But Silvara looked at him sadly, as if uncertain that he could understand her words. “Banished like all the others. He has departed from Krynn together with all his evil kin-dragons. But there is more, and that is what brings me to you. I come to tell you that we are departing from Ansalon as well.”
“We? The silvers?” Lectral was stunned.
“All of us… all the dragons of Paladine.”
“But why? Did you not say that the war was won?”
“It is another part of the oath, so that the people of the world can rule themselves without the interference of mighty beings.”
She told him of the sacred vow that had taken the Dark Queen and all her dragons from Ansalon, and of the price that the good dragons were to pay as well. They would journey to a place called the Dragon Isles, where they would live out their lives and their generations.
“These islands are said to be idyllic realms, perfect of clime, with space for all the metal clans.” As she spoke, her eyes turned outward, fixing upon the forests and mountains beyond, and he sensed that, like him, she wasn’t ready to leave all they knew behind.
“But how can I go? I cannot fly,” he declared.
“Saytica will bear you, but you must assume the form of a two-legs. She comes tonight.” Silvara told him that Saytica had been a heroine of the war, bearing the knight who had struck down mighty Deathfyre, the leader of the Dark Queen’s wyrms.
And when the mighty silver female came to him later that night, Lectral was able to shift his body. He chose the shape of the white-bearded sage, the same form that had been favored by Darlantan so many centuries before. Finally Lectral straddled the strong, silver shoulders and rode through the skies on the back of Saytica.
They passed over the lands vacated by the fleeing armies of Garic Drakan. The mighty silver flier remained silent, sensing the distress of her battered, grieving clan-dragon. All around them were the other silvers, a great airborne armada soaring through the cool air, starlight glimmering from a multitude of reflective wings.
Lectral looked helplessly, saw the horizon of the High Kharolis passing to the left, but already the snowy skyline of the mountain ridges had vanished into the distance.
And already, too, it seemed that his once vivid memories of the place were beginning to fade.
PART IV
Chapter 36
127 AC
The rains that had shrouded the Dragon Isles for more than a hundred winters had finally broken, swept over the ocean like so much debris pushed by a giant broom. Rays of sun sparkled from the limitless expanse of seawater; a brilliant array of iridescent facets surrounded the verdant islands jutting from that dazzling surface like soft mounds of green. Though each isle was crowned by at least one summit of dark rock and bright, snow-swept glacier, much of the coastal fringe remained thick and green with tropical growth.
Lectral flew without haste, stretching his wings and allowing the warmth of the sun to soak into the ancient, leathery spans. He rode serenely on a coastal updraft, trying to put aside his thoughts, to ignore the purpose that would soon force him to turn and climb toward the uplands of Cloudhome, the Misty Isle-largest and most populous of the metallic dragons’ homelands-in-exile.
Perhaps because of that purpose, he reminisced almost sleepily as he flew through the warm, tropical currents of air. For a moment, he was confused, which was a not uncommon state for him these days. His mind brightened with memories of a young silver female… was it Heart? No, Saytica… She had been a good companion during the long, uneventful centuries on the Dragon Isles. His mind drifted to the image of the lofty High Kharolis, and he sighed heavily at the thought that he would never see those mountains again.
How long had it actually been since the dragons of Paladine had come to these isles, in their exile that had become a way of life? The question troubled him, for it was becoming increasingly difficult-almost impossible, in fact-to remember the time when dragons had dwelt upon Ansalon.
Many hundreds of winters had passed, he knew, though perhaps it was more appropriate to count the summers here in this balmy, tropical clime. And for most of those annums, it had seemed that he and his kin-dragons had lived without meaning or purpose, merely passing the time from one period of wakefulness to the next. They dwelt in peace and harmony, true, but also in boredom and indolence.
Once again he remembered the purpose that had drawn him to the Misty Isle, and his sense of melancholy swelled into a surging wave. Of course, a farewell to a dragon was always sad, and there was a real poignancy when the deceased was a sibling, one who had been born after Lectral in that long-ago era. Yet still he dallied for a while longer over the wave-washed coastline, enjoying the perfect, infinite turquoise of the shallows within the coral reefs along the shoreline below.
But in his heart, he knew that it was time to go, and with a sweeping turn, he arced toward land. He made a straight line along a deep valley in the foliage-draped massif rising toward the island’s center, bearing toward the well-known gathering place concealed there. Certainly many of the younger silvers would already be present, and no doubt Silvara would have arrived as well. But Lectral was the venerable silver, and his presence was required before the ceremony could begin.
Saytica had died peacefully, as was the natural way of elder dragons. Soon her body would be commended unto the gods from the height of the Silver Stairs, and it was not only Lectral’s wish, but his sacred duty, that he be there.
He continued to climb, following the winding valley of one of the mountainous island’s rapid, plunging creeks. He worked harder now, powerful strokes of his wings carrying him upward, past the steep, verdant walls of the narrow vale. Thankfully, the wind was off the sea, and he was able to ride the current of air inland, focusing his own efforts merely on staying aloft, gaining altitude only as it became necessary.
He saw the snow-capped peaks, where the silver dragon nests, rich with eggs, were securely cached. He remembered the lifelong lesson, passed along by Callak and Daria-guard the eggs! It had been the goal of dragonkind since the days in the grotto, and at least life on the Dragon Isles insured that he and his kin-dragons had been able to accomplish this.
As he flew, Lectral tried once again to remember the passing of the last dozen winters, but he realized that those memories were blurred. It had stopped raining before then, perhaps two or three dozen years ago. Preceding that, storms had wracked the islands for no less than a full century. That had been a dark time, when the world itself had rumbled underfoot, and ash and cloud had darkened the skies in a nearly eternal shroud. It had been an era when Lectral had yearned poignantly for the stability of his beloved Kharolis.
He knew that more recently he had been sleeping for some time, until he had been awakened by the coming of a griffon. The creature had respectfully informed him of the passing of Saytica and presented the announcement that her commending would occur when the sun first reached its zenith following the spring equinox.
Saytica… Unlike Lectral, she had flown to war when the call came, had borne a lancer against the chromatic dragons while mighty Lectral had ignored his nestmates and gone off on his own. His regrets had been strong, at first, but now even those emotions had been dulled by the passage of centuries. Dulled, perhaps, but they were still there.
Trying to focus his hazy memories, Lectral wasn’t even certain upon which of the isles he had most recently been sleeping. One of the smaller islets, certainly. Was it Jaentarth, or perhaps Alarl? No matter, really. With the exception of Cloudhome, the isles were quite similar, almost interchangeable in the ancient silver’s opinion. True, each was for the most part a paradise of plentiful food, balmy weather, and pastoral wilderness. But they were also boring. And after this ceremony, Lectral would eventually find another lair amid the perfect terrain of the Dragon Isles, curling up and going back to sleep. In fact, it would probably be very soon, for there was little to do here except sleep.