Tika actually shoved the big man. Caramon took a step, then looked back at her.
“Tika …” he began, trying to think of some argument against this wild scheme. But before he could finish, Tika kissed him swiftly and—grabbing a sword from a dead draconian—ran from the jail cell.
“I’ll take care of her, Caramon!” Tas promised, dashing after Tika, his pouches bouncing wildly all around him.
Caramon stared after them a moment. The hobgoblin jailor shrieked in terror as Tika ran straight for the creature, brandishing her sword. The jailor made a wild grab for her, but Tika hacked at him so ferociously that the hobgoblin fell dead with a gurgling scream, his throat cut.
Ignoring the body that slumped to the floor, Tika hurried down the corridor, heading east.
Tasslehoff, right behind her, took a moment to stop at the bottom of the stair. The draconians were visible now, and Caramon could hear the kender’s shrill voice shouting taunts at the guards.
“Dog-eaters! Slime-blooded goblin-lovers!”
Then Tas was off, dashing after Tika who had vanished from Caramon’s sight. The enraged draconians—driven wild by the kender’s taunts and the sight of their prisoners escaping—did not take time to look around. They charged after the fleet-footed kender, their curved swords gleaming, their long tongues flicking in anticipation of the kill.
Within moments, Caramon found himself alone. He hesitated another precious minute, staring into the thick darkness of the gloomy cells. He could see nothing. The only thing he could hear was Tas’s voice yelling “dog-eaters.” Then there was silence.
“I’m alone …” thought Caramon bleakly. “I’ve lost them … lost them all. I must go after them.”
He started toward the stairs, then stopped. “No, there’s Berem. He’s alone, too. Tika’s right. He needs me now. He needs me.”
His mind clear at last, Caramon turned and ran clumsily down the northern corridor after the Everman.
8
The Queen of Darkness.
D ragon Highlord Toede.”
Lord Ariakas listened with lazy contempt to the calling of the roll. Not that he was bored with the proceedings. Quite the contrary. Assembling the Grand Council had not been his idea. He had, in fact, opposed it. But he had been careful not to oppose it too vehemently. That might have made him appear weak; and Her Dark Majesty did not allow weaklings to live. No, this Grand Council would be anything but boring.…
At the thought of his Dark Queen, he half-turned and glanced swiftly up into the alcove above him. The largest and most magnificent in the Hall, its great throne remained empty still, the gate that led into it lost in the living, breathing darkness. No stairs ran up to that throne. The gate itself provided the only entrance and exit. And as to where the gate led, well, it was best not to think of such things. Needless to say, no mortal had passed beyond its iron grillwork.
The Queen had not yet arrived. He was not surprised. These opening proceedings were beneath her. Ariakas hunched back in his throne. His gaze went—appropriately enough—he thought bitterly, from the throne of the Dark Queen to the throne of the Dark Lady. Kitiara was here, of course. This was her moment of triumph—so she thought. Ariakas breathed a curse upon her.
“Let her do her worst,” he murmured, only half-listening as the sergeant repeated the name of Lord Toede once more. “I am prepared.”
Ariakas suddenly realized something was amiss. What? What was happening? Lost in his thoughts, he had paid no attention to the proceedings. What was wrong? Silence … a dreadful silence that followed … what? He cast about in his mind, trying to recall what had just been said. Then he remembered and came back from his dark thoughts to stare grimly at the second throne to his left. The troops in the hall, mostly draconian, heaved and swayed like a sea of death below him as all eyes shifted to the same throne.
Though the draconian troops belonging to Lord Toede were present, their banners mingling with the banners of the other draconians standing at attention in the center of the Hall of Audience, the throne itself was empty.
Tanis, from where he stood upon the steps of Kitiara’s platform, followed Ariakas’s gaze, stern and cold beneath the crown. The half-elf’s ears had pricked at the sound of Toede’s name. An image of the hobgoblin came swiftly to his mind as he had seen him standing in the dust of the road to Solace. The vision brought back thoughts of that warm autumn day that had seen the beginning of this long, dark journey. It brought back memories of Flint and Sturm.… Tanis gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate on what was happening. The past was over, finished, and—he hoped fervently—soon forgotten.
