The History of Krynn: Vol III

by Dragon Lance

  The proposition reminded him of Ulvian. Kith had sent his son to Parnigar, as squire to that most able soldier. The young half-elf had proven so intractable and shiftless that, with deep regret, Parnigar had been forced to send him back to his father.

  The failure had stung Kith-Kanan far more than it had disturbed Ulvian. Yet when he looked at the young form of Vanesti, so much like a younger version of Kith-Kanan himself, he knew what his answer must be. “It would be my honor,” Kith replied seriously.

  *

  The aging woman watched the image of the elf in the mirror. The glass was cracked and patched, with several slivers missing. It had, after all, been reconstructed from shards. Five years earlier, she had hired a legion of skilled elven artisans to take those broken pieces, guarded by Suzine for years, adding crafts of their own to restore the glass to some measure of its former power.

  It seemed that, with the distance that had grown between herself and her husband, she had little left to do in life but observe the course of things around her. The mirror gave her the means to do so, without forcing her to leave her carriage and be exposed to the subtle humiliations of the Silvanesti elves.

  Suzine flushed as she thought of Hermathya and Quimant, whose cutting remarks had hurt her decades earlier when she had allowed them to penetrate her emotions. Yet even those barbs had been easier to take than the aloof silence of Sithas, her own brother-in-law, who had barely acknowledged her existence!

  Of course, there was goodness to be found in elvenkind, too. There was Nirakina, who had always treated her as a daughter, and Tamanier Ambrodel, who had offered friendship. But now age had impaired even those relationships. How could she feel like a daughter to Nirakina when the four-centuries old elf-woman seemed like a spry young woman beside the aging Suzine? And her hearing made conversation difficult, so that even Tamanier Ambrodel had to shout his remarks, often repeating them two or three times. She found it less embarrassing to simply avoid these two good souls.

  So she remained in this enclosed coach that Kith-Kanan had given her. The large vehicle was comfortably appointed, even to the point of containing a soft bed – a bed that was always hers alone.

  For what must have been the millionth time, she wondered about the course her life had taken, about the love she had developed for an elf who would inevitably outlive her by centuries. She couldn’t regret that decision. Her years of happiness with Kith-Kanan had been the finest of her life. But those years were gone, and if she didn’t regret her choice of nearly four decades earlier, neither could she bury the unhappiness that was now her constant companion.

  Her children were no comfort. Ulvian and Verhanna seemed embarrassed by their mother’s humanness and shunned her, pretending to be full-blooded elves insofar as they could. But she felt pity for them as well, for their father had never shown them the affection that would have been due his proper heirs – as if he himself was secretly ashamed of their mixed racial heritage.

  Now that she was too old to ride a horse, her husband carted her around in this carriage. She felt like so much baggage, a cargo that Kith-Kanan was determined to see properly delivered before he proceeded with the rest of his life. How long could she remain like this? What could she do to change her lot in her waning years?

  Her mind drifted to the enemy – to her husband’s enemy and her own. General Giarna frightened her now more than ever before. Often she had observed him in the repaired glass, shocked by the youthful appearance and vigor of the man. She sensed in him the power of something much deeper than she had first suspected.

  Often she remembered the way Giarna had slain General Barnet. It was as if he had sucked the life out of him, she remembered thinking. That, she now knew, was exactly what he had done. How many more lives had the Boy General claimed over the years? What was the true cost of his youthfulness?

  Her mind and her mirror drifted back to Kith-Kanan. She saw him in the conference. He was close enough to her that she could see him very clearly indeed. The elf’s image grew large in her mirror, and then she looked into his eyes, through his eyes. She stared, as she had learned to do years before, into his subconscious.

  She looked past the war, the constant fear that she found within him, to gentler things. She sought the image of his three women, for she was used to seeing the elf women Anaya and Hemathya there. Suzine sought the image of herself – herself as a young woman, alluring and sensual.

