Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night (11 page)

And as the dragons struck, a sea of fear-crazed humanity surged through the flame-lit streets. Few had any clear idea of where they were going. Some shouted they would be safe in the hills, others ran down by the old waterfront, still others tried to reach the city gates. Above them flew the dragons, burning at their discretion, killing at their leisure.

The human sea broke over Tanis and the companions, crushing them into the street, swirling them apart, smashing them up against buildings. The smoke choked them and stung their eyes, tears blinded them as they fought to control the dragon fear that threatened to destroy their reason.

The heat was so intense that whole buildings blew apart. Tanis caught Gilthanas as the elf was hurled into the side of a building. Holding onto him, the half-elf could only watch helplessly as the rest of his friends were swept away by the mob.

“Back to the Inn!” Tanis shouted. “Meet at the Inn!” But whether they heard him or not, he could not say. He could only trust that they would all try to head in that direction.

Sturm caught hold of Alhana in his strong arms, half-carrying, half dragging her through the death-filled streets. Peering through the ash, he tried to see the others, but it was hopeless. And then began the most desperate battle he had ever fought, striving to keep his feet and support Alhana as time and again the dreadful waves of humanity broke over them.

Then Alhana was ripped from his arms by the shrieking mob, whose booted feet trampled all that lived. Sturm flung himself into the crowd, shoving and bashing with his armored arms and body, and caught Alhana’s wrists. Deathly pale, she was shaking with fright. She hung onto his hands with all her strength, and finally he was able to pull her close. A shadow swept over them. A dragon, screaming cruelly, bore down upon the street that heaved and surged with men, women, and children. Sturm ducked into a doorway, dragging Alhana with him, and shielded her with his body as the dragon swooped low overhead. Flame filled the street; the screams of the dying were heart-rending.

“Don’t look!” Sturm whispered to Alhana, pressing her against him, tears streaming down his own face. The dragon
passed, and suddenly the streets were horribly, unbearably still. Nothing moved.

“Let’s go, while we can,” Sturm said, his voice shaking. Clinging to each other, the two stumbled out of the doorway, their senses numbed, moving only by instinct. Finally, sickened and dizzy from the smell of charred flesh and smoke, they were forced to seek shelter in another doorway.

For a moment, they could do nothing but hold onto each other, thankful for the brief respite, yet haunted by the knowledge that in seconds they must return to the deadly streets.

Alhana rested her head against Sturm’s chest. The ancient, old fashioned armor felt cool against her skin. Its hard metal surface was reassuring, and beneath it she could feel his heart beat, rapid, steady, and soothing. The arms that held her were strong, hard, well-muscled. His hand stroked her black hair.

Alhana, chaste maiden of a stern and rigid people, had long known when, where, and whom she would marry. He was an elflord, and it was a mark of their understanding that, in all the years since this had been arranged they had never touched. He had stayed behind with the people, while Alhana returned to find her father. She had strayed into this world of humans, and her senses reeled from the shock. She detested them, yet was fascinated by them. They were so powerful, their emotions raw and untamed. And just when she thought she would hate and despise them forever, one stepped apart from the others.

Alhana looked up into Sturm’s grieved face and saw etched there pride, nobility, strict inflexible discipline, constant striving for perfection—perfection unattainable. And thus the deep sorrow in his eyes. Alhana felt herself drawn to this man, this human. Yielding to his strength, comforted by his presence, she felt a sweet, searing warmth steal over her, and suddenly she realized she was in more danger from this fire than from the fire of a thousand dragons.

“We’d better go,” Sturm whispered gently, but to his amazement Alhana pushed herself away from him.

“Here we part,” she said, her voice cold as the night wind. “I must return to my lodging. Thank you for escorting me.”

“What?” Sturm said. “Go by yourself? That’s madness.” He reached out and gripped her arm. “I cannot allow—” The wrong thing to do, he realized, feeling her stiffen. She did
not move but simply stared at him imperiously until he released her.

“I have friends of my own,” she said, “as you do. Your loyalty is to them. My loyalty is to mine. We must go our separate ways.” Her voice faltered at the look of intense pain on Sturm’s face, still wet with tears. For a moment Alhana could not bear it and wondered if she would have the strength to continue. Then she thought of her people—depending on her. She found the strength. “I thank you for your kindness and your help, but now I must go, while the streets are empty.”