“Lord Toede?” Ariakas repeated in anger. The troops in the Hall muttered among themselves. Never before had a Highlord disobeyed a command to attend the Grand Council.
A human dragonarmy officer climbed the stairs leading to the empty platform. Standing on the top step (protocol forbade him proceeding higher), he stammered a moment in terror, facing those black eyes and, worse, the shadowy alcove above Ariakas’s throne. Then, taking a breath, he began his report.
“I—I regret to inform His Lordship and Her D-Dark Majesty”—a nervous glance at the shadowy alcove that was, apparently, still vacant—“that Dragon Highlord To—uh, Toede has met an unfortunate and untimely demise.”
Standing on the top step of the platform where Kitiara sat enthroned, Tanis heard a snort of derision from behind Kit’s dragonhelm. An amused titter ran through the crowd below him while dragonarmy officers exchanged knowing glances.
Lord Ariakas was not amused, however. “Who dared slay a Dragon Highlord?” he demanded furiously, and at the sound of his voice—and the portent of his words—the crowd fell silent.
“It was in K-Kenderhome, lord,” the officer replied, his voice echoing in the vast marble chamber. The officer paused. Even from this distance, Tanis could see the man’s fist clenching and unclenching nervously. He obviously had further bad news to impart and was reluctant to continue.
Ariakas glowered at the officer. Clearing his throat, the man lifted his voice again.
“I regret to report, lord, that Kenderhome has been l—” For a moment the man’s voice gave out completely. Only by a valiant effort did he manage to continue. “—lost.”
“Lost!” repeated Ariakas in a voice that might have been a thunderbolt.
Certainly it seemed to strike the officer with terror. Blenching, he stammered incoherently for a moment, then—apparently determining to end it quickly—gasped out, “Highlord Toede was foully murdered by a kender named Kronin Thistleknott, and his troops driven from—”
There was a deeper murmur from the crowd now, growlings of anger and defiance, threats of the total destruction of Kenderhome. They would wipe that miserable race from the face of Krynn—
With his gloved hand, Ariakas made an irritated, sweeping gesture. Silence fell instantly over the assemblage.
And then the silence was broken.
Kitiara laughed.
It was mirthless laughter, arrogant and mocking, and it echoed loudly from the depths of the metal mask.
His face twisted in outrage, Ariakas rose to his feet. He took a step forward and—as he did so—steel flashed among his draconians on the floor as swords slid out of scabbards and spear butts thudded against the floor.
At the sight, Kitiara’s own troops closed ranks, backing up so that they pressed closely around the platform of their lord, which was at Ariakas’s right hand. Instinctively Tanis’s hand closed over the hilt of his sword and he found himself moving a step nearer Kitiara, though it meant setting his foot upon the platform where he was not supposed to tread.
Kitiara did not move. She remained seated, calmly regarding Ariakas with scorn that could be felt, if not seen.
Suddenly a breathless hush descended over the assemblage, as if the breath in each body was being choked off by an unseen force. Faces paled as those present felt stifled, gasping for air. Lungs ached, vision blurred, heartbeats still
ed. And then the air itself seemed sucked from the Hall as a darkness filled it.
Was it actual, physical darkness? Or a darkness in the mind? Tanis could not be certain. His eyes saw the thousands of torches in the Hall flare brilliantly, he saw the thousands of candles sparkle like stars in the night sky. But even the night sky was not darker than the darkness he now perceived.
His head swam. Desperately he tried to breathe, but he might as well have been beneath the Blood Sea of Istar again. His knees trembled, he was almost too weak to stand. His strength failed him, he staggered and fell and, as he sank down, gasping for breath, he was dimly aware of others, here and there, falling to the polished marble floor as well. Lifting his head, though the move was agony, he could see Kitiara slump forward in her chair as though crushed into the throne by an unseen force.
Then the darkness lifted. Cool, sweet air rushed into his lungs. His heart lurched and began pounding. Blood rushed to his head, nearly making him pass out. For a moment he could do nothing but sink back against the marble stairs, weak and dizzy, while light exploded in his head. Then, as his vision cleared, he saw that the draconians remained unaffected. Stoically they stood, all of them staring fixedly at one spot.
