"A demand I've come to regret more than once," Derek muttered.
"Then I don't suppose you want to know about the room hidden behind this wall?" the kender asked coyly.
Derek's face turned dark.
Laurana stepped up between them. "What room, Tas?" she asked in that sweet voice of hers.
Tasslehoff shot a triumphant glance at Derek before turning an excited grin on Laurana. "I think there's one behind this bookcase," he said, striding up to the shortest wall in the room, directly opposite the doorway I stood in. Tas knocked twice on the middle sup port of the bookcase. The whole wall swung back, almost knocking the kender off his feet in the process. "See?"
"I see," Derek said, pushing past the startled kender to peer into the room beyond. "I see another empty, orbless room!"
Derek took a few steps into the room, disappearing from my view. "Whoa-what the-?" He gasped suddenly. "Hey!" It was a shriek of frustration, not pain. Everyone pressed forward. Though I knew I should stay by the door no matter what, I could not resist looking too.
There, in a bedchamber the same size as the library, stood Derek, his hands frozen to his sides. I could not understand it until I saw the slender form of an elf in chainmail and black robes, a black longsword gleaming in his hand. He wore a strange helmet with horns over his head. I did not know it then, but I was getting my first glimpse of a Dragon Highlord.
"He's a dark elf wizard and he's put some kind of hold on Derek!" Elistan cried. "Keep him from casting spells!"
Before anyone could reach the dark elf, he slammed the hilt of his sword into Derek's face. The knight crumpled into what I hoped was only unconsciousness.
Instantly, Laurana and Sturm ran into the room, their arrival drawing the dark elf wizard away from the helpless Knight of Solamnia. The Highlord started to attack them, but he hesitated for a moment at the sight of Laurana.
"An elf, and a woman yet, dares invade the castle of Feal-Thas, Dragon Highlord of the White Wing?" the wizard snarled, and suddenly began slashing at her with his sword.
Ducking his blow, Laurana lost her footing and fell, hitting her head on a wooden desk. For a moment, she could not move, but crouched on the floor, holding her head in her hands. Seeing his opening, Feal-Thas closed in, his sword raised.
"It was high and mighty elves like you who cast me out!" Feal Thas cried. "You will pay!" But in his thirst for Laurana's blood, the wizard had forgotten Sturm.
The knight lunged forward to strike the sword from the dark elf's hand. But with a speed and agility unknown to most humans, the Highlord read Sturm's intentions and whirled about, slashing the knight's own sword hand. Sturm's gasped, holding his bleeding wrist. His moment of weakness cost him dearly. In a single, lightning-swift motion, Feal-Thas snatched a dagger from his sleeve and hurled it toward the knight. A hideous shriek gurgled out of Sturm's mouth as he clutched at his throat, and blood streamed down his fur cloak. He collapsed.
"Sturm!" Laurana cried out at the sight of her fallen friend. Her beautiful face contorted with rage as she whirled on Feal-Thas. With grim determination, Laurana wiped the blood from her eyes and fought her enemy, though it was easy to see that each blow drained her by half. Feal-Thas appeared to enjoy playing with her, seeming to delight in parrying her waning blows without striking back.
Elistan, whose strategy so far had been to stay out of the way of the fighters in the small chamber, could hold back no longer. Seeing Laurana alone, he hurled himself at the wizard, bashing him repeatedly in the back with his mace. Though the attack caught him unaware, Feal-Thas used his magic to toss the cleric from him as he would a fly. A huge, phantom hand reached out, grabbed the cleric, and threw him aside. Elistan slammed into the far wall and slid silently to the floor.
And there I stood, rooted to the spot, useless as a dwarven doorknob. What had my strategy-my excuse-been? I wasn't even watching our rear anymore. What could I do? I remembered the kender- where was he? He'd come through for me before, tripping the minotaur. But he was nowhere to be seen. There weren't any barrels here to save my unworthy life.
I watched in despair as Laurana, exhausted from her lone struggle, dropped to one knee. She tried desperately to regain her footing, but Feal-Thas leaned forward and plucked the sword from her bloodstained, aching hands. Eyes dim with angry tears, she swung desperately at him with her fist. The dark elf grabbed her wrist and laughed.
"What a pity," he murmured, the patronizing sound of victory in his voice. He held the tip of her own sword to the throbbing vein in her throat. "You appear to be an elf of some breeding-not entirely unattractive either. I could spare your life if you gave me good reason," he offered suggestively.
Laurana, breathing heavily from her struggles, turned her gaze from the knife in Sturm's throat and his blood-soaked chest to look at the Highlord. She swallowed hard. "Are you suggesting I join you as a Highlord?" she asked in a seductively coy tone I would never have thought her capable of using.
I was shocked. Why on Krynn was she toying with this evil Highlord while her friend lay dying at her feet? Suddenly, I saw the knuckles of her hands, clenched and white with anger, and I knew she must be stalling for time, hoping to regain her strength.
"What I'm suggesting has nothing to do with being a Highlord," the wizard said, leering. Encouraged that she might entertain the thought, confident that she no longer had the strength to fight, and obviously discounting me completely, the wizard lowered his sword. "If we cleaned you up a bit, you might be worthy."
Laughing, he looked over at the bed and even reached out his hand to smooth the silken sheets.
I thought I might choke on the bile in my throat, as I longed to strangle the life from the evil creature. Suddenly, I remembered my frostreaver! (I know now that the thought came from Paladine himself.) But I was not strong enough to wield it-only fighters were. I looked at the bent form of the courageous woman warrior. Could Laurana…? No one but Ice Folk had ever been allowed to use frostreavers. But these were extraordinary people I traveled with. Faith overcame tradition.
Sliding the axelike weapon from my pack ever so quietly, I crept forward. Time seemed to grind to a halt. The wizard was still pawing the bed and laughing, his foul suggestions of what he intended to do to the elven maid burning my heart.
Softly, I tip-toed up behind Laurana and slipped the glistening frostreaver to the princess of the Qualinesti elves, praying to Paladine to give her strength that I did not have.
Laurana's fingers curled around the haft of the icy 'reaver. Raising it over her head, she sprang up like a wolf and lunged at the unsuspecting elf wizard just as he turned around for his answer. Candlelight glinted off the frigid edge of my painstakingly crafted frostreaver as it bit into Feal-thas's throat. A scream, the wizard's last on Krynn, pierced the air. The floor of the small chamber ran red with the blood of the dead Highlord.
Dry, wracking sobs shook Laurana's body as she stumbled over to kneel beside Sturm. Selfconsciously, I moved forward to wrench the icy weapon from her shaky fingers. She laid her hands awkwardly on the knight's bloody chest, not quite knowing what to do. Biting her lip, she forced her right hand forward to close around the hilt of the dagger in his throat. A heart-breaking moan escaped her lips as, mustering all her strength and courage, she pulled the dagger out. Blood welled from the wound;
she pressed a small cloth to it timidly, uselessly. My throat grew thick with tears as I watched the life drain from her friend.
Somehow I became aware of other sounds in the room. Derek stirred slowly, then spun onto his back.
"Be careful, Laurana!" he cried, jumping to his feet as if pulled by a rope, his sword aloft. "He's a magic-user!" Spinning about, the Knight of Solamnia blinked in bewilderment. His eyes traveled from the dead body of the Highlord to Laurana as she knelt at Sturm's side. Understanding and admiration lit his eyes. He bowed his head respectfully for the dying knight.