Sturm stared at her, hurt and puzzled. Then his face hardened. “I was happy to be of service, Lady Alhana. But you are still in danger. Allow me to take you to your lodgings, then I will trouble you no more.”

“That is quite impossible,” Alhana said, gritting her teeth to keep her jaw set firmly. “My lodgings are not far, and my friends wait for me. We have a way out of the city. Forgive me for not taking you, but I am never certain about trusting humans.”

Sturm’s brown eyes flashed. Alhana, standing close, could feel his body tremble. Once more she nearly lost her resolve.

“I know where you are staying,” she said, swallowing. “The Red Dragon Inn. Perhaps, if I find my friends—we could offer you help—”

“Do not concern yourself.” Sturm’s voice echoed her coldness. “And do not thank me. I did nothing more than my Code required of me. Farewell,” he said, and started to walk away.

Then, remembering, he turned back. Drawing the sparkling diamond pin from his belt, he placed it in Alhana’s hand. “Here,” he said. Looking into her dark eyes, he suddenly saw the pain she tried to hide. His voice softened, though he could not understand. “I am pleased you trusted me with this gem,” he said gently, “even for a few moments.”

The elfmaid stared at the jewel for an instant, then she began to shake. Her eyes lifted to Sturm’s eyes and she saw in them not scorn, as she expected, but compassion. Once more, she wondered at humans. Alhana dropped her head, unable to meet his gaze, and took his hand in hers. Then she laid the jewel in his palm and closed his fingers over it.

“Keep this,” she said softly. “When you look at it, think of Alhana Starbreeze and know that, somewhere, she thinks of you.”

Sudden tears flooded the knight’s eyes. He bowed his head, unable to speak. Then, kissing the gem, he placed it carefully back into his belt and he reached out his hands, but Alhana drew back into the doorway, her pale face averted.

“Please go,” she said. Sturm stood for a moment, irresolute, but he could not—in honor—refuse to obey her request. The knight turned and plunged back into the nightmarish street. Alhana watched him from the doorway for a moment, a protective shell hardening around her. “Forgive me, Sturm,” she whispered to herself. Then she stopped. “No, do not forgive me,” she said harshly. “Thank me.”

Closing her eyes, she conjured up an image in her mind and sent a message speeding to the outskirts of the city where her friends waited to carry her from this world of humans. Receiving their telepathic answer in reply, Alhana sighed and began anxiously to scan the smoke-filled skies, waiting.

“Ah,” said Raistlin calmly as the first horn calls shattered the stillness of the afternoon, “I told you so.”

Riverwind cast an irritated glance at the mage, even as he tried to think what to do. It was all very well for Tanis to say protect the group from the town guards, but to protect them from armies of draconians, from dragons! Riverwind’s dark eyes went over the group. Tika rose to her feet, her hand on her sword. The young girl was brave and steady, but unskilled. The Plainsman could still see the scars on her hand where she had cut herself.

“What is it?” Elistan asked, looking bewildered.

“The Dragon Highlord, attacking the city,” Riverwind answered harshly, trying to think.

He heard a clanking sound. Caramon was getting up, the big warrior appearing calm and unperturbed. Thank goodness for that. Even though Riverwind detested Raistlin, he had to admit that the mage and his warrior brother combined steel and magic effectively. Laurana, too, he saw, appeared cool and resolute, but then she was an elf—Riverwind had never really learned to trust elves.

“Get out of the city, if we don’t return,” Tanis had told him. But Tanis hadn’t foreseen this! They would get out of the city only to meet the armies of the Dragon Highlords on the Plains. Riverwind now had an excellent idea who had been
watching them as they traveled to this doomed place. He swore to himself in his own language, then—even as the first dragons swept down over the city—he felt Goldmoon’s arm around him. Looking down, he saw her smile—the smile of Chieftain’s Daughter—and he saw the faith in her eyes. Faith in the gods, and faith in him. He relaxed, his brief moment of panic gone.

A shock wave hit the building. They could hear the screams in the streets below, the roaring whoosh of the fires.

“We’ve got to get off this floor, back to ground level,” Riverwind said. “Caramon, bring the knight’s sword and the other weapons. If Tanis and the others are—” He stopped. He had been about to say “still alive,” then saw Laurana’s face. “If Tanis and the others escape, they’ll return here. We’ll wait for them.”

“Excellent decision!” hissed the mage caustically, “especially as we have nowhere else to go!”

