The Second Generation

by Margaret Weis

  “Old wives generally know what they’re talking about,” Tanis said. “Curses can take many forms. The young man’s going to be in for an unpleasant shock, if nothing else.”

  “And he’s going to be furious when he wakes up,” Caramon pointed out. “I doubt if he’ll even listen to us, much less believe anything we tell him. This is hopeless, Sara. Your plan won’t work—”

  “It can. It must! I will not lose him!” She glared at them fiercely. “You saw him. You heard him! He is not totally given over to evil. He might change his mind. Please, help me! Help him! Once we get him away from here, away from this dark influence—once he sees the High Clerist’s Tower and remembers …”

  “Very well. We’ll try,” Tanis said. “After all, we’ve come this far. I’ll take one arm—”

  “This is my work, Tanis.” Caramon shouldered him aside.

  Accustomed to carrying barrels of ale on his broad back, Caramon picked the young man up bodily and heaved him effortlessly over a broad shoulder. Steel’s head and flaccid arms dangled in front, his long hair practically brushing the ground. Grunting, Caramon settled the young man more securely, then nodded.

  “Let’s go.”

  Sara flung a cloak over Steel, grabbed a cloak for herself and her dragon rider helm. Opening the door a crack, she peered out. The rain had ceased for the moment, and the stars shone. The constellation of the Dark Queen, very near, gleamed with ominous brilliance. Storm clouds were massing again on the horizon.

  Sara motioned, and they hastened out. They met no one until they neared the stables, then ran almost headlong into a knight in black armor.

  He glanced at Steel and smiled coolly. “Another casualty? The young men threw themselves into their training this night. The clerics will earn their keep today.” Saluting, the knight went about his business.

  The fortress was quiet, most of the men either resting after the night’s endeavors or, as the knight had said, recovering from their wounds. Several dragons kept watch, perched atop the tall towers. Guards walked the battlements, probably more for the sake of training and discipline than because they actually feared assault. Ariakan had nothing to fear. Not now. Not yet. Few knew he was here, or what he plotted.

  But now I know, Tanis realized uneasily. I can carry the warning, except that it may already be too late. Traitor, Steel called Sara. Is she? Has she really done that much damage to their cause? He thought back to what she’d said that very night. Her main goal was to keep Steel safe. To do that, she had served evil in silence for over ten years. She had broken that silence at last, but only out of desperation, only to save the young man from the final, irrevocable commitment.

  They reached the cleared area. Sara put her hand to the brooch she wore on her breast. A blue dragon appeared in the sky, soaring toward them.

  “If you can summon dragons,” said Tanis, following up on this thoughts, “you could have escaped this place long ago.”

  “You are right” Sara hovered near Steel, hanging limply in Caramon’s grasp. “But I would have had to go alone. He would have refused to come with me. I couldn’t leave him here by himself. My influence is all that has kept him walking in the light.”

  “But you could have warned someone. The Knights of Solamnia might have been able to stop Ariakan.” Tanis gestured at the mighty fortress. “Now, he is too strong.”

  “What would your knights have done?” Sara demanded. “Come with their dragons? Their lances? And what would that have accomplished? Ariakan and the knights would have fought to the death, all our deaths. No, I couldn’t risk it. Back then, I still had hope. Someday, Steel might see how evil they are. He might agree to come with me.… But now …” She shook her head bleakly.

  The blue dragon landed on the ground near them. Flare was agitated at the sight of Steel’s seemingly lifeless form, but Sara quieted the dragon with a few softly spoken words of explanation. Flare still appeared dubious, but the blue obviously trusted Sara and was extremely solicitous of Steel. The dragon never took its eyes off the young man, as Caramon secured him in the saddle, then wedged himself in uncomfortably behind.

  Sara approached the dragon. Tanis laid his hand over hers, halting her.

  “We’ll do what you ask, Sara Dunstan, but the final decision will rest with Steel. Unless you plan to lock him up in a cellar and throw away the key,” he added dryly.

  “This will work,” she insisted.

  Tanis kept hold of her wrist. “Sara, if it doesn’t, you’ve lost him. He’ll never forgive you for this act, for betraying him, betraying the knighthood. You know that, don’t you?”

  She stared at the lifeless form of her son, her face as cold and unlovely as the black lily brooch. Tanis saw, then, the true strength of the woman who had dwelt in this dark prison for so many dark years.

  “I know,” she said, and pulled herself up onto the dragon.

  Chapter Eight

  The High Clerist’s Tower

  “What have you done, Mother?” the young paladin demanded furiously.

  Awakening in the mountains, on a windswept promontory overlooking the High Clerist’s Tower, Steel was groggy and disoriented at first, but realization, then anger, soon burned away the potion-induced mists.

  “I want to give you a chance to reconsider what you are doing,” Sara told him.

