The commander and his men fell to their knees, bowed their heads.
The Revered Daughter of Paladine bid them rise, then turned her sightless eyes toward Dalamar. The dark elf had inclined his head in a respectful gesture, but he did not bow. At her softly spoken command, the tiger led her to Dalamar, though the beast interposed its massive body between the two of them. Crysania extended her hand.
Dalamar brushed the woman’s hand with the tips of his fingers. “I thank you for your support, Revered Daughter,” he said, though with a touch of sarcasm.
Crysania turned toward the knights. “Will you now be so good as to escort us, all three, into the presence of Sir Thomas of Thalgaard?”
Although the knights were obviously reluctant to escort Dalamar anywhere except to the dungeons, they had no choice but to acquiesce. The Knights of Solamnia served the god Paladine. Revered Daughter Crysania was the highest official in the church dedicated to the worship of their god.
“This way, my lords, Revered Daughter,” the commander said, and ordered his men to fall into ranks behind them.
“How did you know I would be here, Revered Daughter?” Dalamar asked her in an undertone, seemingly not altogether pleased. “Are my movements being watched by the church?”
“Paladine watches all his children, my lord, as a shepherd watches all his sheep, not excluding the black ones,” she added with a smile. “But, no, Sir Wizard, I did not know you were here. Strange rumors are circulating around Palanthas. No one could give me any information, so I came to find out for myself.”
A slight emphasis on the words “no one” and the soft sigh that accompanied them caused Dalamar to regard her more closely. He took a step nearer. The tiger paced along with immense dignity, guiding its mistress’s steps and keeping careful watch.
“I take it, then, Revered Daughter, that your god has spoken nothing to you of what is transpiring in the world?”
Crysania did not answer in words, but her troubled, pale face expressed her thoughts.
“I do not ask out of some vindictive sense of triumph, Revered Daughter,” Dalamar pursued. “My own god, Nuitari, has been strangely silent of late, as have all the gods of magic. As for my queen.” Dalamar shrugged, shook his head. “Nuitari’s power wanes and, as a consequence, my own has been affected. The same is true of Lunitari and Solinari. All mages report it. It’s almost as if the gods were preoccupied …”
Crysania turned toward him. “You are right, my lord. When I heard these rumors, I took them to the god in prayer. You see this amulet I wear around my neck?” She indicated a medallion made of silver, adorned with an image of a dragon done in beaten gold. “Whenever I have prayed to Paladine in the past, I feel his love surround me. This medallion”—she touched it reverently—“begins to glow with a soft light. My soul is quieted, my troubles and fears ease.”
She was silent a moment, then she added softly, “Of late, the medallion has remained dark. I know Paladine hears my prayers; I feel that he wants to comfort me. But I fear that he has no comfort to offer. I thought perhaps this threat posed by Lord Ariakan is responsible.”
“Perhaps,” Dalamar said, but he obviously remained unconvinced. “We may find out more soon. Palin Majere has entered the Portal.”
“Is this true?” Crysania was dismayed.
“I am afraid it is.”
“How did he get in? You locked up the laboratory! You posted guards—”
“He was invited, my lady,” Dalamar said dryly. “I think you can guess by whom.”
Crysania went white, the color fleeing her cheeks. Her steps faltered. The tiger pressed comfortingly against her, offering support.
Tanis was quick to come to her aid, took hold of her arm. Feeling her tremble, he cast an angry glance at Dalamar.
“You let Palin go? You should have stopped him.”
“I did not have much choice in the matter, Half-Elven,” Dalamar returned, dark eyes flashing. “All of us here know firsthand of Raistlin’s power.”
“Raistlin Majere is dead,” Crysania said firmly, her momentary weakness swiftly passing. Standing straight, she withdrew her arm from Tanis’s. “He was granted peace for his sacrifice. If Palin Majere has been lured into the Abyss”—her voice softened in sorrow—“then it is by some other force.”
Dalamar opened his mouth, caught Tanis’s warning frown. The dark elf remained silent, though his lip curled derisively.
