Dragons of Spring Dawning

by Margaret Weis

  “She worked hard—too hard. After the Cataclysm, it was all we could to do to keep food on the table. Our parents were old and sick. We nearly starved that first winter. No matter what you have heard about the Famine Times, you cannot imagine.” His voice died, his eyes dimmed. “Ravenous packs of wild beasts and wilder men roamed the land. Being isolated, we were luckier than some. But many nights we stayed awake, clubs in our hands, as the wolves prowled around the outside of the house—waiting.… I watched my sister—who was a pretty little thing—grow old before she was twenty. Her hair was gray as mine is now, her face pinched and wrinkled. But she never complained.

  “That spring, things didn’t improve much. But at least we had hope, my sister said. We could plant seeds and watch them grow. We could hunt the game that returned with the spring. There would be food on the table. She loved hunting. She was a good shot with a bow, and she enjoyed being outdoors. We often went together. That day—”

  Berem stopped. Closing his eyes, he began to shake as if chilled. But, gritting his teeth, he continued.

  “That day, we’d walked farther than usual. A lightning fire had burned away the brush and we found a trail we’d never seen before. It had been a bad day’s hunting and we followed the trail, hoping to find game. But after a while, I saw it wasn’t an animal trail. It was an old, old path made by human feet; it hadn’t been used in years. I wanted to turn back, but my sister kept going, curious to see where it led.”

  Berem’s face grew strained and tense. For a moment Tanis feared he might stop speaking, but Berem continued feverishly, as if driven.

  “It led to a—a strange place. My sister said it must have been a temple once, a temple to evil gods. I don’t know. All I know is that there were broken columns lying tumbled about, overgrown with dead weeds. She was right. It did have an evil feel to it and we should have left. We should have left the evil place.…” Berem repeated this to himself several times, like a chant. Then he fell silent.

  No one moved or spoke and, after a moment, he began speaking so softly the others were forced to lean close to hear. And they realized, slowly, that he had forgotten they were there or even where he was. He had gone back to that time.

  “But there is one beautiful, beautiful object in the ruins: the base of a broken column, encrusted with jewels!” Berem’s voice was soft with awe. “I have never seen such beauty! Or such wealth! How can I leave it? Just one jewel! Just one will make us rich! We can move to the city! My sister will have suitors, as she deserves. I—I fall to my knees and I take out my knife. There is one jewel—a green gemstone—that glitters brightly in the sunlight! It is lovely beyond anything I have ever seen! I will take it. Thrusting the knife blade”—here Berem made a swift motion with his hand—“into the stone beneath the jewel, I begin to pry it out.

  “My sister is horrified. She cries to me, she commands me to stop.

  “ ‘This place is holy,’ she pleads. ‘The jewels belong to some god. This is sacrilege, Berem!’ ”

  Berem shook his head, his face dark with remembered anger.

  “I ignore her, though I feel a chill in my heart even as I pry at the jewel. But I tell her—‘If it belonged to the gods, they have abandoned it, as they have abandoned us!’ But she won’t listen.”

  Berem’s eyes flared open, they were cold and frightening to see. His voice came from far away.

  “She grabs me! Her fingernails dig into my arm! It hurts!

  “ ‘Stop, Berem!’ she commands me—me, her older brother! ‘I will not let you desecrate what belongs to the gods!’

  “How dare she talk to me like that? I’m doing this for her! For our family! She should not cross me! She knows what can happen when I get mad. Something breaks in my head, flooding my brain. I can’t think or see. I yell at her—‘Leave me be!’—but her hand grabs my knife hand, jarring the blade, scratching the jewel.

  Berem’s eyes flashed with a crazed light. Surreptitiously Caramon laid his hand on his dagger as the man’s hands clenched to fists and his voice rose to an almost hysterical pitch.

