove of aspen trees growing in back of the large house.

Cloaked in magic, Dalamar was standing practically in front of the porch, but his voice had come from the grove.

"Hurry, you slug!" Dalamar called again, adding a favorite Kagonesti insult. The guard left his post, ran toward the aspen grove.

"One of Raistlin's old illusionist tricks. I learned much from my shalafi," Dalamar said, and he glided silently inside the house.

Mystified, unable to imagine what the dark elf was after, Tanis followed. In the entryway, a Kagonesti woman was busily scrubbing at a large stain on one of the elegant carpets. Dalamar pointed to the stain, drawing Tanis's attention to it. The stain was fresh; the water in the servant's bucket, the rag in her hand, were crimson. Blood. Tanis's lips formed the word, he did not speak it aloud.

Dalamar did not reply. He was standing at the foot of a flight of stairs, peering upward. He began to climb, motioned to Tanis to accompany him. The servant, unaware of their presence, continued at her task.

Tanis kept his hand on his sword. He was not particularly good at fighting left-handed, but he would at least have the advantage of surprise. No enemy would see him coming.

They crept up the stairs, walking cautiously, testing each board before setting foot upon it. The house was deathly silent; a single creaking board would give them away. The steps proved sturdy and solid, however.

"Only the finest for Senator Rashas," Tanis muttered, and he began to climb more rapidly. He was now beginning to have an idea of why they had come.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Dalamar held up a warding hand. Tanis halted. A door stood open, revealing a spacious hallway. Three doors opened off the hall, one door at the far end and two on each side. Only a single door—the one at the far end—was guarded. Two Kagonesti, holding spears, stood in front of it. Tanis glanced at Dalamar.

"You take the man on the left," said the dark elf. "I'll take the right. Make your attack swift and silent. There are probably more guards inside the room."

Tanis considered using his sword, then decided against it. Positioning himself directly in front of the oblivious Kagonesti, Tanis clenched his fist, aimed a swift, sharp jab to the jaw. The Wilder elf never knew what hit him. Tanis caught the stunned guard as he fell and lowered him silently to the floor. Glancing over, he saw the other Kagonesti asleep on the floor, a scattering of sand over his inert body.

Tanis put his hand on the door handle. Dalamar's thin fingers closed over the half-elf's wrist.

"If what I think is true," Dalamar whispered into Tanis's ear, "any move to open that door could be fatal. Not to us," he added, noting Tanis's look of astonishment. "To the person inside. We will return to the corridors of magic."

Tanis scowled and shook his head. Walking those "corridors" left him feeling disoriented and slightly nauseous. Dalamar smiled in understanding.

"Close your eyes," the dark elf advised. "It helps."

Keeping fast hold of Tanis's wrist, Dalamar spoke quick words. Almost before Tanis had his eyes shut, he felt those same ringers dig into his arm, warning him to look around. Opening his eyes, he blinked in the bright light.

He was in a large sunlit arboretum. Seated on a couch near a window was a woman. Her wrists and ankles were bound together with silken cord. She sat rigidly straight, regal and imperious, her cheeks flushed—not with fear, but with anger. Tanis recognized, with shock, Alhana Starbreeze. Directly opposite Alhana stood a Kagonesti guard, armed with bow and arrow. The bow was raised, one arrow nocked and ready to fire. The arrow was aimed at Alhana's breast.

"And they exiled me!" Dalamar said quietly.

Tanis could say nothing. He could barely think coherently, much less speak. He guessed now what threat had been used to induce Porthios to give up the sun medallion—the same threat that had forced Gilthas to accept it. Horror and outrage, shock and fury, and the dreadful memory of the terrible things he'd said to his son combined to overpower Tanis. He was as numb and useless as his arm. He could do nothing except stand staring in sick and unwilling disbelief.

Dalamar tugged on Tanis's sleeve, gestured at the Kagonesti guard, who stood with his back to them. The dark elf made a motion with a clenched fist.

Tanis nodded to show he understood, though he wondered what Dalamar had in mind. At the first sound they made, the Kagonesti would fire. Even if they managed to kill him, his fingers might spasmodically unleash the arrow.

Alhana sat unmoving on the couch, staring at death with a disdain that seemed to invite it. Dalamar, invisible to everyone in the room except Tanis, walked over, came to stand directly in front of the Kagonesti. The arrow was now pointed at the dark elf's breast. With a sudden movement, Dalamar grabbed hold of the bow, yanked it away from the guard. Tanis—both fists clenched—clouted the guard on the back of the head. The Kagonesti went down without a sound. Alhana didn't move, didn't speak. She gazed at the fallen guard in bewilderment. Unable to see either Tanis or Dalamar, it must have looked to her as if the guard had just fought with himself and lost.

Tanis took off his ring. Dalamar threw off his magical cloak.

Alhana shifted her disbelieving gaze to them both.

"Your Majesty," Tanis said, hastening to her side. "Are you all right?"

"Tanis Half-Elven?" Alhana stared dazedly at him.

"Yes, Your Majesty." He touched her hand, let her know he was flesh and blood, and began to untie her bindings. "Did they hurt you?"

"No, I am fine," Alhana said. She rose hurriedly. "Come with me. We have no time to lose. We must stop Rashas…"

Her voice died. She had seen the expression on Tanis's face.

"Too late, Your Majesty," he said quietly. "When I left, Gilthas was taking the vow. Before that, the Thalas-Enthia decreed that you and Porthios are to be exiled."

"Exiled," Alhana repeated.

The blood drained from her cheeks, left her as pale as if it had taken her life with it. Her gaze went involuntarily to Dalamar, a dark elf—the personification of her doom. Shuddering, she averted her gaze, put her hand over her eyes.

Dalamar's lip curled. "You have no right to turn your face from me, my lady. Not now." Alhana flinched. Shivering, she pressed her hand over her mouth and leaned unsteadily on the back of a chair.

"Dalamar—" Tanis began harshly.

"No, Half-Elven," Alhana said softly. "He is right." Lifting her head, the mass of dark hair falling disheveled around her beautiful face, she held out her hand to him. "Please forgive me, Dalamar. You speak the truth. I am now what you are. You saved my life. Accept my apology and my gratitude."

Dalamar's hands remained folded in the sleeves of his black robes. His face was ice hard with disdain, frozen by bitter memory.

Alhana said nothing. Slowly, her hand lowered.

Dalamar gave a sigh that was like the wind in the leaves of the aspen trees. His black robes rustled.

He touched Alhana's fingertips, barely brushing them, as if fearing he might inadvertently do her some harm.

"You are wrong, Alhana Starbreeze," he said quietly. "They may send you from your homeland, term you 'dark elf,' but you will never be what I am. I broke the law. I did it knowingly. I would do it again. They had every right to cast me out."

Pausing, keeping hold of her hand in his, he looked at her intently, spoke earnestly. "I foresee dark days ahead for you, my lady. If you or your child are ever in need of aid or comfort, and you are not afraid to turn to me, I will do whatever is in my power to assist you." Alhana stared at him wordlessly. Then she smiled, pale, wan. "Thank you for your offer. I am grateful. And, I do not believe that I would be afraid."

"Davat! Where are you?" An angry voice sounded from below. "Why aren't you at your post? You men, over here!"

"It's Rashas," said Tanis, listening. "Probably with more of his Kagonesti slaves." Dalamar nodded. "I was expecting him. He must have guessed we'd come here. We could make our stand." The dark elf looked at Tanis grimly, expectantly. "Fight them…"