Tanis lifted his gaze to the magnificent platform that had remained empty throughout the proceedings. Empty until now. His blood congealed in his veins, his breath nearly stopped again. Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, had entered the Hall of Audience.
Other names she had upon Krynn. Dragonqueen she was called in elven; Nilat the Corrupter to the barbarians of Plains; Tamex, the False Metal, so she was known in Thorbardin among the dwarves; Mai-tat, She of Many Faces was how they told of her in legends among the seafaring people of Ergoth. Queen of Many Colors and of None, the Knights of Solamnia called her; defeated by Huma, banished from the land, long ago.
Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, had returned.
But not completely.
Even as Tanis stared at the shadowy form in the alcove overhead with awe, even as the terror pierced his brain, leaving him numb, unable to feel or sense anything beyond sheer horror and fear—he realized that the Queen was not present in her physical form. It was as if her presence in their minds cast a shadow of her being onto the platform. She, herself, was there only as her will forced others to perceive her.
Something was holding her back, blocking her entry into this world. A door—Berem’s words returned in confusion to Tanis’s mind. Where was Berem? Where were Caramon and the others? Tanis realized with a pang that he had nearly forgotten about them. They had been driven from his mind by his preoccupation with Kitiara and Laurana. His head spun. He felt as if he held the key to everything in his hand, if only he could find the time to think about it calmly.
But that was not possible. The shadowy form increased in intensity until its blackness seemed to create a cold hole of nothingness in the granite room. Unable to look away, Tanis was compelled to gaze into that dreadful hole until he had the terrifying sensation he was being drawn into it. At that moment, he heard a voice in his mind.
I have not brought you together to see your petty quarrels and pettier ambitions mar the victory I sense is fast approaching. Remember who rules here, Lord Ariakas.
Lord Ariakas sank to one knee, as did all others in the chamber. Tanis found himself falling to his knees in reverence. He could not help it. Though filled with loathing at the hideous, suffocating evil, this was a goddess, one of the forgers of the world. Since the beginning of time she had ruled … and would rule until time ended.
The voice continued speaking, burning into his mind and into the minds of all present.
Lord Kitiara, you have pleased us well in the past. Your gift to us now pleases us even more. Bring in the elfwoman, that we may look upon her and decide her fate.
Tanis, glancing at Lord Ariakas, saw the man return to his throne, but not before he had cast a venomous look of hatred at Kitiara.
“I will, Your Dark Majesty.” Kitiara bowed, then, “Come with me,” she ordered Tanis as she passed by him on her way down the stairs.
Her draconian troops backed away, leaving a path for her to walk to the center of the room. Kitiara descended the riblike stairs of the platform, Tanis following. The troops parted to let them pass, then closed ranks again almost instantly.
Reaching the center of the Hall, Kitiara climbed the narrow stairs that jutted forth like spurs from the hooded snake’s sculpted back until she stood in the center of the marble platform. Tanis followed more slowly, finding the stairs narrow and difficult to climb, especially as he felt the eyes of the shadowy form in the alcove delve into his soul.
Standing at the center of the ghastly platform, Kitiara turned and gestured toward the ornate gate opening onto the far end of the narrow bridge that connected the platform with the main walls of the Hall of Audience.
A figure appeared in the doorway—a dark figure dressed in the armor of a Knight of Solamnia. Lord Soth entered the Hall, and—at his coming—the troops fell back from either side of that narrow bridge as if a hand had reached up from the grave and tossed them away. In his pallid arms, Lord Soth bore a body bound in a white winding cloth, the kind used for embalming the dead. The silence in the room was such that the dead knight’s booted footsteps could almost be heard ringing upon the marble floor, though all gathered there could see the stone through the transparent, fleshless body.
Walking forward, bearing his white-swathed burden, Lord Soth crossed the bridge and walked slowly up to stand upon the snake’s head. At another gesture from Kitiara, he laid the bundle of white upon the floor at the Dragon Highlord’s feet. Then he stood and suddenly vanished, leaving everyone blinking in horror, to wonder if he had really existed or if they had seen him only in their fevered imaginations.
Tanis could see Kitiara smile beneath her helm, pleased at the impact made by her servant. Then, drawing her sword, Kitiara leaned down and slit the bindings that wrapped the figure like a cocoon. Giving them a yank, she pulled them loose, then stepped back to watch her captive struggle in the web.
