“I go with Sturm and the knights,” said Flint, adding gruffly, “After all, someone has to protect them from Tasslehoff.” The dwarf reached out, awkwardly patted her hand. “Sturm is right. You go home, Laurana. We’ll manage.”
Laurana looked last to Elistan, her mentor, her guide. He lightly touched the medallion of Paladine he wore around his neck.
He was saying she should turn to Paladine in her trouble. Laurana had no need to ask the god. She knew what she wanted to do, and she knew what she had to do. She could not fly off to safety and leave her friends to face a long and dangerous trek to Icereach, not when she could provide them with safe, swift transport. Gilthanas was right. She could not desert friends who would never think of deserting her.
Laurana gave one last longing thought to her homeland, then left her friends and walked back the griffons. “I thank you for your offer to take us to Qualinesti,” she said. Her voice quivered as she began, but grew stronger as she proceeded. “However, we have urgent business to the south in Icereach. I was wondering if you would take my friends and me to that land.”
Derek said loudly, “Tell the beasts that an evil elf wizard named Feal-Thas is Dragon Highlord of Icereach and that we go to destroy him.”
The griffons appeared highly amused by this. Several cawed loudly and stomped their hind feet and twitched their lion tails. The leader rubbed his beak with a talon and told Laurana that they knew of this Feal-Thas. He was a dark elf, cast out of Silvanesti before the Cataclysm for murdering his lover, and he was an extremely powerful wizard who would not be taken down by a handful of iron-clad fools. The griffon advised her that her first course of action was wise. The beast told her to return home to her father, where she belonged.
“I thank you, Great One,” Laurana said, gently but firmly, “but we will travel to Icereach.”
The griffon’s admonition to go home “where she belonged”—as though she were some errant, heedless child—stung Laurana. She had been just such a child once, but no more.
“If you will not take us,” she continued, seeing the griffons about to refuse, “then we must travel to that land on our own. When you return to Silvanesti, give the Lady Alhana my grateful thanks for her care and concern.”
The griffon mulled over her request. The griffon would be forced to tell Lady Alhana that he had refused to carry Laurana and the others to her chosen destination. Griffons do not consider themselves obliged to serve elves they are not bonded to, but they had agreed to this task and the beasts would consider themselves honor-bound to undertake it. Besides, on consideration, Icereach was close to their home, which was near Silvanesti. Qualinesti was far away.
“We will take you,” the griffon agreed grudgingly, “for the sake of Lady Alhana.”
“I thank you and your brethren with all my heart,” said Laurana, bowing. “I will give you rich reward when I am in my own homeland and able to do so.”
The griffon grunted. He appreciated the gesture, though the beast obviously doubted that Laurana would live long enough to fulfill her promise.
Flint glowered at the thought of riding a griffon, especially without a saddle.
“It is not much different from riding a horse bareback,” Gilthanas told him soothingly.
“Except if you fall off a horse, you get bumps and bruises,” Flint pointed out. “Whereas if I fall off that great beast, I will end up splattered over a lot of ground!”
He continued to mutter his protests, even as he allowed Sturm to assist him onto the griffon’s back.
Laurana instructed the dwarf to sit forward of the wings and hang on tightly, keeping his arms around the griffon’s neck. The last was unnecessary, for Flint had hold of the griffon in a grip that appeared likely to strangle the beast.
“Don’t look down. If you feel giddy once you are airborne, close your eyes or bury your head in the griffon’s mane,” she told him.
At this, Flint looked triumphantly at Tasslehoff. “I told you griffons had manes, you doorknob!”
“But, Flint,” Tas returned, “the griffon’s mane is made of feathers. The mane on your helm is horse hair—”
“It is the mane of a griffon!” Flint insisted.
He sat bolt upright after that and eased up on his grip, trying to look as though flying on griffon-back was something dwarves did on a daily basis.
The knights were ill at ease. Aran said he feared he was too heavy; the beast could not bear his weight. The griffon only snorted and shook his head and twitched his tail in impatience to be gone. Reluctantly, Aran and Brian mounted their beasts. Sturm took charge of Tasslehoff, who was overheard asking the griffons if they could take him to visit Lunitari after they stopped at Icereach. If Derek had doubts, he resolutely kept them to himself. When everyone was mounted, the lead griffon, bearing Laurana, leapt into the air and the rest followed.
Laurana had flown on griffons before. She was used to flight, and she kept a concerned watch on her companions. Brian had gone deathly pale as they soared into the air, but once airborne he stared down at the ground unrolling beneath him and gasped in awe and delighted wonder. Derek was stern and grim, lips pressed tightly together. He did not look down, but he did not hide his face either. Aran was enjoying himself. He yelled out that they should try to convince the griffons to carry them into battle, as the Dark Queen’s minions rode their evil dragons. Sturm had all he could do to keep tight hold of Tasslehoff, who nearly tumbled off in his efforts to grab a cloud.
Beneath them was the Plains of Dust, white with snow. They saw a band of Plainsmen, who halted in their travels and gazed upward as the shadows of the griffons flowed over them. The beasts flew over Rigitt, and though they saw no signs of the dragonarmy, they could see the wharf crowded with people eager to flee. Only a few ships were in the harbor; far too few to carry all those seeking passage.
Leaving Rigitt behind, they flew over the gray-blue sea, and now all of them buried their heads in the griffons’ manes, not from fear, but for warmth. The frigid wind blowing off the glacier stung their cheeks and burned their eyes and froze their breath. When the griffons began to spiral downward, Laurana peeped out from the feathers to see beneath her a white land of blue shadows, frozen and empty.
She laid her head among the griffon’s feathers and pictured her homeland, where it was always springtime, the air always warm, perfumed with the scents of roses, lavender and honeysuckle.
Her tears froze on her skin.
6
Highlords. High treason
Kitiara’s journey from Tarsis to Neraka was not a pleasant one. The skies were gray and overcast. A chill drizzling rain mixed with snow fell almost the entire trip. She was chilled and wet all the time. When they stopped at night to rest, she could not build a fire to warm herself, for the only wood she could find was soaked. The blue dragon was respectful to her and deferential, but he wasn’t Skie. She couldn’t talk to this dragon about her plans and schemes, couldn’t visit with him while he crunched beef bones from a stolen cow and she stewed a rabbit.
Kitiara was angry at Skie. He had no right to make such accusations, yet she found herself hoping the dragon would think better of his temper fit and come in search of her, ready to apologize. Skie did not appear, however.
They arrived at Neraka as darkness was falling. Kitiara sent the blue to the dragon stables, telling the beast to be ready to depart the moment the meeting was adjourned. Kitiara made her way through the crowded streets to the Broken Shield Inn. She was cold, hungry, and wanted a warm bed, a blazing fire, and hot, spiced wine. But when she arrived, she was told regrettably that there was no room. The inn was filled to capacity with Highlord Toede’s personal staff, retinue, soldiers, and bodyguards.