Dragons of a Fallen Sun, page 25
“Hurrah!” The soldiers cheered and began to chant, “Mina! Mina! Mina!”
The messenger stared about him in dazed astoundment. The entire camp, a thousand voices, were chanting this girl’s name. The chant echoed off the mountains and thundered to the heavens. The chant was heard in the town of Sanction, whose residents trembled and whose Knights grimly gripped their weapons, thinking this portended some terrible doom for their besieged city.
A horrible, bubbling cry rose above the chanting, halting some of it, though those on the outskirts of the crowd continued on, unhearing. The cry came from the tent of Lord Milles. So awful was that cry that those standing near the tent backed away, regarded it in alarm.
“Go and see what has happened,” Mina ordered.
Galdar did as commanded. The messenger accompanied him, knowing that Targonne would be interested in the outcome. Drawing his sword, Galdar sliced through the leather strings that held the flap shut. He went inside and came back out a instant later.
“His lordship is dead,” he reported, “by his own hand.”
The soldiers began to cheer again, and many jeered and laughed.
Mina rounded upon those near her in anger that lit the amber eyes with a pale fire. The soldiers ceased their cheering, quailed before her. Mina said no word but walked past them, her chin set, her back rigid. She came to the entrance of the tent.
“Mina,” said Galdar, holding up the bloodstained message.
“This wretch tried to have you hanged. The proof is here in Targonne’s response.”
“Lord Milles stands before the One God, now, Galdar,” Mina said, “where we will all stand one day. It is not for us to judge him.”
She took the bloody bit of paper, tucked it into her belt, and walked inside the tent. When Galdar started to go with her, she ordered him away, closed the tent flaps behind her. Galdar put an eye to the flap. Shaking his head, he turned and mounted guard upon the entrance.
“Go about your business,” the minotaur commanded the soldiers who were milling about in front of the tent. “There’s work to be done if we’re marching to Silvanesti.”
“What is she doing in there?” asked the messenger.
“Praying,” Galdar said shortly.
“Praying!” the messenger repeated to himself in wonder. Mounting his horse, he rode off, anxious not to lose a moment in reporting the day’s astonishing events to the Lord of the Night.
“So what happened?” Captain Samuval asked, coming to stand next to Galdar.
“To Milles?” Galdar grunted. “He fell on his sword.” He handed over the message. “I found this in his hand. As we guessed he would, he sent a pack of lies to Targonne, all about how Mina nearly lost the battle and Milles saved it. Targonne may be a murdering, conniving bastard, but he’s not stupid.” Galdar spoke with grudging admiration. “He saw through Milles’s lies and ordered him to report word of his ‘victory’ directly to the great dragon Malystrx.”
“No wonder he chose this way out,” Samuval commented. “But why send Mina south to Silvanesti? What happens to Sanction?”
“Targonne has ordered General Dogah to leave Khur. He will take over the siege of Sanction. As I said, Targonne’s not stupid. He knows that Mina and her talk of One True God is a threat to him and the phony ‘Visions’ he’s been handing out. But he also knows that he will start a rebellion among the troops if he tries to have her arrested. The great dragon Malystrx has long been annoyed by Silvanesti and the fact that the elves have found a way to thwart her by hiding beneath their magical shield. Targonne can placate Malystrx on the one hand by telling her he has sent a force to attack Silvanesti, and he can rid himself of a dangerous threat to his authority at the same time.”
“Does Mina know that in order to reach Silvanesti we must march through Blode?” Captain Samuval demanded. “A realm held by the ogres? They are already angry that we have taken some of their land. They will resent any further incursion into their territory.” Samuval shook his head. “This is suicidal! We will never even see Silvanesti. We must try to talk her out of this act of folly, Galdar.”
“It is not my place to question her,” said the minotaur. “She knew we were going to Silvanost this morning before the messenger arrived. Remember, Captain? I told you of it myself.”
“Did you?” Captain Samuval mused. “In all the excitement I had forgotten. I wonder how she found out?”
Mina emerged from Milles’s tent. She was very pale.
