It was the Starjewel, which Laurana had found in a pool of the knight's own blood. The jewel was dark, its brilliance fading even as Laurana had held it in her hand. Many things became clear to her later, as she studied the Starjewel. This, then, was how they shared the dream in Silvanesti. Had Sturm realized its power? Did he know of the link that had been forged between himself and Alhana? No, Laurana thought sadly, he had probably not known. Nor could he realize the love it represented. No human could. Carefully she had placed it upon his breast as she thought with sorrow of the dark-haired elven woman, who must know the heart upon which the glittering Starjewel rested was stilled forever.
The Honor Guard stepped back, waiting. The assembled knights stood with heads bowed for a moment, then lifted them to face Laurana.
This should have been the time for proud speeches, for recitals of the dead knights' heroic deeds. But for a moment, all that could be heard was the wheezing sobs of the old dwarf and Tasslehoff's quiet snuffle. Laurana looked down into Sturm's peaceful face, and she could not speak.
For a moment she envied Sturm, envied him fiercely. He was beyond pain, beyond suffering, beyond loneliness. His war had been fought. He was victorious.
You left me l Laurana cried in agony. Left me to cope with this
by myself! First Tanis, then Elistan, now you. I can't! I'm not= strong enough! I can't let you go, Sturm. Your death was sense-: less, meaningless! A fraud and a sham! I won't let you go. Not` quietly! Not without anger!
Laurana lifted her head, her eyes blazing in the torchlight. ,
"You expect a noble speech;" she said, her voice cold as the of the sepulcher. "A noble speech honoring the heroic deeds these men who have died. Well, you won't get it. Not me!"
The knights glanced at each other, faces dark.
"These men, who should have been united in a brotherhood forged when Krynn was young, died in bitter discord, brought about by pride, ambition, and greed. Your eyes turn to Derek Crownguard, but he was not totally to blame. You are. All of you! All of you who took sides in this reckless bid for power."
A few knights lowered their heads, some paled with shame and anger. Laurana choked with her tears. Then she felt Flint's hand slip into hers, squeezing it comfortingly. Swallowing, she drew a deep breath.
"Only one man was above this. Only one man here among you lived the Code every day of his life. And for most of those days, he was not a knight. Or rather, he was a knight where it meant the most-in spirit, in heart, not in some official list:"
Reaching behind her, Laurana took the blood-stained dragonlance from the altar and raised it high over her head. And as she lifted the lance, her spirit was lifted. The wings of darkness that had hovered around her were banished. When she raised her voice, the knights stared at her in wonder. Her beauty blessed them like the beauty of a dawning spring day.
"Tomorrow I will leave this place;" Laurana said softly, her luminous eyes on the dragonlance. "I will go to Palanthas. I will take with me the story of this day! I will take this lance and the head of a dragon. I will dump that sinister, bloody head upon the steps of their magnificent palace. I will stand upon the dragon's head and make them listen to me! And Palanthas will listen! They will see their danger! And then I will go to Sancrist and to Ergoth and to every other place in this world where people refuse to lay down their petty hatreds and join together. For until we conquer the evils within ourselves-as this man didwe can never conquer the great evil that threatens to engulf us!"
Laurana raised her hands and her eyes to heaven. "Paladine!" she called out, her voice ringing like the trumpet's call. "We come to you, Paladine, escorting the souls of these noble knights who died in the High Clerist's Tower. Give us who are left behind in this war-torn world the same nobility of spirit that graces this man's death!"
Laurana closed her eyes as tears spilled unheeded and unchecked down her cheeks. No longer did she grieve for Sturm. Her sorrow was for herself, for missing his presence, for having to tell Tanis of his friend's death, for having to live in this world without this noble friend by her side.
Slowly she laid the lance upon the altar. Then she knelt before it a moment, feeling Flint's arm around her shoulder and Tassslehoff's gentle touch upon her hand.
As if in answer to her prayer, she heard the knights' voices rising behind her, carrying their own prayers to the great and ancient god, Paladine.
Return this man to Huma's breast: Let him be lost in sunlight, In the chorus of air where breath is translated; At the sky's border receive him.
Beyond the wild, impartial skies Have you set your lodgings, In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.
Grant to him a warrior's rest. Above our singing, above song itself, May the ages of peace converge in a day May he dwell in the heart of Paladine.
And set the last spark of his eyes In a fixed and holy place Above words and the borrowed land too loved As we recount the ages.
Free from the smothering clouds of war As he once rose in infancy The long world possible and bright before him, Lord Huma, deliver him.
Upon the torches of the stars Was mapped the immaculate glory of childhood; From that wronged and nestling country, Lord Huma, deliver him.
Let the last surge of his breath Perpetuate wine, the attar of flowers; From the vanguard of love, the last to surrender, Lord Huma, deliver him.
Take refuge in the cradling air From the heart of the sword descending,
From the weight of battle on battle; Lord Huma, deliver him.
Above the dreams of ravens where His dreams first tried a rest beyond changing, From the yearning for war and the war's ending, Lord Huma, deliver him.
Only the hawk remembers death In a late country; from the dusk, From the fade of the senses, we are thankful that you, Lord Huma, deliver him.
Then let his shade to Huma rise Out of the body of death, of the husk unraveling; From the lodging of mind upon nothing, we are thankful that you, Lord Huma, deliver him.
Beyond the wild, impartial skies Have you set your lodgings, In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspires In an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.
Return this man to Huma's breast Beyond the wild, impartial skies; Grant to him a warrior's rest And set the last spark of his eyes Free from the smothering clouds of wars Upon the torches of the stars. Let the last surge of his breath Take refuge in the cradling air Above tire dreams of ravens where Only the hawk remembers death. Then let his shade to Huma rise Beyond the wild, impartial skies.
The chant ended. Slowly, solemnly the knights walked forward one by one to pay homage to the dead, each kneeling for
a moment before the altar. Then the Knights of Solamnia left the Chamber of Paladine, returning to their cold beds to try and find some rest before the next day's dawning.
Laurana, Flint, and Tasslehoff stood alone beside their friend, their arms around each other, their hearts full. A chill wind whistled through the open door of the sepulcher where the Honor Guard stood, ready to seal the chamber.
"Kharan bea Reorx;" said Flint in dwarven,wiping his gnarled and shaking hand across his eyes. "Friends meet in Reorx:" Fumbling in his pouch, he took out a bit of wood, beautifully carved into the shape of arose. Gently he laid it upon Sturm's breast, beside Alhana's Starjewel.