Dragons of Spring Dawning

by Margaret Weis

  “Yes, s-sir,” stammered Tasslehoff. “I—I wouldn’t dream of interfering. I—I’ll just stay here with—with Flint.”

  “Don’t go into the woods.” Bakaris began to drag Laurana toward the cave. “Draconians guard the forest.”

  “N-no, sir,” stuttered Tas, kneeling down beside Flint, his eyes wide.

  Satisfied, Bakaris glared once more at the cowering kender, then shoved Laurana toward the entrance to the cave.

  Blinded by tears, Laurana stumbled forward. As if to remind her she was trapped, Bakaris twisted her arm again. The pain was excruciating. There was no way to break free of the man’s powerful grip. Cursing herself for falling into this trap, Laurana tried to battle her fear and think clearly. It was hard, the man’s hand was strong, and his smell—the human smell—reminded her of Tanis in a horrifying way.

  As if guessing her thoughts, Bakaris clutched her close to him, rubbing his bearded face against her smooth cheek.

  “You will be one more woman the half-elf and I have shared—” he whispered hoarsely, then his voice broke off in a bubble of agony.

  For an instant, Bakaris’s grip on Laurana’s arm tightened almost past endurance. Then it loosened. His hand slipped from her arm. Laurana tore free of his grip, then spun around to face him.

  Blood oozed between Bakaris’s fingers as he clutched at his side where Tasslehoff’s little knife still protruded from the wound. Drawing his own dagger, the man lunged at the defiant kender.

  Something snapped in Laurana, letting loose a wild fury and hatred she had not guessed lurked inside her. No longer feeling any fear, no longer caring if she lived or died, Laurana had one thought in mind—she would kill this human male.

  With a savage shriek, she flung herself at him, knocking him to the ground. He gave a grunt, then lay still beneath her. Desperately Laurana fought, trying to grab his knife. Then she realized his body was not moving. Slowly she rose to her feet, shaking in reaction.

  For a moment she could see nothing through the red mist before her eyes. When it cleared, she saw Tasslehoff roll the body over. Bakaris lay dead. His eyes stared up at the sky, a look of profound shock and surprise on his face. His hand still clutched the dagger he had driven into his own gut.

  “What happened?” Laurana whispered, quivering with anger and revulsion.

  “You knocked him down and he fell on his knife,” Tas said calmly.

  “But before that—”

  “Oh, I stuck him,” Tas said. Plucking his knife from the man’s side, he looked at it proudly. “And Caramon told me it wouldn’t be of any use unless I met a vicious rabbit! Wait until I tell him!

  “You know, Laurana,” he continued, somewhat sadly, “everyone always underestimates us kender. Bakaris really should have searched my pouches. Say, that was a neat fainting trick you pulled. Did you—”

  “How’s Flint?” Laurana interrupted, not wanting to remember those last few horrible moments. Without quite knowing what she was doing or why, she pulled her cape from her shoulders and threw it down over the bearded face. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “He’ll be all right,” Tas said, glancing over at the dwarf, who was groaning and shaking his head. “What about the wyvern? Do you think they’ll attack us?”

  “I don’t know,” Laurana said, eyeing the animals. The wyvern stared around uneasily, uncertain as to what had happened to their master. “I’ve heard they’re not very smart. They generally won’t act on their own. Maybe—if we don’t make any sudden moves—we can escape into the forest before they figure out what’s happened. Help Flint.”

  “Come on, Flint,” Tas said urgently, tugging at the dwarf. “We’ve got to esc—”

  The kender’s voice was cut off by a wild cry, a cry of such fear and terror that it made Tas’s hair stand on end. Looking up, he saw Laurana staring at a figure that had—apparently—emerged from the cave. At the sight of the figure, Tasslehoff felt the most terrible sensation sweep over his body. His heart raced, his hands went cold, he couldn’t breathe.

  “Flint!” he managed to gasp before his throat closed completely.

  The dwarf, hearing a tone in the kender’s voice he’d never heard before, struggled to sit up. “What—”

  Tas could only point.

  Flint focused his bleary vision in the direction Tas indicated.

  “In the name of Reorx,” the dwarf said, his voice breaking, “what is that?”