“His crimes have been forgiven. His soul has been accepted.” She sighed, glanced about appeared disappointed to find herself back among mortals. “How I envy him!”
“Mina, what are your orders?” Galdar asked. Mina looked at him without recognition for a moment the amber still seeing wondrous sights not given to other mortals. Then she smiled bleakly, sighed again, and came back to her surroundings.
“Assemble the troops. Captain Samuval you will address them. You will tell them truthfully that the assignment is a dangerous one. Some might say ‘suicidal.’ ” She smiled at Samuval. “I will order no man to make this march. Any who come do so of their own free will.”
“They will all come, Mina,” said Galdar softly.
Mina gazed at him, her eyes luminous, radiant. “If that be true, then the force will be too large, too unwieldy. We must move fast and we must keep our movement secret. My own Knights will accompany me, of course. You will select five hundred of the best of the foot soldiers, Galdar. The remainder will stay behind with my blessing. They must continue to besiege Sanction.” Galdar blinked. “But Mina, didn’t you hear? Targonne has given orders that General Dogah is to take over the siege of Sanction.”
Mina smiled. “General Dogah will receive new orders telling him that he is to turn his forces south and march with all possible haste upon Silvanesti.”
“But. . . where will these orders come from?” Galdar asked, gaping. “Not Targonne. He is ordering us to Silvanesti simply to get rid of us, Mina!”
“As I told you, Galdar, Targonne acts for the One God, whether he knows it or not.” Mina reached into her belt where she had tucked the orders Milles had received from Targonne. She held the parchment to the sunlight. Targonne’s name loomed large and black at the bottom, his seal gleamed red. Mina pointed “You will meet us here,” she said, indicating a place on the map marked with a pebble. “I calculate that it will take you two days to meet up with General Dogah and another three days to rejoin us. The One God speed you, Galdar.”
“The One God be with you until we meet again, Mina,” said Galdar.
He meant to leave. He could yet cover many miles before daylight waned. But he found the leaving difficult. He could not imagine a day going by without seeing her amber eyes, hearing her voice. He felt as bereft as if he were suddenly shorn of all his fur, left in the world shivering and weak as a newborn calf.
Mina laid her hand upon his, upon the hand she had given him. “I will be with you wherever you go, Galdar,” she said.
He fell to one knee, pressed her hand to his forehead. Keeping the memory of her touch an amulet in his mind, he turned and ran from the tent.
Captain Samuval entered next, coming to report that, as he had foreseen, every single soldier in the camp had volunteered to come. He had chosen the five hundred he considered the best. These soldiers were now the envy of the rest.
“I fear that those left behind may desert to follow you, Mina,” Captain Samuval said.
“I will speak to them,” she said. “I will explain to them that they must continue to hold Sanction without any expectation of reinforcements. I will explain to them how it can be done. They will see their duty.”
She continued to put the small stones upon the map.
“What is that?” Samuval asked curiously.
“The location of the ogre forces,” Mina replied. “Look, Captain, if we march this way, directly east out of the Khalkist Mountains, we can make much better time heading southward across the Plains of Khur. We will avoid the largest concentration of their troops, which are down here in the southern end of the mountain range, fighting the Legion of Steel and the forces of the elf-witch, Alhana Starbreeze. We will attempt to steal a march on them by traveling along this route, the Thon-Thalas River. I fear that at some point we must fight the ogres, but if my plan works, we will fight only a diminished force. With the God’s blessing, most of us will reach our destination.”
And what happened when that destination was reached? How did she intend to break through a magical shield that had thus far baffled all attempts to enter it? Samuval did not ask her. Nor did he ask how she knew the position of the ogre forces or how she knew they were fighting the Legion of Steel and the dark elves. The Knights of Neraka had sent scouts into ogre lands but none had ever returned alive to tell what they saw. Captain Samuval did not ask Mina how she intended to hold Silvanesti with such a small force, a force that would be decimated by the time they reached their destination. Samuval asked her none of this.
