Laurana reached the top of the battlements and stared out across the plain, expecting to see the black tide of the army surging forward. But the plain was empty. There were only a few groups of humans standing, staring vaguely around.
What could it mean? Laurana had no idea, and she was too exhausted to think. Her wild elation died. Weariness descended on her now, as did her grief. Dragging the lance behind her, she stumbled over to Sturm’s body lying in the blood-stained snow.
Laurana knelt beside the knight. Putting her hand out, she brushed back the wind-blown hair to look once more upon the face of her friend. For the first time since she had met him, Laurana saw peace in Sturm’s lifeless eyes.
Lifting his cold hand, she pressed it to her cheek. ‘Sleep, dear friend,’ she murmured, ‘and let not your sleep be troubled by dragons.’ Then, as she lay the cold white hand upon the shattered armor, she saw a bright sparkle in the blood-stained snow. She picked up an object so covered with blood she could not see what it was. Carefully Laurana brushed the snow and blood away. It was a piece of jewelry. Laurana stared at it in astonishment.
But before she could wonder how it came to be here, a dark shadow fell over her. Laurana heard the creak of huge wings, the intake of breath into a gigantic body. Fearfully she leaped to her feet and whirled around.
A blue dragon landed upon the wall behind her. Stone gave way as the great claws scrabbled for a hold. The creature’s great wings beat the air. From the saddle upon the dragon’s back, a Dragon Highlord gazed at Laurana with cold, stern eyes from behind the hideous mask.
Laurana took a step backwards as the dragonfear overcame her. The dragonlance slipped from her nerveless hand, and she dropped the jewel into the snow. Turning, she tried to flee, but she could not see where she was going. She slipped and fell into the snow to lie trembling beside Sturm’s body.
In her paralyzing fear, all she could think of was the dream! Here she had died—as Sturm had died. Laurana’s vision was filled with blue scales as the creature’s great neck reared above her.
The dragonlance! Scrambling for it in the blood-wet snow, Laurana’s fingers closed over its wooden shaft. She started to rise, intending to plunge it into the dragon’s neck.
But a black boot slammed down upon the lance, narrowly missing her hand. Laurana stared at the shining black boot, decorated with gold work that gleamed in the sun. She stared at the black boot standing in Sturm’s blood, and she drew a deep breath.
‘Touch his body, and you will die,’ Laurana said softly. ‘Your dragon will not be able to save you. This knight was my friend, and I will not let his killer defile his body.’
‘I have no intention of defiling the body,’ the Dragon Highlord said. Moving with elaborate slowness, the Highlord reached down and gently shut the knight’s eyes, which were fixed upon the sun he would see no more.
The Dragon Highlord stood up, facing the elfmaid who knelt in the snow, and removed the booted foot from the dragonlance. ‘You see, he was my friend, too. I knew—the moment I killed him.’
Laurana stared up at the Highlord. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said tiredly. ‘How could that be?’
Calmly, the Dragon Highlord removed the hideous horned dragonmask. ‘I think you might have heard of me, Lauralanthalasa. That is your name, isn’t it?’
Laurana nodded dumbly, rising to her feet.
The Dragon Highlord smiled, a charming, crooked smile. ‘And my name is—’
‘Kitiara.’
‘How did you know?’
‘A dream...’ Laurana murmured.
‘Oh, yes—the dream.’ Kitiara ran her gloved hand through her dark, curly hair. ‘Tanis told me about the dream. I guess you all must have shared it. He thought his friends might have.’ The human woman glanced down at the body of Sturm, lying at her feet. ‘Odd, isn’t it—the way Sturm’s death came true? And Tanis said the dream came true for him as welclass="underline" the part where I saved his life.’
Laurana began to tremble. Her face, which had already been white with exhaustion, was so drained of blood it seemed transparent. ‘Tanis?...You’ve seen Tanis?’
‘Just two days ago,’ Kitiara said. ‘I left him in Flotsam, to look after matters while I was gone.’
Kitiara’s cold, calm words drove through Laurana’s soul like the Highlord’s spear had driven through Sturm’s flesh. Laurana felt the stones start to shift from under her. The sky and ground mixed, the pain cleaved her in two. She’s lying, Laurana thought desperately. But she knew with despairing certainty that—though Kitiara might lie when she chose—she was not lying now.
Laurana staggered and nearly fell. Only the grim determination not to reveal any weakness before this human woman kept the elfmaiden on her feet. Kitiara had not noticed. Stooping down, she picked up the weapon Laurana had dropped and studied it with interest.
‘So this is the famed dragonlance?’ Kitiara remarked.
Laurana swallowed her grief, forcing herself to speak in a steady voice. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘If you want to see what it’s capable of, go look within the walls of the fortress at what’s left of your dragons.’
Kitiara glanced down into the courtyard briefly, without a great deal of interest. ‘It was not these that lured my dragons into your trap,’ she said, her brown eyes appraising Laurana coolly, ‘nor scattered my army to the four winds.’
Once more Laurana glanced across the empty plains.
‘Yes,’ Kitiara said, seeing the dawning comprehension on Laurana’s face. ‘You have won—today. Savor your victory now, Elf, for it will be short-lived.’ The Dragon Highlord dexterously flipped the lance in her hand and held it aimed at Laurana’s heart. The elfmaid stood unmoving before her, the delicate face empty of expression.
Kitiara smiled. With a quick motion, she reversed the killing stroke ‘Thank you for this weapon,’ she said, standing the lance in the snow. ‘We’ve received reports of these. Now we can find out if it as formidable a weapon as you claim.’
Kitiara made Laurana a slight bow from the waist. Then, replacing the dragonmask over her head, she grasped the dragonlance and turned to go. As she did, her gaze went once more to the body of the knight.
‘See that he is given a knight’s funeral,’ Kitiara said. ‘It will take at least three days to rebuild the army. I give you that time to prepare a ceremony befitting him.’
‘We will bury our own dead,’ Laurana said proudly. ‘We ask you for nothing!’
The memory of Sturm’s death, the sight of the knight’s body, brought Laurana back to reality like cold water poured on the face of a dreamer. Moving to stand protectively between Sturm’s body and the Dragon Highlord, Laurana looked into the brown eyes, glittering behind the dragonmask.
‘What will you tell Tanis?’ she asked abruptly.
‘Nothing,’ Kit said simply. ‘Nothing at all.’ Turning, she walked away.
Laurana watched the Dragon Highlord’s slow, graceful walk, the black cape fluttering in the warm breeze blowing from the north. The sun glinted off the prize Kitiara held in her hand. Laurana knew she should get the lance away. There was an army of knights below. She had only to call.
But Laurana’s weary brain and her body refused to act. It was an effort just to remain standing. Pride alone kept her from falling to the cold stones.
Take the dragonlance, Laurana told Kitiara silently. Much good it will do you.
Kitiara walked to the giant blue dragon. Down below, the knights had come into the courtyard, dragging with them the head of one of her blue dragons. Skie tossed his own head angrily at the sight, a savage growl rumbling deep within his chest. The knights turned their amazed faces toward the wall where they saw the dragon, the Dragon Highlord, and Laurana. More than one drew his weapon, but Laurana raised her hand to stop them. It was the last gesture she had strength to make.
Kitiara gave the knights a disdainful look and laid her hand upon Skie’s neck, stroking him, reassuring him. She took her time, letting them see she was not afraid of them.