The three said no more during the remainder of their walk, each occupied with his or her own thoughts, none of them very pleasant, to judge by the shadowed expressions. The commander led them into a long hallway decorated with flags. Each flag bore the family crest of one of those currently listed on the rolls.
The flags hung unmoving in the hot, breathless air. Tanis, looking down the long row, found the crest of the Majere family, newly designed for the admittance of the two brothers into the knighthood.
The flag bore a rosebud—symbol of Majere, the god for whom the family had been named—submerged in a flagon of foaming ale. Tanis had always thought the crest looked more like a sign for an inn than a knightly standard, but Caramon had designed it and was immensely proud of it. Tanis loved his friend too well to breathe a word against it. As he watched, two young pages, mounted on ladders, were draping the flag with black cloth.
“My lords, Revered Daughter, please enter.”
The commander flung open the doors to a large room, invited the three to speak before the Knights’ Council.
The Knights’ Council is convened only on certain occasions, these governed by the Measure. They include the determination of strategies for war, the assignment of orders, the selection of a warrior lord prior to battle, to hear charges of unknightly conduct, to honor those who have performed valiantly, and to settle questions concerning the Measure.
The council is made up of three knights, one from each of the orders: Rose, Sword, and Crown. These three sit at a large table carved with the symbols of the orders, placed opposite the entrance to the council chamber. Those knights whose duties permit may be present during a council meeting. Those who wish to speak before the council stand in a cleared area directly in front of the table.
After the Code of the Knights, “Est Sularus oth Mithas,” is recited by all knights present in the hall, the Knights’ Hymn is sometimes sung, if the reason for the council’s convening is a joyous one.
At this meeting, the three knights present recited the code and then took their seats. The hymn was not sung.
“I must say, this is a historic occasion,” Sir Thomas commented, after introductions had been performed and chairs brought for the visitors. “And, if you’ll forgive me for saying it, not one I particularly like. To put it bluntly, this meeting of you three here, at this time …” He shook his head. “It smacks of doom.”
“Say rather that we have been brought here to avoid doom, my lord.” Lady Crysania spoke gently.
“I pray to Paladine you are right, Revered Daughter,” Sir Thomas replied. “I see you restless with impatience, Sir Wizard. What news do you bring us that is so urgent as to warrant a Black Robe’s appearance before a Knights’ Council—a thing that has never happened in all the history of the knighthood.”
“My lord,” said Dalamar briskly, determined to waste no more time, “I have it on good authority that the Knights of Takhisis will attack this fortification at dawn tomorrow morning.”
Lady Crysania drew in a sharp breath. “Tomorrow?” The tiger at her side growled softly. She calmed him with a whispered word, a caressing touch on the head. “So soon? How can this be?”
Tanis sighed inwardly. So this is what Dalamar meant when he warned me not to remain here. If I do, I will be embroiled in the battle. He is right. I should leave, return home.
Sir Thomas of Thalgaard shifted his troubled gaze from Dalamar to Tanis to Lady Crysania and back to Dalamar. The other two members of the council, a Knight of the Sword and a Knight of the Crown, remained seated rigidly upright, th
eir stern countenances betraying nothing of their thoughts. It was left to the highest-ranking knight to speak first.
Sir Thomas tugged on the long mustaches that were a hallmark of the knighthood.
“I trust you will not take it amiss, my lord Dalamar, if I question your reasons for bringing this news to us?”
“I see no need to explain to you my reasons for doing anything, my lord,” Dalamar replied coolly. “Suffice it to say, I have come here to warn you to make what preparations you can to meet this assault. Tanis Half-Elven, though he cannot answer for my motives, can answer for my veracity.”
“I believe I can answer for his motives,” Lady Crysania added in a low voice.
“If you want to know how I know, I can easily satisfy you on that score,” Dalamar continued, unmoved by the interruption. “I have recently been in the company of a Knight of Takhisis, a man named Steel Brightblade.”
“Son of Sturm Brightblade,” Tanis reminded them.