He had faith. If not necessarily in this One God, he had faith in Mina.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE SCOURGE OF ANSALON
The odd occurrence that befell Tasslehoff Burrfoot on the fifth night of his journey to Qualinesti in the custody of Sir Gerard can best be explained by the fact that although the days had been sunny and warm and fine for traveling, the nights had been cloudy and overcast, with a drizzly rain. Up until this night. This night the sky was clear, the air was soft and warm and alive with the sounds of the forest, crickets and owls and the occasional wolf howling.
Far north, near Sanction, the minotaur Galdar ran along the road that led to Khur. Far south, in Silvanesti, Silvanoshei entered Silvanost as he had planned, in triumph and with fanfare. The entire population of Silvanost came out to welcome him and stare at him and marvel over him. Silvanoshei was shocked and troubled by how few elves remained in the city. He said nothing to anyone however and was greeted with appropriate ceremony by General Konnal and a white-robed elven wizard whose charming manners endeared him to Silvanoshei at once.
While Silvanoshei dined on elven delicaces off plates of gold and drank sparkling wine from goblets of crystal, and while Galdar munched on dried peas as he marched, Tas and Gerard ate their customary boring and tasteless meal of flatbread and dried beef washed down with nothing more interesting than plain, ordinary water. They had ridden south as far as Gateway, where they passed several inns, whose innkeepers were standing in the doors with pinched faces. These innkeepers would have barred the door against a kender before the roads were closed by the dragon. Now they had come running out to offer them lodging and a meal for the unheard of price of a single steel.
Sir Gerard had paid no attention to them. He had ridden past without a glance. Tasslehoff had sighed deeply and looked back longingly at the inns dwindling in the distance. When he had hinted that a mug of cold ale and a plate of hot food would be a welcome change, Gerard had said no, the less attention they called to themselves the better for all concerned.
So they continued on south, traveling along a new road that ran near the river, a road Gerard said had been built by the Knights of Neraka to maintain their supply lines into Qualinesti. Tas wondered at the time why the Knights of Neraka were interested in supplying the elves of Qualinesti, but he assumed that this must be some new project the elven king Gilthas had instituted.
Tas and Gerard had slept outdoors in a drizzling rain for the last four nights. This fifth night was fine. As usual, sleep sneaked up on the kender before he was quite ready for it. He woke up in the night, jolted from his slumbers by a light shining in his eyes.
“Hey! What’s that?” he demanded in a loud voice. Throwing off his blanket, he leaped to his feet and grabbed Gerard by the shoulder, shaking him and pummeling him.
“Sir Gerard! Wake up!” Tasslehoff shouted. “Sir Gerard!”
The Knight was up and awake in an instant, his sword in his hand. “What?” He stared around, alert for danger. “What is it? Did you hear something? See something? What?”
“That! That right there!” Tasslehoff clutched the Knight’s shirt and pointed.
Sir Gerard regarded the kender with an extremely grim look.
“Is this your idea of a joke?”
“Oh, no,” Tas stated. “My idea of a joke is this. I say, ‘Knock, knock,’ and you say, ‘Who’s there?’ and I say, ‘Minotaur,’ and you say ‘Minotaur who,’ and I say, ‘so that’s what you stepped in.’ That’s my idea of a joke. This has to do with that strange light in the sky.”
“That’s the moon,” said Sir Gerard through gritted teeth.
“No!” Tasslehoff was astonished. “Really? The moon?”
He looked back at it. The thing did appear to have certain moonlike qualities; it was orb-shaped, and it was in the sky alongside the stars, and it glowed. But that was where the resemblance ended.
“If that’s Solinari,” Tas said, eyeing the moon skeptically.
“Then what happened to him? Is he sick?”
Sir Gerard did not answer. He lay back down on his blanket, placed his sword within hand’s reach, and, grabbing hold of a corner of his blanket rolled himself up in it. “Go to sleep,” he said coldly, “and stay that way until moming.”
