Derek had recently returned to Palanthas, frustrated and irate, his plans having been thwarted at every turn by men who, in his opinion, lacked courage, conviction, and vision. In particular, Derek Crownguard despised his host.
“Gunthar has become an old woman, Brian,” Derek said grimly. “When he hears the enemy is on the march, he cries ‘Alack-a-day!’ and dives under the bed!”
Brian Donner knew this was a ridiculous charge, but he also knew that Derek, like some gnomish device, needed to release steam or else blow up and do damage to those around him.
The two knights were similar in build and in coloring and were sometimes mistaken for brothers by those who did not know them—a relationship Derek was quick to refute, for the Crownguards were a noble family of long lineage and the Donners came of more common stock. Both were blonde and blue-eyed, like many Solamnics. Derek’s hair was a darker blonde, now graying, as were his mustaches—the traditional long and flowing mustaches of a Solamnic knight—for he was in his late thirties. The main difference lay in their eyes. Brian’s blue eyes smiled. Derek’s blue eyes glinted.
“I don’t agree with Gunthar’s views, but he’s not a coward, Derek,” Brian said mildly. “He’s cautious. Perhaps too cautious…”
“His ‘caution’ cost me Castle Crownguard!” Derek returned angrily. “If Gunthar had sent the reinforcements I asked for, we could have held off the onslaught.”
Brian wasn’t sure about that either, but he was Derek’s friend and a fellow knight, so he conceded the point. The two refought the battle for the hundredth time, with Derek detailing what he would have done if only the requested troops had arrived. Brian listened patiently and agreed, as always, to everything Derek said.
The two were exercising their horses in the meadows and forests outside the city walls of Palanthas. They were alone, or Derek would not have been talking as he did. Though Derek might despise Lord Gunthar, the Measure required that a knight support a superior in word and deed, and Derek, who lived and died by the Measure, never spoke out against Gunthar in public. The Measure said nothing about respecting and supporting a superior in one’s private thoughts, however, so Derek could vent his anger alone to a friend and not be guilty of breaking the code of conduct that was meant to govern the lives of the Knights of Solamnia.
Derek and his friend had ridden out for a gallop some distance from the city. The two had returned only yesterday from the meeting of the Knightly Council on Sancrist Isle, a meeting that had devolved into a shouting match. Derek and his supporters advocated sending troops into battle against the dragonarmies immediately, while Gunthar and his faction proposed waiting until their troops were better trained and better equipped and suggested that perhaps they should make some attempt to forge an alliance with the elves.
Neither side proved strong enough to prevail. The knighthood was splintered; no decisions could be made, no action undertaken. Derek believed Lord Gunthar wanted a knighthood divided, since that meant nothing would get done, and he had walked out of the meeting in a rage, choking back words a man must never say to a fellow knight. Though Brian did not entirely agree with Derek, he had supported his friend, and they had boarded the first ship to make the channel crossing from Sancrist to Palanthas.
“If I were Grand Master—” Derek began.
“—which you’re not,” Brian pointed out.
“I should be!” Derek declared vehemently. “Lord Alfred thinks so, and my lords Peterkin and Malborough…”
“But only one of those knights is a member of the Grand Circle and eligible to vote—even if a Grand Circle could be convened, which it can’t, due to the fact that there are not enough members.”
“The Measure provides the means to form a Grand Circle in such dire circumstances as we now find ourselves. Gunthar is deliberately blocking the formation because he knows that if a Grand Circle was convened this day, I would be elected Grand Master.”
Brian wasn’t so certain about this. Derek had his supporters, but even they had their doubts about Derek, just as they had doubts about Gunthar. The elder knight could not have blocked the formation of a Grand Circle unless other knights were content to let it be blocked. The reason? Caution. Everyone was cautious these days. But Brian wondered whether caution was just a more palatable word for fear.
Fear—the stench of it had been rank in the meeting hall. Fear that Solamnia would fall to the force of the dragonarmies. Fear that the ruler of Solamnia would no longer be the Knights who had governed this land since the days of their founder, Vinus Solamnus. Fear of the man who was now calling himself “Emperor of Ansalon”. Most of all, fear of the dragons.
The dragonarmies had a distinct and terrible advantage over the knights—dragons. Two red dragons could wipe out a force of a thousand men-at-arms in a matter of moments. Brian knew that even if Lord Gunthar had sent those reinforcements, Castle Crownguard would have fallen. Derek probably knew it, too, but he had to keep denying it or be forced to face the bleak truth: no matter what the knights did, Solamnia would eventually fall. They could never win against such overwhelming odds.
The two men rode in silence for a long while, letting their horses graze on the late autumn grass that, blessed by the warmth of the sea breezes, was still green, though the trees were losing their fall colors.
At length, Brian said, “I find something about this war very strange.”
“What is that?” Derek asked.
“They say the dragonarmies go into battle with prayers and hymns to their dark goddess. I find it strange to think the forces of evil march under a banner of faith, while we, who are on the side of good, deny the gods even exist.”
“Faith!” Derek snorted. “Superstitious claptrap is nearer the mark. False ‘priests’ perform a few flashy tricks they term miracles, and the gullible moan and wail and fall on their ugly faces in worship.”
“So you don’t believe the goddess Takhisis has returned to the world and brought this war upon us?”
“I believe men brought this war on us,” said Derek.
“Then you don’t believe there were ever gods,” Brian said. “Back in the old days. Gods of Light such as Paladine and Kiri-Jolith?”
“No,” said Derek shortly.
“What about the Cataclysm?”
“A natural phenomenon,” said Derek, “like an earthquake or a cyclone. Gods had nothing to do with it.”
“Huma believed in the gods—”
“Who, these days, believes in Huma?” Derek asked with a shrug. “My little son does, of course, but he is only six.”
“We never used to believe in dragons either,” Brian remarked somberly.
Derek grunted, but made no reply.
“The Measure speaks of faith,” Brian continued. “The role of the High Clerist is as important as that of the High Warrior. Knights of the Rose, such as yourself, could once cast divine spells, or so history tells us. The Measure speaks of how knights of old could use their prayers to heal those wounded in battle.”
Brian was curious to see how Derek would respond to this argument. Derek was devoted to the Measure. He knew many parts of it by heart. He lived his life based on it. How could he reconcile the Measure’s admonition that a knight should be faithful to the gods with his avowed lack of faith?