Mina’s face cleared. Her amber eyes glimmered with a glint of her former spirit. “That is where the ceremony will be held, Galdar. That is where the One God will make manifest her power. The ceremony will be held in the arena, and it will be magnificent, Galdar! Everyone will be there to worship the One God—her foes included.”
Galdar’s choked-down words were giving him a bellyache. He felt sick again, and he remained sitting on the bed, saying nothing. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t return her gaze, couldn’t bear to see himself, that tiny being, held fast in the amber. Mina came to him, touched his hand. He kept his face averted.
“Galdar, I know that I hurt you. I know that your anger was really fear—fear for me.” Her fingers closed fast over his hand. “You are the only one who ever cared about me, Galdar. About me, about Mina. The others care only for what I can do for them. They depend on me like children, and like children I must lead them and guide them.
“I cannot depend on them. But I can depend on you, Galdar. You flew into certain death with me, and you were not afraid. I need you now. I need your strength and your courage. Don’t be angry with me anymore.” She paused, then said, “Don’t be angry with her.” His thoughts went back to the night he’d seen Mina emerge from the storm, heralded by thunder, born of fire. He remembered the thrill when she touched his hand, this hand, the hand that was her gift. He had so many memories of her, each one linked with another to form a golden chain that bound them together. He lifted his head and looked at her, saw her human, small and fragile, and he was suddenly very much afraid for her.
He was so afraid that he could even lie for her.
“I am sorry, Mina,” he said gruffly. “I was angry at—” He paused. He had been going to say “Takhisis,” but he was loath to speak her name. He temporized. “I was angry at the One God. I understand now, Mina. Accept my apology.” She smiled, released his hand. “Thank you, Galdar. You must come with me to see the temple. There is still much work to be done to make ready for the ceremony, but I have lighted the altar and—”
Horns blared. Rumbling drumbeats rolled over her words.
“What is this?” Mina asked, walking to the tent flap and peering out, irritated. “What do they think they are doing?”
“That is the call to arms, Mina,” said Galdar, alarmed. He hastily grabbed up his sword. “We must be under attack.”
“That cannot be,” she returned. “The One God sees all and hears all and knows all. I would have been warned. . .,”
“Nevertheless,” Galdar pointed out, exasperated, “that is the call to arms.”
“I don’t have time for this,” she said, annoyed. “There is too much work to be done in the temple.”
The drumbeat grew louder, more insistent.
“I suppose I will have to deal with it.” She stalked out of the tent, walking with haste, her irritation plain to be seen.
Galdar strapped on his sword, snatched up the padded leather vest that served him for armor, and hastened after her, fastening buckles as he ran.
The streets were awash in confusion, with some people staring stupidly in the direction of the walls, as if they could divine what was going on by just looking, while others were loudly demanding answers from people who were just as confused as they were. The levelheaded raced to their quarters to grab their weapons, reasoning that they’d arm themselves first and find out who they were fighting later.
Galdar opened up a path through the panic-clogged streets. His voice bellowed for people to make way. His strong arms picked up and tossed aside those who didn’t heed his command. Mina followed closely behind him, and at the sight of her, the people cheered and called her name.
“Mina! Mina!”
Glancing back, Galdar saw her still annoyed by the interruption, still determined that this was nothing. They reached the West Gate. Just as the huge doors were thundering shut, Galdar caught a glimpse of one of their scouts—a blue dragon, who had landed outside the walls. The dragon’s rider was talking to the Knight commanding the gate.
“What is going on? What is happening?” Mina demanded, shoving her way through the crowd to reach the officer. “Why did you sound the alarm? Who gave the order?” Knight and rider both swung toward Mina. Both began talking at once. Soldiers and Knights crowded around her, adding to the chaos by trying to make their own voices heard.
“An army led by Solamnic Knights is on its way to Sanction, Mina,” said the dragonrider, gasping for breath. “Accompanying the Knights is an army of elves, flying the standards of both Qualinesti and Silvanesti.”
Mina cast an irate glance at the Knight in charge of the gate. “And for this you sound the alarm and start a panic? You are relieved of your command. Galdar, see that this man is flogged.” Mina turned back to the dragonrider. Her lip curled. “How far away is this army? How many weeks’ march?”
“Mina,” the rider said, swallowing. “They are not marching. They ride dragons. Gold and silver dragons. Hundreds of them—”
“Gold dragons!” a man cried out, and before Galdar could stop him, the fool had dashed off, shouting out the news in a panicked voice. It would be all over the city in minutes. Mina stared at the rider. Blood drained from her face, seemed to drain from her body. She had looked more alive when she was dying. Fearing she might collapse, Galdar put his hand out to steady her. She pushed him away.
“Impossible,” she said through pale lips. “The gold and silver dragons have departed this world, never to return.”
“I am sorry to contradict you, Mina,” the rider said hesitantly, “but I saw them myself. We”—he gestured outside the walls, where his Blue stood, her flanks heaving, her wings and head drooping with exhaustion—“we were caught off-guard, nearly killed. We barely made it here alive.”
Mina’s Knights gathered tensely around her.
“Mina, what are your orders?”
“What is your command, Mina?”
Her pale lips moved, but she spoke to herself. “I must act now. The ceremony cannot wait.”
“How far away are the dragons?” Galdar asked the rider.
The man glanced up fearfully at the sky. “They were right behind me. I am surprised you cannot see them yet—”
“Mina,” said Galdar, “send out an order. Summon the red dragons and the blue. Many of Malys’s old minions still remain close by. Summon them to fight!”
“They won’t come,” said the dragonrider.
Mina shifted her gaze to him. “Why not?”
He gestured with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder to his own blue dragon. “They won’t fight their own kind. Maybe later, the old animosities will return, but not now. We’re on our own.”
“What do we do, Mina?” her Knights demanded, their voices harsh and filled with fear. “What are your orders?”
Mina did not reply. She stood silent, her gaze abstracted. She did not hear them. She listened to another voice.
Galdar knew well whose voice she heard, and he meant that this time she should hear his. Grabbing her arm, Galdar gave her a shake.
“I know what you’re thinking, and we can’t do it, Mina,” Galdar said. “We can’t hold out against this assault! Dragonfear alone will unman most of our troops, make them unfit for battle. The walls, the moat of fire—these won’t stop dragons.”
“We have the army of the dead—”
“Bah!” Galdar snorted. “Golden dragons have no fear of the souls of dead humans or dead goblins or any of these other poor wretches whose spirits the One God has imprisoned. As for the Solamnics, they have fought the dead before, and this time they will be prepared to face the terror.”