Dragons of Spring Dawning

by Margaret Weis

  Tanis sighed again. More problems. If the ancient gods had returned, what were they trying to do to them? See how heavy the burden could get before they collapsed beneath it? Did they find this amusing? Trapped beneath the sea … Why not just give up? Why not just stay down here? Why bother searching for a way out? Stay down here and forget everything. Forget the dragons … forget Raistlin … forget Laurana … Kitiara.…

  “Tanis …” Goldmoon shook him gently.

  They were all standing around him now. Waiting for him to tell them what to do.

  Clearing his throat, he started to speak. His voice cracked and he coughed. “You needn’t look at me!” he said finally, harshly. “I don’t have any answers. We’re trapped, apparently. There’s no way out.”

  Still they watched him, with no dimming of the faith and trust in their eyes. Tanis glared at them angrily. “Quit looking at me to lead you! I betrayed you! Don’t you realize that! It’s my fault. Everything’s my fault! Find someone else—”

  Turning to hide tears he could not stop, Tanis stared out across the dark water, wrestling with himself to regain control. He did not realize, until she spoke, that Apoletta had been watching him.

  “Perhaps I can help you, after all,” the sea elf said slowly.

  “Apoletta, what are you saying?” Zebulah said fearfully, hurrying to the edge of the water. “Consider—”

  “I have considered,” Apoletta replied. “The half-elf said we should be concerned about what happens in the world. He is right. The same thing could happen to us that happened to our Silvanesti cousins. They renounced the world and allowed dark and evil things to creep into their land. We have been warned in time. We can still fight the evil. Your coming here may have saved us, Half-Elf,” she said earnestly. “We owe you something in return.”

  “Help us get back to our world,” Tanis said.

  Apoletta nodded gravely. “I will do so. Where would you go?”

  Sighing, Tanis shook his head. He couldn’t think. “I suppose one place is as good as another,” he said wearily.

  “Palanthas,” Caramon said suddenly. His deep voice echoed across the still water.

  The others glanced at him in uncomfortable silence. Riverwind frowned darkly.

  “No,” said Apoletta, swimming to the edge once more, “I cannot take you to Palanthas. Our borders extend only as far as Kalaman. Beyond that, we dare not venture. Especially if what you say is true, for beyond Kalaman lies the ancient home of the sea dragons.”

  Tanis wiped his eyes and nose, then turned back to face his friends. “Well? Any more suggestions?”

  They were silent, watching him. Then Goldmoon stepped forward.

  “Shall I tell you a story, Half-Elf?” she said, resting her gentle hand upon his arm. “A story of a woman and man, lost and alone and frightened. Bearing a great burden, they came to an inn. The woman sang a song, a blue crystal staff performed a miracle, a mob attacked them. One man stood up. One man took charge. One man—a stranger—said, ‘We’ll go out through the kitchen.’ ” She smiled. “Do you remember, Tanis?”

  “I remember,” he whispered, caught and held by her beautiful, sweet expression.

  “We’re waiting, Tanis,” she said simply.

  Tears dimmed his vision again. Tanis blinked rapidly, then glanced around. Riverwind’s stern face was relaxed. Smiling a half-smile, he laid his hand on Tanis’s arm. Caramon hesitated a moment, then—striding forward—embraced Tanis in one of his bearlike hugs.

  “Take us to Kalaman,” Tanis told Apoletta when he could breathe again. “It’s where we were headed anyway.”

  The companions slept at the edge of the water, getting what rest they could before the journey, which Apoletta told them would be long and strenuous.

  “How will we travel? By boat?” Tanis asked, watching as Zebulah stripped off his red robes and dove into the water.

  Apoletta glanced at her husband, treading water easily beside her. “You will swim,” she said. “Didn’t you wonder how we brought you down here? Our magic arts, and those of my husband, will give you the ability to breathe water as easily as you now breathe air.”

  “You’re going to turn us into fish?” Caramon asked, horrified.

  “I suppose you could look at it that way,” Apoletta replied. “We will come for you at the ebb tide.”

  Tika clasped Caramon’s hand. He held onto her tightly, and Tanis, seeing them share a secret look between them, suddenly felt his burden lighten. Whatever turmoil surged in Caramon’s soul, he had found a strong anchor to keep him from being swept out into dark waters.

