Slowly Tanis reached into the post of his fleecy vest, pulls ovn the glasses, and fit the wire frames over his pointed ears,
I3
EJ'he sun rises. Darkness descends.
– _~e fog lifted with the coming of morning. The day dawned bright and clear-so clear that Sturm, walking Che battlements, could see the snow-covered grasslands of his birthplace near Vingaard Keep-lands now cc~mp]etely contr©l led by the dragonarmies. The sun's first rays
struck the flag ef the Knights-kingfisher beneath a golden cr.:)',vn, holding a sword decorated with a rose in his claws. The golden emblem glittered in the morning light. Then Sturm
herd the harsh, blaring horns.
The dragonarmies marched upon the Tower at dawn,
DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES
The young knights-the hundred or so that were left-stood silently on the battlements watching as the vast army crawled across the land with the inexorability of devouring insects. At first Sturm had wondered about the knight's dying words. "They ran before us!" Why had the draganarmy run? Then it became clear to him-the dragonmen had used the knights :: own vainglory against them in an ancient, yet sample, maneuver. Fall back before your enemy . . . not too fast, just let the front lines show enough fear and terror to be believable. Let them seem to break in panic, Then let your enemy charge after you, overextending his lines. And let your armies close in, surround him, and cut hire to shreds.
It didn't need the sight of the bodies-barely visible in the-# distant trampled, bloody snow-to tell Sturm he had judged= correctly. They lay where they had tried desperately to regroup for a final stand. Not that it mattered how they died. He wo ,' dered who would) look an his body when it was all over.
Flint peered out from a crack in the wall. "At least I'll die dry land.," the dwarf muttered.
Sturm smiled slightly, stroking his moustaches. His eyes went to the east. As he thought about dying, he looked up the land where he'd been born -a home he had barely known, a father he barely remembered, a country that had driven his family into exile. He was about to give his life to defend that country^. Why? Why didn't he just leave and go back to Palanthas?
All of his life he had followed the Code and the Measure.
Code: Est Suiax'us oth Mithas-My Honor Is My Life. The Code was all he had left. The Measure was gone. It was Rigld, inflexible, the Measure had encased the Knights in heavier than their armor. The Knights, isolated, Eigl-.tingta_ vive, had dung to the Measure in despair-not realizing twas dal anchor, weighing them down..
Why was I different? Sturm wondered. But he knew the answer, even as he listened to the dwarf grumble. It' because of the dwarf, the kender, the mage~, the half-elf.
They had taught .him ko see the world. through other ,slanted eyes, smaller eyes, even hourglass eyes. I~nig~t~
Derek saw the world in stark black and white.. Sturm had: the world in all its radiant colors, in all its bleak grays.
"It's time;' he said to Flint. The two descended from the high lookout point just as the first of the enemy's poison-tipped arrows arched over the walls.
With shrieks and yells the blaring of horns, and clashing of shield and sword, the dragonarmies struck the Tower of the High Clerist as the sun's brittle light filled the sky.
By nightfall, the flag still flew. The Tower stood.
But half its defenders were dead.
The living had no time during the day to shut the staring eyes
or compose the contorted, agonised limbs, The living had all they could do to stay alive. Peace came at last with the night, as the dragonarmies withdrew to rest and wait for the morrow.
Sturm paced the battlements, his body aching with weariness. Yet every time he tried to rest taut muscles twitched and danced, his brain seemed an fire. And so he was driven to pace again-back and forth, back and forth with slow, measured tread. He could not know that his steady pace drove the day's ?lorrors from the thoughts of the young knights who listened.
:nights in the courtyard, laying out the bodies of friends and comrades, thinking that tomorrow someone might be doing this for them, heard Sturm's steady pacing and felt their fears for tomorrow eased.
The ringing sound of the knight's footfalls brought comfort to even-one, in fact; except to the knight himself. Sturm's thoughts were dark and tormented: thoughts of defeat;
thoughts of dying ignobly; without honor; tortured memories of the dream, seeing his body harked and mutilated by the foul creatures camped beyond. Would the dream came true? he wondered, shivering. 'A'ou]dhe falter at the end, unable to con-
quer fear? Would the -Code tail him, as had the h9easure7
Step. . . ste p . . step . . . step, .
Stop this! Sturm told himself angrily. You'll soon be mad as pour Derek. Spinning abruptly on his heel to break .his stride, the knight turned to find Laurana behind him. His eyes met hers, and the black thoughts „„,ere brightened by her light. As l°nq as such peace and beauty as hers existed in this world there
was h~ape, p-fe smiled at her and she smiled back.-a strained sn'"le-but it erased lines of )fatigue surd wogry in her face.
„Rest;' he told her. "You look exhausted."
"I tried to sleep;' she murmured, "but I had terrible dreamshands encased in crystal, huge dragons flying through stone hallways' She shook her head, then sat down, exhausted, in a corner sheltered from the chill wind.
Sturm's gaze moved to Tasslehoff, who lay beside her. The kender was fast asleep, curled into a ball. Sturm looked at him with a smile. Nothing bothered Tas. The kendei d had a truly glorious day-one that would live in his memory forever.
"I've never been at a siege before;' Sturm had heard Tas confide to Flint just seconds before the dwarf's battle-axe swept off a goblin"s head.
"You know were all going to die;' Flint growled, wiping black blood from his axe blade.
"That"s what you said when we faced that black dragon in, Xak Tsaaoth;' Tas replied. "Then you said the same thing '
Tharbardin; and then there was the boat-'
"This time we're .going to die!" Flint roared in a rage. '"lf have to kill you myself!'
But their hadn't died-at least not today. There's alwa tomorrow, Sturm thought, his gaze resting on the dwarf leaned against a stone wall, carving at a block of wood.
Flint looked up. 'When will it start?" he asked.
Sturm sighed, has gaze shifting out to the eastern 'Dawn," he replied. "A few hours yet."
The dwarf nodded. "Can we hold?" His voice was matter fact, the hand that held the wood firm and steady.
"4~,'e must;' Sturm replied. "The messenger will read amp; Pa thas tonight. If they act at once, a•s still a two-day march reach u:;.- a must give them two. days-"
"If they act at oncefi" Flint grunted.
"I know . . ;' Sturrcv said softly, sighing. "You should les
he turned to Laurana, who carne out of her reverie witha s! "Go to f 'al.anthas. Convince them of the danger."
"Your messenger must .da that" Laurana said tiredly. "If no words of mine will sway them:'
"Laurana:" he began.
"Do. grow geed me" she asked abruptly. "Am I of use
"You know you are," Sturm answered. He had the elfmaid's unflagging strength, Ih~er courage, and her with the bar.
"Then I'm staying;' Laurana said simply. Drawing the blanround her, she closed her eyes. "I can't sleep, she whispered. But within a few momentskender's.
Sturm shook his head, swallowing a choking thickness in his throat. His glance met Flint's. The dwarf sighed and went back to his carving, Neither spoke, both men thinking the same thing. Their deaths would be bad if the draconians overran the Tower. Laurana's death could be a thing of nightmares.