The White Robe, still looking displeased, removed her hand and backed off. Tanis stepped across the border. Reaching out, he caught hold of his son in his arms.
“Father!” Gilthas said brokenly. “I thought you’d gone. I wanted to talk to you. They wouldn’t let me …”
“I know, Son. I know,” Tanis said, clasping his boy close. “I understand. Believe me, I understand it all now.” Hands on Gil’s shoulders, Tanis looked intently into his son’s face. “I do understand.”
Gil’s face darkened. “Is Queen Alhana safe? Rashas assured me that she was, but I made them bring me here to see for myself …”
“She is safe,” Tanis said quietly. His gaze shifted to the White Robe, who stood to one side, her baleful gaze divided between her charge and the black-robed wizard hovering in the shadows. “Samar is with the queen. He will guard her well, as you have reason to know, I believe.”
“Samar!” Gil’s face brightened. “You rescued him? I’m so glad! They were going to make me sign the order for his execution. I wouldn’t have done it, Father. I don’t know how”—the youthful face hardened—“but I wouldn’t have.”
Tanis glanced at the White Robe. Dalamar could stop her from taking any action. But could he, at the same time, prevent the archers from shooting? They would, however, be reluctant to endanger the life of their new Speaker …
“Gil,” Tanis spoke in Common, “you didn’t take that vow of your own free will. You were coerced into making it. You could leave, now. Dalamar will help us …”
Gilthas bowed his head. There was no doubt what answer he wanted to give. He looked up with a wistful smile. “I gave the wizardess my word, Father. When I found you here, I promised her I would return with her, if she would grant me permission to … to … tell you good-bye.”
His voice broke. He paused a moment, struggling, then continued quietly, “Father, I heard you once tell Lord Gunthar that, if it had been up to you, you would have never, of your own free will, fought in the War of the Lance. You were drawn into it by force of circumstance. And that was why it made you uneasy to hear people call you a hero. You did what you had to do—what any right-thinking person would do.”
Tanis sighed. Memories—mostly dark—came back to him. His grip on Gilthas tightened. Tanis knew that, in a moment, he would have to let his son go.
“Father,” Gil said earnestly, “I’m not fooling myself. I know I won’t be able to do much to change things. I know Rashas intends to use me for his own evil ends and, right now, I don’t see any way of stopping him. But, do you remember what Uncle Tas said when he told the story about saving the gully dwarf from the red dragon? ‘It’s the small things that make the difference.’ If I can manage, in small ways, to work against Rashas, Father …”
We raise our children to leave us.
Without even knowing it, Tanis had done so. He could see that now, could see it in the face of the boy—no, the man— standing in front of him. He supposed he should feel proud … and he did. But pride was a very small fire to warm his heart-numbing chill of loss.
The White Robe was clearly growing impatient. She removed from her belt a jeweled silver wand.
Dalamar, seeing this, called out quietly, “Tanis, my friend, I am here, if you have need of my services.”
Tanis embraced his son one last time. He took advantage of their closeness to whisper. “You are the Speaker now, Gilthas. Don’t forget that. Don’t let Rashas and his kind forget it. Keep fighting him. You won’t fight alone. You saw the young elves who walked out of the meeting today? Win them to your side. They won’t trust you at first. They’ll think your Rashas’s pawn. You’ll have to convince them otherwise. It won’t be easy. But I know you can succeed. I’m proud of you, my son. Proud of what you did this day.”
“Thank you, Father.”
A last embrace, a last look, a last brave smile.
“Tell Mother … I love her,” Gil said softly.
He swallowed hard. Then, turning, he left his father and went back to stand beside the White Robe. She spoke a word. The two were gone.
Without a backward glance—Tanis couldn’t have seen anything anyway, blinking away the tears that blinded him—he walked back across the border. But he held his head high, as would any proud father whose son has just been made ruler of a nation.
He’d keep his head high until night, until darkness. Until he was home. Until he had to tell Laurana that she might never see her beloved son again.…
“So,” said Dalamar, keeping in the shadows beneath the oak trees, “you couldn’t talk Gilthas into coming back with you.”
“I didn’t try,” Tanis returned, his voice harsh and grating. “He gave them his word of honor he’d go back.”
Dalamar regarded his friend intently a moment. “He gave them his word.…”
The dark elf shook his head and sighed. “As I said before, the son of Tanis Half-Elven is the last person Takhisis wanted to see sitting on the elven throne. If it is any comfort, my friend, Her Dark Majesty did not mean things to turn out exactly as they did. She is extremely sorry that we failed.”
Tanis supposed that news should bring him some consolation.
Dalamar removed the cloth, the cushion, the wine, the bread, and the cheese with a wave and a word. He slid his hands into the sleeves of his black robes.
“Well, my friend, have you made a decision? What will you do?”
“What I have to do, I suppose,” Tanis said bitterly. “I can’t let Rashas murder Porthios. And, once Porthios is free, I’ve got to stop him from murdering Rashas and the rest of the Qualinesti—none of which looks very promising.”
