“We gods saw the danger this complacency was bringing upon the world. We saw that much good was being destroyed, simply because it wasn’t understood. And we saw the Queen of Darkness, lying in wait, biding her time, for this could not last, of course. The overweighted scales must tip and fall, and then she would return. Darkness would descend upon the world very fast.
“And so—the Cataclysm. We grieved for the innocent. We grieved for the guilty. But the world had to be prepared, or the darkness that fell might never have been lifted.” Fizban saw Tasslehoff yawn. “But enough lectures. I’ve got to go. Things to do. Busy night ahead.” Turning away abruptly, he tottered toward the snoring golden dragon.
“Wait!” Tanis said suddenly. “Fizban—er—Paladine, were you ever in the Inn of the Last Home, in Solace?”
“An inn? In Solace?” The old man paused, stroking his beard. “An inn... there are so many. But I seem to recall spicy potatoes... That’s it!” The old man peered around at Tanis, his eyes glinting. “I used to tell stories there, to the children. Quite an exciting place, that inn. I remember one night—a beautiful young woman came in. A barbarian she was, with golden hair. Sang a song about a blue crystal staff that touched off a riot.”
“That was you, shouting for the guards!” Tanis exclaimed. “You got us into this!”
“I set the stage, lad,” Fizban said cunningly. “I didn’t give you a script. The dialogue has been all yours.” Glancing at Laurana, then back to Tanis, he shook his head. “Must say I could have improved it a bit here and there, but then—never mind.” Turning away once more, he began yelling at the dragon. “Wakeup, you lazy, flea-bitten beast!”
“Flea-bitten!” Pyrite’s eyes flared open. “Why, you decrepit old mage! You couldn’t turn water into ice in the dead of winter!”
“Oh, can’t I?” Fizban shouted in a towering rage, poking at the dragon with his staff. “Well, I’ll show you.” Fishing out a battered spellbook, he began flipping pages. “Fireball... Fireball ... I know it’s in here somewhere.”
Absentmindedly, still muttering, the old mage climbed up onto the dragon’s back.
“Are you quite ready?” the ancient dragon asked in icy tones, then—without waiting for an answer—spread his creaking wings. Flapping them painfully to ease the stiffness, he prepared to take off.
“Wait! My hat!” Fizban cried wildly.
Too late. Wings beating furiously, the dragon rose unsteadily into the air. After wobbling, hanging precariously over the edge of the cliff, Pyrite caught the night breeze and soared into the night sky.
“Stop! You crazed—”
“Fizban!” Tas cried.
“My hat!” wailed the mage.
“Fizban!” Tas shouted again. “It’s—”
But the two had flown out of hearing. Soon they were nothing more than dwindling sparks of gold, the dragon’s scales glittering in Solinari’s light.
“It’s on your head,” the kender murmured with a sigh.
The companions watched in silence, then turned away.
“Give me a hand with this, will you, Caramon?” Tanis asked. Unbuckling the dragonarmor, he sent it spinning, piece by piece, over the edge of the ridge. “What about yours?”
“I think I’ll keep mine a while longer. We’ve still a long journey ahead of us, and the way will be difficult and dangerous.” Caramon waved a hand toward the flaming city. “Raistlin was right. The dragonmen won’t stop their evil just because their Queen is gone.” “Where will you go?” Tanis asked, breathing deeply. The night air was soft and warm, fragrant with the promise of new growth. Thankful to be rid of the hated armor, he sat down wearily beneath a grove of trees that stood upon the ridge overlooking the Temple. Laurana came to sit near him, but not beside him. Her knees were drawn up beneath her chin, her eyes thoughtful as she gazed out over the plains.
“Tika and I have been talking about that,” Caramon said, the two of them sitting down beside Tanis. He and Tika glanced at each other, neither seeming willing to speak. After a moment, Caramon cleared his throat. “We’re going back to Solace, Tanis. And I-I guess this means we’ll be splitting up since"—he paused, unable to continue.
“We know you’ll be returning to Kalaman,” Tika added softly, with a glance at Laurana. “We talked of going with you. After all, there’s that big citadel floating around still, plus all these renegade dragonmen. And we’d like to see Riverwind and Goldmoon and Gilthanas again. But—”
“I want to go home, Tanis,” Caramon said heavily. “I know it’s not going to be easy going back, seeing Solace burned, destroyed,” he added, forestalling Tanis’s objections, “but I’ve, thought about Alhana and the elves, what they have to go back to in Silvanesti. I’m thankful my home isn’t like that—a twisted nightmare. They’ll need me in Solace, Tanis, to help rebuild.
They’ll need my strength. I-I’m used to... being needed....” Tika laid her cheek on his arm, he gently tousled her hair.
Tanis nodded in understanding. He would like to see Solace again, but it wasn’t home. Not any more. Not without Flint and Sturm and... and others. “What about you, Tas?” Tanis asked the kender with a smile as he came trudging up to the group, lugging a waterskin he had filled at a nearby creek. “Will you come back to Kalaman with us?”
Tas flushed. “No, Tanis,” he said uncomfortably. “You see, since I’m this close—I thought I’d pay a visit to my homeland. We killed a Dragon Highlord, Tanis"—Tas lifted his chin proudly—"all by ourselves. People will treat us with respect now. Our leader, Kronin, will most likely become a hero in Krynnish lore.”
Tanis scratched his beard to hide his smile, refraining from telling Tas that the Highlord the kenders had killed had been the bloated, cowardly Fewmaster Toede.
“I think one kender will become a hero,” Laurana said seriously. “He will be the kender who broke the dragon orb, the kender who fought at the siege of the High Clerist’s Tower, the kender who captured Bakaris, the kender who risked everything to rescue a friend from the Queen of Darkness.”
“Who’s that?” Tas asked eagerly, then, “Oh!” Suddenly realizing who Laurana meant, Tas flushed pink to the tips of his ears and sat down with a thud, quite overcome.
Caramon and Tika settled back against a tree trunk, both faces—for the moment—were filled with peace and tranquility. Tanis, watching them, envied them, wondering if such peace would ever be his. He turned to Laurana, who was sitting straight now, gazing beyond into the flaming sky, her thoughts far away.
“Laurana,” Tanis said unsteadily, his voice faltering as her beautiful face turned to his, “Laurana, you gave this to me once"—he held the golden ring in his palm—"before either of us knew what true love or commitment meant. It now means a great deal to me, Laurana. In the dream, this ring brought me back from the darkness of the nightmare, just as your love saved me from the darkness in my own soul.” He paused, feeling a sharp pang of regret even as he talked. “I’d like to keep it, Laurana, if you still want me to have it. And I would like to give you one to wear, to match it.”
Laurana stared at the ring long moments without speaking, then she lifted it from Tanis’s palm and—with a sudden motion—threw it over the ridge. Tanis gasped, half-starting to his feet. The ring flashed in Lunitari’s red light, then it vanished into the darkness.
“I guess that’s my answer,” Tanis said. “I can’t blame you.”
Laurana turned back to him, her face calm. “When I gave you that ring, Tanis, it was the first love of an undisciplined heart. You were right to return it to me, I see that now. I had to grow up, to learn what real love was. I have been through flame and darkness, Tanis. I have killed dragons. I have wept over the body of one I loved.” She sighed. “I was a leader. I had responsibilities. Flint told me that. But I threw it all away, I fell into Kitiara’s trap. I realized—too late—how shallow my love really was. Riverwind’s and Goldmoon’s steadfast love brought hope to the world. Our petty love came near to destroying it.”