‘What is it?’ Tas whispered. Climbing up to stand beside Flint, he saw the small red sliver of sun burning on the horizon, its orange fire turning the night sky purple, dimming the stars.
‘What are we looking at?’ Tas whispered, nudging Flint.
‘Nothing,’ Flint grumbled.
‘Then why are we looking—’ The kender caught his breath with a sharp gulp. ‘Sturm—’ he quavered.
‘What is it?’ the knight demanded, turning in alarm.
Tas kept staring. The rest followed his gaze, but their eyes were no match for the kender’s.
‘Dragons...’ Tasslehoff replied. ‘Blue dragons.’
‘I thought as much,’ Sturm said softly. ‘The dragonfear. That’s why they pulled the armies back. The humans fighting among them could not withstand it. How many dragons?’
‘Three,’ answered Laurana. ‘I can see them now.’
‘Three,’ Sturm repeated, his voice empty, expressionless.
‘Listen, Sturm—’ Laurana dragged him back away from the wall. ‘I—we—weren’t going to say anything. It might not have mattered, but it does now. Tasslehoff and I know how to use the dragon orb!’
‘Dragon orb?’ Sturm muttered, not really listening.
‘The orb here, Sturm!’ Laurana persisted, her hands clutching him eagerly. ‘The one below the Tower, in the very center. Tas showed it to me. Three long, wide hallways lead to it and—and—’ Her voice died. Suddenly she saw vividly, as her subconscious had seen during the night, dragons flying down stone halls...
‘Sturm!’ she shouted, shaking him in her excitement. ‘I know how the orb works! I know how to kill the dragons! Now, if we just have the time—’
Sturm caught hold of her, his strong hands grasping her by the shoulders. In all the months he had known her, he could not recall seeing her more beautiful. Her face, pale with weariness, was alight with excitement.
‘Tell me, quickly,’ he ordered. Laurana explained, her words falling over themselves as she painted the picture for him that became clearer to her as she talked. Flint and Tas watched from behind Sturm, the dwarf’s face aghast, the kender’s face filled with consternation.
‘Who’ll use the orb?’ Sturm asked slowly.
‘I will,’ Laurana replied.
‘But, Laurana,’ Tasslehoff cried, ‘Fizban said—’
‘Tas, shut up!’ Laurana said through clenched teeth. ‘Please, Sturm!’ she urged. ‘It’s our only hope. We have the dragonlances—and the dragon orb!’
The knight looked at her, then toward the dragons speeding out of the ever-brightening east.
‘Very well,’ he said finally. ‘Flint, you and Tas go down and gather the men together in the center courtyard. Hurry!’
Tasslehoff, giving Laurana a last, troubled glance, jumped down from the rock where he and the dwarf had been standing. Flint came after him more slowly, his face somber and thoughtful. Reaching the ground, he walked up to Sturm.
Must you? Flint asked Sturm silently, as their eyes met.
Sturm nodded once. Glancing at Laurana, he smiled sadly. ‘I’ll tell her,’ he said softly. ‘Take care of the kender. Goodbye, my friend.’
Flint swallowed, shaking his old head. Then, his face a mask of sorrow, the dwarf brushed his gnarled hand across his eyes and gave Tas a shove in the back.
‘Get moving!’ the dwarf snapped.
Tas turned to look at him in astonishment, then shrugged and ran skipping along the top of the battlements, his shrill voice shouting out to the startled knights.
Laurana’s face glowed. ‘You come, too, Sturm!’ she said, tugging at him like a child eager to show a parent a new toy. ‘I’ll explain this to the men if you want. Then you can give the orders and arrange the battle disposition—’
‘You’re in command, Laurana,’ Sturm said.
‘What?’ Laurana stopped, fear replacing the hope in her heart so suddenly the pain made her gasp.
‘You said you needed time,’ Sturm said, adjusting his swordbelt, avoiding her eyes. ‘You’re right. You must get the men in position. You must have time to use the orb. I will gain you that time.’ He picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows.
‘No! Sturm!’ Laurana shivered with terror. ‘You can’t mean this! I can’t command! I need you! Sturm, don’t do this to yourself!’ Her voice died to a whisper. ‘Don’t do this to me!’
‘You can command, Laurana,’ Sturm said, taking her head in his hands. Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. ‘Farewell, elfmaid,’ he said softly. ‘Your light will shine in this world. It is time for mine to darken. Don’t grieve, dear one. Don’t cry.’ He held her close. ‘The Forestmaster said to us, in Darken Wood, that we should not mourn those who have fulfilled their destiny. Mine is fulfilled. Now, hurry, Laurana. You’ll need every second.’
‘At least take the dragonlance with you,’ she begged.
Sturm shook his head, his hand on the antique sword of his father. ‘I don’t know how to use it. Good-bye, Laurana. Tell Tanis—’ He stopped, then he sighed. ‘No,’ he said with a slight smile. ‘He will know what was in my heart.’
‘Sturm...’ Laurana’s tears choked her into silence. She could only stare at him in mute appeal.
‘Go,’ he said.
Stumbling blindly, Laurana turned around and somehow made her way down the stairs to the courtyard below. Here she felt a strong hand grasp hers.
‘Flint,’ she began, sobbing painfully, ‘he, Sturm...’
‘I know, Laurana,’ the dwarf replied. ‘I saw it in his face. I think I’ve seen it there for as long as I can remember. It’s up to you now. You can’t fail him.’
Laurana drew a deep breath, then wiped her eyes with her hands, cleaning her tear-streaked face as best she could. Taking another breath, she lifted her head.
‘There,’ she said, keeping her voice firm and steady. ‘I’m ready. Where’s Tas?’
‘Here,’ said a small voice.
‘Go on down. You read the words in the orb once before. Read them again. Make absolutely certain you’ve got it right.’
‘Yes, Laurana.’ Tas gulped and ran off.
‘The knights are assembled,’ Flint said. ‘Waiting your command.’
‘Waiting my command,’ Laurana repeated absently.
Hesitating, she looked up. The red rays of the sun flashed on Sturm’s bright armor as the knight climbed the narrow stairs that led to a high wall near the central Tower. Sighing, she lowered her gaze to the courtyard where the knights waited.
Laurana drew another deep breath, then walked toward them, the red crest fluttering from her helmet, her golden hair flaming in the morning light.
The cold and brittle sun stained the sky blood red, deepening into the velvet blue-blackness of receding night. The Tower stood in shadow still, though the sun’s rays sparkled off the golden threads in the fluttering flag.
Sturm reached the top of the wall. The Tower soared above him. The parapet Sturm stood upon extended a hundred feet or more to his left. Its stone surface was smooth, providing no shelter, no cover.
Looking east, Sturm saw the dragons.
They were blue dragons, and on the back of the lead dragon in the formation sat a Dragon Highlord, the blue-black dragonscale armor gleaming in the sunlight. He could see the hideous horned mask, the black cape fluttering behind. Two other blue dragons with riders followed the Dragon Highlord. Sturm gave them a brief, perfunctory glance. They did not concern him. His battle was with the leader, the Highlord.
The knight looked into the courtyard far below him. Sunlight was just climbing the walls. Sturm saw it flicker red off the tips of the silver dragonlances that each man held now in his hand. He saw it burn on Laurana’s golden hair. He saw the men look up at him. Grasping his sword, he raised it into the air. Sunlight flashed from the ornately carved blade.
Smiling up at him, though she could barely see him through her tears, Laurana raised her dragonlance into the air in answer—in good-bye.