by Dragon Lance
“The outlander is delaying,” Druzenalis cut in. “Send her to prison, Sire. And the dwarf as well.”
Until now, Samcadaris had remained silent, intimidated by his surroundings. At last he found his tongue. “Great Speaker,” he said cautiously, “may one who witnessed the fall of Thonbec speak his mind?”
The Speaker nodded. “By our leave.”
“Everything Lady Vixa and Master Gundabyr told us at Thonbec proved to be true. The Dargonesti are real. I have seen them, fought them. Twice the warriors from the sea attacked the fort, but always by night. If I were their commander —” He glanced around nervously as if to gauge how far he could go. “If I were the Dargonesti commander, I would not have attacked yet either.”
“And why not?” sneered the marshal.
“Silvanost is an island. The surest way for a water-dwelling foe to lay siege to a city as large as ours is to envelop the island.”
“With ten thousand troops? It cannot be done,” Druzenalis snapped. “A hundred thousand, or more, would be required to encircle Fallan!”
“In conventional terms, yes, sir. But the Dargonesti have an advantage. They can attack us on land, but we can’t touch them under the water.”
Vixa saw what the captain was driving at. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “The Dargonesti don’t need to defend their lines against attack, therefore they don’t need thousands of troops. By strategically placing their forces around the island, they can attack at will. And they can always retreat to the safety of the river.”
The Speaker’s relaxed posture vanished in an instant. He turned an intense gaze upon Druzenalis. “Could this be true, Marshal?”
Druzenalis was looking disconcerted, but he tried to wave off his junior’s ideas. “Assuming these enemies even exist, then perhaps —”
“I saw them!” Samcadaris said with heat.
“Me too,” Gundabyr put in. “And an Ironbender doesn’t lie!”
Gundabyr and Vixa were glaring at the marshal. Druzenalis kept his eyes fixed on the Speaker. The growing tension was diffused by calm words from Speaker Elendar.
“It seems you have brought a timely warning, Cousin,” he said, smiling at Vixa. “You and Master Gundabyr will remain here in the palace as my guests. Captain Samcadaris, you have served your country bravely. You are dismissed as well, with our thanks.”
At a gesture from the Speaker, two servants stepped forward. Vixa and Gundabyr bowed to the throne, and the servants escorted them from the room. She sent Samcadaris a questioning look, but the Silvanesti captain only shrugged. Vixa sighed. They had delivered the warning. Now it was up to the Silvanesti.
As they were ushered out of the audience hall, the Qualinesti princess heard Druzenalis begin a haughty denunciation of her and her story. Lord Agavenes joined in, agreeing with the marshal. Vixa was surprised to find herself feeling a bit sorry for the Speaker. He seemed to have inherited retainers from his father’s reign. Like most old retainers, each thought he knew better than anyone else – better, even, than the Speaker of the Stars.
Chapter 20
THE SWORD OF BALIF
Under the wind-tossed waves near the mouth of the Thon-Thalas, the Dargonesti were gathering. Queen Uriona’s servants erected a seaweed canopy to protect their queen from the sun’s rays in the relatively shallow water. Uriona’s throne, laboriously borne here from the distant city, was set under the canopy. The throne itself was a low, four-legged, backless chair carved of blood coral and inlaid with precious stones. Its wide seat curved up slightly on each side into arms shaped to resemble leaping dolphins.
Coryphene escorted Uriona to the place prepared for her. The queen, her face covered by a soft silver mask, seated herself.
“When will you be ready to attack?” she asked in the shrill, clicking tones of the water-tongue.
“Soon, Divine One,” Coryphene replied. “The army even now moves to encircle Silvanost. Once I join them, we shall begin the assault.”
She nodded. Her lavender eyes – all that was visible beneath her mask – stared absently at the pearls stitched down the sleeve of her robe. After a moment, Uriona murmured, “I should be with you at the ancient capital. I should be ready to enter my city once the land-dwellers are defeated.”
“Majesty, we have discussed this. You must not be placed in danger unnecessarily. Wait, just a little while, until the enemy is conquered.”
