by Jeff Crook
"Quite right," Liam said. "Quite important."
Everyone grew silent as the leader of the Knights of Solamnia considered his options. Liam paced slowly before the sacred stone, his brows knit, his hands clasped behind his back. The air in the glade stirred with a fresh breeze from the north, sending shreds of smoke swirling like wraiths across the open meadow. Minutes crept by. The Whitestone brooded over the scene like a pale giant, his face turned to gaze at the heavens and the pale white moon coursing overhead.
Suddenly, Liam stopped and knelt beside the Whitestone. He ran his fingers through the grass at its base, being careful not to actually touch the sacred stone. With a small smile, he plucked something from the grass and stood up. By this time everyone was watching him. He turned his face to the moon.
"He missed a piece," he said to the sky and laughed.
He held out what he had found in the grass for all to see. It glinted in the moonlight. "Do you know what this is?" he asked. No one answered.
"It is a piece of a dragon orb," Liam said. "The dragon orb shattered here at the Council of Whitestone almost forty years ago. The elves and the Knights of Solamnia were at the brink of war over the orb, while the armies of darkness were sweeping across Krynn. A very dear friend of Lord Gunthar's was at that council, and it was he who saw what needed to be done, and he did it.
"He smashed the orb that day, destroying the prize for which the Knights and elves would have fought each other, much as we did here tonight." Liam paused, looking back toward Castle uth Wistan. "After he had smashed the orb, he said rather bravely, 'We kender know we should be fighting dragons, not each other.' With the prize no longer tempting them, the Knights of Solamnia and the elves turned their attention to winning the war against the armies of Takhisis.
"That hero's name was Tasslehoff, and he was only a small person, not very important to anybody except his nearest friends."
Liam thought for a bit, staring but without seeing the tiny crystal shard lying in the palm of his hand. "Kender aren't the only small people in this world," he said. "There are also the gully dwarves, a race that seems even less important than kender in the grand scheme of things.
"I will tell you one more story, and then I'll shut up. I know I am boring you with all this history, but we humans forget our history all too easily. And I do have a point to make," Liam said.
"This is the story as Gunthar told it to me. He learned it from Sturm Brightblade.
"It was during the War of the Lance. A group of heroes had been sent to the fortress of Pax Tharkas to divert the dragonarmies from their attack on Qualinesti. Inside the fortress, the group became separated. Tasslehoff Burrfoot and the wizard we know as Fizban were alone, and they discovered that a certain helpless, and to all appearances worthless, gully dwarf had been doomed to feed a dragon, quite literally, as he was fated to be the dragon's supper. Now the wise thing for Tasslehoff and Fizban would have been to find their way back to the others to help organize the resistance against the dragonarmies. They chose instead to rescue the gully dwarf. Why? Not because it was the wise thing to do. In fact, it was foolish, and it almost cost them their lives. What they didn't know, and what the other heroes didn't know, was that the group's plan had been discovered and a trap laid to capture them all. It was Tasslehoff and Fizban's foolish quest to rescue a gully dwarf that disrupted those plans and eventually led to the mission's success.
"They rescued Sestun, not because it was wise or militarily sound. They did it because it was the right thing to do."
Liam grew quiet then, looking in turn at each of the gathered Knights. He cleared his throat, his voice little more than a whisper. "We'll give them time to barricade themselves inside the fortifications at Xenos, and then we'll lay siege to the place. However, the wyvern riders from Xenos will never reach Ansalon alive."
"How can you be so sure?" Quintayne asked.
"The silver dragons. They guard the island ceaselessly. Now that we are openly at war they'll not allow anything to escape."
"We saw them at Castle Isherwood. When they came Pyrothraxus fled. So that means it will be days before the Knights at Xenos realize their messengers haven't gotten through," Valian said excitedly.
"Correct," Liam answered.
"That gives us time to plan, time to coordinate our assault," Quintayne said.
"And time to deal with the draconians," Meredith added with a grin.
"And rescue the gully dwarf," Liam added. "He is, after all, a hero. If he were human, we'd not hesitate to rescue him."