The faces of the three knights darkened; their frowns deepened. “The despoiler of his father’s tomb,” said one.
“Say, rather, the receiver of his father’s blessing,” Tanis corrected, adding irritably, “Damn it, I’ve explained the circumstances before this very council!”
The three knights exchanged sidelong glances, but said nothing. Tanis Half-Elven was a legendary figure in Solamnia. A renowned hero, he exerted a powerful force in this part of the world. Following the aforementioned incident with Steel Brightblade in the sacred tomb of the knights, Tanis had been requested to appear before the Knights’ Council to explain why he had personally escorted a young man known to be loyal to the Dark Queen into the Tower of the High Clerist and had then proceeded to take him to the tomb, where the young man had committed the dire sacrilege of disturbing the rest of his hero father. Steel Brightblade had destroyed the body, stolen his father’s magical sword, and injured several knights while battling his way out. Not only that, but Tanis Half-Elven and his friend Caramon Majere had actually aided and abetted the evil knight in his escape.
Tanis had given his own view of the incident. According to him, Steel had come to pay his respects to his father. He had been given the sword as a gift by his father, perhaps in an effort to turn the young man from the dark path on which he was bound to walk. As to Tanis and Caramon aiding him, they had both made pledges to the young man to guard him with their lives.
The Knights’ Council had heard other testimony, notably from Revered Daughter Crysania, who had spoken up for both men, adding her firm belief that Paladine himself had guided their way into the tower, for, though he wore his own armor, adorned with the death lily, evidence indicated that Steel Brightblade had been mistaken by every Solamnic Knight he met for one of their own—until the end.
The knights could not very well rule against such eloquent and moving testimony. They had judged that Tanis Half-Elven had acted out of honor, though it was, perhaps, misguided. The incident had been closed, but—as Tanis now saw—not forgotten.
Nor, apparently, forgiven.
Sir Thomas sighed, pulled his mustaches again. He looked at the other two, who nodded silent agreement to his silent question.
“I thank you for your warning, Lord Dalamar,” Thomas said. “I may tell you that your information corresponds to that which we’ve obtained from other sources. We did not know that the attack was expected so soon, but we have been expecting it. We are prepared.”
“I did not see much in the way of preparation,” Dalamar said wryly. He sat forward in his chair, indicated a map that was spread out on the table. “My lord, this is not a small force of knights you are facing. It is an army, a great army, numbering in the thousands. They have recruited barbarians from a distant land to fight for them. They have their own sorcerers, powerful wizards—as I have cause to know—who obey no laws of magic except their own.”
“We are aware of this—” Sir Thomas began.
“What you may not be aware of, my lord, is that they passed through Neraka. Dark clerics entered the haunted ruins and summoned the shades of the dead to join the fight. They stopped in Dargaard Keep, and I have no doubt that you will find Lord Soth and his warriors among the attacking forces. Lord Ariakan is their leader. You trained him yourselves! You know, better than I do, his worth.”
This was apparent, to judge by the grim expressions on the knights’ faces.
Sir Thomas stirred restlessly in his chair. “All this you say is very true, Lord Dalamar. Our own scouts confirm it. Yet, I say this to you, the Tower of the High Clerist has never fallen while men of faith defended it.”
“Perhaps that’s because men of faith have never attacked it,” Lady Crysania said suddenly and unexpectedly.
“The Knights of Takhisis have been raised together since boyhood,” said Dalamar. “They are unswervingly loyal to their queen, their commanders, each other. They will sacrifice anything, including their lives, to advance the cause. They live by a code of honor as strict as your own. Indeed, Lord Ariakan patterned it after your own. It is my opinion, my lords, that you have never been in greater danger.”
Dalamar gestured to the window. “You say you are prepared, yet what have you done? I look out and I see the main road, which should be clogged with knights on horseback and their attendants, lines of foot soldiers, wagons, and carts, bringing in weapons and supplies. Yet that road is empty!”
“Yes, it is empty,” replied Sir Thomas. “Do you want to know the reason why?” He folded his hands, rested them on the map. His gaze encompassed all three of them. “Because the enemy holds it.”