“Are you so certain they will be overcome? Your army is few. The drylanders are many.”
“They cannot stand against us!”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “But it is well I have brought the Shades of Zura with me. If the fight proves too much for you, their magic can be brought to bear on the Silvanesti.”
“I have no need of them,” he said angrily. “I shall conquer by spear and lance, not by veils of clouds.”
All at once her abstracted expression vanished, and she turned a penetrating look upon him. “Victory is within our grasp, Coryphene,” she said softly. “I see the city in our hands. I hear Quoowahb cheers ringing through the Tower of the Stars as I am crowned queen of the ancient race. Go, Lord Protector. Liberate my city.”
“Silvanost will soon be yours, Divine One. I swear it on my life!”
Coryphene sprang up, his powerful legs sending him racing through the water. Once he was lost from sight, Uriona waved a hand, dismissing her hovering attendants. The mask moved slightly as the queen smiled.
“Soon, my brother gods, soon Uriona Firstborn will sit upon the most ancient throne of the elves,” she whispered. “Once I am crowned in the Tower of the Stars, my destiny will be complete. No power on Krynn will be able to oppose me. No power on Krynn!”
*
None of the Dargonesti had ever been in fresh water before, nor so close to land. A few were made ill, but the nausea and light-headedness passed quickly. The great majority found it exhilarating, like swimming through water churned up by a great storm. Coryphene was among the latter. The Protector of Urione, with a small escort, moved swiftly through the river. Once he had joined his troops, the battle for Silvanost would begin.
The sun was low in the western sky when Coryphene and his escort came within sight of the city. He was amazed by its beauty. Its very strangeness, glimmering in the dry air, caused him to beam with anticipation. Soon, he and his queen would walk its streets, explore its mysteries, and fulfill their destiny. She would be its ruler, and he its defender. It would be the first of many victories.
The Dargonesti of Urione had too long been isolated in their city. It was time for them to make their presence known. Coryphene, under the guidance of the divine Uriona, intended to remind the world that the sea was the true power on Krynn.
He swam to the eastern side of the city, which was already in deep shadow. He and his troops watched as night closed over Silvanost and sparkling points of light appeared in its windows. Once more he marveled at the soaring towers and the strange growths called trees.
The sight of the gracefully shaped trees brought to his mind the drylander girl, Vixa Ambrodel, who’d first explained them to Uriona. She’d been spotted among the defenders of Thonbec, and it was assumed she’d perished with them. The Protector found himself genuinely regretting her death. Brave and resourceful, she would’ve made a fine ally.
As he stared at the drylander city, Coryphene felt excitement building in him. Soon, very soon, the land-dwellers would know that the legends were true. They would see that the Dargonesti were very real. The power of the sea would again be respected – and feared.
*
Vixa and Gundabyr had been invited to dine this evening with the Speaker of the Stars. Unlike the usual state occasions, when as many as fifty might sit down with the ruler of the Silvanesti, only the three of them were present for this meal. In one of the palace’s smaller rooms a table, laden with food and drink, was set up. Three places were laid with gold plates and silken napkins.
The Qualinesti princess felt she had spent a very unfruitful d
ay. She had slept until nearly noon and had absolutely no duties to occupy her time. Her requests for information on the progress of the city’s defenses were met with ignorance (from the servants) or unhelpful politeness (from everyone else). Lord Agavenes had sent a barely civil request that the Qualinesti girl and her dwarven companion remain within the palace, so as not to disrupt the citizens of Silvanost by wandering about the streets. Vixa had been furious, but Gundabyr – feeling he’d earned a respite – bluntly told her to stop her grumbling. He said they should take what rest they could, since once the Dargonesti got here there’d be no sleep for any of them.
The Speaker’s summons had been most welcome to Vixa. She assumed he would answer her many questions about the plans for Silvanost’s defense. She was wrong.
Speaker Elendar seated himself at the table and bade his guests do likewise. He was a charming host, and with his own hand filled three slender goblets with nectar. Once these were distributed, he dismissed his attendants so he and his guests could speak in private.