  “I—I shove her … not that hard … I never meant to shove her that hard! She’s falling! I’ve got to catch her, but I can’t. I’m moving too slowly, too slowly. Her head … hits the column. A sharp rock pierces her here”—Berem touched his temple—“blood covers her face, spills over the jewels. They don’t shine anymore. Her eyes don’t shine either. They stare at me, but they don’t see me. And then … and then …”

  His body shuddered convulsively.

  “It is a horrible sight, one I see in my sleep every time I close my eyes! It is like the Cataclysm, only during that, all was destroyed! This is a creation, but what a ghastly, unholy creation! The ground splits open! Huge columns begin to reform before my eyes. A temple springs up from a hideous darkness below the ground. But it isn’t a beautiful temple—it is horrible and deformed. I see Darkness rise up before me, Darkness with five heads, all of them twisting and writhing in my sight. The heads speak to me in a voice colder than a tomb.

  “ ‘Long ago was I banished from this world, and only through a piece of the world may I enter again. The jeweled column was—for me—a locked door, keeping me prisoner. You have freed me, mortal, and therefore I give you what you seek—the green gemstone is yours!’

  “There is terrible, mocking laughter. I feel a great pain in my chest. Looking down, I see the green gemstone embedded in my flesh, even as you see it now. Terrified by the hideous evil before me, stunned by my wicked act, I can do nothing but stare as the dark, shadowy shape begins to grow clearer and clearer. It is a dragon! I can see it now—a five-headed dragon such as I had heard nightmarish tales about when I was a child!

  “And I know then that once the dragon enters the world, we are doomed. For at last I understand what I have done. This is the Queen of Darkness the clerics teach us about. Banished long ago by the great Huma, she has long sought to return. Now—by my folly—she will be able again to walk the land. One of the huge heads snakes toward me, and I know I am going to die, for she must not allow any to witness her return. I see the slashing teeth. I cannot move. I don’t care.

  “And then, suddenly, my sister stands in front of me! She is alive, but when I try to reach out to her, my hands touch nothing. I scream her name, ‘Jasla!’

  “ ‘Run, Berem!’ she calls. ‘Run! She cannot get past me, not yet! Run!’

  “I stand staring for a moment. My sister hovers between me and the Dark Queen. Horrified, I see the five heads rear back in anger, their screams split the air. But they cannot pass my sister. And, even as I watch, the Queen’s shape begins to waver and dim. She is still there, a shadowy figure of evil, but nothing more. But her power is great. She lunges for my sister.…

  “And then I turn and run. I run and run, the green gemstone burning a hole in my chest. I run until everything goes black.”

  Berem stopped speaking. Sweat trickled down his face as if he had truly been running for days. None of the companions spoke. The dark tale might have turned them to stone like the boulders around the black pool.

  Finally Berem drew a shuddering breath. His eyes focused and he saw them once more.

  “There follows a long span of my life of which I know nothing. When I came to myself, I had aged, even as you see me now. At first I told myself it was a nightmare, a horrible dream. But then I felt the green gemstone burning in my flesh, and I knew it was real. I had no idea where I was. Perhaps I had traveled the length and breadth of Krynn in my wanderings. I longed desperately to return to Neraka. Yet that was the one place I knew I couldn’t go. I didn’t have the courage.

  “Long years more I wandered, unable to find peace, unable to rest, dying only to live again. Everywhere I went I heard stories of evil things abroad in the land and I knew it was my fault. And then came the dragons and the dragonmen. I alone knew what they meant. I alone knew the Queen had reached the summit of her power and was trying to conquer the world. The one thing she lacks is me. Why? I’m
not certain. Except that I feel like someone who is trying to shut a door another is trying to force open. And I am tired …”

  Berem’s voice faltered. “So tired,” he said, his head dropping into his hands. “I want it to end!”

  The companions sat silently for long moments, trying to make sense of a story that seemed like something an old nursemaid might have told in the dark hours of the night.

  “What must you do to shut this door?” Tanis asked Berem.

  “I don’t know,” Berem said, his voice muffled. “I only know that I feel drawn to Neraka, yet it’s the one place on the face of Krynn I dare not enter! That’s—that’s why I ran away.”

