“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 black-robed 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.”