Tanis caught sight of a mass of tangled, honey-colored hair, the flash of silver armor. Coughing, nearly suffocated by her constricting bindings, Laurana fought to free herself from the entangling white cloths. There was tense laughter as the troops watched the prisoner’s feeble thrashings—this was obviously an indication of more amusement to come. Reacting instinctively, Tanis took a step forward to help Laurana. Then he felt Kitiara’s brown eyes upon him, watching him, reminding him—
“If you die, she dies!”
His body shaking with chills, Tanis stopped, then stepped back. Finally Laurana staggered dizzily to her feet. For a moment she stood staring around vaguely, not comprehending where she was, blinking her eyes to see in the harsh, flaring torchlight. Her gaze focused at last upon Kitiara, smiling at her from behind the dragonhelm.
At the sight of her enemy, the woman who had betrayed her, Laurana drew herself to her full height. For a moment, her fear was forgotten in her anger. Imperiously she glanced beneath her, then above her, her gaze sweeping the great Hall. Fortunately, she did not look behind her. She did not see the bearded half-elf dressed in dragon armor, who was watching her intently. Instead she saw the troops of the Dark Queen, she saw the Highlords upon their thrones, she saw the dragons perched above them. Finally, she beheld the shadowy form of the Queen of Darkness herself.
And now she knows where she is, Tanis thought in misery, seeing Laurana’s face drain of color. Now she knows where she is and what is about to befall her.
What stories they must have told her, down in those dungeons below the Temple. Tormenting her with tales of the Death Chambers of the Queen of Darkness. She had probably been able to hear the screams of others, Tanis guessed, feeling his soul ache at her obvious terror. She had listened to their screams in the night, and now, within hours, maybe minutes, she would join them.
Her face deathly pale, Laurana turned back to look at Kitiara as if she were the only f
ixed point in a swirling universe. Tanis saw Laurana’s teeth clench, biting her lips to keep control. She would never show her fear to this woman, she would never show her fear to any of them.
Kitiara made a small gesture.
Laurana followed her gaze.
“Tanis …”
Turning, she saw the half-elf, and, as Laurana’s eyes met his, Tanis saw hope shine. He felt her love for him surround him and bless him like the dawning of spring after winter’s bitter darkness. For at last Tanis realized his own love for her was the bond between his two warring halves. He loved her with the unchanging, eternal love of his elven soul and with the passionate love of his human blood. But the realization had come too late, and now he would pay for the realization with his life and his soul.
One look, that was all he could give Laurana. One look that must carry the message of his heart, for he could feel Kitiara’s brown eyes on him, watching him intently. And other eyes were on him, too, dark and shadowy as they might be.
Aware of those eyes, Tanis forced his face to reveal nothing of his inner thoughts. Exerting all his control, he clenched his jaw, setting the muscles rigid, keeping his gaze carefully expressionless. Laurana might have been a stranger. Coldly he turned away from her and, as he turned, he saw hope’s light flicker and die in her luminous eyes. As if a cloud had obscured the sun, the warmth of Laurana’s love turned to bleak despair, chilling Tanis with its sorrow.
Gripping the hilt of his sword firmly to keep his hand from trembling, Tanis turned to face Takhisis, Queen of Darkness.
“Dark Majesty,” cried Kitiara, grasping Laurana by the arm and dragging her forward, “I present my gift to you—a gift that will give us victory!”
She was momentarily interrupted by tumultuous cheers. Raising her hand, Kitiara commanded silence, then she continued.
“I give you the elfwoman, Lauralanthalasa, Princess of the Qualinesti elves, leader of the foul Knights of Solamnia. It was she who brought back the dragonlances, she who used the dragon orb in the High Clerist’s Tower. It was by her command that her brother and a silver dragon traveled to Sanction where—through the ineptness of Lord Ariakas—they managed to break into the sacred temple and discover the destruction of the good dragon eggs.” Ariakas took a menacing step forward, but Kitiara coolly ignored him. “I give her to you, my Queen, to treat her as you believe her crimes against you merit.”
Dragons of Spring Dawning Page 33