Tanis heaved a sigh, rubbed his bearded chin. “We sent out couriers, Dalamar. They traveled on dragonback to call the knights to arms. They have been gone three days. You see the response.”
“Those knights with land and castles on the eastern borders sent back word that they were already under siege. And some did not answer at all,” Sir Thomas said quietly. “In many cases, the couriers sent to fetch the knights did not themselves return.”
“I see,” Dalamar murmured, his brow furrowed in thought. “Forgive me. I was not aware.”
“Ariakan’s armies are moving with the speed of a brush fire. He is ferrying his troops and baggage and siege engines down the Vingaard River on a vast armada of barges. The river is ordinarily raging this time of year, but now, due to the drought, it is as smooth and placid as a glass of warm ale. Their barges have traveled swiftly, manned by the barbarians from the east.
“No obstacle can stop his army. He has in his force huge beasts known as mammoths, who are reputed to be able to knock down living trees with their heads, lift the trunks with their long noses, and toss them aside as if they were twigs. Evil dragons fly overhead, guarding the army, poisoning with dragonfear the hearts and minds of any who dare face them. I did not know about the undead of Neraka or Lord Soth, but I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
Sir Thomas straightened, his expression grave, but stern and dignified. His voice was steady, his gaze steadfast, unwavering.
“We are prepared, my lords, my lady. The fewer the numbers, the greater the glory, or so it is said.” The knight smiled slightly. “And Paladine and Kiri-Jolith are with us.”
“Their blessings on you,” Revered Daughter Crysania said softly, so softly that she was almost inaudible. Thoughtful, musing, she stroked the head of the tiger.
Sir Thomas regarded her with concern. “Revered Daughter, the day is waning. You should return to Palanthas before darkness falls. I will order you an escort—”
Lady Crysania lifted her head. “Indeed, you will do no such foolish thing, Sir Thomas. You need every man you have. A golden dragon, who serves me in Paladine’s name, brought us here. Firegold will carry us safely back.” She stroked the tiger, who had risen to its feet. “My guide, Tandar, will see that no harm comes to me.”
The tiger Tandar gazed at all of them, and Tanis had no doubt that Crysania was as safe with that fierce, savage, and loyal companion as she would
be with a regiment of knights.
She rose to take her leave. The knights, Tanis, and Dalamar all stood in respect.
“Several clerics are already on their way to aid you. They are driving a wagon filled with supplies and will arrive here sometime tonight. They volunteered, my lord,” she said, forestalling Sir Thomas’s objections. “You will need them, I think.”
“They will be most welcome,” the knight replied. “Thank you, Revered Daughter.”
“It is the least I can do,” she said, sighing. “Farewell. The gods be with you. I will remember you with my prayers.”
She turned away. Her steps guided by the tiger, she left the chamber. In leaving, she passed Tanis. He heard her add, in a soft murmur, “If anyone is listening.…”
“I, too, will take my leave,” Dalamar said. “I would offer you the aid of magic, but I know it would not be accepted. Though I remind you that Lord Ariakan has made wizards a part of his army equal in rank and status to warriors.”
Sir Thomas was properly apologetic. “I am aware of that, Sir Wizard, and I thank you for the offer. Our knights have never practiced the art of combining steel and sorcery. I fear that more harm than good might be done in such circumstances.”
“You are probably right, my lord,” Dalamar responded with a sardonic smile. “Well, I bid you all good fortune. You won’t mind my saying that you will need it. Farewell.”
“Thank you, Lord Dalamar,” Sir Thomas said. “Your warning may well have saved the day.”
Dalamar shrugged, as if the matter no longer interested him. He looked at Tanis. “Are you coming with me?”
Sir Thomas looked at Tanis. Everyone in the room was looking at Tanis.
Would he be leaving or staying?
Tanis scratched his beard, aware that he had to make his decision. The only way to leave safely now was to take Dalamar’s path, travel the roads of magic.
Sir Thomas, drawing near Tanis, requested a word in private.
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