  The figure moved relentlessly toward Laurana, who—held spellbound at its command—could do nothing but stare at it. Dressed in antique armor, it might have been a Knight of Solamnia. But the armor was blackened as if it had been burned by fire. An orange light flared beneath its helm, while the helm itself seemed perched on empty air.

  The figure reached out an armored arm. Flint choked in horror. The armored arm did not end in a hand. The knight seemingly grasped hold of Laurana with nothing but air. But she screamed in pain, falling to her knees in front of the ghastly vision. Her head slumped forward, she collapsed, senseless from the chill touch. The knight released his grip, letting the inert body slip to the ground. Bending down, the knight lifted her in his arms.

  Tas started to move, but the knight turned his flaring orange gaze upon him and the kender was held fast, gazing into the orange flame of the creature’s eyes. Neither he nor Flint could look away, though the horror was so great that the dwarf feared he might lose his reason. Only his love and concern for Laurana kept him clinging to consciousness. Over and over he told himself he must do something, he must save her. But he couldn’t make his trembling body obey. The knight’s flickering gaze swept over the two.

  “Go back to Kalaman,” said a hollow voice. “Tell them we have the elfwoman. The Dark Lady will arrive tomorrow at noon, to discuss terms of surrender.”

  Turning, the knight walked over Bakaris’s body, the figure’s shimmering armor passing right through the corpse as if it no longer existed. Then the knight vanished into the dark shadows of the woods, carrying Laurana in his arms.

  With the knight’s departure, the spell was lifted. Tas, feeling weak and sick, began to shiver uncontrollably. Flint struggled to his feet.

  “I’m going after it—” the dwarf muttered, though his hands shook so he could barely lift his helm from the dirt.

  “N-no,” stammered Tasslehoff, his face strained and white as he stared after the knight. “Whatever that thing was, we can’t fight it. I—I was scared, Flint!” The kender shook his head in misery. “I—I’m sorry, but I can’t face that, that thing again! We’ve got to go back to Kalaman. Maybe we can get help—”

  Tas started off into the woods at a run. For a moment Flint stood angry and irresolute, staring after Laurana. Then his face crumpled in agony. “He’s right,” he mumbled. “I can’t go after that thing either. Whatever it was, it wasn’t of this world.”

  Turning away, Flint caught a glimpse of Bakaris, lying beneath Laurana’s cloak. Swift pain cramped the dwarf’s heart. Ignoring it, Flint said to himself with sudden certainty, “He was lying about Tanis. And so was Kitiara. He’s not with her, I know it!” The dwarf clenched his fist. “I don’t know where Tanis is, but someday I’ll have to face him and I’ll have to tell him … I let him down. He trusted me to keep her safe, and I failed!” The dwarf closed his eyes. Then he heard Tas shout. Sighing, he stumbled blindly after the kender, rubbing his left arm as he ran. “How will I ever tell him?” he moaned. “How?”

  4

  A peaceful interlude.

  All right,” said Tanis, glaring at the man who sat so calmly in front of him. “I want answers. You deliberately took us into the maelstrom! Why? Did you know this place was here? Where are we? Where are the others?”

  Berem sat before Tanis in a wooden chair. It was ornately carved with figures of birds and animals in a style popular among the elves. In fact, it reminded Tanis strongly of Lorac’s throne in the doomed elven kingdom of Silvanesti. The likeness did nothing to calm Tanis’s spirits, and Be
rem flinched under the half-elf’s angry stare. The hands that were too young for the middle-aged man’s body plucked at his shabby trousers. He shifted his gaze to glance nervously around their strange surroundings.

  “Damn it! Answer me!” Tanis raved. Flinging himself at Berem, he gripped the man’s shirt and yanked him up from his chair. Then his clenching hands moved to the man’s throat.

  “Tanis!” Swiftly Goldmoon rose and laid a restraining hand on Tanis’s arm. But the half-elf was beyond reason. His face was so twisted with fear and anger that she didn’t recognize him. Frantically she tore at the hands that gripped Berem. “Riverwind, make him stop!”

  The big Plainsman grasped Tanis by the wrists and wrenched him away from Berem, holding the half-elf in his strong arms.