  That image had grown more difficult to find of late, and this added to her sorrow.

  This time she could find no remembrance of herself. Even the spritely Anaya was gone, her image replaced by the picture of a tall, slender tree. Then she came upon Hermathya and sensed the desire in Kith’s mind. It was a new sensation that suddenly caused the mirror to glow, until Suzine turned her face away. The mirror faded into darkness as tears filled her eyes.

  Slowly, gently, she placed the mirror back into its case. Trying to stem the trembling of her hands, she looked about for her coachman. Kith-Kanan wouldn’t return for several hours, she knew.

  When he did, she would be gone.

  Chapter 30

  SPRING

  (2177 PC)

  The lord-major-chieftain supreme of Hillrock stretched his brawny arms, acutely aware that his muscles were not so supple as they had once been.

  Placing a huge hand to his head, he stroked blunt fingers through hair that seemed to grow thinner by the week.

  Squinting against the setting sun, he looked about his pastoral community of large one-room dwellings hewn from the rock of this sheltered valley. To the east towered the heights of the Khalkist Mountains, while to the west, the range settled into the flatlands of the Silvanesti plain.

  For three decades, he had ruled as lord-major-chieftain supreme, and they had been good years for all of his people. Good years, but past now. Poking his broad tongue against the single tooth that jutted proudly from his lower gum, the lord-major exercised his mind by attempting to ponder the future.

  A nagging urge tugged at him, desirous of pulling him away from peaceful Hillrock. He couldn’t put his finger on the reasons, but the hill giant who had once been called One-Tooth now felt a need to leave, to strike out across those plains. He was reluctant to answer this compulsion, for he had the feeling that once he left, he would never return. He couldn’t understand this compulsion, but it grew more persistent every day.

  Finally the hill giant gathered his wives together, cuffing and cursing them until he had their attention.

  “I go away!” he said loudly.

  The formalities completed, he hefted his club and started down the valley.

  Whatever the nature of the longing that drew him to the plains, he knew that he would find its source in an elf who had once been his friend.

  *

  The conference broke up in awkward farewells. Only Hermathya displayed emotion, screaming and rebuking Sithas for his decision to send Vanesti to the battlefield. The Speaker of the Stars coolly ignored his wife, and she collapsed into spasms of weeping. She desperately hugged the young elf, to his acute embarrassment, and then retired to her coach for the long journey back to Silvanost. Few had noted Suzine’s departure late on the previous day. Kith-Kanan was puzzled by her leaving, though he assumed she had reason to return to Sithelbec. In truth, he was also a little relieved. The presence of his human wife put strain on any communication with Sithas, and Suzine’s absence had made the subdued farewell banquet a little easier to endure.

  Still, it was unlike her to depart so abruptly without advising him, so he couldn’t totally banish his concern. This concern mounted to genuine anxiety when, ten days later, they finally arrived at the fortress and learned that the general’s wife hadn’t been seen. Nor had she sent any message.

  He dispatched Windriders to comb the plains, seeking a sign of Suzine’s grand coach. However, true to Kith’s prediction, the spring storm season began early, and thunder-storms blanketed the grasslands with hail and torrential rains. Winds howle
d unchecked across hundreds of miles of prairie. The search became all but impossible and had to be suspended for all intents and purposes.

  In the meantime, Kith-Kanan threw himself into the choreography of his great battle plan. The forces of the Wildrunners mustered at Sithelbec, preparing to march westward, where they would hit the human army before General Giarna even realized they had left the region of the fortress.

  Intelligence about the enemy was scarce and unreliable. Finally Kith called upon the only scout he could count on to make a thorough reconnaissance: Parnigar.

  “Take two dozen riders and get as close as you can,” ordered Kith-Kanan, knowing full well that he was asking his old friend to place his life at grave risk.

  But he had no real alternative.

  If the veteran resented the difficult order, he didn’t let on. “I’ll try to get out and back quickly,” he replied. “We want to get the campaign off to an early start.”

