Dragonlance 10 - The Second Generation (6 page)

The more he thought about it, the sorrier Caramon was he'd decided to come. At length, he ordered Sara to turn back, to return him to his inn, but she either couldn't hear him—for the rush of the wind in their ears—or was pointedly ignoring him. He might jump out of the saddle, but—from this height that was out of the question.

It did occur to Caramon that he was armed and that he might overpower Sara. But, after giving this some serious thought, he realized that even if he did manage to overpower Sara, he would never be able to control her blue dragon, which was giving him suspicious looks as it was. And by the time Caramon had reached this conclusion, they had landed on a hilltop overlooking Tanis's castle. Caramon dismounted from the dragon. It was not yet dawn, but sunrise wasn't far off. Sara calmed the dragon, left it orders to stay put—or so Caramon assumed, since he couldn't understand what she was saying—then she began walking toward the palatial dwelling. Realizing Caramon wasn't following, she turned to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm not sure," Caramon said, considering.

Sara looked frightened, as if she might start to cry again.

Caramon sighed. "Yes," he said gloomily. "I'm coming."

"Caramon Majere! Of all the lame-brained—Excuse us a moment, will you, mistress?" Tanis said politely to Sara.

Grabbing hold of Caramon's arm, the half-elf dragged the big man to the far side of the large, firelit room.

"This could be a trap," Tanis whispered. "Did you ever consider that?"

"Yes," Caramon said.

"And?" Tanis demanded.

"I don't think it is," Caramon responded, after a moment's thought. Tanis sighed. "You obviously haven't—"

"I mean," Caramon continued, "why would these dark paladins set a trap for me, a middle-aged innkeeper? That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"No, but—" Tanis looked embarrassed. "Maybe the trap wasn't meant for you…"

"I know," Caramon said, nodding wisely. "You're far more important. But it was Tika who suggested I talk to you, not Sara. And," he added gravely, after another moment's profound thought, "I don't believe Tika's setting a trap for you, Tanis."

"Well, of course, she isn't," Tanis snapped. "It's just… All right, so maybe it's not a trap. Maybe I… I don't want…" He shook his head and started over. "I remember that terrible day Kitiara died. She had tried to kill Dalamar, remember? He stopped her…"

Tanis paused and swallowed. "She died in my arms. And then the death knight came to claim her. I could hear her voice, pleading with me to save her from that dread fate. 'Even now, in death, she's reaching out to you…' Dalamar told me then. She's still doing it, Caramon."

"No, she's not, Tanis. This is her son…"

"If you believe that woman, Sara."

Caramon was troubled. "Don't you?"

"I don't know what to believe. But, you're right. We have to find out the truth, and do what we can to help this young man, no matter whose son he is. Besides, it will give me a chance to see what Ariakan is up to. We've heard reports of these dark paladins before now, but we had no way of knowing if they were true or merely rumors. It appears"—he glanced grimly at Sara, a chilling figure in her blue helm and black-trimmed cloak—"that they are true.

"But now," Tanis added with a wry smile and a shake of his head, "I have to face the truly difficult task. I have to go tell this to my wife."

Tanis spent an hour alone with Laurana. Caramon, pacing the entry hall of the half-elf's mansion, could well imagine the nature of the conversation. Tanis's elven wife, Laurana, knew all about the relationship between Kitiara and her husband. Laurana had been understanding, especially since the affair was over and finished long ago. But what about now—when there was the possibility of a child? A very good possibility, as far as Caramon was concerned. He simply could not bring himself to believe the father was really Sturm.

"Yet, why would Kit lie?" he asked himself.

The answer was beyond Caramon. But then he'd never been able to explain why his older half-sister had done half the things she'd done.

Tanis came out of the room, his arm around his wife. Laurana was smiling, and Caramon breathed easier. She even paused to say a few whispered words to Sara, who sat, slumped, weary and exhausted, in a corner near the fireplace. Caramon noted then how young Laurana looked, in comparison to her husband—the tragedy of elven-human relationships. Though Tanis had elven blood in his veins, the human blood was growing gray, as the saying went. When the two had wed, over twenty years ago, they had looked to be of equal age. Now they could have been father and daughter.

"But they knew this when they married," Caramon said to himself. "They're making the most out of the time they have together. And that's what counts."

