Soaring high above them, so tall its head might have torn a moon from the sky, was the figure of a dragon, carved out of a mountain of rock, shining silver in the moonlight.
‘Where are we?’ Laurana asked in a hushed voice. ‘What is this place?’
‘When you cross the Bridge of Passage, you will stand before the Monument of the Silver Dragon,’ answered Silvara softly. ‘It guards the Tomb of Huma, Knight of Solamnia.’
8
The Tomb of Huma.
In Solinari’s light, the Bridge of Passage across the bubbling streams of Foghaven Vale gleamed like bright pearls threaded on a silver chain.
‘Do not fear,’ Silvara said again. ‘The crossing is difficult only for those who seek to enter the Tomb for evil purposes.’
But the companions remained unconvinced. Fearfully they climbed the few stairs leading them up to bridge itself. Then, hesitantly, they stepped upon the marble arch that rose before them, glistening wet with the steam from the springs. Silvara crossed first, walking lightly and with ease. The rest followed her more cautiously, keeping to the very center of the marble span.
Across from them, on the other side of the bridge, loomed the Monument of the Dragon. Even though they knew they must watch their footing, their eyes seemed constantly drawn up to it. Many times, they were forced to stop and stare in awe, while below them the hot springs boiled and steamed.
‘Why—I bet that water’s so hot you could cook meat in it!’ Tasslehoff said. Lying flat on his stomach, he peered over the edge of the highest part of the arched bridge.
‘I’ll b-bet it c-could c-cook you,’ stuttered the terrified dwarf, crawling across on his hands and knees.
‘Look, Flint! Watch. I’ve got this piece of meat in my pack. I’ll get a string and we’ll lower it in the water—’
‘Get moving!’ Flint roared. Tas sighed and closed his pouch.
‘You’re no fun to take anywhere,’ he complained, and he slid down the other side of the span on the seat of his pants.
But for the rest of the companions, it was a terrifying journey, and all of them sighed in heartfelt relief when they came down off the marble bridge onto the ground below.
None of them had spoken to Silvara as they crossed, their minds being too occupied with getting over the Bridge of Passage alive. But when they reached the other side, Laurana was the first to ask questions.
‘Why have you brought us here?’
‘Do you not trust me yet?’ Silvara asked sadly.
Laurana hesitated. Her gaze went once again to the huge stone dragon, whose head was crowned with stars. The stone mouth was open in a silent cry, and the stone eyes stared fiercely. The stone wings were carved out of the sides of the mountain. A stone claw stretched forth, as massive as the trunks of a hundred vallenwood trees.
‘You send the dragon orb away, then bring us to a monument dedicated to a dragon!’ Laurana said after a moment, her voice quivering. ‘What am I to think? And you bring us to this place you call Huma’s Tomb. We do not even know if Huma lived, or if he was legend. What is to prove this is his resting place? Is his body within?’
‘N-no,’ Silvara faltered. ‘His body disappeared, as did—’
‘As did what?’
‘As did the lance he carried, the Dragonlance he used to destroy the Dragon of All Colors and of None.’ Silvara sighed and lowered her head. ‘Come inside,’ she begged, ‘and rest for the night. In the morning, all will be made clear, I promise.’
‘I don’t think—’ Laurana began.
‘We’re going inside!’ Gilthanas said firmly. ‘You’re behaving like a spoiled child, Laurana! Why would Silvara lead us into danger? Surely, if there was a dragon living here, everyone on Ergoth would know it! It could have destroyed everyone on the island long ago. I sense no evil about this place, only a great and ancient peace. And it’s a perfect hiding place! Soon the elves will receive word that the orb has reached Sancrist safely. They’ll quit searching, and we can leave. Isn’t that right, Silvara? Isn’t that why you brought us here?’
‘Yes,’ Silvara said softly. ‘Th-that was my plan. Now, come, come quickly, while the silver moon still shines. For only then can we enter.’
Gilthanas, his hand holding Silvara’s hand, walked into the shimmering silver fog. Tas skipped ahead of them, his pouches bouncing. Flint and Theros followed more slowly, Laurana more slowly still. Her fears were not eased by Gilthanas’s glib explanation, nor by Silvara’s reluctant agreement. But there was no place else to go and—as she admitted—she was intensely curious.
The grass on the other side of the bridge was smooth and flat with the steamy clouds of moisture, but the ground began to rise as they approached the body of the dragon carved out of the cliff. Suddenly Tasslehoff’s voice floated back to them from the mist where he had run far ahead of the group.
‘Raistlin!’ they heard him cry in a strangled voice. ‘He’s turned into a giant!’
‘The kender’s gone mad,’ Flint said with gloomy satisfaction. ‘I always knew it—’
Running forward, the companions found Tas jumping up and down and pointing. They stood by his side, panting for breath.
‘By the beard of Reorx,’ gasped Flint in awe. ‘It is Raistlin!’
Looming out of the swirling mist, rising nine feet in the air, stood a stone statue carved in a perfect likeness of the young mage. Accurate in every detail, it even captured his cynical, bitter expression and the carven eyes with their hourglass pupils.
‘And there’s Caramon!’ Tas cried.
A few feet away stood another statue, this time shaped like the mage’s warrior twin.
‘And Tanis...’ Laurana whispered fearfully. ‘What evil magic is this?’
‘Not evil,’ Silvara said, ‘unless you bring evil to this place. In that case, you would see the faces of your worst enemies within the stone statues. The horror and fear they generate would not allow you to pass. But you see only your friends, and so you may pass safely.’
‘I wouldn’t exactly count Raistlin among my friends,’ muttered Flint.
‘Nor I,’ Laurana said. Shivering, she walked hesitantly past the cold image of the mage. The mage’s obsidian robes gleamed black in the moons’ light. Laurana remembered vividly the nightmare of Silvanesti, and she shuddered as she entered what she saw now was a ring of stone statues—each of them bearing a striking, almost frightening resemblance to her friends. Within that silent ring of stone stood a small temple.
The simple rectangular building thrust up into the fog from an octagonal base of shining steps. It, too, was made of obsidian, and the black structure glistened wet with the perpetual fog. Each feature stood as if it had been carved only days before; no sign of wear marred the sharp, clean lines of the carving. Its knights, each bearing the dragonlance, still charged huge monsters. Dragons screamed silently in frozen death, pierced by the long, delicate shafts.
‘Inside this temple, they placed Huma’s body,’ Silvara said softly as she led them up the stairs.
Cold bronze doors swung open on silent hinges to Silvara’s touch. The companions stood uncertainly on the stairs that encircled the columned temple. But, as Gilthanas had said, they could sense no evil coming from this place. Laurana remembered vividly the Tomb of the Royal Guard in the Sla-Mori and the terror generated by the undead guards left to keep eternal watch over their dead king, Kith-Kanan. In this temple, however, she felt only sorrow and loss, tempered by the knowledge of a great victory—a battle won at terrible cost, but bringing with it eternal peace and sweet restfulness.
Laurana felt her burden ease, her heart become lighter. Her own sorrow and loss seemed diminished here. She was reminded of her own victories and triumphs. One by one, all the companions entered the tomb. The bronze doors swung shut behind them, leaving them in total darkness.