He walked out from beneath the oak trees and came to stand on the path that led back to Qualinesti. He looked into the sunlit, quivering leaves of the aspen trees of his childhood home.
“There are so many things I meant to teach you, Gilthas,” Tanis said softly, “so much I meant to tell you. So many things I meant to say.…”
Dalamar rested his hand on Tanis’s shoulder. “You may not have said the words aloud, my friend. But I think your son heard you.”
Tanis turned away from Qualinesti, turned toward the path that led to darkness. He turned back to a house that, no matter how many people it held, would always be empty.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Epilogue
A prospect of birds
in the cancelling winter,
first fables of prophets
and roses and swords,
Margaret believed in us all,
believed in our stories:
a patient astronomer
drawn by a gap in the sky
who knows from a thousand years’ calculation
that the next star is coming
that all that remains
is the waiting and prayer
and the long tiring business
of notebook and telescope,
until the brightness
consumes the dark,
a brightness conceived
and cradled for centuries,
she can say this is something
I have always expected
this is the harvest of years
And then when she speaks
the heavens remember
that she was the one
bearing money and flowers
and trips to the city,
incandescence of fireworks
when we gathered in dozens
on the summer nights
by the vanishing lake,
and most of all words
she brought us
arrayed like galaxies
into the forms of belief.
At home by the lake
she began the story,
building word after difficult word
until in the telling the world appeared,
until in the waters the stars came down,
and all of the planets
the heavens encircle—
Chislev and Zi
vilyn,
Raistlin and Caramon,
Palin and Tanin,
Raoul and the little one,
the trining moons
that herald the tides of her magic,
all in the choir of her memory,
where the voice of love
moved on the water
and sang in attendance
as the story rose out
of the lake and the midnight,
the attar of roses
on the farthest shore,
and the winter reverted
to incredible spring
as it always reverts,
and the snow and the spirits
went where they wish
in the lands of belief
as the story begins again.
Appendix
Song of Huma
Tales of Huma, the ancient and almost mythical heroic Knight of Solamnia, have inspired many performance pieces over the centuries. No two pieces agree on the details of his history, and many were written in support of various personal causes.
This song is one of the oldest known on Krynn, and was written only a few years after the disappearance of Huma at the conclusion of the Dragon War. Despite the fact that it undoubtedly was created by those who knew Huma, the text of the song—more appropriately called a hymn—is completely lacking in any helpful details about Huma’s life.
The spelling of the name with an “h” appended is intended to honor the sound of his name when sung.
Song of Huma
Knights of Takhisis
Dark Warriors
Many readers who love the novels of the DRAGONLANCE saga go on to live the adventure by playing Ansalonian characters in the ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS® role-playing game. The following expansion of existing campaign rules provides players yet another option for their gaming.
The Knights of Takhisis are a new nonplayer character (NPC) class in the DRAGONLANCE world of Ansalon. Nonexistent during the War of the Lance, these lawful evil knights were formed some twenty years after the downfall of Neraka, when the Queen of Darkness was banished back to the Abyss. The knights are an emerging and cohesive force of order and darkness in a world still reeling from years of war. What does their emergence mean for the forces of freedom in a shattered world?
Game Statistics
Characters must meet the basic warrior ability requirements in order to qualify for any of the orders of the Knights of Takhisis. (See the AD&D® 2nd Edition Players Handbook.) All characters start in the Order of the Lily and may progress to other orders later if they so choose.
All beginning characters of this class start with a patron (Lily), sponsor (Skull), or mentor (Thorn). This is an elder NPC who has brought the new character into the order. Knights of Takhisis never just “sign up” or enlist. They must always be sponsored by an older knight (7th level or higher) of any of the three orders.
This NPC becomes guarantor and advocate for the character. The advocate’s commands and judgments are the final law and always unquestionably obeyed. It is the responsibility of the advocate to forward the advancement of the character in the knighthood—or to kill the character who is disobedient.
The advocate assumes the role of parent, judge, executioner, and, depending on the relationship, occasionally lover. Regardless of the relationship, the NPC will hunt down and destroy the character without compassion if he or she shows the least sign of disobedience to the order. To do otherwise would bring death on the advocate from his or her own sponsor.
As with the Knights of Solamnia, women may enter the ranks of the Knights of Takhisis. One of the most renowned leaders during the War of the Lance was Dragon Highlord Kitiara Uth Matar, and despite the fact that she was, in large part, responsible for the death of Lord Ariakan’s father, Kitiara is celebrated as one of the heroes of the knights, for her courage and daring in battle. Women may enter any order without restriction and may rise as high as their own abilities take them.
History
The capture and subsequent imprisonment of Ariakan, son of the powerful Dragon Highlord Ariakas and—so it is rumored—the sea goddess Zeboim, was one of the best-kept secrets of the War of the Lance. His very existence was not even suspected by the forces of the west until the fall of the Temple of Neraka.
