Dragons of the Highlord Skies

by Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman

“Remember the bounty list,” said Lillith.

  “Ah, right,” said Brian. “Killing Highlord Verminaard.”

  “No one’s supposed to know that, of course,” Marcus said. “But a couple of bounty hunters got drunk in a bar down by the old docks and told the tale and now the story’s all over town. There’s other news, too.”

  “Not good, I take it,” said Lillith.

  “According to Alfredo—”

  “—his lordship’s clerk,” Lillith explained for Brian’s edification. “Alfredo’s also one of us.”

  “His lordship has been secretly slipping out of the city by night to meet with someone. Add to this the way his lordship has been acting—nervous and edgy and unhappy—and Alfredo decided to follow him, find out what was going on.”

  “He took an enormous risk,” said Lillith.

  “To give Alfredo credit,” said Marcus wryly, “he suspected his lordship of doing nothing more terrible than cheating on his lordship’s lady wife. Our friend found out different. His lordship went to meet with representatives of a Dragon Highlord.”

  “Blessed Gilean!” Lillith gasped in horror, her hand over her mouth. “We were right!”

  “From what Alfredo could gather, our lord is negotiating with the new Highlord of the Red Wing—a hobgoblin named Toede. If Tarsis surrenders peacefully, the city will not come under attack—”

  “The Highlord is lying,” said Brian bluntly. “They made the same false promise at Vingaard. They pretend to negotiate, but it’s just a ruse they use until their forces are in place. When they are, they will break off negotiations and attack.”

  Brian turned to Lillith. “The attack could be only a matter of days away, hours maybe. You are a Solamnic and the daughter of a knight. You will be in grave danger. Come with us. We will take you to a place of safety.”

  “Thank you, Brian,” said Lillith gently, “but I cannot leave the library. You have your mission, and I have mine. The library has been given into my trust. I have vowed to protect the books, and as you say, I am the daughter of a knight, one who keeps her vows.”

  Brian started to press the issue, but she shook her head with a smile and turned back to her friend. Brian saw that nothing he could say would sway her, and he loved her more for her courage and her honor, even as he wished with all his heart she were not so honorable, nor so courageous.

  Lillith and Marcus were discussing Brightblade and his friends. “Half the group is still in the Red Dragon Inn, including a cleric of Mishakal and a cleric of Paladine.”

  “Those old gods of long ago? People are claiming to be their clerics?” Brian asked.

  Lillith and Marcus looked very solemn, and Brian realized suddenly they were serious.

  “Oh, come now. You don’t think they are—I mean, you can’t believe—”

  “—in the true gods? Of course we do,” Lillith said crisply. “After all, we worship one of those gods ourselves. We Aesthetics are clerics of Gilean, pledged to his service.”

  Brian opened his mouth and shut it again, not knowing what to say. Lillith seemed a sensible young woman and here she was, going on about serving gods who had abandoned humanity three hundred years ago. Brian would have liked to question Lillith about her faith, but now was hardly the time for a theological discussion.

  “I saw cloaked and hooded figures hanging about the inn,” Marcus added. “I’m certain they’re draconians and they’re keeping watch on these people. If the Highlord gets hold of a cleric of Paladine and a cleric of Mishakal—”

  “We can’t let that happen,” said Lillith firmly. “We must bring the others here to the library. If the city is attacked, this is the one place they might be safe. Marcus—go outside, see if the library is being watched.”

  Marcus nodded and raced up the stairs.

  Lillith turned back to Brian. Resting her hand on his arm, she looked up into his face.

  “You must try to save the knight and his friends. The draconians won’t take them to prison. They’ll take them to their deaths.”

  Brian put his arm around her and drew her close.

  “I will do anything you ask of me, Lillith, but first, answer me this. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  “I didn’t,” Lillith said softly, smiling up at him, “until now.”

  They held each other close for a long, sweet moment, then Lillith sighed deeply and said, “You’d better go. I’ll stay here to keep on eye on the kender.”

