The dark huldrefolk at Khellendros’s side squinted, gazing up in disbelief.
“Storm?” Fissure whispered.
Beryl paused in her attack on the half-ogre, lowering her head in deference to The Storm.
Onysablet directed all her attention to Khellendros now, not caring that Goldmoon was pulling away the dwarf’s body, tugging it toward the unconscious blue-skinned woman. “Khellendros!” Onysablet screamed in surprise.
Hollintress and Gale turned to face the blue dragon. Hollintress registered the power that now emanated from Khellendros, while Gale only understood that magical energy covered the overlord and made the plateau tremble wildly.
“No!” Malystryx wailed. “It was to be me! Me!” Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she clawed deep fissues in the ground before her. She glared at Dhamon Grimwulf. “Human!” she spat. “You caused this! You distracted me! You will pay!”
“Dhamon Grimwulf.” The words sounded long and drawn out, coming from The Storm Over Krynn. “Do you want Malystryx, Dhamon Grimwulf?”
Dhamon looked up, squinting through the bright light and the lightning. He saw something glowing fall toward him.
“Do you want the Red?” the thunderous voice repeated. The words were so loud, they hurt his ears.
Dhamon stretched out his hands and caught Huma’s lance. He whirled as Malystryx bore down on him, and darted forward, scrabbling clumsily over the last bits of treasure, closing the gap.
The lance parted Malystryx’s flesh, running deep into her chest and drawing from her a bone-jarring scream that shook the sky. Dhamon tried to pull the lance free, but it was lodged too deeply. Its haft scalded against his palms as the red dragon’s fiery blood spilled across the weapon. Dhamon released the lance and stepped back, watched Malys writhe. Khellendros’s claw streaked toward her, striking her, batting the huge red dragon away and off through the sky.
Malystryx sailed from the plateau, Huma’s lance buried in her, fire erupting from her mouth.
“Khellendros!” Onysablet called. “Khellendros!” The Black lowered her head in respect.
Beryl, the green overlord, snarled, but did the same. “Khellendros!” she cried.
The cry was picked up by Hollintress and Gale, echoed by the dragons at the base of the mountain.
“Hear me!” Khellendros roared, the words causing the mountain to shudder violently. “I am Khellendros, The Storm Over Krynn! Khellendros, The Portal Master! Khellendros, once called Skie by Kitiara!”
The great blue dragon gestured toward the rocky formations that ringed that plateau. The glow that radiated from him stretched out to bathe the stones. The rocks absorbed the light and began to resonate, their loud hum filling the sky.
Overhead, where black, green, blue, and silver, gold, brass, copper, and bronze dragons clashed, the hum could be heard, too. The dragons paused in their aerial battle. The Knights of Solamnia atop their silvers peered down, eyes straining to see what was happening.
Khellendros drew the last of the magical energy from the treasure at his feet and from Fissure. Weakened so he could no longer stand, Fissure fell.
Then Khellendros’s mind reached out to the stones, calling for access to The Gray. The megalith glowed, the smoky air between the twin pillars of rock sparkled, and then it parted. Stars shone through. Stars and wisps of gray.
“Home,” The huldrefolk whispered. He tried crawling toward the megalith, but Gale’s claw held him in place. “The Gray.”
The stones hummed louder, as Palin and the others covered their ears.
“Palin Majere!” Khellendros called. “I give you your life and the lives of your friends this day. The dragons here will not harm you, on my word. Neither will the armies below. You are free to go. But this day only!” His voice trailed off. “Leave now!” the dragon continued. “When next we meet, Palin Majere, I will not be so generous.”
His legs bunched and he leapt, rocking the mountain and tossing Palin and the others to their knees.
Khellendros flew toward the megalith. One vast claw reached out for a blue female dragon—Khellendros’s chosen vessel for Kitiara’s spirit. The blue female instinctively shrank back, and for a moment Khellendros wavered in his flight. As he did so, the surface of The Gray seemed to ripple and pulse. Tendrils of mist reached out and encircled the blue dragon. They stroked and embraced his great body, seeming to lift it toward the darkened canopy of the sky.
“Kitiara,” cried Khellendros, “at last I come to you!”
The portal’s surface shivered and Palin, staring at it, thought he beheld, for a single, eternal instant, a dark face of enormous, heart-wrenching beauty. Then the body of the blue seemed to elongate impossibly, stretching out between the stones. A thunderclap shattered the mountain-tops, and in the distance, unnoticed now by anyone, the shadow dragon lifted his wings and sailed silently into a cloud.
Khellendros was gone.
“Kitiara!” the wind whispered.
Beryllinthranox stepped away from the half-ogre, gesturing toward the side of the mountain. Onysablet did the same, then nudged Rig and his fellows with her snakelike tail. “Leave,” the dragon overlords hissed.
Rig picked up Veylona, as Goldmoon cradled Jasper’s body in her arms, the scepter resting atop his blistered, bloody chest.
Fiona took the kender’s hand and led her toward Palin and Usha, who had started down the mountain.
Feril stood with Dhamon, looking up at the sky. She leaned into him, her hand closing into his, drawing him toward the edge of the plateau. He mutely followed her, eyes incredulously staring at Goldmoon’s back.
The group walked unmolested past the lesser dragons at the base of the mountain. In silence, the rows of Knights of Takhisis parted, allowing them safe passage, as did the goblins, hobgoblins, ogres, draconians, and barbarians.
They didn’t stop until they were well beyond the armies and until the sun was rising in a cloudless sky. Ulin, Sunrise, Gilthanas, and Silvara were there waiting for them. They all showed surprise at seeing Goldmoon, and sadness at the sight of Jasper. Their glances spoke volumes, though not one word was uttered. There would be time for words and tears later.
21
Deaths and Beginnings
The half-ogre caught a ferry from Schallsea Island shortly after Jasper was buried. He intended to go home, to visit the graves of his wife and daughter, and to search for a red-haired wolf whom he was certain was not dead—and that he and the others now knew was not a wolf at all.
There were still dragons to fight, and Groller made it clear to Palin he would return within a few months. He needed some time for himself first. He gestured goodbye to the mariner, crossing his arms in front of his chest and nodded farewell toward Rig. The mariner repeated the gesture, tears welling in his dark eyes.
Palin and Usha returned to the Tower of Wayreth after spending several hours in conference with Goldmoon. They had loose ends to tie up, including determining the extent of the damage caused by the traitorous Shadow Sorcerer. They had plans to make and needed to decide how to continue the fight against the dragons.
Blister elected to stay with the healer as her newest pupil. The kender had talked Veylona into staying also, at least for a little while. Blister intended to follow in Jasper’s footsteps, and she was already wearing a Medallion of Faith around her neck, one similar to that worn by Goldmoon. Blister seemed uncharacteristically serious and quiet, as she had been since Jasper was buried. “I will make you very proud,” she whispered, as she threw a handful of dirt on the dwarf’s grave. “And I will always remember you.”