Solamnic Knights discovered the young man during the occupation of the evil temple. He had been hiding in one of the lower levels of the temple, his father having left his son under the protection of a large draconian force led by nine of Lord Ariakan’s most trusted lieutenants. In the fierce battle that ensued, the young man did not accept the mercy that was offered him, but refused to surrender. He fought bravely and skillfully, killing five of the Solamnic Knights in combat before being forcibly subdued.
On his capture, Ariakan made no secret of his lineage, revealing his parentage proudly. Although the knights did not believe the bold youth, they were impressed by his obvious skill, courage, and intelligence. The fact that he was being guarded by such a strong force indicated he was someone in whom the late Dragon Highlord took an interest. The knights removed Ariakan to the High Clerist’s Tower for holding and questioning. At length, they credited his story and realized what a valuable prisoner had fallen into their hands. Ariakan was to remain their prisoner for more than six years.
During this time, Ariakan learned all that he could about the structure, organization, and mentality of the Solamnic Knights. A personable youth, handsome and charming, he soon won both the favor and admiration of his captors. The knights were, of course, eager to indoctrinate him in the Oath and the Measure, believing that such a course of study would benefit the young man and teach him the error of his ways. The error, however, was on the part of the knights.
Ariakan studied the knighthood as any warrior would study his enemy—in detail. It was only a matter of time before he knew all the right things to say that would convince the knights of his total rehabilitation and conversion. Indeed, after two years, he was given an early release from the High Clerist’s Tower, but he asked to stay and finish his studies. His request was happily granted.
It has been rumored that the knights actually considered offering Ariakan knighthood. Everyone now denies it, of course, but the lord knights all fall noticeably silent when the subject is broached. If knighthood was offered to Ariakan, he most politely and graciously refused. At the end of six years, having learned all he could from the knights, he offered his farewells.
Many among the knighthood were sorry to see him go, for Ariakan was a charming companion, a knowledgeable scholar, and an excellent fighter. Only after he had left the knights did it occur to them that—during all the time he was with them—he had been careful never to actually proclaim any true allegiance, swear any vow, take any oath.
Ariakan was in his mid-twenties when he rode out onto the Solamnic Plain. He had an escort—knights bound for other parts of the realm—but he soon managed to divest himself of his unwanted companions. Immersed in their own affairs, attempting to put back together a country shattered by war, the Solamnic Knights made only a halfhearted attempt to locate Ariakan, but to no avail. He had led them to believe he was going to enter the mercenary line of work and, though they considered this a lowly occupation, they agreed that he must be off in some realm, selling his sword to earn his living.
Ariakan had no thought of selling his sword. He had learned much more from the knights than just their culture, tradition, and history. Using the skills the knights had taught him, he eluded their watch and slipped back across the plains. Amidst a raging blizzard, he climbed the forbidding mountains of Neraka.
He soon lost his way. Frozen and starving, he would undoubtedly perish without help. He collapsed in a snowdrift and, with his last breath, prayed to his mother, Zeboim, for aid.
He had no more than ended his prayer when he saw, in the snow before him, a seashell. Accepting this as a sign from his goddess mother, Ariakan struggled to his feet. A trail of sea-shells led him to a cavern.
Here he found shelter against the storm, a cache of food, and dry wood for a fire. He ate and, exhausted, soon fell fast asleep.
He woke from a sound sleep to find a warrior, clad all in shining black armor, seated near the fire. Ariakan did not fear the warrior; the man seemed familiar to him, and he thought deep in his heart that this might be some manifestation of his dead father. The warrior spoke with Ariakan, encouraged him to relate his experiences.
Ariakan spoke in admiration of the discipline and training of the Solamnic knighthood. He explained how they had achieved victory over the forces of darkness through their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the good of the cause.
“We are our own worst enemy,” he told the dark warrior. “Each commander in our armies was out for his or her own personal gain. Our troops lacked discipline because their leaders lacked discipline. Our soldiers had no respect for their commanders. Our commanders had no respect for each other. The Knights of Solamnia refer to this as ‘evil feeding upon itself’ and have proclaimed that this is an inherent trait of all evil beings. Such disorder, lack of discipline and loyalty, would always bring us to defeat.”
“And what do you propose to do about this?” the dark warrior demanded.
Ariakan was somewhat daunted, but he went on to tell of his dream—a holy mission that would be his life’s work. He wanted to form an order of knights that would rival and eventually supplant the Solamnic Knights as the dominant force for order in the world.
It was then that the dark warrior revealed herself—a vision of Takhisis from the Abyss. Though she was not pleased by such a blunt description of her own failings, she was wise enough to listen to Ariakan’s proposal and give serious thought to it.
Takhisis ordered him to continue.
Awed, Ariakan poured out his heart and soul to his queen. He had witnessed the strengths of the Solamnic Knights—and also their failings.
“We must not be like the giant oak trees, which do not bend and are often toppled at the roots. We must not be stone, which never yields but can be broken and is worn away by the elements. We must not be water, which yields too easily and follows every path.
The Second Generation Page 44