Lady Meredith rose and crossed the grass between the fire and the Whitestone to stand beside Liam. "That's right, Liam," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "You are absolutely right."
"But what about Pyrothraxus?" Valian asked.
"Pyrothraxus has retreated to his lair at Mount Nevermind. The silver dragons assure me that he will remain there for some time. It seems they surprised him at Isherwood and gave him a lesson he will long remember," Liam said.
"How do you know all this?" Quintayne asked.
"Since the War of the Lance, the master of Castle uth Wistan has ways of contacting the silver dragons. When I became Lord High Justice, Lord Gunthar showed me many of them. I have been in contact with them this night. Some of them were here tonight, during the fighting, though I doubt any of you recognized them, and more were watching." His eyes strayed to the starry heavens.
"If not for the silver dragons, Pyrothraxus would have long ago driven us from Sancrist," Liam continued, whispering. "We owe them more than anyone knows. It was through Lord Gunthar's careful diplomacy that so many have stayed here on Sancrist, guarding the heart of the Knighthood, while their fellow dragons retreated to their lairs in the Dragon Isles, abandoning humanity to the new dragons from across the sea."
"As long as they are holed up in Xenos, the Knights of Takhisis are harmless." Quintayne agreed, "Meanwhile, let's deal with Castle Slagd, the draconian fortress."
28
"It will not be easy," Liam said, "These draconians are not the normal sort. They've somehow managed to keep their stronghold a secret for at least two years, possibly more."
While he spoke, a servant poured brandies and served them to the other Knights in the library. It was late, only a few hours before dawn. The Knights had left Whitestone Glade in order to make hasty preparations for their next move.
Liam continued, "According to the gully dwarves, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing after the Grand Chapter…" The other Knights laughed. "… the draconians are led by someone called The Old Man. He is some sort of master of assassins, by my guess an aurak draconian, the most powerful kind. They are magic users, so that makes him doubly dangerous. The gully dwarves also assured me that there are not more than two draconians in the place, but we all know what that means. We must decide the best way to approach this problem, whether we should assault the castle in force, or send a small rescue party to find the gully dwarf and escape with him."
After much debate, it was decided that a small rescue party would work best. Even if Liam could spare the Knights to make up a large force, he had no way of getting them to the draconian castle. In any case, an assault would only serve to get the poor gully dwarf killed.
Instead, Liam chose a party of seven Knights to send on the rescue mission: Lady Jessica Vestianstone, Lady Meredith, the gully dwarf Glabella, two young Knights of the Crown, Ladies Michelle and Gabrielle. Sir Ellinghad also begged to go along, to atone for his voting against Sir Liam.
Liam finally chose Sir Valian. His wilderness skills would go far toward getting the group close to the fortress. "Besides," Liam added, "I believe Sir Valian has a score to settle with someone there."
"Indeed I do," Valian said into his glass. He drained its contents in one gulp.
When they had all gone, some to snatch a few precious hours of rest before dawn came fresh and rosy fingered, Liam paused with his back resting against the door and took a deep breath. This is it, he said to himse
lf. Paladine, I pray I've made the right decision. I think it's what Gunthar would have done. No, I am sure of it. Now, only one more thing to do. He walked to the fireplace and ran his fingertips along the edge of the mantle. As though searching for something, his fingers played across the surface of the wood, feeling each bump and groove. With a muted click, a false brick on the hearth swung open, revealing a small compartment behind it. Liam reached inside and withdrew a tiny silver bell. He rang it vigorously, but it made no sound, and he returned it to its secret compartment.
Satisfied, he walked to the window and opened it. A brisk autumn air entered the room, bringing with it smells of smoke from the fires still raging in some parts of the forest. Liam breathed deeply of it, feeling it course through his body, as he stood in the open window and watched the night sky.