  “Agreed,” Kith noted. “And be careful. I’d rather see you come back empty-handed than not come back at all.”

  Parnigar grinned, then grew suddenly serious. “Has there been any word about – I should say ‘from’ – Suzine?”

  Kith sighed. “Not a thing. It’s as if the world gobbled her up. She slipped away from the conference that afternoon. I brought Vanesti back to the camp as my squire and found her gone.”

  “These damned storms will run their course in another few weeks,” said the scout, “but I doubt you’ll be able to send fliers out before then. No doubt she’s holed up safe on some farmstead …”

  But his words lacked conviction. Indeed, Kith-Kanan had lost optimism and didn’t know what to believe anymore. All indications were that Suzine had left the camp of her own free will. Why? And why wasn’t he more upset?

  “You mentioned your squire.” Parnigar smoothly changed the subject. “How’s the young fellow working out?”

  “He’s eager, I’ve got to grant him that. My armor hasn’t gleamed like this in years.”

  “When we march …?”

  “He’ll have to come along,” Kith replied. “But I’ll keep him to the rear. He doesn’t have enough experience to let him near the fighting.”

  “Aye,” grunted the old warrior before disappearing into the storm.

  *

  “This will do, driver. I shall proceed on foot.”

  “Milady?” The coachman, as he opened the door for Suzine, looked at her in concern. “The Army of Ergoth has scouts all over here,” he said. “They’ll find you for sure.”

  I’m counting on that. Suzine didn’t verbalize her reply. “Your dedication is touching, but, really, I’ll be fine.”

  “I think the general would be —”

  “The general will not be displeased,” she said firmly.

  “Very well —” His reluctance was plain in his voice, but he assisted her in stepping to the ground. The carriage rested at the side of a muddy trail.

  Several wide pathways led into the woods around them.

  She was grateful for the smoothness of the trail. Neither her eyes nor her legs were up to a rigorous hike. She turned toward the coachman who had carried her so faithfully across the plains for more than a week. Her mirror, now resting in the box on her belt, had shown her where to go, allowing her to guide them around outposts of human pickets. The only other possession she carried was in a pouch at her belt: a narrow-bladed knife. She wouldn’t be coming back, but she couldn’t tell the driver that.

  “Wait here for two hours,” she said. “I’ll be back by then. I know these woods well. There are some old sights I would like to see.”

  Nodding and scowling, the driver climbed back onto his seat and watched until the woods swallowed her up. She hurried along the trail as fast as her aging legs would carry her, but even so, it took her more than an hour to cover two miles. She moved unerringly past many forks in the path, certain that the mirror had shown her the right way.

  Shortly after she passed the end of her second mile, an armored crossbowman stepped into the path before her.

  “Halt!” he cried, leveling his weapon. At the same time, he gaped in astonishment at the lone old woman who approached the headquarters of the Army of Ergoth.

  “I’m glad you are here to greet me,” she said pleasantly. “Take me to see General Giarna!”

  “You want to see the general?”

  “We’re … old friends.”

  Shaking his head in amazement, the guard nevertheless led Suzine a short way farther down the trail, entering a small clearing. The top of the meadow was almost completely enclosed by a canopy of tall elms – protection against detection from the air, Suzine knew.

  “The general’s in there.” The man gestured to a small cottage near the clearing’s edge. Two men-at-arms flanked the doorway, and they snapped to attention as Suzine walked up to them.

  “She wants to see the general,” explained the crossbowman, with a shrug.

  “Should we search her?” The question, from a muscular halberdier, sent a shiver down Suzine’s stooped spine. She felt acutely conscious of the dagger in her pouch.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Suzine recognized the deep voice from within the cottage. The watchmen stood aside, allowing Suzine to step through the door.

  “You have come back to me!”

  For a moment, Suzine stood still, blinking and trying to see in the dim light.

