Sunlight flashed on Silvara’s silver hair, mimicking the flash from Sturm’s shield.
‘The dragonlance stays with me,’ Silvara said. Glancing swiftly around the spellbound group, she added, ‘As do you.’
7
Dark journey
Behind them, the snow rumbled and toppled over the side of the mountain. Cascading down in white sheets, blocking and choking the pass, it obliterated their presence. The echoes of Gilthanas’s magical thunder still resounded in the air, or perhaps it was the booming of the rocks as they bounded down the slopes. They could not be certain.
The companions, led by Silvara, traveled the trails east slowly and cautiously, walking where it was rocky, avoiding the snowy patches if at all possible. They walked through each other’s footsteps so that the pursuing elves would never know for certain how many were in their party.
They were so careful, in fact, that Laurana grew worried.
‘Remember, we want them to find us,’ she said to Silvara as they crept across the top of a rocky defile.
‘Do not be upset. They will have no trouble finding us,’ answered Silvara.
‘What makes you so certain?’ Laurana started to ask, then she slipped and fell to her hands and knees. Gilthanas helped her stand. Grimacing with pain, she stared at Silvara in silence. None of them, including Theros, trusted the sudden change that had come over the Wilder elf since their parting with the knights. But they had no choice except to follow her.
‘Because they know our destination,’ Silvara answered. ‘You were clever to think I left a sign to them in the cave. I did. Fortunately, you did not find it. Below those sticks you so kindly scattered for me I had drawn a crude map. When they find it, they will think I drew it to show you our destination. You made it look most realistic, Laurana.’ Her voice was defiant until she met Gilthanas’s eyes.
The elflord turned away from her, his face grave. Silvara faltered. Her voice became pleading. ‘I did it for a reason—a good reason. I knew then, when I saw the tracks, we would have to split up. You must believe me!’
‘What about the dragon orb? What were you doing with it?’ Laurana demanded.
‘N-nothing,’ Silvara stammered. ‘You must trust me!’
‘I don’t see why,’ Laurana returned coldly.
‘I have done you no harm—’ Silvara began.
‘Unless you have sent the knights and the dragon orb into a deathtrap!’ Laurana cried.
‘No!’ Silvara wrung her hands. ‘I haven’t! Believe me. They will be safe. That has been my plan all along. Nothing must happen to the dragon orb. Above all, it must not fall into the hands of the elves. That is why I sent it away. That is why I helped you escape!’ She glanced around, seeming to sniff the air like an animal. ‘Come! We have lingered too long.’
‘If we go with you at all!’ Gilthanas said harshly. ‘What do you know about the dragon orb?’
‘Don’t ask me!’ Silvara’s voice was suddenly deep and filled with sadness. Her blue eyes stared into Gilthanas’s with such love that he could not bear to face her. He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. Silvara caught hold of his arm. ‘Please, shalori, beloved, trust me! Remember what we talked about, at the pool. You said you had to do these things—defy your people, become an outcast, because of what you believed in your heart. I said that I understood, that I had to do the same. Didn’t you believe me?’
Gilthanas stood a moment, his head bowed. ‘I believed you,’ he said softly. Reaching out, he pulled her to him, kissing her silver hair. ‘We’ll go with you. Come on, Laurana.’ Arms around each other, the two trudged off through the snow.
Laurana looked blankly at the others. They avoided her eyes. Then Theros came up to her.
‘I’ve lived in this world nearly fifty years, young woman,’ he said gently. ‘Not long to you elves, I know. But we humans live those years—we don’t just let them drift by. And I’ll tell you this—that girl loves your brother as truly as I’ve ever seen woman love man. And he loves her. Such love cannot come to evil. For the sake of their love alone, I’d follow them into a dragons den.’
The smith walked after the two.
‘For the sake of my cold feet, I’d follow them into a dragon’s den, if he’d warm my toes!’ Flint stamped on the ground. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ Grabbing the kender, he dragged Tas along after the blacksmith.
Laurana remained standing, alone. That she would follow was settled. She had no choice. She wanted to trust Theros’s words. One time, she would have believed the world ran that way. But now she knew much she had believed in was false. Why not love?
All she could see in her mind were the swirling colors of the dragon orb.
The companions traveled east, into the gloom of gathering night. Descending from the high mountain pass, they found the air easier to breathe. The frozen rocks gave way to scraggly pines, then the forests closed in around them once more. Silvara confidently led them at last into a fog-shrouded valley.
The Wilder elf no longer seemed to care about covering their tracks. All that concerned her now was speed. She pushed the group on, as if racing the sun across the sky. When night fell, they sank into the tree-rimmed darkness, too tired even to eat. But Silvara allowed them only a few hours of restless, aching sleep. When the moons rose, the silver and the red, nearing their fullness now, she urged the companions on.
When anyone questioned, wearily, why they hurried, she only answered, ‘They are near. They are very near.’
Each assumed she meant the elves, though Laurana had long ago lost the feeling of dark shapes trailing them.
Dawn broke, but the light was filtered through fog so thick Tasslehoff thought he might grab a handful and store it in one of his pouches. The companions walked close together, even holding hands to avoid being separated. The air grew warmer. They shed their wet and heavy cloaks as they stumbled along a trail that seemed to materialize beneath their feet, out of the fog. Silvara walked before them. The faint light shining from her silver hair was their only guide.
Finally the ground grew level at their feet, the trees cleared, and they walked on smooth grass, brown with winter. Although none of them could see more than a few feet in the gray fog, they had the impression they were in a wide clearing.
‘This is Foghaven Vale,’ Silvara replied in answer to their questions. ‘Long years ago, before the Cataclysm, it was one of the most beautiful places upon Krynn...so my people say.’
‘It might still be beautiful,’ Flint grumbled, ‘if we could see it through this confounded mist.’
‘No,’ said Silvara sadly. ‘Like much else in this world, the beauty of Foghaven has vanished. Once the fortress of Foghaven floated above the mist as if floating on a cloud. The rising sun colored the mists pink in the morning, burned them off at midday so that the soaring spires of the fortress could be seen for miles. In the evening, the fog returned to cover the fortress like a blanket. By night, the silver and the red moons shone on the mists with a shimmering light. Pilgrims came, from all parts of Krynn—’ Silvara stopped abruptly. ‘We will make camp here tonight.’
‘What pilgrims?’ Laurana asked, letting her pack fall.
Silvara shrugged. ‘I do not know,’ she said, averting her face. ‘It is only a legend of my people. Perhaps it is not even true. Certainly no one comes here now.’
She’s lying, thought Laurana, but she said nothing. She was too tired to care. And even Silvara’s low, gentle voice seemed unnaturally loud and jarring in the eerie stillness. The companions spread their blankets in silence. They ate in silence, too, nibbling without appetite on the dried fruit in their packs. Even the kender was subdued. The fog was oppressive, weighting them down. The only thing they could hear was a steady drip, drip, drip of water plopping onto the mat of dead leaves on the forest floor below.