  “I’ll stay in the library with you, help you defend it. Derek and Aran can go on this dragon orb mission without me—”

  Lillith shook her head. “No, that wouldn’t be right. You have your duty, and I have mine.” She smiled. Her dimple flashed. “When this is over, we will share war stories. You’d better hurry,” she added.

  Knowing it was hopeless, Brian gave up trying to persuade her. He shouted for Derek and Aran, and they made their way through the stacks of books. Tasslehoff accompanied them, despite Derek’s repeated orders for the kender to return to his reading.

  “My friends are in trouble, aren’t they?” Tas heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to go save them—again. Did I tell you about the time I rescued Caramon from a vicious man-eating Stalig Mite? We were in this wonderful haunted fortress known as Skullcap—”

  “You are not going, kender,” said Derek.

  “Yes, I am, human,” said Tas.

  “We can’t chain him to the stool. He’ll only run off if you leave him,” Lillith pointed out. “You might as well take him with you. That way, at least you’ll know where he is.”

  Eventually Derek was persuaded, though he wasn’t happy. “Once we return, Burrfoot,” Derek said, “you will continue searching for information on dragon orbs.”

  “Oh, I found that already,” said Tas nonchalantly.

  “You did?” Derek exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you didn’t ask me,” said Tas with grave dignity.

  “I’m asking now,” said Derek, glowering.

  “Not very nicely,” Tas admonished.

  Lillith leaned down to whisper something in his ear.

  “Oh, all right, I’ll tell you. Dragon orbs are made of crystal and magic and they have something inside them … I forget …” He thought a moment. “Essence … that’s it. Essence of chromatic dragons.”

  Tasslehoff enjoyed the way these words rolled off his tongue, and he repeated them several times with relish until Derek ordered him sharply to get on with it.

  “I don’t know what the essence of a chromatic dragon is,” Tas said, gleefully taking advantage of the chance to say it all one more time, “but that’s what’s in them. If you can gain control over one of these dragon orbs, you can use it to order dragons to do your bidding, or summon them, or something.”

  “How does it work?” Derek asked.

  “The book didn’t give instructions,” Tas replied, irritated at being asked all these questions when his friends were in danger. Seeing Derek frown, he added, “I have a friend who probably knows all about them. He’s a wizard. His name is Raistlin and we can ask him—”

  “No,” said Derek, “we can’t. Did the book say where to find these dragon orbs?”

  “It says one was taken to a place called Icereach—” Tas began.

  “You should really hurry,” Lillith interrupted urgently. She had been fidgeting near the door the entire time, glancing nervously up the stairs. “We can talk about this when you come back. Your friend the knight has been arrested and it’s likely he’s going be killed.”

  “He’s not a knight,” insisted Derek. “But,” he added in a more subdued tone, “he is a fellow Solamnic. Brian, you’re in charge of the kend—Master Burrfoot.” He and Aran started up the stairs. Tasslehoff hung about at the bottom, waiting for Brian.

  “One more kiss,” Brian said to Lillith, smiling. “For luck?”

  “For luck!” she said and kissed him, then she added wistfully, “Have you ever found something you�
�ve searched for all your life, only to know that you’re bound to lose it and maybe you’ll never find it again?”

  “That happens to me all the time,” exclaimed Tasslehoff, crowding close to the two of them. “I once found this extremely interesting ring that belonged to an evil wizard. It kept jumping me all over the place—first here, then there, then back to here again. I was quite fond of it, only I seem to have misplaced it—”

  Tasslehoff stopped talking. His story about the ring and the evil wizard was extremely exciting, very interesting and mostly true, but he’d lost his audience. Neither Lillith nor Brian were listening.

  Derek called his name impatiently. Brian gave Lillith one last kiss then got a firm grip on Tasslehoff, and the two ran up the stairs.

  Lillith sighed and went back to her dusty books.

  6

  The rescue.

  Sturm settles an argument.

  he knights and the kender emerged from the library’s secret entrance to find themselves in a snow storm, a startling change in the weather, for the day had been sunny when they went underground.

  Large, heavy snowflakes were plummeting down from the sky, obscuring their vision and making walking on the stone streets slippery and treacherous. Though Marcus had been gone only a few moments, his footprints were already being covered up by the fast-falling snow. As Tas said, the snow was so thick they could barely see their noses in front of their faces, and they were startled when a figure suddenly loomed out of the white curtain.