Riverwind ignored him. “Elistan, take the others downstairs. Caramon and Raistlin, stay with me a moment.” After they were gone, he said swiftly, “Our best chance, the way I see it, is to stay inside, barricade ourselves in the Inn. The streets will be deadly.”

“How long do you think we can hold out?” Caramon asked.

Riverwind shook his head. “Hours, maybe,” he said briefly.

The brothers looked at him, each of them thinking about the tortured bodies they had seen in the village of Que-shu, of what they had heard about the destruction of Solace.

“We cannot be taken alive,” Raistlin whispered.

Riverwind took a deep breath. “We’ll hold out as long as we can,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “but when we know we can last no longer—”

He stopped, unable to continue, his hand on his knife, thinking of what he must do.

“There will be no need for that,” Raistlin said softly. “I have herbs. A tiny bit in a glass of wine. Very quick, painless.”

“Are you certain?” Riverwind asked.

“Trust me,” Raistlin replied. “I am skilled in the art. The art of herblore,” he amended smoothly, seeing the Plainsman shudder.

“If I am alive,” Riverwind said softly, “I will give her, them—the drink myself. If not—”

“I understand. You may trust me,” the mage repeated.

“What about Laurana?” Caramon asked. “You know elves. She won’t—”

“Leave it to me,” Raistlin repeated softly.

The Plainsman stared at the mage, feeling horror creep over him. Raistlin stood before him coolly, his arms folded in the sleeves of his robe, his hood pulled up over his head. Riverwind looked at his dagger, considering the alternative. No, he couldn’t do it. Not that way.

“Very well,” he said, swallowing. He paused, dreading to go downstairs and face the others. But the sounds of death in the street were growing louder. Riverwind turned abruptly and left the brothers alone.

“I will die fighting,” Caramon said to Raistlin, trying to speak in a matter-of-fact tone. After the first few words, though, the big warrior’s voice broke. “Promise me, Raist, you’ll take this stuff if I’m … not there.…”

“There will be no need,” Raistlin said simply. “I have not the strength to survive a battle of this magnitude. I will die within my magic.”

Tanis and Gilthanas fought their way through the crowd, the stronger half-elf holding onto the elf as they shoved and clawed and pushed through the panicked masses. Time and again, they ducked for shelter from the dragons. Gilthanas wrenched his knee, fell into a doorway, and was forced to limp in agony, leaning on Tanis’s shoulder.

The half-elf breathed a prayer of thankfulness when he saw the Red Dragon Inn, a prayer that changed to a curse when he saw the black reptilian forms surging around the front. He dragged Gilthanas, who had been stumbling along blindly, exhausted by pain, back into a recessed doorway.

“Gilthanas!” Tanis shouted. “The Inn! It’s under attack!”

Gilthanas raised glassy eyes and stared uncomprehendingly. Then, apparently understanding, he sighed and shook his head. “Laurana,” he gasped, and he pushed himself forward, trying to stagger out of the doorway. “We’ve got to reach them.” He collapsed in Tanis’s arms.

“Stay here,” the half-elf said, helping him sit down. “You’re not capable of moving. I’ll try and get through. I’ll go around the block and come in from the back.”

Tanis ran forward, darting in and out of doorways, hiding
in the wreckage. He was about a block from the Inn when he heard a hoarse shout. Turning to look, he saw Flint gesturing wildly. Tanis dashed across the street.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Why aren’t you with the others—” The half-elf stopped. “Oh, no,” he whispered.

The dwarf, his face smudged with ash and streaked with tears, knelt beside Tasslehoff. The kender was pinned beneath a beam that had fallen in the street. Tas’s face, looking like the face of a wise child, was ashen, his skin clammy.

“Blasted, rattle-brained kender,” Flint moaned. “Had to go and let a house fall on him.” The dwarf’s hands were torn and bleeding from trying to lift a beam that would take three men or one Caramon to get off the kender. Tanis put his hand to Tas’s neck. The lifebeat was very weak.

“Stay with him!” Tanis said unnecessarily. “I’m going to the Inn. I’ll bring Caramon!”

Flint looked up at him grimly, then glanced over at the Inn. Both could hear the yells of the draconians, see their weapons flash in the glare of the firelight. Occasionally an unnatural light flared from the Inn—Raistlin’s magic. The dwarf shook his head. He knew Tanis was about as capable of returning with Caramon as he was of flying.