  “We’ll never forget this beautiful place,” Tika said softly.

  Apoletta only smiled.

  8

  Dark tidings.

  P apa! Papa!”

  “What is it, Little Rogar?” The fisherman, accustomed to the excited cries of his small son, who was just big enough to begin discovering the wonders of the world, did not raise his head from his work. Expecting to hear about anything from a starfish stranded on the bank to a lost shoe found stuck in the sand, the fisherman kept on restringing his net as the little boy dashed up to him.

  “Papa,” said the tow-haired child, eagerly grabbing his father’s knee and getting himself entangled in the net in the process, “a pretty lady. Drown dead.”

  “Eh?” the fisherman asked absently.

  “A pretty lady. Drown dead,” the little boy said solemnly, pointing with a chubby finger behind him.

  The fisherman stopped his work now to stare at his son. This was something new.

  “A pretty lady? Drowned?”

  The child nodded and pointed again, down the beach.

  The fisherman squinted his eyes against the blazing noon sun and peered down the shoreline. Then he looked back at his son and his brows came together in a stern expression.

  “Is this more of Little Rogar’s stories?” he asked severely. “Because if it is, you’ll be taking yer dinner standing up.”

  The child shook his head, his eyes wide. “No,” he said, rubbing his small bottom in memory. “I promised.”

  The fisherman frowned, looking out to sea. There’d been a storm last night, but he hadn’t heard anything that sounded like a ship smashing up on the rocks. Perhaps some of the town’s people with their fool pleasure boats had been out yesterday and been stranded after dark. Or worse, murder. This wouldn’t be the first body washed up ashore with a knife in its heart.

  Hailing his oldest son, who was sluicing out the bottom of the dingy, the fisherman put his work aside and stood up. He started to send the small boy in to his mother, then remembered he needed the child to guide them.

  “Take us to the pretty lady,” the fisherman said in a heavy voice, giving his other son a meaningful glance.

  Tugging his father along eagerly, Little Rogar headed back down the beach while his parent and his older brother followed more slowly, fearing what they might find.

  They had gone only a short distance before the fisherman saw a sight that caused him to break into a run, his older son pounding along behind.

  “A shipwreck. No doubt!” the fisherman puffed. “Blasted landlubbers! Got no business going out in those eggshell boats.”

  There was not just one pretty lady lying on the beach, but two. Near them were four men. All were dressed in fine clothes. Broken timbers lay scattered around, obviously the remains of a small pleasure craft.

  “Drown dead,” said the little boy, bending to pat one of the pretty ladies.

  “No, they’re not!” grunted the fisherman, feeling for the lifebeat in the woman’s neck. One of the men was already beginning to stir—an older man, seemingly about fifty, he sat up and stared around in confusion. Seeing the fisherman, he started in terror and crawled over on his hands and knees to shake one of his unconscious companions.

  “Tanis, Tanis!” the man cried, rousing a bearded man, who sat up suddenly.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the fisherman said, seeing the bearded m
an’s alarm. “We’re going to help, if we can. Davey, run back and get yer ma. Tell her to bring blankets and that bottle of brandy I saved from Yuletide. Here, mistress,” he said gently, helping one of the women to sit up. “Take it easy. You’ll be all right. Strange sort of business,” the fisherman muttered to himself, holding the woman in his arms and patting her soothingly. “For being near drowned, none of them seems to have swallowed any water.…”

  Wrapped in blankets, the castaways were escorted back to the fisherman’s small house near the beach. Here they were given doses of brandy and every other remedy the fisherman’s wife could think of for drowning. Little Rogar regarded them all with pride, knowing that his “catch” would be the talk of the village for the next week.

  “Thank you again for your help,” Tanis said gratefully.

  “Glad to be there,” the man said gruffly. “Just be wary. Next time you go out in one of them small boats, head for shore the first sign of a storm.”