  She did not plead or beg; she was not a pathetic figure. She was calm and dignified and, as the two faced each other, Tanis saw a resemblance that was not born in the blood, but sprang from long years of mutual respect and affection.

  Whatever clay the father and mother had brought into this world, it was Sara who had formed and molded it.

  Steel swallowed any bitter recriminations or angry words. Instead he turned his dark-eyed gaze on Tanis and Caramon.

  “Who are these men?”

  “They are friends of your father,” Sara replied.

  “So that’s what this is about,” Steel said, favoring both Tanis and Caramon with a cold and haughty stare.

  Magnificent in his youth and strength, retaining his pride and his composure when his head must have been swimming and his mind groping about in befuddled confusion, Steel won the grudging admiration of both men.

  The blue dragon sniffed the air, shook her head, and snarled. Silver dragons, favored by the Knights of Solamnia, occasionally patrolled the skies above the tower. None could be seen in the skies this early, but the blue obviously scented something she didn’t like.

  Sara calmed Flare and led her into a large opening in the rocks, where the dragon would be at least partially hidden from view—the main reason she had chosen this particular landing site. The three men remained standing on the rock ledge, regarding each other in uncomfortable silence.

  Steel looked ill, was unsteady on his feet, but he would obviously sooner die than admit to weakness, and so neither Tanis nor Caramon made any offer of assistance or comfort.

  Caramon nudged Tanis.

  “Do you remember the autumn the war started, right after we’d left Solace with Goldmoon and Riverwind? We ran afoul of draconians and Sturm was wounded. Blood covered his face. He could barely stand, let alone walk, and yet he never said a word of complaint, refused to stop …”

  “Yes,” said Tanis quietly, looking at the young man. “I remember.” The memory was very vivid, just now.

  Steel—aware that he was under scrutiny, if not discussion—turned proudly away.

  Tanis eyed the dark paladin’s black armor—hideously adorned with symbols of death—and wondered gloomily just how he and the others were supposed to march into the High Clerist’s Tower. And, as if this wasn’t trouble enough, when Sara emerged from the cave, Tanis knew at a glance that there was more.

  “What is it, Sara? What’s wrong?”

  Caramon cast a nervous glance at the sky. “Not a patrol—”

  “Flare claims that we were followed,” Sara said in a low voice, not looking at Steel. “That knight … he must have suspected something.”

>   “Great, just great!” Tanis muttered. “How many?”

  Sara shook her head. “One blue with a single rider. He’s not here now. He returned to the fortress … once he found out where we were bound …”

  “But the Knights of Takhisis will come for us,” said Steel with a cool and triumphant smile. He turned to Sara. “We can leave now, Mother, before any harm is done. Leave these two old fossils to their moldy memories.”

  Sighing, he touched her cheek gently. “I know what you’re trying to do, Mother, but it won’t work. Nothing will make me change my mind. Let us go back home. I’ll see to it that Lord Ariakan doesn’t blame you. I will tell my lord this mad scheme was my idea. A dare, taken over wine and dice, to spit on the High Clerist’s Tower—”

  Caramon made a rumbling sound, deep in his chest. “Mind how you talk, boy,” he growled. “Your father’s blood is red on those stones. His body lies inside.”

  Steel was obviously taken aback. He regained his composure swiftly, however, and shrugged. “So my father died in the assault—”

  “He died defending the tower,” said Tanis, observing the young man intently, “and the knighthood.”

  “He is honored among all Ansalon,” Caramon added. “His name, like Huma’s, is spoken with reverence.”

  “That name is Sturm. Sturm Brightblade,” said Sara softly. “And that is the name you bear, Steel.”

  The young man had gone white. He stared at them all in disbelief that rapidly darkened to suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”

  “To tell you the truth,” Tanis said, treading on Caramon’s foot to warn him to keep silent, “neither do we. This woman here”—he gestured at Sara—“came to us with some wild tale of a liaison between your mother and a man who was our friend, a liaison of which you were the unwitting product. We refused to believe her, and so we told her to bring you here to prove it.”

  “Why?” Steel demanded, sneering. “What will this prove?”

  “Good question, Tanis,” Caramon said under his breath. “What will this prove?”

  Tanis looked at Sara for the answer.

  Take my son inside the tower, her eyes begged him. Let him see the knights. He will remember how he honored them in his childhood. I know he will. My stories will come back to him.

  “I wish to Paladine I had your faith, mistress,” Tanis said into his beard. He scratched his chin, trying to think up some excuse. This whole scheme was beginning to make less and less sense, becoming more and more dangerous.

  Aloud, he said the first thing that came to mind, There’s a jewel that hangs around your father’s neck. It was buried with him. The star jewel is magical. It was given to him by an elven queen, Alhana Starbreeze. This jewel will …”

  “Will what?” Steel mocked him. “Dissolve when I enter the sacred chamber.”

