Then he saw her, surrounded by her Knights, speaking to the dragonrider. Suddenly one man broke from the group and raced into the crowd, shouting out that silver and gold dragons were coming, dragons ridden by Solamnic Knights. People swore and cursed and started to push and shove. Silvanoshei was jostled and nearly knocked down. Through it all, he fought to keep his eyes on her.
The news of dragons and Knights meant little to Silvanoshei. He thought of it only in terms of how this would affect Mina. He was certain she would lead the battle, and he feared that he would have no opportunity to talk to her. He was astonished beyond measure to see her turn around and walk off, abandoning her troops.
Their loss was his blessing.
Her voice carried to him clearly. “I am going to the temple to prepare for the ceremony.” At last, maybe he could find a way to speak to her.
Silvanoshei entered the tunnel he had found, hoping that his calculations were correct and that it led beneath the moat of fire to the Temple of Duerghast. Hope almost died when he found that the tunnel roof had partially collapsed. He made his way past the chunks of rock and soil, continued on, and eventually found a ladder that led to the surface.
He climbed swiftly, had sense enough to slow as he neared the top. A wooden trapdoor kept the tunnel opening concealed from those above. As he pushed against the door, his hand broke through the rotting wood. A cascade of dirt and splinters fell down around him. Cautiously, he peered out of the hole in the trapdoor. Bright sunshine half-blinded him. He blinked his eyes, waited for them to become accustomed to the light.
The Temple of Duerghast stood only a short distance away.
To reach the temple, he would have to cross a space of open ground. He would be visible from the walls of Sanction. Silvanoshei doubted if anyone would see him or pay attention to him. All eyes would be turned skyward.
Silvanoshei wormed his way out of the hole and ran across the open patch of ground, hid himself in a shadow cast by the temple’s outer wall. Constructed of black granite blocks, the temple’s curtain wall was built in the shape of a square. Two towers guarded the front entrance. Circling around the wall, hugging the building, he searched for some way inside. He came to one of the towers, and here he found two doors, one at either end of the wall.
Heavy slabs of iron controlled by winches served for gates. Although they were covered with rust, the iron gates remained in place and would probably still be standing when the rest of the temple fell down around them. He could not enter there, but he could enter through a part of the outer wall that had collapsed into a pile of rubble. The climb would be difficult, but he was nimble. He was certain he could manage.
He started toward the wall, then halted, frozen in the shadows. He had caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
Someone else had come to the Temple of Duerghast. A man stood before it, gazing at it. The man stood in the open, the sunshine pouring down on him. Silvanoshei must have been blind to have missed seeing him. Yet, he could have sworn that there had been no one there when he came around the corner.
Judging by his looks, the man was not a warrior. He was quite tall, above average height. He wore no sword, carried no bow slung across his shoulder. He was clad in brown woolen hose, a green and brown tunic, and tall leather boots. A cowl, brown in color, covered his head and shoulders. Silvanoshei could not see the man’s face.
Silvanoshei fumed. What was this simpleton doing here? Nothing, by the looks of it, except gawking at the temple like a kender on holiday. He had no weapon, he wasn’t a threat, yet Silvanoshei was reluctant to have the man see him. Silvanoshei was determined to talk to Mina, and for all he knew this man might be some sort of guard. Or perhaps this stranger was also waiting to speak to her. He had the look of someone waiting.
Silvanoshei wished the man away. Time was passing. He had to get inside. He had to talk to Mina. Still the man did not move.
At last, Silvanoshei decided he could wait no longer. He was a swift runner. He could outdistance the man, if the stranger gave chase, lose himself in the temple confines before the man figured out what had happened. Silvanoshei drew in a breath, ready to run. The man turned his head. Drawing back his cowl, he looked straight at Silvanoshei. The man was an elf.
Silvanoshei stared, riveted, unmoving. For a petrifying moment, he feared that Samar had tracked him down, but he recognized immediately that this was not Samar.
At first glance, the elf appeared young, as young as Silvanoshei. His body had the strength, the lithesome grace of youth. A second glance caused Silvanoshei to rethink his first. The elf’s face was unmarred by time, yet in his expression held a gravity that was not youthful, had nothing to do with youth’s hope and high spirits and joyful expectations. The eyes were bright as the eyes of youth, but their brilliance was shadowed, tempered by sorrow. Silvanoshei had the odd impression that this man knew him, but he could not place the strange elf at all. The elf looked at Silvanoshei, then he looked away, turned his gaze back to the temple. Silvanoshei took advantage of the elf’s shift in attention to sprint to the opening in the wall. He climbed swiftly, one eye on the strange elf, who never moved. Silvanoshei dropped down over the side of the wall. He peered back through the rubble to see the elf still standing there, waiting. Putting the stranger from his mind, Silvanoshei entered the ruined temple and set off in search of Mina.
30
For Love of Mina
Mina fought her way through the crowded streets of Sanction. Her movement was hampered by the people who, at the sight of her, surged forward to touch her. They cried out to her in fear of the coming dragons. They begged her to save them.
“Mina, Mina!” they shouted, and the din was hateful to her.
She tried to block it out, tried to ignore them, tried to free herself from their clutching, clinging hands, but with every step she took, they gathered around her more thickly, calling out her name, repeating it over and over as a frantic litany against fear.
Another called her name. The voice of Takhisis, loud and insistent, urging her to make haste. Once the ceremony was complete, once Takhisis had entered the world and united the spiritual realm with the physical, the Dark Queen could take any form she chose, and in that form she would fight her enemies.
Let the foul Golds and the craven Silvers go up against the five-headed monster that she could become. Let the puny armies of the Knights and the elves battle the hordes of the dead that would rise up at her command.
Takhisis was glad that the wretched mage and his tool, the blind Silver, had freed the metallic dragons. She had been furious at the time, but now, in her calmer moments, she remembered that she was the only god on Krynn. Everything worked to her own ends, even the plots of her enemies.
Do what they might, they could never harm her. Every arrow they fired would turn to their own destruction, target their own hearts. Let them attack. This time she would destroy them all—knights, elves, dragons—destroy them utterly, wipe them out, crush them so that they would never rise up against her again. Then she would seize their souls, enslave them. Those who had fought her in life would serve her in death, serve her forever.
To accomplish this, Takhisis needed to be in the world. She controlled the door on the spiritual realm, but she could not open the door on the physical. She needed Mina for that. She had chosen Mina and prepared her for this one task. Takhisis had smoothed Mina’s way, had removed Mina’s enemies. Takhisis was so close to achieving her overweening ambition. She had no fear that the world might be snatched from her at the last moment. She was in control. No other challenged her. She was impatient, however. Impatient to begin the battle that would end in her final triumph.