  “It’s me, Marcus,” he said, raising his hands as he heard the rattle of steel. “It occurred to me you’ll need a guide to the Hall of Justice.”

  Derek muttered his thanks as he sheathed his sword, and they hurried on through the storm, blinking the snow out of their eyes and slipping on the icy pavement. Though the rest of the world had gone still and silent beneath a snowy blanket, their little part of it was quite lively, for the kender talked incessantly.

  “Have you ever noticed how snow makes everything look different? I guess that’s why it’s really easy to get lost in a blizzard. Are we lost? I don’t remember seeing that tree before—the one that’s all humped over. I think we’ve taken a wrong turn—”

  Eventually they came to a street corner and a building the kender did recognize, though this didn’t stop his flow of talk.

  “Look at all the gargoyles! Hey, I saw one of them move! Brian, did you see that very fierce-looking gargoyle move? Wouldn’t it be exciting if it flew off its perch on that building and swooped down on us and gouged out our eyes with its sharp talons? Not that I want to have my eyes gouged out, mind you. I like my eyes. I couldn’t see much without them. Say, Marcus, I think we’re lost again. I don’t remember going past that butcher—oh, wait, yes, I do—”

  “Can’t you keep him quiet?” Derek grumbled.

  “Not without cutting out his tongue,” Aran returned.

  Derek seemed to be considering this as a viable option. By this time, however—fortunately for Tas—they had arrived at the Hall of Justice, a large, ugly brick structure. Despite the storm, a crowd had gathered out front, some of them shouting for the detested Solamnic to quit skulking about behind the lord’s skirts and show himself.

  “These people truly hate us,” said Derek.

  “You can’t really blame them,” said Marcus.

  “They were the ones who turned on us,” returned Derek. “Many Solamnics died in this city after the Cataclysm at the hands of the mobs.”

  “That was a tragedy,” Marcus admitted. “And after the riot was over, some of the people here were genuinely ashamed of themselves. The Tarsians sent a delegation to Solamnia to try to make peace. Did you know that?”

  Derek shook his head.

  “Their overtures were rebuffed. They were not even permitted to leave their ship to set foot on Solamnic soil. If the Solamnics had been forgiving to those who wronged them, as the Measure states they should,” Marcus added with a sidelong glance at Derek, “the knights would have been welcomed back to Tarsis and perhaps the city might not find itself about to be attacked by the dragonarmy.”

  “Much of Solamnia is now in the hands of the enemy,” said Derek.

  “Yes, I know,” Marcus replied. “My parents live in Vingaard. I have not heard from them in a long time.”

  The knights were silent a moment, then Brian asked quietly, “You are from Solamnia, then?”

  “I am,” said Marcus. “I am one of the ‘Pathetics’ as the kender terms us.” He smiled through the snow at Tasslehoff. “I was sent here with Lillith and several others to protect the library.”

  “There’s no way you can protect it!” said Brian, suddenly and unreasonably angry at the man. “Not from the dragonarmies. The library’s safely hidden. You and Lillith should just lock it up and leave it. You’re putting your lives in danger over a few books.”

  He paused, flushing. He had not meant to speak with such passion. They were all staring at him in astonishment.

  Marcus was gentle, sympathetic, but resolute. “You forget, Sir Knight, that our god is with us. Gilean will not leave us to fight alone, if fight we must. Wait here a moment. I see one of my colleagues. I’ll go ask him what’s going on.”

  He hastened through the snow to speak to a man who had just come out of the Hall. After a moment’s conference, Marcus came hurrying back.

  “Your friends are going to be taken to prison—”

  “I hope it’s a nice prison,” Tasslehoff said to no one in particular. “Some are and some aren’t, you know. I’ve never been in the Tarsis jail before, so I haven’t any idea—”

  “Silence, Burrfoot!” Derek ordered peremptorily. “Aran, put that damn flask away!”