Among the stars gleaming overhead, one in particular caught his attention, one that seemed to move occasionally, though to a casual observer it would seem nothing more than a trick of the clouds racing overhead. As he watched, the star detached itself from the firmament and descended toward the castle. The closer it came, the less like a star it seemed, and more like some object of polished silver, which reflected the light of the fires burning here and there in the forest. As it dropped into the shadow of the trees, it disappeared. A few moments later, a human figure detached itself from the shadows of the battlements and approached Liam.
"Greetings, Lord Ehrling," the shadow whispered. A silver-haired man with elven features stepped into the light spilling from Liam's window. He was wrapped entirely in dark heavy robes, but his sapphire eyes glimmered like a low fire in the shadow of his cowl. A few strands of long silver hair spilled from the hood and onto his shoulders. "You rang the bell that only our ears can hear. I came."
"I need your help," Liam said. "I need the help of all the silver dragons on Sancrist. I am sending a small group of knights to the north end of the island.… "
29
"Come. We go now," Glabella hissed. "This way." She pointed at a narrow overhang of rock, under which the shadows seemed especially deep and dark, bespeaking the probability of a cave. Castle Slagd brooded above them like some great carrion bird or crag-faced gargoyle, hunched and watchful. Its black walls rose in impossibly slender towers not unlike fangs, from which fantastic minarets hung, suspended as though by magic. The stormy sea crashed thunderously below.
The rocks where the Knights huddled were slick with sea spray and rain, and the Knights themselves were all but soaked. Jessica's short brown locks clung to her face as she looked up at the castle above them, and she wondered how they'd ever get inside.
Glabella stomped her foot in impatience. Valian snarled at her, "We can't go anywhere until our weapons are free."
He pointed at the half-dozen stone draconians lying among the rocks at their feet, the Knights' swords protruding from their petrified bodies. They'd surprised the patrol of baaz guards and given urgent battle, among the boulders beside the sea, until no enemies remained alive. Jessica tended a cut on Lady Meredith's brow, and Valian's cloven shield lay in the sand, but this was all the damage they suffered.
Like all baaz draconians, when slain their bodies turned instantly to stone, trapping the weapons of their enemies. Only Lady Meredith had withdrawn hers in time. She wiped it clean of the black draconian blood and returned it to its sheath, but the others were forced to wait until the stone bodies turned to ash and released their swords. Sir Ellinghad had gone up the shelf of rock to keep watch for other patrols.
The silver dragons had deposited them at a sandy cove about three miles away, and for the last few hours, they'd scrambled across that hard, broken landscape to reach this point by the sea, where Glabella said the secret entrance lay. Now the only thing to do was wait and try to keep as dry as possible.
A storm such as few had ever witnessed was lashing the rugged coast. Huge waves pounded the rocky shoreline, tossing spray and foam hundreds of yards inland. Icy rain blown by gale winds stabbed like daggers at exposed skin, making the Knights thankful for their armor. Glabella enjoyed no such protection. Only the thick mat of her hair, which shed water like an otter's skin, protected her face from the storm's worst.
Earlier that morning, in the bleak darkness, they'd exited Castle uth Wistan with their packs, weapons, and supplies, and found three silver dragons waiting in the courtyard.
The three dragons had agreed to transport the group over the wild mountainous north of Sancrist Isle, to a place near the draconian castle, but they wouldn't be playing a part in any assault. Once the Knights were safely on the ground, the silver dragons were to return to keep watch on Pyrothraxus.
Sir Liam stood on the battlements and watched them rise into the air. The wind from their wings whipped his long Solamnic mustaches and stung his eyes to tears. He raised his hand in farewell. When they were no longer visible against the night sky, he paced the battlements, deep in thought, until sunrise.
Dawn rose in a glut of scarlet and crimson, promising a storm before the day was done. The mountains of Sancrist loomed before them jagged, wild, and merciless. Few but gnomes lived there anymore since the coming of Pyrothraxus, and so there was no one to see the three silver dragons passing, higher even than the clouds racing before the storm.
As fast as the dragons flew, the storm flew faster, and it crashed ashore before they reached the citadel of the draconians. As the lead dragon sighted Castle Slagd, a fork of lightning split the formation, forcing two of the dragons to veer left. For a few terrifying moments, they vanished into the black clouds, then they reappeared and all three glided along the shore until they spotted a sheltered cove, offering a place to land out of the wind.