  “But you’re going to enter it,” Tanis said slowly and firmly. “You’re going to enter it with us. We’ll be with you. You won’t be alone.”

  Berem shivered and shook his head, whimpering. Then suddenly he stopped and looked up, his face flushed. “Yes!” he cried. “I cannot stand it anymore! I will go with you! You’ll protect me—”

  “We’ll do our best,” Tanis muttered, seeing Caramon roll his eyes, then look away. “We’d better find the way out.”

  “I found it.” Berem sighed. “I was nearly through, when I heard the dwarf cry out. This way.” He pointed to another narrow cleft between the rocks. Caramon sighed, glancing ruefully at the scratches on his arms. One by one, the companions entered the cleft.

  Tanis was the last. Turning, he looked back once more upon the barren place. Darkness was falling swiftly, the azure blue sky deepening to purple and finally to black. The strange boulders were shrouded in the gathering gloom. He could no longer see the dark pool of rock where Fizban had vanished.

  It seemed odd to think of Flint being gone. There was a great emptiness inside of him. He kept expecting to hear the dwarf’s grumbling voice complain about his various aches and pains or argue with the kender.

  For a moment Tanis struggled with himself, holding onto his friend as long as he could. Then, silently, he let Flint go. Turning, he crept through the narrow cleft in the rocks, leaving Godshome, never to see it again.

  Once back on the trail, they followed it until they came to a small cave. Here they huddled together, not daring to build a fire this near to Neraka, the center of the might of the dragonarmies. For a while, no one spoke, then they began to talk about Flint—letting him go—as Tanis had done. Their memories were good ones, recalling Flint’s rich, adventurous life.

  They laughed heartily when Caramon recounted the tale of the disastrous camping trip, how he had overturned the boat, trying to catch a fish by hand, knocking Flint into the water. Tanis recalled how Tas and the dwarf had met when Tas “accidentally” walked off with a bracelet Flint had made and was trying to sell at a fair. Tika remembered the wonderful toys he had made for her. She recalled his kindness when her father disappeared, how he had taken the young girl into his own home until Otik had given her a place to live and work.

  All these and more memories they recalled until, by the end of the evening, the bitter sting had gone out of their grief, leaving only the ache of loss.

  That is—for most of them.

  Late, late in the dark watches of the night, Tasslehoff sat outside the cave entrance, staring up into the stars. Flint’s helm was clutched in his small hands, tears streamed unchecked down his face.

  KENDER MOURNING SONG

  Always before, the spring returned.

  The bright world in its cycle spun

  In air and flowers, grass and fern,

  Assured and cradled by the sun.

  Always before, you could explain

  The turning darkness of the earth,

  And how that dark embraced the rain,

  And gave the ferns and flowers birth.

  Already I forget those things,

  And how a vein of gold survives

  The mining of a thousand springs,

  The seasons of a thousand lives.

  Now winter is my memory,

  Now autumn, now the summer light—

  So every spring from now will be

  Another season into night.

  5

  Neraka.

  As it turned out, the companions discovered it was going to be easy getting into Neraka.

  Deadly easy.

  “What in the name of the gods is happening?” Caramon muttered as he and Tanis, still dressed in their stolen dragonarmor, stared down onto the plains from their hidden vantage point in the mountains west of Neraka.

  Writhing black lines snaked across the barren plain toward the only building within a hundred miles, the Temple of the Queen of Darkness. It looked as though hundreds of vipers were slithering down from the mountains, but these were not vipers. These were the dragonarmies, thousands strong. The two men watching saw here and there the flash of sun off spear and shield. Flags of black and red and blue fluttered from tall poles that bore the emblems of the Dragon Highlords. Flying high above them, dragons filled the air with a hideous rainbow of colors—reds, blues, greens, and blacks. Two gigantic flying citadels hovered over the walled Temple compound; the shadows they cast made it perpetual night down below.

  “You know,” said Caramon slowly, “it’s a good thing that old man attacked us back there. We would have been massacred if we’d ridden our brass dragons into this mob.”

