The hobgoblins and barbarians seemed to be the most disciplined of the lot, and there were no intoxicants in these camps. However, the air was filled with scattered war cries and victory speeches, as blustery sergeants and captains boasted how their lot in life would improve when the dragon goddess returned to Ansalon.
At the base of the mountain plateau, an elite force of the Dark Queen’s knights were camped in the shadows of four red dragons, a small black, and a small green.
Dhamon recognized Jalan Telith-Moor, and quickly steered his entourage the long way around the camp to avoid her. The commander might be blind, but Dhamon doubted it. He knew she had access to a group of Skull Knights who probably had the ability to cure her malady. Out of the comer of his eye he spotted several black-robed men and women: Knights of the Thorn. He didn’t want to risk the spellcasters seeing through his disguise either.
“This way,” he said, as he picked his way past a pair of knight-officers and started up a winding path.
“There’re so many of them,” Usha whispered to Palin.
“More perhaps than there were in the Abyss.”
“It’s easier to come here than it was to the Abyss,” Palin replied.
“Stop, you!” A knight-commander faced Dhamon, where the path veered around a rocky outcropping and climbed an even steeper slope. Only Dhamon, Rig, and Fiona had turned the corner. The rest were unable to see the man who had stopped them. He spoke again. “Malystryx the Red is allowing no one to come closer! Return to your posts immediately.”
Dhamon squared his shoulders. “Malystryx’s orders were to come to the top. I was to bring these men to her.”
The knight-commander’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt that the dragon would have—”
“You doubt the dragon, sir? I have Palin Majere with me, a prisoner she wants. Perhaps she means to offer him to Takhisis.” Dhamon’s eyes didn’t blink.
“Let me see this Palin Majere.”
Palin couldn’t see the man, but heard his and Dhamon’s clipped conversation, felt Usha’s fingers nervously brush with his. “It will be all right,” he whispered. “Dhamon knows what he’s doing.” Palin squeezed around the corner, through Rig and Fiona, dropping the masking enchantment that covered him.
The knight-commander stared at the sorcerer, his eyes studying the burns and scars on his face, head, and hands.
“Injuring him was unavoidable. Malystryx’s orders, sir?” Dhamon said, gesturing at Palin and tapping his foot impatiently. “If you will not permit me to escort Palin Majere and these knights to the top of the plateau, then you must explain your reasoning to her. I hope the red dragon is understanding.”
The knight-commander’s eyes narrowed, but his lips trembled ever so slightly. “Go!” he barked, waving Dhamon along. “Take the sorcerer to her. No doubt he’ll make a tasty morsel for the Dark Queen.”
Dhamon nodded and started past the man.
“It worked!” came a childlike female voice. “See, Jasper, I told you that lying lesson I gave Dhamon months and months ago would pay off.”
Dhamon was at the knight-commander’s shoulder when he heard the hiss of steel being drawn and the sharp intake of the knight’s breath. Dhamon reached for his own blade, wheeled, and watched as the knight-commander was cut down. The man hit the ground, the blood pooling around him.
Rig stared at the glaive he clutched and whistled softly.
“Someone might find him!” Dhamon warned the mariner.
Palin closed his eyes, ran his thumb along the metal of Dalamar’s ring. Fiona propped the man up against the side of the mountain. She and Rig worked to balance the body so it wouldn’t fall over.
“If he was alive, we wouldn’t be breathing for long,” Rig mumbled.
“I think they’ll notice all the blood, and that his armor’s been sawed in half,” the kender observed. “It’s kinda hard not to notice it.”
Rig scowled, and then his face brightened. “Thanks Palin,” he said. In the span of a few seconds, the man looked alive and untouched, his eyes closed as if he’d fallen asleep at his post. Palin again looked like a Knight of Takhisis.
“Let’s hope no one comes this way and slips in the blood,” the sorcerer whispered. He glanced at Dhamon, who had resumed the climb. “Better hurry.”
They were nearing the top when the last sliver of sun slipped below the horizon. The land was bathed in a bright, early twilight. The wind picked up quickly and without warning, blowing strongly and whipping their hair about their faces. Palin grimaced.
Clouds gathered, plunging the area into an eerie darkness. Dhamon’s legs pounded up the last of the narrowing path, and as thunder rocked the mountain, he gripped his sword tightly. “Hurry!” he called to the others.
Lightning cut through the sky, revealing the forms of dragons—blues and reds, greens, circling in the air above the Window to the Stars. They stood out starkly against the storm clouds. High in the sky, flecks of metal also glimmered—the silver and gold dragons were arriving. Palin knew Knights of Solamnia would be astride many of them.
A voice boomed above the thunder and the wind, sibilant, inhuman and commanding. “Prepare yourselves!” the voice cried. “The ceremony to herald a new age begins!”
20
Rebirth
Veylona’s knees shook and her teeth chattered, and she cupped both hands over her mouth so no sound would escape. The Dimernesti was peering around a rock at the lip of the plateau, staring at the nine massive dragons, five of them overlords. She was sweating more than she had after trudging for days through the desert of the Northern Wastes. The dragons terrified her.
Jasper knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder giving her no comfort. Groller and Fury were right behind them, and a trembling glance over the kender’s shoulder told Blister that the big half-ogre was every bit as overcome with fear as she.
“Dragonfear,” Palin whispered to Veylona. “It’s an aura the dragons exude.”
“Can you do something?” asked Usha. Her gold eyes were wide. She’d been around dragons before, when dozens of them battled Chaos in the Abyss, but she had never seen dragons so huge.
“I can,” Jasper softly offered. The fingers of his right hand were wrapped tightly around the Fist. “This can influence others, bolstering their courage,” he whispered as he began to concentrate. “If it doesn’t bolster our courage quickly, I think a few of us will be running back down this mountain any moment.”
Jasper closed his eyes. “Goldmoon, I have faith,” he said in a hushed tone. “Have I the strength to...?” His mind wrapped around the energy that played along the scepter’s haft. “Praise the departed gods.”
Across the plateau, the wind started blowing. Hot as a furnace, it was tinged with the scent of sulphur. Lightning flashed repeatedly, illuminating the dragons circling in the sky.
Jasper opened his eyes, studying Dhamon, Rig, and Fiona as they came closer. The expressions on their faces told him they were no longer as afraid. Veylona quietly moved behind him.
“So dry,” she said, her voice faint. “Skin hurts. My eyes burn. So far from ocean home.” The Dimernesti looked up at the sky, her eyes blinking at each lightning stroke. Her pale blue nose quivered, and her lips turned down in a slight frown. A storm was brewing, but she could tell there would be no cleansing rain, only this dry, uncomfortable heat. “Stand a chance, I thought,” she continued. “When Brine died, thought more dragons could die.” Her pupils were wide, her hand clenched around the pommel of the sword Palin had given her, knuckles so pale they looked deathly white.
“There’s always a chance,” Usha said. “There’s—”