Once again Ariakas was the master of his sword, and his fate. Holding the blue blade upraised before him, he turned this way and that, allowing his troops to shout their adulation. For many minutes they roared, and his heart swelled with martial pride.
When he sheathed the sword, the cheering continued, but now it had faded to a background noise, mere accom shy;paniment to the ringing knowledge that had begun to grow in his mind.
The blue blade! He remembered the prophecy in the tower, spoken what seemed like a lifetime ago: Hold the blue blade, warrior-for in the heart of the world it shall set fire to the sky! Only now did he begin to sense the mean shy;ing. And as he walked the pathway that opened before him amid the ranks of his troops, he understood it would be the blue blade that would give him the might to com shy;mand, to rule.
As he marched onward, he realized that the pathway was no longer an aisle, but a bridge. On one side he saw a bright landscape, stretching to the infinite horizon, lined with columns of troops-all of them trundling for shy;ward under his command. In an awestruck moment, he beheld the skies overhead, filled with vast formations of huge dragons, winging outward to expand the Dark Queen's domain. All of this mighty host marched away toward the far points of Krynn.
But then Ariakas shifted his eyes to the other side of the bridge, and he could not help but cower away in reel shy;ing terror. Below him, beginning at the very toes of his feet, fell away an abyssal chasm, plummeting all the way to the midnight heavens.
Yet within that darkness was no cheery glimmer of a constellation, nor even a lone evening star. Instead, the place was a well of nothing, yawning hungrily forever, promising only pain and blood, darkness and dissolu shy;tion … without even the eventual respite of death.
Ariakas awakened with a start. A chilly film of sweat clung to his skin. The heavens did yawn overhead, but these were the familiar skies of Ansalon, with a gentle haze of dawn light already filling in the space of the east shy;ern valleys.
So it had been a dream. He exhaled, feeling Lyrelee stir beside him under the bedroll. The experience had been so vivid, so real, that he actually felt as though he had com shy;manded that mighty army. Then he remembered the hor shy;ror of that black chasm, and the chill shook him again.
For a moment he thought of the woman, so warm beside him. But this was not a problem for which she could bring him any comfort. Irritated, he rose into the dawn and looked around their small camp. Ferros Wind-chisel would be near, he knew, hiding in the shadows while alertly maintaining the last watch of their night's bivouac.
Tale Splintersteel still slept, which did not surprise Ariakas. Ever since their little group had departed Sanc shy;tion, the Zhakar had been the deepest sleeper of the four. Just as well, Ariakas thought, since Splintersteel could not be trusted on watch duty. That seemed all well and proper to the moldy dwarf because-as he had loudly pointed out-he was the one who was taking them to Zhakar.
In that role, at least, the merchant lord had whole shy;heartedly embraced their endeavor. As broker of the mold that had suddenly developed value, Tale Splinter shy;steel stood to make himself very rich-if they could get into Zhakar alive.
Ariakas cast another look at the sky, seeing that sun shy;rise was still nearly an hour away. He decided not to roust the others, choosing instead to stroll the dim twi shy;light until he found Ferros Windchisel. Mindful of the trackless Khalkist wilderness around them, he strapped his sword to his back before he walked away from the dying fire.
"Over here, warrior," came the hoarse whisper, mak shy;ing his job that much easier. He found the Hylar nestled in a niche between a great boulder and a sturdy fir tree.
"Another quiet night," remarked Ariakas, settling himself atop the boulder.
"That makes twelve now," Ferros agreed. "By the Zhakar's reckoning, we don't have much farther to go." The Hylar leaned back, then shifted awkwardly to rub at an itch behind his left knee. "Damned firebugs followed me out here!" he griped. "If anything, the little scuts are worse than ever! Can't stop scratching. It about makes me crazy."
Ariakas barely listened-the Hylar's complaint had become a regular morning litany. The human's mind instead drifted into solitary meditation.
Twelve days on the road, and Tale Splintersteel had suggested it would take two or three weeks to reach Zhakar. Despite the rugged Khalkists, to date the trek had not been physically grueling. It surprised the war shy;rior to realize how much, after the bustle and crowds of Sanction, he enjoyed the solitude and silence of the mountain heights. For the first part of the journey, he had been concerned with threats in the rock-bound fast shy;ness around them. Ogres were the traditional foes in the Khalkists, but now they had gotten beyond ogre country. The land between Bloten and Zhakar, where Splinter-steel's vile-tempered cousins dwelt, had seemed to offer few threats. Of course, even with Tale accompanying them, he wasn't certain they would be received with open arms when they reached the dwarven realm.
The Zhakar merchant had told them a little about his homeland. Though the realm itself was extensive, includ shy;ing numerous crags and the valleys between, the dwar shy;ven population was concentrated in the subterranean city of Zhakar. The only part of that metropolis exposed to the light of day was a great, five-sided keep, which stood proudly on the rising slope above a mountain torrent called the Stonecrusher River. Though the keep itself was a respectable castle in size, Tale Splintersteel had told
them that it was nothing compared to the vast network of delvings and warrens concealed underneath. It was those warrens that their expedition hoped to reach. That was where the plague mold grew, and that was where they could gather enough of the dust to corrupt vast numbers of the metallic dragon eggs.
Ariakas smiled privately as he remembered the results of the first hatching of draconians. The lizard beings that emerged from the brass egg had proven strong and hardy, albeit rather stupid. They could not fly, but they were fast and readily used their fangs and claws for battle. Three of them had already been slain in the tests they had conducted in the temple, but Ariakas had become convinced that these draconians would form the backbone of a huge and capable army.
". .. far today?" Ferros concluded his question, look shy;ing at Ariakas expectantly.
"Sorry," the human replied. "What did you say?"
"Forget it," groused the dwarf, reaching around to scratch an itch behind his back. "Just making conversa shy;tion-wondered how many of these ridges we'll have to cross today."
"However many it is, you'll find us the passes, my friend," Ariakas said warmly. Indeed, the mountain dwarf had proven adept at guiding them along the best routes. Sheer granite barriers rose in seemingly endless succession across their path, and Splintersteel had told them that no regular overland route existed between Sanction and Zhakar. Each dwarven trading caravan, laden with weapons and coinage, apparently sought its own path to the port city.
'This isn't turning out like I figured it would," Ferros observed after a few moments' silence. "When I set out to find the dwarven kingdom in the Khalkists, I pictured a place like Thorbardin. Sure, there's bickering 'tween the clans, but by and large it's a prosperous, thriving place. Mountain and hill dwarf don't get along too well, but at least the hatchet's been buried for a few centuries, now.
"But here!" the Hylar continued, his tone growing exasperated. "Can you imagine a whole nation of dwarves like that little weasel over there? I tell you, it makes my skin crawl-and not just because of the way they look on the outside."
"They're not your run-of-the-mill dwarves, I'll grant you," Ariakas said good-naturedly. "Still, without Splintersteel we wouldn't have a chance on Krynn of reaching their kingdom." The warrior looked at the dwarf shrewdly. "Why are you so determined to find this place? I'd have thought you'd given up on the Zhakar as allies, by now."