Tanis was ready to travel almost immediately. As official ambassador and liaison between the Solamnic Knights and the elven nations, he spent much of his time on the road, as did his wife. He had donned a suit of leather armor—favored by elves—and a green cloak. Seeing him thus, Caramon was reminded poignantly of their old adventuring days.

Perhaps Laurana was thinking the same, for she ruffled the beard that only a half-human elf could grow, and made some teasing comment in Elvish that caused Tanis to smile. He bid his wife farewell. She kissed him gently, and he held her fondly.

Then he bid farewell to his son—a frail and weak youth, doted on by both parents, who watched him with anxious, loving eyes. The young man was elven through and through, with no trace of his father visible. His complexion was the sickly white of one who rarely steps outside.

Not surprising that Tanis and Laurana keep him locked in a cage like a baby bird, Caramon thought, considering the number of times they've nearly lost him. If he was all elf, he'd be content to spend his time with his nose in a book. But he's human, too. Look at those eyes, Tanis. Look at him when he watches you ride off to adventure, to see wondrous sights he's only read about.

"Someday, Tanis," Caramon said softly, "you're going to come home and find the cage empty." They trudged up the hill, to where the blue dragon was dozing, its wings folded at its sides.

"What are you muttering about?" Tanis asked Caramon grumpily. The half-elf was regarding the blue dragon with a grim face, keeping a close watch on it. The dragon was apparently not pleased at the smell of elf. It woke up instantly, its nostrils flared. Tossing its head in disgust, the beast snaked out its head and showed its fangs.

Sara Dunstan was a skilled dragon rider, however. With a sharp word of reprimand, she brought her mount swiftly, if sulkily, under control. Caramon climbed into the saddle first, then reached down from his rear seat in the two-person dragon saddle to haul up his friend with an easy swing of a massive arm.

"I was thinking to myself that your boy looks well," Caramon lied. Tanis squirmed to get into a halfway comfortable position, practically an impossibility. He would be forced to cling to the back of Caramon's seat—either that or sit in the big man's lap.

"Thanks," said Tanis, brightening, his proud gaze going to his son, who stood on the lawn, gazing at them with wide, almond-shaped eyes. "We think he's getting better. If we just knew what was wrong with him!… Not even Revered Daughter Crysania can tell us."

"Maybe he just needs to spend some time in the fresh air. You should let him come visit us," Caramon suggested. "My boys would take him out riding, hunting…"

"We'll see," Tanis said politely, in a not-on-your-life tone. "Any signs of pursuit, mistress?" Caramon scanned the skies. It had been near dawn when they'd arrived. The morning was well advanced now, the late autumn sun burning off night's chill. There was no sign of any other dragons that he could see.

"With luck, they haven't missed me," Sara said, though she looked worried. "I'm a dragon trainer now. I am often gone, exercising the mounts. I foresaw the need for this." She spoke a word to the dragon. The blue leapt into the air, propelled by its powerful hind legs, strong wings beating to lift it. They circled the castle once, in order for the dragon to get its bearings, then they soared northward.

"We will arrive at the fortress after dark," Sara told them. "I regret the loss of this day, but, it can't be helped, and what time we've lost we will hopefully make up. Will there be trouble with the Solamnic Knights?" she asked Tanis anxiously.

"There will always be trouble with the Solamnic Knights," Tanis growled. He was in an ill humor, for which Caramon really couldn't blame him. After all, the half-elf might well be journeying to meet a son he never knew he had. "But with Paladine's help, we'll get through it." The blue dragon glared round at them ferociously. Sara spoke sharply, and the beast sullenly turned its head.

"I wouldn't mention that god's name again," she suggested quietly.

None of them could think of anything to say after that. Talking was difficult anyway; they were forced to shout over the rush of air created by the dragon's powerful wings. And so they traveled in silence, flying far beyond Ansalon, far beyond known civilized lands, flying into darkness. Two days left.

Two days to save a soul.

"My god!" said Tanis grimly, taking care not to mention which god he was calling on to witness his astonishment. "It's huge!"

"What's the fortress called?" Caramon asked Sara.

"Storm's Keep," she answered. Her words were blown back to him by the violent wind, and it seemed to Caramon that it was the wind that spoke. "Ariakan named it. He said that when those gates open, a storm will be unleashed on Ansalon that will destroy everything in its path." The fortress was located far north of Ansalon's mainland. Vast and forbidding, Storm's Keep was built on a large island of jagged rock. The glistening black walls of the stronghold were continually bathed by the spray from the crashing waves of the Sirrion Sea. Watch fires burned on the tall, tooth-edged towers. The light served to guide the flight of dragons, whose wings were black silhouettes against the stars as the beasts wheeled and turned in the night sky.