  Then the large black-cloaked figure moved toward her, and she knew him – knew his sight, his smell, and his intimidating presence.

  With a sense of dull wonder, she realized that the tales she had heard, the images of her mirror, were all true. General Giarna stood before her now. She knew that he must be at least seventy years old, but he looked the same as he had forty years earlier!

  He stepped closer to her. She felt the revulsion and fear she had known forty years earlier when he had approached her, had used her. Slowly her fingers closed around the weapon in her pouch. The man loomed over her, looking down with a slightly patronizing smile. She stared into his eyes and saw that same hollowness, the same sense of void, that she remembered with such vivid terror.

  Then she pulled out the knife and threw back her arm. Why is he laughing? She wondered about that even as she drove the point of the weapon toward the unarmored spot at his throat. Giarna made no attempt to block her thrust.

  The blade struck his skin but snapped as the weapon broke at the hilt. The useless shard of metal fell to the floor as Suzine blinked, incredulous.

  General Giarna’s throat showed not the tiniest hint of a wound.

  *

  It wasn’t until Parnigar returned with his company of scouts that Kith-Kanan received any vital information regarding the enemy’s positions. Wearing sodden trail clothes from the nine-day reconnaissance, the veteran captain reported to Kith-Kanan as soon as he returned to the fort.

  “We pushed at the fringes of their position,” he reported. “Their pickets were as thick as flies on a dead horse. They got two of my scouts, and the rest of us barely slipped out of their grasp.”

  Kith shook his head, wincing. Even after forty years of war, the death of each elf under his command struck him like a personal blow.

  “We couldn’t get into the main camp,” explained Parnigar. “There were just too many guards. But judging by the density of their patrols, I have to conclude they were guarding the main body of Giarna’s force.”

  “Thanks for taking the risk, my friend,” said Kith-Kanan finally. “Too many times I have asked you.” Parnigar smiled wearily. “I’m in this fight to the end – one way or another!” The lanky warrior cleared his throat hesitantly. “There’s … something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “We found the Lady Suzine’s coachman on the outskirts of the human lines.”

  Kith-Kanan looked up in sudden fear. “Was he – is he alive?”

  “Was.” Parnigar shook his head. “He’d been taken by their pickets, then escaped after a fight. Bad
ly wounded in the stomach, but he made it to the trail. We found him there.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He didn’t know where she was. He had dropped her beside the trail, and she followed a path into the woods. We checked out the area. Guards were thicker than ever there, so I think the headquarters must have been somewhere nearby.”

  Could she be heading back to Giarna? Kith-Kanan sensed Parnigar’s unspoken question. Surely she wouldn’t betray Kith-Kanan.

  “Can you show me where this place is?” asked the elven commander urgently.

  “Of course.”

  Kith sighed sympathetically. “I’m sorry that you must travel again so quickly, but perhaps …”

  Parnigar waved off the explanation. “I’ll be ready to ride when you need me.”

  “Go to your quarters now. Mari’s been waiting for you for days,” Kith-Kanan ordered, realizing that Parnigar still dripped from his drenched garments. “She’s probably got dry clothes all ready to get you dressed.”

  “I doubt she wants to dress me!” Parnigar chuckled knowingly.

  “Off to your wife now, before she grows old on you!” Kith’s attempt at humor felt lame to both of them, though Parnigar forced a chuckle as he left.

  Chapter 31

  LATE SPRING,

  SILVANOST

  Hermathya looked at herself in the mirror. She was beautiful and she was young … yet for what purpose? She was alone.

  Tears of bitterness welled in her eyes. She rose and whirled away from her table, only to be confronted by her bed. That canopied, quilted sleeping place mocked her every bit as harshly as did the mirror. For decades, it had been hers alone.

  Now even her child had been sent away. Her anger throbbed as hot as ever, the same rage that had turned the two-week journey back to the city into a silent ordeal for Sithas. He endured her fury and didn’t let it bother him, and Hermathya knew that he had won.