When Gundabyr tasted the nectar, his bushy black eyebrows rose. An excellent vintage. He’d never tasted better. He downed the entire contents of the goblet in one gulp, then held it out for more. Speaker Elendar smilingly refilled it. Once this amount was reduced by half, Gundabyr partook of some of the delicacies set before him. The food was a little light for his tastes, but certainly more than palatable. The dwarf gave the Speaker a puzzled look.
“Majesty, don’t get me wrong, but I thought you Silvanesti were all like Agavenes and Druzenalis, and didn’t care for outsiders.”
Elendar sipped his own nectar. He held the goblet in both hands, staring at the pattern of stars engraved on its slender bowl.
“I am my father’s fourth son,” he said by way of explanation. “The previous Speaker was the last of my brothers. When he died, most unexpectedly, none of his sons was old enough to rule, so I came to the throne.” Vixa and the dwarf regarded him blankly. He sipped his nectar and went on. “My point is, it was never expected that I would become Speaker, so I wasn’t trained for the role. As I had a bent for scholarship, I spent most of my early life with tutors. I know a great deal about Qualinesti and Thorbardin, but it has all come from books. Meeting you has been the most interesting thing to happen to me in ages.”
“Lately, my life’s been nothing but interesting,” Vixa said dryly.
“The end is in sight, lady,” was his serene rejoinder.
Gundabyr set his delicate goblet down so hard it rang against the tabletop. “You’re not thinking of surrendering?” he blurted.
“Of course not.”
“Sire, what plans have you made for the defense of the city?” Vixa asked.
“Last night an edict went out to every corner of the realm, summoning all freeborn males to our service. In a week, two hundred thousand Silvanesti will arrive to defend their capital. Of course, an enemy that breathes water is a formidable foe. I don’t know that the levies will be of much use against the Dargonesti.”
Vixa was silent, but her expression spoke eloquently of her inability to understand his calmness in the face of such a threat.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Cousin,” the Speaker added soothingly. “Coryphene cannot succeed. In a week, he will either be dead or captured and Silvanost will be saved.
This simple pronouncement was too much for the Qualinesti princess. She demanded, “How is this so, Majesty? You cannot do battle underwater!”
The Speaker broke a round loaf of bread into three portions, handing one to each of them. He took a bite of the sweet bread, chewed, and swallowed, then said, “Once we were warned of the sea elves’ advance, any chance they had to overwhelm us disappeared. Did this Coryphene and his queen imagine they could defeat a nation of one million Silvanesti with an army of ten thousand? Coryphene is bold, I’ll grant, and we have been burdened by old fools like Druzenalis and Agavenes for too long, but Silvanost is home to some of the greatest thaumaturges on Krynn.” He nodded slowly. “The fact that the Dargonesti will most likely surround the city works to our advantage – they will be spread thin. When the blow falls, Coryphene won’t be able to rally them.”
“What blow?” asked Gundabyr, mystified.
“My friends, you must be patient. I am not yet ready to reveal all.” The Speaker would say no more. Instead, he filled his plate from the bounty before them. Vixa and Gundabyr exchanged helpless looks, but had to content themselves with talking of other things. They answered the Speaker’s questions about their homelands and the other places they’d seen. A peaceful hour sped by.
At the conclusion of the meal, the Speaker of the Stars rose and offered his arm to Vixa – a great honor. “Would you like to see the Tower of the Stars?” he asked. “It’s always beautiful, but at night it is particularly so.”
They accepted with enthusiasm. Not even Vixa’s worry over the coming invasion could keep her from taking advantage of such a generous invitation. She might very well be the only living Qualinesti to enjoy such an opportunity.
The sun had set a short while before. As they crossed the plaza that separated the palace from the Tower of the Stars, Gundabyr kept up a steady stream of questions and comments. The dwarf fell silent once they entered the main hall in the Tower. The aura of power and majesty in the great structure made any noise at all seem sacrilegious.
