8

Dark tidings.

‘Papa! 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 dinghy, 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 man’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 douses 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.’

‘Err, 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. Gasping 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.

‘Then I hold you responsible for whatever happens to Laurana,’ Gilthanas said, his voice shaking in rage. ‘And I will pray to the gods nightly that whatever cruel fate befalls her, you will meet the same thing—only a hundred times worse!’

‘Don’t you think I’d accept that if it would bring her back!’ Tanis cried in anguish. But Gilthanas only turned away.

Now the people began to point and murmur. A dark shadow was visible in the sky—a blue dragon.

‘That’s her dragon,’ Tasslehoff said solemnly. ‘I saw it at the High Clerist’s Tower.’

The blue dragon circled lazily above the city in slow spirals, then landed leisurely within bow-shot of the city walls. A deathly hush fell upon the city as the dragon’s rider stood up in the stirrups. Removing her helm, the Dark Lady began to speak, her voice ringing through the clear air.

‘By now you have heard that I have captured the elf woman you call the ‘Golden General!’ ‘ Kitiara shouted. ‘In case you need proof, I have this to show you.’ She raised her hand. Tanis saw the flash of sunlight on a beautifully crafted silver helm. ‘In my other hand, though you cannot see it from where you stand, I have a lock of golden hair. I will leave both these here, on the plain, when I depart, that you may have something to remember your ‘general’ by.’

There was a harsh murmur from the people lining the walls. Kitiara stopped speaking a moment, regarding them coldly. Watching her, Tanis dug his nails into his flesh to force himself to remain calm. He had caught himself contemplating a mad scheme to leap from the wall and attack her where she stood.

Goldmoon, seeing the wild, desperate look on his face, moved near and laid her hand on his arm. She felt his body shaking, then he stiffened at her touch, bringing himself under control. Looking down at his clenched hands, she was horrified to see blood trickling down his wrists.

‘The elfmaid, Lauralanthalasa, has been taken to the Queen of Darkness at Neraka. She will remain as hostage with the Queen until the following conditions are met. First, the Queen demands that a human called Berem, the Everman, be turned over to her immediately. Second, she demands that the good dragons return to Sanction, where they will give themselves up to Lord Ariakas. Finally, the elflord, Gilthanas, will call for the Knights of Solamnia and the elves of both the Qualinesti and Silvanesti tribes to lay down their arms. The dwarf, Flint Fireforge, will require of his people that they do the same.’

‘This is madness!’ Gilthanas called out in answer, stepping forward to the edge of the wall and staring down at the Dark Lady. ‘We cannot agree to these demands! We have no idea who this Berem is, or where to find him. I cannot answer for my people, nor can I answer for the good dragons. These demands are totally unreasonable!’

‘The Queen is not unreasonable,’ Kitiara replied smoothly. ‘Her Dark Majesty has foreseen that these demands will need time to be acted upon. You have three weeks. If, within that time, you have not found the man, Berem, whom we believe to be in the area around Flotsam, and if you have not sent away the good dragons, I will return and, this time, you will find more than a lock of your general’s hair before the gates of Kalaman.’

Kitiara paused.

‘You will find her head’

With that, she tossed the helm down onto the ground at her dragon’s feet, then, at a word, Skie lifted his wings and rose into the air.

For long moments, no one spoke or moved. The people stared down at the helm lying before the wall. The red ribbons fluttering bravely from the top of the silver helm seemed the only movement, the only color. Then someone cried out in terror, pointing.

Upon the horizon appeared an incredible sight. So awful was it that no one believed it at first, each thinking privately he must be going mad. But the object drifted closer and all were forced to admit its reality, though that did not diminish the horror.

Thus it was that the people of Krynn had their first glimpse of Lord Ariakas’s most ingenious war machine—the flying citadels.

Working in the depths of the temples of Sanction, the blackrobed magic-users and dark clerics ripped a castle from its foundations and set it in the skies. Now, floating upon dark gray storm clouds, lit by jagged barbs of white lightning, surrounded by a hundred flights of red and black dragons, the citadel loomed over Kalaman, blotting out the noon sun, casting its dreadful shadow over the city.

The people fled the walls in terror. Dragonfear worked its horrible spell, causing panic and despair to fall upon all who dwelt in Kalaman. But the citadel’s dragons did not attack. Three weeks, their Dark Queen had ordered. They would give these wretched humans three weeks. And they would keep watch to see that, during this time, the Knights and the good dragons did not take the field.

Tanis turned to the rest of the companions who stood huddled upon the walls, staring bleakly at the citadel. Accustomed to the effects of dragonfear, they had been able to withstand it and were not fleeing in panic as were the rest of the citizens of Kalaman. Consequently they stood alone together upon the walls.

‘Three weeks,’ Tanis said clearly, and his friends turned to him.

For the first time since they had left Flotsam, they saw that his face was free of its self-condemning madness. There was peace in his eyes, much as Flint has seen peace in Sturm’s eyes after the knight’s death.

‘Three weeks,’ Tanis repeated in a calm voice that sent shivers up Flint’s spine, ‘we have three weeks. That should be time enough. I’m going to Neraka, to the Dark Queen.’ His eyes went to Berem, who stood silently nearby. ‘You’re coming with me.’

Berem’s eyes opened wide in stark terror. ‘Not’ he whimpered, shrinking backwards. Seeing the man about to run, Caramon’s huge hand reached out and caught hold of him.

‘You will go with me to Neraka,’ Tanis said in a soft voice, ‘or I will take you right now and give you to Gilthanas. The elf lord loves his sister dearly. He would not hesitate to hand you over to the Queen of Darkness if he thought that would buy Laurana’s freedom. You and I know differently. We know that giving you up wouldn’t change matters a bit. But he doesn’t. He is an elf, and he would believe she would keep her bargain.’

Berem stared at Tanis warily. ‘You won’t give me up?’

‘I’m going to find out what’s going on,’ Tanis stated coldly, avoiding the question. ‘At any rate, I’ll need a guide, someone who knows the area . . .’

Wrenching himself free of Caramon’s grip, Berem regarded them with a hunted expression. ‘I’ll go,’ he whimpered. ‘Don’t give me to the elf . . .’

‘All right,’ Tanis said coldly. ‘Quit sniveling. I’ll be leaving before dark and I’ve got a lot to do—’

Turning abruptly, he was not surprised to feel a strong hand grip his arm. ‘I know what you’re going to say, Caramon.’ Tanis did not turn around. ‘And the answer is no. Berem and I are going alone.’

‘Then you’ll go to your deaths alone,’ Caramon said quietly, holding onto Tanis firmly.

‘If so, then that’s what I’ll do!’ Tanis tried without success to break free of the big man. ‘I’m not taking any of you with me.’

‘And you’ll fail,’ Caramon said. ‘Is that what you want? Are you going just to find a way to die that will end your guilt? If so, I can offer you my sword right now. But if you truly want to free Laurana then you’re going to need help.’

‘The gods have reunited us,’ Goldmoon said gently. ‘They have brought us together again in our time of greatest need. It is a sign from the gods, Tanis. Don’t deny it.’

The half-elf bowed his head. He could not cry, there were no tears left. Tasslehoff’s small hand slipped into his.

‘Besides,’ said the kender cheerfully, ‘think how much trouble you’d get into without me!’