“But I want to know about the moon!” Tas persisted, hunkering down beside the Knight nothing daunted by the fact that Gerard’s back was turned and his head covered up by the blanket and that he was still obviously extremely irate at having been violently wakened for nothing. Even his back looked angry. “What happened to make Solinari look so pale and sickly? And where’s lovely red Lunitari? I guess I’d wonder where Nuitari was if I’d been able to see the black moon in the first place, which I couldn’t, so it might be there and I just wouldn’t know it—”
Sir Gerard flipped over quite suddenly. His head emerged from the blanket, revealing a stern and unfriendly eye. “You know perfectly well that Solinari has not been seen in the skies these past thirty-odd years, ever since the end of the Chaos War. Lunitari either. So you can stop this ridiculous nonsense. I am now going to sleep. I am to be awakened for nothing less than an invasion of hobgoblins. Is that clear?”
“But the moon!” Tas argued. “I remember when I came to Caramon’s first funeral Solinari shown so very brightly that it was like day only it was night. Palin said this was Solinari’s way of honoring his father and—”
Gerard flipped over again and covered his head.
Tas continued talking until he heard the Knight start to snore. Tas gave the Knight an experimental poke in the shoulder, to no avail. The kender thought that he might try prying open one of Gerard’s eyelids to see if he was really asleep or just shamming, a trick which had never been known to fail with Flint, although it usually ended with the irate dwarf chasing the kender around the room with the poker.
Tas had other things to think about, however, and so he left the Knight alone and returned to his own blanket. Lying down, he put his hands beneath his head and gazed at the strange moon, which gazed back at him without the slightest hint of recognition. This gave Tas an idea. Abandoning the moon, he shifted his gaze to the stars, searched for his favorite constellations.
They were gone, as well. The stars he looked at now were cold and distant and unfamiliar. The only understanding star in the night sky was a single red star burning brightly not far from the strange moon. The star had a warm and comforting glow about it, which made up for the empty cold feeling in the pit of Tas’s stomach, a feeling he had once thought, when he was a young kender, meant he needed something to eat but that he now knew, after years of adventuring, was his inside’s way of telling him that something was wrong. In fact, he’d felt pretty much this same way just about the time the giant’s foot had been poised over his head.
Tas kept his gaze on the red star, and after awhile the cold, empty feeling didn’t hurt so much anymore. Just when he was feeling more comfortable and had put the thoughts of the strange moon and the unfriendly stars and the looming giant out of his mind, and just when he was starting to enjoy the night, sleep crept up and nabbed him again.
The kender wanted to discuss the moon the next day, and discuss it he did, but only with himself. Sir Gerard never responded to any of Tasslehoff’s innumerable questions, never turned around, just rode along at a slow pace, the reins of Tas’s pony in his hands.
The Knight rode in silence, though he was watchful and alert, constantly scanning the horizon. The entire world seemed to be riding in silence today, as well, once Tasslehoff quit talking, which he did after a couple of hours. It wasn’t so much that he was bored with talking to himself, it was the answering himself that grew old fast. They met no one on the road, and now even the sounds of other living creatures came to an end. No bird sang. No squirrel scampered across the path. No deer walked among the shadows or ran from them, white tail flashing an alarm.
“Where are the animals?” Tas asked Gerard.
“They are in hiding,” the Knight answered, the first words he’d spoken all morning. “They are afraid.” The air was hushed and still, as if the world held its breath, fearful of being heard. Not even the trees rustled and Tas had the feeling that if they had been able to make the choice, they would have dragged their roots out of the ground and run away.
“What are they afraid of?” Tasslehoff asked with interest, looking around in excitement, hoping for a haunted castle or a crumbling manor or, at the very least, a spooky cave.
“They fear the great green dragon, Beryl. We are in the West Plains now. We have crossed over into her realm.”
“You keep talking about this green dragon. I’ve never heard of her. The only green dragon I knew was named Cyan Bloodbane. Who is Beryl? Where did she come from?”
“Who knows?” Gerard said impatiently. “From across the sea, I suppose, along with the great red dragon Malystryx and others of their foul kind.”
“Well, if she isn’t from around these parts, why doesn’t some hero just go stick a lance into her?” Tas asked cheerfully. Gerard halted his horse. He tugged on the reins of Tasslehoff’s pony, who had been trudging behind, her head down, every bit as bored as the kender. She came plodding up level with the black, shaking her mane and eyeing a patch of grass hopefully.