The Tower of the Stars was basically a hollow shaft six hundred feet high. Three levels of small chambers ringed its base. Lines of window openings and precious jewels spiraled up the interior walls. This evening the jewels reflected the light of the red moon, Lunitari, and the white, Solinari, filling the interior with flashing rainbows. The Tower’s domed ceiling was dark and unadorned, pierced by a single opening that allowed a shaft of pearly moonlight to reach the floor far below.
Vixa and Gundabyr stared, their heads thrown back to take it all in. No columns supported the interior, and the vast open breadth of this central chamber was awe-inspiring. Vixa had thought the golden beauty of the Tower of the Sun in Qualinost could never be equaled, but this white and shining monument left her gasping.
Ahead of them, at the rear of the audience hall, seven steps led up to a raised platform. Three additional, wider steps led from this platform to the throne dais. The emerald Throne of the Stars sat in silent splendor on the dais.
The beauty of the Tower still moved the Speaker. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “Behind the throne is a small door. It leads to a tightly spiraling stair that reaches to the battlements near the Tower’s apex.”
“Can we go up?” asked Gundabyr eagerly.
Before the Speaker could reply, an interruption occurred. “Sire, may I enter?” a voice called from the doorway.
They turned and saw an elf standing in the Tower’s main entrance. The Speaker told the newcomer to enter. When he stepped into the moonlight illuminating the hall, they saw he wore the green tabard of a herald. His clothing was muddied, and he obviously had been running hard. His breathing was labored.
“I beg to report attacks, Sire, the first attacks on the city!” he panted.
As these dreadful words rang out, a group of elves appeared in the entrance behind the courier. They crowded into the audience hall. In the group were Druzenalis, Agavenes, and several priests and warriors, Samcadaris among the latter.
Druzenalis boomed, “Majesty, I have received reports that the city is under attack!”
“I have just heard the same news,” the Speaker said dryly. “Herald, where is the enemy?”
“They have attacked from the east, Great Speaker, at the Gate of Astarin.” This was the point at which Vixa and Gundabyr had entered the city. “They have slain the sacred turtle that drew the eastern ferry, and stormed the gatehouse itself,” the herald replied.
The Speaker thrust a finger at Samcadaris. “You,” he said, “take half the royal guard and go to the Astarin Gate. Drive the enemy from our city.”
The young captain saluted crisply. “It shall be done, G
reat Speaker, or I will not return alive!”
“Sire? Cousin?” Vixa said quickly. “May I join the fight?”
Speaker Elendar smiled faintly. “By all means. I hear your parents are most formidable warriors – especially Lady Verhanna. I welcome her daughter to our ranks. But you cannot meet the enemy unarmed. Druzenalis, give her your sword.”
“Majesty!” The marshal was obviously taken aback. When Vixa had asked to join the battle, he hadn’t bothered to hide his displeasure. His Speaker’s command, however, caused Druzenalis’s pale face to flush. “You cannot mean it. Give up my sword to this … this outsider?”
The loathing in those words stung her. Vixa held out her hand. The marshal did not move.
One of the Speaker’s silver-white brows rose questioningly. In a calm voice, he said, “Loan my cousin your sword, Marshal. Oblige me.”
Druzenalis yanked the brilliant blade from its scabbard. It was only two feet long – obviously ceremonial. For a moment, Vixa thought she was going to receive it point-first. But he reversed his grip and handed the hilt to her.
“I promise to do it honor, my lord,” Vixa said gravely, though Druzenalis pointedly ignored her. She looked to Gundabyr, who was grinning. “How about you? Want to come?”
He winked. “I got nothin’ better to do right now.”
Vixa, Samcadaris, and the dwarf rushed from the Tower of the Stars, preceded by the mud-spattered herald. Vixa heard heated words flash between the Marshal of Silvanost and his Speaker.
Outdoors, an orange glow lit the night sky. A fire was burning, a big one, in the wooded park that covered much of the south end of the island. Silvanesti elves ran to and fro in the streets, clutching bundles and sometimes weapons. Nevertheless, it was remarkably orderly.
“If Thorbardin were under attack, every dwarf in the kingdom would be at his front door, yelling at the top of his lungs,” Gundabyr said.