  “Er, yes, I’ll—we’ll do that,” Tanis said in some confusion. “Now, if you could just tell us where we are.…”

  “Yer north of the city,” the fisherman said, waving a hand. “About two-three miles. Davey can give ye a lift in the cart.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Tanis said, hesitating and glancing at the others. They returned his look, Caramon shrugging. “Uh, I know this sounds strange, but we—we were blown off course. What city are we north of?”

  “Why, Kalaman, to be sure,” the fisherman said, eyeing them suspiciously.

  “Oh!” said Tanis. Laughing weakly, he turned to Caramon. “What did I tell you? We—uh—weren’t blown as far off course as you thought.”

  “We weren’t?” Caramon said, his eyes open wide. “Oh, we weren’t,” he amended hastily as Tika dug her elbow into his ribs. “Yeah, I guess I was wrong, as usual. You know me, Tanis, never could get my bearings—”

  “Don’t overdo it!” Riverwind muttered, and Caramon fell silent.

  The fisherman gave them all a dark look. “Yer a strange bunch, no doubt,” he said. “You can’t remember how you came to smash up. Now you don’t even know where you are. I reckon you was all drunk, but that’s not my concern. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll none of you set foot in a boat again, drunk or sober. Davey, bring round the cart.”

  Giving them a final, disgusted glance, the fisherman lifted his small son on his shoulder and went back to work. His older son disappeared, presumably going to fetch the cart.

  Tanis sighed, looking around at his friends.

  “Do any of you know how we got here?” he asked quietly. “Or why we’re dressed like this?”

  One by one, they all shook their heads.

  “I remember the Blood Sea and the maelstrom,” Goldmoon said. “But then the rest seems like something I dreamed.”

  “I remember Raist …” Caramon said softly, his face grave. Then, feeling Tika’s hand slip through his, he looked down at her. His expression softened. “And I remember—”

  “Hush,” Tika said, blushing, laying her cheek against his arm. Caramon kissed her red curls. “It wasn’t a dream,” she murmured.

  “I remember a few things, too,” Tanis said grimly, looking at Berem. “But it’s disjointed, fragmented. None of it seems to go together right in my mind. Well, it’s no good looking back. We’ve got to look forward. We’ll go to Kalaman and find out what’s been happening. I don’t even know what day it is! Or month for that matter. Then—”

  “Palanthas,” Caramon said. “We’ll go to Palanthas.”

  “We’ll see,” Tanis said, sighing. Davey was returning with the cart, drawn by a bony horse. The half-elf looked at Caramon. “Are you really certain you want to find that brother of yours?” he asked quietly.

  Caramon did not answer.

  The companions arrived in Kalaman about mid-morning.

  “What’s going on?” Tanis asked Davey as the young man drove the cart through the city streets. “Is there a festival?”

  The streets were crowded with people. Most of the shops were closed and shuttered. Everyone stood around in small clumps, talking together in excited tones.

  “It looks more like a funeral,” Caramon said. “Someone important must have died.”

  “That, or war,” Tanis muttered. Women were weeping, men looked sorrowful or angry, children stood about, staring fearfully at their parents.

  “Can’t be war, sir,” Davey said, “and Spring Dawning festival was two days ago. Don’t know what’s the matter. Just a minute. I can find out if you want,” he said, pulling the horse to a stop.

  “Go ahead,” Tanis said. “Just a minute, though. Why can’t it be war?”

  “Why, we’ve won the war!” Davey said, staring at Tanis in astonishment. “By the gods, sir, you musta been drunk if you don’t remember. The Golden General and the good dragons—”

  “Oh, yes,” Tanis said hastily.

  “I’ll stop in here, at the fish market,” Davey said, hopping down. “They’ll know.”

  “We’ll come with you.” Tanis motioned the others.

  “What’s the news?” Davey called, running up to a knot of men and women standing before a shop redolent with the odor of fresh fish.

  Several men turned immediately, all speaking at once. Coming up behind the boy, Tanis caught only parts of the excited conversation. “Golden General captured! … City doomed … people fleeing … evil dragons …”

  Try as they might, the companions could make nothing out of this. The people seemed reluctant to talk around strangers—giving them dark, mistrustful glances, especially seeing their rich clothing.