  “Leave him alone, Tanis!”

  For a moment, Tanis struggled, then went limp, drawing a deep, shuddering breath.

  “He’s a mute,” Riverwind said sternly. “Even if he wanted to tell you, he couldn’t. He can’t talk—”

  “Yes, I can.”

  The three stopped, startled, staring at Berem.

  “I can talk,” he said calmly, speaking Common. Absently he rubbed his throat where the marks of Tanis’s fingers stood out red against his tan skin.

  “Then why pretend you can’t?” Tanis asked, breathing heavily.

  Berem rubbed his neck, his eyes on Tanis. “People don’t ask questions of a man who can’t talk.…”

  Tanis forced himself to calm down, to think about this a moment. Glancing at Riverwind and Goldmoon, he saw Riverwind scowl and shake his head. Goldmoon shrugged slightly. Finally Tanis dragged another wooden chair over to sit in front of Berem. Noticing that the back of the chair was split and cracked, he sat down carefully. “Berem,” Tanis spoke slowly, curbing his impatience, “you’re talking to us. Does that mean you’ll answer our questions?”

  Berem stared at Tanis, then nodded his head, once.

  “Why?” Tanis asked.

  Berem licked his lips, glancing around. “I—You must help me—get out of here—I—I can’t stay here—”

  Tanis felt chilled, despite the warm stuffiness of the room. “Are you in danger? Are we in danger? What is this place?”

  “I don’t know!” Berem looked around helplessly. “I don’t know where we are. I only know I cannot stay here. I must get back!”

  “Why? The Dragon Highlords are hunting for you. One of th-the Highlords—” Tanis coughed, then spoke huskily. “One of them told me that you were the key to complete victory for the Dark Queen. Why, Berem? What do you have that they want?”

  “I don’t know!” Berem cried, clenching his fist. “I only know that they have been chasing me … I have been fleeing them for, for years! No peace … no rest!”

  “How long, Berem?” Tanis asked softly. “How long have they been chasing you?”

  “Years!” Berem said in a strangled voice. “Years … I don’t know how long.” Sighing, he seemed to sink back into his calm complacency. “I am three hundred and twenty-two years old. Twenty-three? Twenty-four?” He shrugged. “For most of those years, the Queen has been seeking me.”

  “Three hundred and twenty-two!” Goldmoon said in astonishment. “But—but you’re human! That’s not possible!”

  “Yes, I am human,” Berem said, his blue eyes focusing on Goldmoon. “I know it is impossible. I have died. Many times.” His gaze switched to Tanis. “You saw me die. It was in Pax Tharkas. I recognized you when you first came on the ship.”

  “You did die when the rocks fell on you!” Tanis exclaimed. “But we saw you alive at the wedding feast, Sturm and I—”

  “Yes. I saw you, too. That’s why I fled. I knew … there would be more questions.” Berem shook his head. “How could I explain my survival to you? I do not know myself how I survive! All I know is that I die and then I’m alive again. Again and again.” His head sank into his hands. “All I want is peace!”

  Tanis was completely mystified. Scratching his beard, he stared at the man. That he was lying was almost certain. Oh, not about dying and coming back to life. Tanis had seen that himself. But he knew for a fact that the Queen of Darkness was exerting almost all the forces she could spare from the war to search for this man. Surely he must know why!

  “Berem, how did the green gemstone get, uh, into your flesh?”

  “I don’t know,” Berem answered in such a low voice they could barely hear him. Self-consciously, his hand clutched his breast as if it pained him. “It is part of my body, like my bones and my blood. I—I think it is what brings me back to life.”

  “Can you remove it?” Goldmoon asked gently, sinking down onto a cushion next to Berem, her hand on his arm.

  Berem shook his head violently, his gray hair falling over his eyes. “I’ve tried!” he muttered, “Many times I’ve tried to rip it out! I might as well try to tear out my own heart!”