"What's all the commotion?" Caramon asked nervously. "This isn't on your account is it?" Sara reassured him. "It's just the soldiers, practicing night attacks. Ariakan says that was a mistake the Dragon Highlords made during the last war—fighting in daylight. The knights and their mounts are being trained to fight in the dark, use the darkness to their advantage."

"Not a ship could get near this place," Tanis muttered, eyeing the white foam of the breakers smashing against the steep rock shoreline.

"The seas are far too rough to sail. Not even the minotaurs will venture this far north—one reason Ariakan chose this island. It is accessible only by dragon and by magic."

"At least no one should notice us in all the activity," said Caramon.

"Yes," Sara agreed. "This is what I was thinking." No one did notice them, or at least pay much attention to them. A gigantic red dragon shrieked at them in irritation, when the smaller blue dived between the red and the tower under "assault." The two dragons exchanged curses and snarls in their own language; the soldier atop the red added his own insults, which Sara answered in kind. She held her course, her destination in sight, cutting swiftly through the mock battle.

Caramon, subdued and appalled, stared around in horror, awed by the strength in numbers and the daring skill of the black-armored paladins, who were easily routing the towers' "defenders." And the dragons were not even using their most powerful weapon-their breath, which could spew acid, belch fire, cast lightning. Tanis's face was stern and grim, noting and attempting to impress on his mind every detail.

Sara ordered the dragon to land in a cleared area far from the main part of the fortress: This section of the compound was relatively quiet, in sharp contrast to the commotion going on at the battle site.

"These are the stables," she said in a low voice to Caramon and Tanis, as they dismounted.

"Keep quiet and let me do the talking."

Both men nodded, then hunched their shoulders deep into blue cloaks trimmed with black, which they wore over their own armor. Sara had brought one with her, thinking she would only have to disguise Caramon. She gave Tanis her own cloak, first taking care to remove the black lily brooch.

"You mustn't touch it," she warned him. "It has been blessed by the dark clerics. It might do you harm."

"You touch it," he said to her.

"I am used to it," she returned softly.

The blue dragon settled down in the vast, open yard, an enormous landing site located outside the fortress's walls.

Beyond, a long row of stalls echoed with the frustrated, eager whinnies of horses. Excited by the sounds of battle, they wanted their turn.

"The knights are taught to ride and fight on horseback, as well as dragon back," Sara told them.

"Ariakan thinks of everything, doesn't he? Where do you keep the dragons?" Tanis asked. "Surely not here."

"No, the island isn't large enough. The dragons have homelands of their own. No one is quite certain where. They come when summoned."

"Hsst!" Caramon tugged on Sara's sleeve. "Company." A hobgoblin was running over to stare at them.

"Who's that?" the goblin demanded suspiciously, holding up a torch that sputtered in the rain. "No blues out tonight! What the—Ariakan's woman!"

Sara took off her helm and shook out her hair. "Lord Ariakan to you, worm. And I am no one's woman, except my own. You do remember my name, don't you, Glob? Or has it slipped your pea-brained mind?"

The goblin sneered. "What you doing out this night, S—s—s—ara?" He hissed the name mockingly.

"And who be these two?" Little piggy eyes had caught sight of Caramon and Tanis, though the men took care to stand well out of the torchlight.

"If I were you, I wouldn't ask too many questions, Glob," Sara replied coolly. "Lord Ariakan doesn't like underlings who meddle in his affairs. See to it my dragon has whatever she wants. You two." She didn't look behind her, but motioned to Caramon and Tanis. "Come with me." The two walked past the goblin, who appeared somewhat daunted at the mention of Ariakan's affairs, and stepped back. But the goblin squinted intently as the two, shrouded in their cloaks, passed him. And at that moment, as ill luck—or the Dark Queen—would have it, a gust of wind swept round the stable yard and whipped back Tanis's long, graying hair to reveal a shapely, pointed ear. The goblin sucked in a shrill breath. Leaping over to Tanis, he caught hold of his arm and thrust the lighted torch in his face, so close that he nearly caught the man's beard on fire.