  The companions thanked Davey once more for the ride into town, then left him among his friends. After a brief discussion, they decided to head for the marketplace, hoping to find out more details of what had happened. The crowds grew denser as they walked until they practically had to fight their way through the packed streets. People ran here and there, asking for the latest rumors, shaking their heads in despair. Occasionally they saw some citizens, their belongings hastily packed in bundles, heading for the city gates.

  “We should buy weapons,” Caramon said grimly. “The news doesn’t sound good. Who do you suppose this ‘Golden General’ is, anyway? The people seem to think a lot of him if his disappearance throws them into this much turmoil.”

  “Probably some Knight of Solamnia,” Tanis said. “And you’re right, we should buy weapons.” He put his hand to his belt. “Damn! I had a purse of funny-looking old gold coins, but it’s gone now! As if we didn’t have enough trouble.…”

  “Wait a minute!” Caramon grunted, feeling his belt. “Why! What the—My purse was here a second ago!” Whirling around, the big warrior caught a glimpse of small figure disappearing among the crush of people, a worn leather pouch in its hand. “Hey! You! That’s mine!” Caramon roared. Scattering people like straws in the wind, he leaped after the small thief. Reaching out a huge hand, he caught hold of a fleecy vest and plucked the squirming figure up off the street. “Now give me back—” The big warrior gasped. “Tasslehoff!”

  “Caramon!” Tasslehoff cried.

  Caramon dropped him in astonishment. Tasslehoff stared around wildly.

  “Tanis!” he shouted, seeing the half-elf coming through the crowd. “Oh, Tanis!” Running forward, Tas threw his arms around his friend. Burying his face in Tanis’s belt, the kender burst into tears.

  The people of Kalaman lined the walls of their city. Just a few days before they had done the same thing, only then their mood had been festive as they watched the triumphant procession of knights and silver and golden dragons. Now they were quiet, grim with despair. They looked out over the plain as the sun rose to its zenith in the sky. Nearly noon. They waited silently.

  Tanis stood next to Flint, his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. The old dwarf had nearly broken down at the sight of his friend.

  It was a sad reunion. In hushed and broken voices, Flint and Tasslehoff took turns telling
their friends what had happened since they were parted in Tarsis months ago. One would talk until overcome, then the other would carry on the story. Thus the companions heard of the discovery of the dragonlances, the destruction of the dragon orb, and Sturm’s death.

  Tanis bowed his head, overwhelmed with sorrow at this news. For a moment, he couldn’t imagine the world without this noble friend. Seeing Tanis’s grief, Flint’s gruff voice went on to tell of Sturm’s great victory and the peace he had found in death.

  “He is a hero in Solamnia now,” Flint said. “Already they’re telling stories of him, like they do of Huma. His great sacrifice saved the Knighthood, or so it is said. He would have asked for nothing more, Tanis.”

  The half-elf nodded wordlessly. Then, trying to smile, “Go on,” he said. “Tell me what Laurana did when she arrived in Palanthas. And is she still there? If so, we were thinking about going—”

  Flint and Tas exchanged glances. The dwarf’s head bowed. The kender looked away, snuffling and wiping his small nose with a handkerchief.

  “What is it?” Tanis asked in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. “Tell me.”

  Slowly, Flint related the story. “I’m sorry, Tanis,” the dwarf said, wheezing. “I let her down—”

  The old dwarf began to sob so pitifully that Tanis’s heart ached with sorrow. Clasping his friend in his arms, he held him tightly.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Flint,” he said, his voice harsh with tears. “It’s mine, if anyone’s. It was for me she risked death and worse.”

  “Start placing blame and you will end cursing the gods,” said Riverwind, laying his hand on Tanis’s shoulder. “Thus do my people say.”

  Tanis was not comforted.

  “What time is the—the Dark Lady to come?”

  “Noon,” said Tas softly.

  Now it was nearly noon and Tanis stood with the rest of the citizens of Kalaman, waiting for the arrival of the Dark Lady. Gilthanas stood some distance from Tanis, pointedly ignoring him. The half-elf couldn’t blame him. Gilthanas knew why Laurana had left, he knew what bait Kitiara had used to snare his sister. When he asked Tanis coldly if it was true that he had been with the Dragon Highlord, Kitiara, Tanis could not deny it.