  Tanis shivered, then sighed in exasperation. This was no help! He still had no idea where they were. He’d hoped Berem could tell them.…

  Once more, Tanis looked around their strange surroundings. They were in a room of an obviously ancient building, lit with a soft eerie light that seemed to come from the moss that covered the walls like tapestry. The furniture was as old as the building and in battered, shabby condition, though it must have been rich once. There were no windows. Nothing could be heard outside. They had no idea how long they’d been here. Time had grown confused, broken only by eating some of the strange plants and sleeping fitfully.

  Tanis and Riverwind had explored the building but could find no exit and no other signs of life. Tanis wondered, in fact, if some magical spell had not been laid over the whole thing, a spell designed to keep them inside. For every time they ventured forth, the narrow, dimly lit hallways always led them inexplicably back to this room.

  They remembered little about what happened after the ship sank into the maelstrom. Tanis recalled hearing the wooden planks shattering. He remembered seeing the mast fall, the sails rip. He heard screams. He saw Caramon washed overboard by a gigantic wave. He remembered seeing Tika’s red curls swirling in the water, then she, too, was gone. There had been the dragon … and Kitiara … The scratches of the dragon’s talons remained on his arm. Then there was another wave … he remembered holding his breath until he knew he would die from the pain in his lungs. He remembered thinking that death would be easy and welcome, even as he fought to grab hold of a piece of wood. He remembered surfacing in the rushing water, only to be sucked down again and knowing it was the end.…

  And then he had awakened in this strange place, his clothes wet with sea water, to find Riverwind and Goldmoon and Berem here with him.

  At first Berem had seemed terrified of them, crouching in a corner, refusing to let them come near. Patiently Goldmoon spoke to him and brought him food. Gradually, her gentle ministrations won him over. That and—Tanis recognized now—his intense desire to leave this place.

  Tanis had supposed, when he first began to question Berem, that the man had steered the ship into the maelstrom because he knew this place existed, that he had brought them here on purpose.

  But now the half-elf wasn’t so certain. It was apparent from the confused and frightened look on Berem’s face that he had no idea where they were either. The mere fact that he was even talking to them gave an indication that what he said was true. He was desperate. He wanted out of here. Why?

  “Berem …” Tanis began, getting up and pacing about the room. He felt Berem’s gaze follow him. “If you are running from the Queen of Darkness, this seems like it might be an ideal place to hide—”

  “No!” Berem shouted, half-rising.

  Tanis spun around. “Why not? Why are you so determined to get out of here? Why do you want to go back to where she will find you?”

  Berem cringed, huddling back down in his chair. “I—I don’t know anything about this place! I swear it! I—I m—must get back.… There’s someplace I must go … I’m hunting for
something.… Until I find it, there’ll be no rest.”

  “Find it! Find what?” Tanis shouted. He felt Goldmoon’s hand on his arm and he knew he was raving like a maniac, but it was so frustrating! To have what the Queen of Darkness would give the world to acquire and not know why!

  “I can’t tell you!” Berem whimpered.

  Tanis sucked in his breath, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. His head throbbed. He felt as if he might fly into a thousand pieces. Goldmoon rose to her feet. Putting both her hands on his shoulders, she whispered soothing words he could not comprehend, except for the name of Mishakal. Slowly the terrible feeling passed, leaving him drained and exhausted.

  “All right, Berem.” Tanis sighed. “It’s all right. I’m sorry. We won’t talk about it anymore. Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”

  Berem hesitated a moment, his eyes narrowed and he grew tense. Tanis was struck by Berem’s peculiar manner. “I’m from Solace. Where are you from?” he repeated casually.

  Berem regarded him warily. “You, you would never have heard of it. A—A small village outside of … outside of …” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Neraka.”

  “Neraka?” Tanis looked at Riverwind.

  The Plainsman shook his head. “He’s right. I have never heard of it.”

  “Nor I,” Tanis muttered. “Too bad Tasslehoff and his maps aren’t here.… Berem, why—”

  “Tanis!” Goldmoon cried.

  The half-elf rose at the sound of her voice, his hand going reflexively to the sword that wasn’t there. Dimly he remembered struggling with it in the water, its weight dragging him down. Cursing himself for not setting Riverwind to guard the door, he could do nothing now but stare at the red-robed man who stood framed in its opening.

  “Hello,” the man said pleasantly, speaking Common.