He and Lillith looked at each other. This was the moment they must part, he to his duty, she to hers. They gave each other the gift of a precious moment, a moment to cling to each other, a moment to memorize a loved face, a moment they would each hold in the coming darkness. Then they let go, each turning away.
“Marcus,” Lillith called, running out of the chapel. “Fetch the Aesthetics! Bring them here!”
“Derek!” Brian shouted. “The dragonarmies! I’m going out to take a look!”
He was about to race up the stairs when he heard raised voices coming from the library’s interior. Brian groaned inwardly. He could guess what was going on. He turned from the stairs and made his way among the bookshelves, moving as rapidly as possible, hoping to head off a dispute.
“Where do you think you are going, kender?” Derek could be heard shouting.
“With Tanis!” Tas yelled back, sounding amazed at the question. “You’re knights. You can get along fine without me, but my friends need me!”
“We offer you our protection, Half-Elven,” Derek was saying as Brian arrived. “Are you turning that down?”
“I thank you, Sir Knight,” Tanis replied, “but as I told you, we cannot go with you. We have friends in the Red Dragon. We must return to them—”
“Bring the kender, Sturm,” Derek ordered, “and come with us.”
“I cannot, sir,” Sturm replied. He rested his hand on the half-elf’s shoulder. “He is my leader, and my first loyalty is to my friends.”
Derek was incensed that Sturm Brightblade, a Solamnic, would have the temerity to refuse a direct order from a knight who was his superior by birth, and to add insult to injury, instead proudly proclaim that he obeyed the orders of some half-breed elf.
Tanis understood. He started to say something, perhaps to try to assuage Derek’s ire, but Derek intervened.
“If that is your decision, I cannot stop you,” Derek said, cold with anger. “But this is another black mark against you, Sturm Brightblade. Remember that you are not a knight. Not yet. Pray that I am not there when the question of your knighthood comes before the Council.”
Sturm went livid. He cast a conscience-stricken look at the half-elf, who appeared considerably astonished.
“What did he say?” the dwarf demanded. “The knight’s not a knight?”
“Leave it, Flint,” said Tanis quietly. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, of course it doesn’t matter.” Flint shook his fist under Derek’s nose. “We’re glad he’s not one of you stuck-up steel-for-brains knights! It would serve you right if we did leave you with the kender!”
“Tanis,” Sturm said in low tones, “I can explain—”
“There’s no time for explanations!” Tanis was shouting in his urgency. “Listen! They’re coming closer. Gentlemen, I wish you success. Sturm, see to the Lady Alhana. Tasslehoff, you’re coming with me.” Tanis laid firm hands on the kender. “If we get separated, we’ll meet at the Red Dragon Inn.”
The horn calls were coming closer. Tanis managed to marshal his friends together and they hurried off, following the kender, who knew the path through the bookshelves. Derek glared at the books piled on the table in frustration. There were a number not yet studied.
“At least we know there’s an orb in Icereach, and we know what it does,” Aran pointed out. “Now let’s get out of this city before all hell breaks loose.”
“The horses are stabled near the main gate. We can escape in the confusion—” Brian added.
“We need that kender!” Derek stated.
“Derek, be reasonable,” Aran said, but Derek was unpacking his armor and refused to heed him.
The time for disguising themselves was past. They might have to fight their way out of the city, and Aran and Derek buckled on their breastplates over chain mail and put on their helms. Brian, who had lost his armor when his horse ran off, had to make do with his leather. They sorted through their gear, took only what they deemed necessary, and left the rest behind. They made their way among the books, back to the entrance.
“I thank you for your assistance, Mistress,” Derek said to Lillith, who was keeping guard on the door. “How do we find the Red Dragon Inn?”
Lillith stared at him in astonishment. “This is a strange time to go inquiring for a room, sir.”
“Please, Mistress, we don’t have much time,” Derek stated.
Lillith shrugged. “Go back to the center of the city. The inn’s not far from the Hall of Justice.”
“You go on ahead,” said Brian to the others. “I’ll catch up.”
Derek cast him an annoyed glance, but made no comment. Aran grinned at Brian and winked, then he and Derek dashed up the stairs.
Brian turned to Lillith. “Shut and seal the door. They won’t find it—”
“I will,” she said. Her voice trembled a little, but she was composed and even managed a smile. “I’m waiting for the other Aesthetics to come. We have laid in supplies. We’ll be safe. Draconians are not interested in books—”
No, thought Brian, despairing, they’re only interested in killing.
He gave her a last, lingering kiss, then—hearing Derek bellowing—he tore himself away from her and ran after his friends.
“May the Gods of Light watch over you!” she called after him.
Brian glanced back over his shoulder and waved his hand in farewell. The last he saw of her, she was smiling and waving, then a shadow passed overhead, blotting out the sun.
Brian looked up to see the red wings and enormous red body of a dragon. The dragonfear swept over him, crushing hope and rending courage. His sword arm faltered. He staggered as he ran, barely able to breathe for the terror that seemed to darken everything around him.
The dragonarmies had not come to conquer Tarsis. They had come to destroy it.
Brian fought against the fear that twisted inside him so that he was nearly physically ill. He wondered if Derek and Aran were watching him, a witness to his weakness, and pride and anger bolstered him. He kept running. The red monster flew by, heading toward those sections of Tarsis where panic-stricken people were thronging into the streets.
Brian found Aran and Derek sheltered in the shadows of a crumbling doorway.
More red dragons came, their wings filling the skies. The knights heard the roaring of the monstrous beasts, saw them wheel and dive down upon their helpless victims, breathing great gouts of fire that incinerated everything and everyone it touched. Smoke began to rise as buildings exploded into flame. Even from this distance, they could hear the horrible screams of the dying.
Aran had gone ashen. Derek maintained his stern composure but only by great effort. He had to lick his lips twice before he could speak.
“We’re going to the inn.”
They all ducked involuntarily as a red dragon flew overheard, his belly skimming the treetops. Had the dragon looked down, he would have seen them, but the beast’s fierce eyes were staring hungrily ahead. He was eager to join in the slaughter.
“Derek, that’s madness,” Aran hissed. Sweat beaded his lip beneath his helm. “The dragon orb is what is important. Forget the damn kender!” He pointed to the thickening coils of black smoke. “Look at that! We might as well march into the Abyss!”
Derek gave him a cold look. “I’m going to the inn. If you’re afraid, I’ll meet you back at our campsite.”
He started off, running down the street, dodging from one shelter to another, diving from a doorway to a grove of trees to a building, trying to avoid attracting the attention of the dragons.
Brian looked helplessly at Aran, who flung up his hands in exasperation.
“I suppose we’ll have to go with him! At least maybe we can keep the idiot from getting himself killed.”
BOOK III
1
The Red Dragon Inn. The chase
Upon leaving Icereach, Kitiara and Skie had met up with her force of blue dragons and her sivak draconian guards, who had been loitering about on the outskirts of Thorbardin, keeping watch on the dwarven kingdom to see if those on the bounty list turned up. Kit had a good excuse for going to Tarsis. Ariakas had recently promoted Fewmaster Toede to the position of Dragon Highlord of the Red Wing, though on a temporary basis. Kitiara could tell the emperor she had gone to view the battle brewing there to see how the hobgoblin conducted himself.