  “Yes,” Tanis agreed absently. He’d been thinking about that “old man,” adding a few things together, remembering what he himself had seen and what Tas had told him. The more he thought about Fizban, the closer he came to realizing the truth. His skin “shivered,” as Flint would have said.

  Recalling Flint, a sudden swift aching in his heart made him put thoughts of the dwarf—and the old man—from his mind. He had enough to worry about now, and there would be no old mages to help him out of this one.

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” Tanis said quietly, “but it’s working for us now, not against us. Remember what Elistan said once? It is written in the Disks of Mishakal that evil turns upon itself. The Dark Queen is gathering her forces, for whatever reason. Probably preparing to deal Krynn a final death blow. But we can slip in easily among the confusion. No one will notice two guards bringing in a group of prisoners.”

  “You hope,” Caramon added gloomily.

  “I pray,” Tanis said softly.

  The captain of the guard at the gates of Neraka was a sorely harrassed man. The Dark Queen had called a Council of War and, for only the second time since the war began, the Dragon Highlords on the continent of Ansalon were gathering together. Four days ago, they began arriving in Neraka and, since then, the captain’s life had been a waking nightmare.

  The Highlords were supposed to enter the city by order of rank. Thus Lord Ariakas entered first with his personal retinue, his troops, his bodyguards, his dragons; then Kitiara, the Dark Lady, with her personal retinue, her troops, her bodyguards, her dragons; then Lucien of Takar with his personal retinue, his troops and so forth through all the Highlords down to Dragon Highlord Toede, of the eastern front.

  The system was designed to do more than simply honor the higher-ups. It was intended to move large numbers of troops and dragons, as well as all their supplies, into and out of a complex that had never been intended to hold large concentrations of troops. Nor, as distrustful as the Highlords were of each other, could any Highlord be persuaded to enter with a single draconian less than any other Highlord. It was a good system and it should have worked. Unfortunately, there was trouble from the very outset when Lord Ariakas arrived two days late.

  Had he done this purposefully to create the confusion he knew must result? The captain did not know and he dared not ask, but he had his own ideas. This meant, of course, that those Highlords who arrived before Ariakas were forced to camp on the plains outside the Temple compound until the Lord made his entry. This provoked trouble. The draconians, goblins, and human mercenaries wanted the pleasures of the camp city that had been hastily erected in the Temple square. They had marched l
ong distances and were justifiably angry when this was denied them.

  Many sneaked over the walls at night, drawn to the taverns as flies to honey. Brawls broke out—each Highlord’s troops being loyal to that particular Highlord and no other. The dungeons below the Temple were filled to overflowing. The captain finally ordered his forces to haul the drunks out of the city in wheelbarrows every morning and dump them on the plains where they were retrieved by their irate commanders.

  Quarrels started among the dragons, too, as each lead dragon sought to establish dominance over the others. A big green, Cyan Bloodbane, had actually killed a red in a fight over a deer. Unfortunately for Cyan, the red had been a pet of the Dark Queen’s. The big green was now imprisoned in a cave beneath Neraka, where his howls and violent taillashings caused many up above to think an earthquake had struck.

  The captain had not slept well in two nights. When word reached him early in the morning of the third day that Ariakas had arrived, the captain very nearly gave thanks on his knees. Hurriedly marshaling his staff, he gave orders for the grand entrance to begin. Everything proceeded smoothly until several hundred of Toede’s draconians saw Ariakas’s troops entering the Temple square. Drunk and completely out of the control of their ineffectual leaders, they attempted to crowd in as well. Angry at the disruption, Ariakas’s captains ordered their men to fight back. Chaos erupted.

  Furious, the Dark Queen sent out her own troops, armed with whips, steel-link chains, and maces. Black-robed magicusers walked among them, as well as dark clerics. Between the whippings, headbashings, and spellcasting, order was eventually restored. Lord Ariakas and his troops finally entered the Temple compound with dignity—if not grace.