Tanis blinked. For a moment, he could think of nothing to say, but the mention of the dragon orb brought back thoughts of his friend. ‘Where’s Sturm?’ he asked Alhana. ‘The last I saw him, he was with you.’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘We parted. He was going to the Inn, to find you. I called my griffons to me.’
‘Why didn’t you let him take you to Silvanesti if you needed warriors?’
‘That is none of your concern.’ Alhana turned her back to Tanis, who sat wordlessly, too tired to think clearly. Then he heard a voice shouting at him, barely distinguishable through the feathery rustle of the griffon’s mighty wings.
It was Caramon. The warrior was shouting and pointing behind them. What now? Tanis thought wearily.
They had left behind the smoke and the storm clouds that covered Tarsis, flying out into the clear night sky. The stars gleamed above them, their sparkling lights shining as cold as diamonds, emphasizing the gaping black holes in the night sky where the two constellations had wheeled in their track above the world. The moons, silver and red, had set, but Tanis did not need their light to recognize the dark shapes blotting out the shining stars.
‘Dragons,’ he said to Alhana. ‘Following us.’
Tanis could never afterward clearly remember the nightmare flight from Tarsis. It was hours of chill, biting wind that made even death by a dragon’s flaming breath seem appealing. It was hours of panic, staring behind to see the dark shapes gaining on them, staring until his eyes watered and the tears froze on his cheeks, yet unable to turn away. It was stopping at dusk, worn out from fear and fatigue, to sleep in a cave on a high rock cliff. It was waking at dawn only to see—as they soared through the air again—the dark, winged shapes still behind them.
Few living creatures can outfly the eagle-winged griffon. But the dragons—blue dragons, the first they had ever seen—were always on the horizon, always pursuing, allowing no rest during the day, forcing the companions into hiding at night when the exhausted griffons must sleep. There was little food, only quith-pa, a dried-fruit type of iron ration that sustains the body, but does little to ease hunger—which Alhana carried and shared. But even Caramon was too weary and dispirited to eat much.
The only thing Tanis remembered vividly occurred on the second night of their journey. He was telling the small group huddled around a fire in a damp and cheerless cave about the kender’s discovery in the library at Tarsis. At the mention of the dragon orbs, Raistlin’s eyes glittered, his thin face lit from within by an eager, intense glow.
‘Dragon orbs?’ he repeated softly.
‘I thought you might know of them,’ Tanis said. ‘What are they?’
Raistlin did not answer immediately. Wrapped in both his own and his brother’s cloak, he lay as near the fire as possible, and still his frail body shook with the chill. The mage’s golden eyes stared at Alhana, who sat somewhat apart from the group, deigning to share the cave but not the conversation. Now, however, it seemed she half-turned her head, listening.
‘You said there is a dragon orb in Silvanesti,’ the mage whispered, glancing at Tanis. ‘Surely I am not the one to ask.’
‘I know little about it,’ Alhana said, turning her pale face to the firelight. ‘We keep it as a relic of bygone days, more a curiosity than anything else. Who believed humans would once again wake this evil and bring the dragons back to Krynn?’
Before Raistlin could answer, Riverwind spoke angrily. ‘You have no proof it was humans!’
Alhana swept the Plainsman an imperious glance. She did not reply, considering it beneath her to argue with a barbarian.
Tanis sighed. The Plainsman had little use for elves. It had taken long days before he had come to trust Tanis, longer for Gilthanas and Laurana. Now, just as Riverwind seemed to be able to overcome his inherited prejudices, Alhana with her equal prejudices had inflicted new wounds.
‘Very well, Raistlin,’ Tanis said quietly, ‘tell us what you know of the dragon orbs.’
‘Bring my drink, Caramon,’ the mage ordered. Bringing the cup of hot water as commanded, Caramon set it before his brother. Raistlin propped himself up on one elbow and mixed herbs into the water. The strange, acrid odor filled the air. Raistlin, grimacing, sipped the bitter mixture as he talked.
‘During the Age of Dreams, when those of my order were respected and revered upon Krynn, there were five Towers of High Sorcery.’ The mage’s voice sank, as if recalling painful memories. His brother sat staring at the rock floor of the cave, his face grave. Tanis, seeing the shadow fall across both twins, wondered again what had happened within the Tower of High Sorcery to change their lives so drastically. It was useless to ask, he knew. Both had been forbidden to discuss it.
Raistlin paused a moment before he continued, then drew a deep breath. ‘When the Second Dragon Wars came, the highest of my order met together in the greatest of the Towers—the Tower of Palanthas—and created the dragon orbs.’
Raistlin’s eyes grew unfocused, his whispering voice ceased a moment. When he spoke next, it was as if recounting a moment he was reliving in his mind. Even his voice changed, becoming stronger, deeper, clearer. He no longer coughed. Caramon looked at him in astonishment.
‘Those of the White Robes entered the chamber at the top of the Tower first, as the silver moon, Solinari, rose. Then Lunitari appeared in the sky, dripping with blood, and those of the Red Robes entered. Finally the black disk, Nuitari, a hole of darkness among the stars, could be seen by those who sought it, and the Black Robes walked into the chamber.
‘It was a strange moment in history, when all enmity between the Robes was suppressed. It would come but one more time in the world, when the wizards joined together in the Lost Battles, but that time could not be foreseen. It was enough to know that, for now, the great evil must be destroyed. For at last we had seen that evil was intent on destroying all the magic of the world, so that only its own would survive! Some there were among the Black Robes, who might have tried to ally with this great power’—Tanis saw Raistlin’s eyes burn—‘but soon realized they would not be masters of it, only its slaves. And so the dragon orbs were born, on a night when all three moons were full in the sky.’
‘Three moons?’ Tanis asked softly, but Raistlin did not hear him and continued to speak in the voice not his own.
‘Great and powerful magic was worked that night—so powerful that few could withstand it and they collapsed, their physical and mental strength drained. But that morning, five dragon orbs stood upon pedestals, glistening with light, dark with shadows. All but one were taken from Palanthas and carried, in great peril, to each of the other four Towers. Here they helped rid the world of the Queen of Darkness.’
The feverish gleam faded from Raistlin’s eyes. His shoulders slumped, his voice sank, and he began to cough, violently. The others stared at him in breathless silence.
Finally Tanis cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean, three moons?’
Raistlin looked up dully. ‘Three moons?’ he whispered. ‘I know nothing of three moons. What were we discussing?’
‘Dragon orbs. You told us how they were created. How did you—’ Tanis stopped, seeing Raistlin sink onto his pallet.
‘I have told you nothing,’ Raistlin said irritably. ‘What are you talking about?’
Tanis glanced at the others. Riverwind shook his head. Caramon bit his lip and looked away, his face drawn with worry.
‘We were speaking of the dragon orbs,’ Goldmoon said. ‘You were going to tell us what you knew of them.’
Raistlin wiped blood from his mouth. ‘I do not know much,’ he said wearily, shrugging. ‘The dragon orbs were created by the high mages. Only the most powerful of my order could use them. It was said that great evil would come to those not strong in magic who tried to command the orbs. Beyond that, I know nothing. All knowledge of the dragon orbs perished during the Lost Battles. Two, it was said, were destroyed in the Fall of the Towers of High Sorcery, destroyed rather than let the rabble have them. Knowledge of the other three died with their wizards.’ His voice died. Sinking back onto his pallet, exhausted, he fell asleep.