The dragons had deposited them on the sand and hurried away before the full fury of the storm struck. The Knights set out, climbing a rocky slope, until at its summit, they saw the draconian castle in the distance, starkly illumined by a flash of lightning.
Now rain continued mercilessly as they huddled behind boulders, waiting for the dead draconians to turn to ash and free their trapped weapons. Thunder shook the skies and lightning leaped from the mountain tops, while the rising sea surged around their feet, washing the draconian bodies. It seemed possible that their weapons would be lost, but then one sword toppled over as the stone crumbled,then another and another, and the Knights waded out to retrieve them before the surf washed them away.
Finally, everyone was ready. Ellinghad descended from his watch, reporting no movement within sight. Glabella pointed up the hill at the cave, and wordlessly they climbed to it. They entered cautiously, with Valian in the lead, as his elvish eyes gave him the advantage in the dark. Glabella stalked beside him, one hand in her bag, ready to wield the mighty magics she promised were at her disposal. The others lit torches and followed.
Grand Master Iulus drummed his claws impatiently on the arm of his golden throne. The throne was a recent acquisition, taken from a minotaur galley sailing from the landless west. The minotaurs had died to the last bull without revealing the source of the throne or the place from whence they'd sailed, but to Iulus it didn't really matter. He wasn't an explorer or even an adventurer. He was a Grand Master of assassins, and so that meant he was an opportunist. The throne was an opportunity he could not resist.
To General Zen, however, the throne was a symbol of degeneration. He looked upon it with disgust, seeing his Grand Master slouching there like some filthy hobgoblin king, his mind filled with greed and petty desires.
"So, our little friend still won't talk, eh?" Iulus said. "We shall have to do something about that."
"My lord, I believe we are wasting our time with the miserable creature. It is obvious that he has told us everything. We should kill him and be done with it, as Lady Alya suggests," Zen said.
"Your job is not to think," Iulus purred dangerously, "nor to listen to the councils of humans, no matter how pretty. This gully dwarf knows more than he is telling."
"But he is only a gully dwarf," Zen proteste
d.
Iulus rose from his throne. "Do you dare disagree with me?" he snarled. His twisted, malformed draconian face grew livid, the exposed veins and muscles pulsed, almost seeming to glow. "Who do you think you are? I am the master here. I trained you in the arts of assassination. I trained all of you. Without me, you'd still be a mercenary licking the boots of every hobgoblin chieftain with two more pennies than his rival."
The sivak general growled but held his tongue. "Forgive me, my lord," he said, bowing.
"Bring the gully dwarf here, and bring that self-proclaimed Highbulp, Mommamose. Perhaps young Uhoh would respond better if his dear old mother were under the lash," Iulus directed.
"Yes, my master," Zen said. He bowed and prepared to leave.
"Oh, and inform Lady Alya. I think she might enjoy this," Iulus laughed. "Tell her that if Uhoh refuses to talk this time, we'll kill him, but first we'll let him watch Mommamose die. That should pique her interest."
General Zen bowed once more, turned, and stalked from the chamber.
After he had gone, Iulus stared thoughtfully at the door.
He whispered to himself, "And I think, once this is done, that I shall teach you the final lesson of assassination, my old friend."
"It all comes of trusting a gully dwarf," Ellinghad snarled as he plucked a draconian arrow from his chain mail and tossed it aside. Pausing a moment to gauge the time between the blows that rained against the door, he threw back the bolt and jerked it open, slashing out with his sword and felling a draconian raising a mallet. Ellinghad then slammed the door shut and dropped the bolt back in place just as a dozen or so arrows struck the other side, sending splinters flying.
Beside him, Valian ground his teeth and nodded in agreement as he bound his wrist. He'd been pinked by a draconian sword, and he only hoped the blade wasn't poisoned. Lady Michelle hadn't been so lucky. She lay a few feet away, her eyes glazing, a poisoned arrow still lodged in her shoulder.