  Tasslehoff opened his mouth to give the knight a piece of his mind, but he sucked in a gigantic clump of snow-flakes and spent the next few moments trying to cough them back up.

  “The constable won’t risk bringing them within sight of this mob,” Marcus continued, “not after what happened when he tried to arrest them. He’ll take them round by an alley in the back.”

  “Luck is on our side, for once,” said Derek.

  “Not luck,” said Marcus gravely. “Gilean favors us with his blessing. Hurry! This way!”

  “Perhaps it was Gilean who choked the kender,” suggested Aran. He had put the flask back in his belt and was patting the coughing Tasslehoff on the back. “If he did, I may become his disciple,” said Derek.

  Marcus led them around the side of the Hall to an alleyway that ran behind the building. As if the storm delighted in playing tricks, the snow shower ended, and sunlight sparkled on the new fallen snow. Then more clouds scudded across the sky and the sun began to play at peek-a-boo, ducking in and out of the snow showers, so that one moment the sun shone brightly and the next snow was falling.

  The building cast a shadow over the alley that was dark and gloomy. Just as they entered it, Brian saw two cloaked and hooded figures detach themselves from the wall at the far end and walk off in the opposite direction.

  “Look there!” he said, pointing.

  “Draconians,” said Aran, sneaking a drink when Derek wasn’t looking. “They’re dressed exactly like those who stopped us at the bridge.”

  “Do you think they saw us?”

  “I doubt it. We’re in shadow. I wouldn’t have seen them but they walked into the sunlight. I wonder why they left so quickly—”

  “Hush! This must be them!” Marcus warned.

  A door opened and they could hear voices.

  “Take the kender,” Derek told Marcus.

  Tasslehoff tried to insist they would need his help in the upcoming battle, but Marcus clapped his hand over Tas’s mouth and that ended that.

  The constable emerged from the Hall. He was leading five prisoners, one of whom, they were astonished to see, was a woman. Three guards marched alongside. Brian recognized Sturm walking protectively near the woman, and they had been told correctly: Sturm was indeed wearing a breastplate on
which was engraved the rose and the kingfisher, symbols of the knights.

  Whatever Derek might say of Sturm Brightblade, Brian had always found the man to be the personification of a Solamnic knight—gallant, courageous and noble—which made it strange that Sturm would do something so dishonorable as to lie about being a knight, wear armor he had no right to wear.

  Brian drew his sword, sliding it slowly and silently from its sheath. His friends had their weapons in hand. Marcus drew the muzzled kender back further into the shadows.

  The door slammed shut behind the prisoners. The constable marched them down the alleyway. Brian saw Sturm exchanging glances with one of the other prisoners, and he guessed that they were going to try to make a break for freedom.

  “I’ll take the constable,” said Derek. “You take the other guards.”

  The constable could hear the shouts of the mob in the front of the building, but he believed they were safe in the alley. He wasn’t looking for trouble and consequently wasn’t keeping a very good watch. The first he knew of trouble was when he caught a flash of steel. Seeing three cloaked figures rushing toward him, he put his whistle to his lips to sound the alarm. Derek clubbed him with the hilt of his sword, knocking the man unconscious before he could summon help. Aran and Brian menaced the three guards with their swords, and they ran off down the alleyway.

  The knights turned to the prisoners, who were blinking in astonishment at their sudden rescue.

  “Who are you?” demanded the half-elf.

  Brian regarded the man curiously. He was tall and muscular, clad in leather and furs, and he wore a beard, perhaps to conceal his elf features, though they weren’t that noticeable that Brian could see, except for his pointed ears. He appeared no older than his mid-thirties, but the expression in his eyes was that of someone who has lived long in the world, someone who knew life’s sorrows as well as its joys. Of course, the elf blood in him would give him a life-span far longer than most humans. Brian wondered how old he really was.

  “Have we escaped one danger only to find a worse?” the half-elf demanded. “Unmask yourselves.”

  It wasn’t until that moment that Brian realized they must look more like assassins than saviors. He pulled down his scarf, turned to Sturm, and spoke swiftly in Solamnic, “Oth Tsarthon e Paran,” meaning, “Our meeting is in friendship.”