  “It will tell us the truth,” Tanis snapped, irritated by this arrogant youngster. “Believe me, I don’t like this any more than you do. What? What’s that you say, Caramon?”

  “The elf jewel is just a love token. It won’t …”

  “You’re right, my friend,” Tanis interrupted him loudly. “It is a wondrous jewel. Very magical.”

  “This is a trick,” said Steel. He put his hand to his sword belt, forgetting that he’d taken off his sword. It was back in his mother’s house. Flushing, he clenched his fists. “You intend to take me prisoner. Once we get to the tower, you’ll hand me over to the knights. That’s your plan, isn’t it, Mother?”

  “No, Steel!” Sara cried. “I never meant that, truly. Neither do these men. If you decide, after all this, to return to Storm’s Keep, we will do nothing to stop you. The decision will be yours, Steel.”

  “I pledge you, by my honor and my life, that this is not a trick. I will guard you as if you were my own son,” Tanis said quietly.

  “Me, too, Nephew.” Caramon nodded, then rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re my flesh and blood. You have my word. I swear by my own children—your cousins.”

  Steel laughed. “You’ll fight in my defense. Thank you, but I doubt if the day will come when I need the services of two soft, middle-aged—” He paused, suddenly struck by what he’d heard. “Nephew. Cousins.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

  “Your uncle, Caramon Majere,” Caramon replied with dignity. “And this is Tanis Half-Elven.”

  Steel eyed Caramon speculatively, curiously. “My mother’s half-brother.” The dark-eyed gaze shifted to Tanis. “And one of her lovers, according to Lord Ariakan.” The young man’s lip curled.

  Tanis’s skin burned. It’s over and done, past and gone, he reminded himself. Kitiara’s been dead these many years. I love Laurana. I do, with all my heart and soul. I haven’t thought of Kit in all these years, and now a flash of the eye, a turn of the head, her crooked grin, and it all comes back to me. My shame, my indiscretion. Our youth … our joy …

  “So you two are here to save me from myself,” Steel was saying, with bitter sarcasm.

  “We only want to give you another option,” said Tanis, shoulders hunched against the raw and biting wind, against the equally biting memories. “As Sara says, the final decision will be yours.”

  “That’s why we fought the war, Nephew,” Caramon added. “To ensure that people had choices.”

  “Nephew.” Steel smiled, and it was meant to be a sneering and arrogant smile. But his lips trembled before he could tighten them, and there was, for the space of a faltering heartbeat, a glimpse of the face of an unhappy, lonely child.

  It was then, in that moment, that Tanis came to truly believe that this young man was Sturm’s son. In that expression of bleak pride and anguish, Tanis saw again the young knight who had grown up during a time when the Knights of Solamnia were themselves hated and reviled, when he’d been despised, made to feel ashamed of his birthright.

  Sturm had known what it was to be different from others. He had used his pride as a shield against hatred and prejudice. That shield of pride had been heavy to carry in the beginning, but Sturm had learned to ease pride’s weight with forbearance and compassion. This dark paladin bore the shield’s weight eagerly, willingly, and it had left cruel marks on him.

  Tanis opened his mouth, almost spoke his thoughts aloud, then he reconsidered. No poor words of mine will penetrate that shield, that dark, cruel armor. He is Sturm’s son, yes, but Kitiara’s son, too, a child of unholy darkness and hallowed light.

  “You owe both these gentlemen an apology, Steel,” Sara was sternly berating the young man. “They have proven their mettle in battle, something you have yet to do. It is not for you to speak to them with disrespect.”

  Steel’s handsome face flushed at his mother’s chiding, but he had been raised in a strict school. “I do apologize, sirs,” he said stiffly. “I have heard of your exploits during the war. You may find this difficult to believe,” he added with a grim smile, “but we who serve Queen Takhisis have been taught to honor you.”

  Tanis did indeed find this hard to believe, didn’t like to consider the implications. “Then you have been taught to honor your father’s deeds—”

  “If Sturm Brightblade is my father,” Steel countered. “I have been taught to admire his heroic death—one who stood alone against many enemies. And I have also been taught to honor the memory of my mother, Kitiara, the Dragon Highlord who slew him.”

  That remark effectively silenced everyone. Caramon shuffled his big feet, coughed, and stared down at the ground. Tanis heaved an exasperated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. A curse if Steel found out who his father was—so Ariakan had told the young paladin. Tanis was beginning to believe it. He couldn’t for the life of him see how anything good could come out of this unhappy situation.

  Steel turned his back on them all. Walking over to the cliff’s edge, he gazed down with interest on the High Clerist’s Tower.

  “I’m sorry, Sara,” Tanis said in an undertone. “I’ll say this for the last time. Your scheme isn’t going t
o work. Nothing we say or do is going to make any difference to him. Steel is right. The two of you should leave now. Go back to your home.”

  The woman’s shoulders slumped. She closed her eyes and put a trembling hand to her lips. Tears slid down the careworn face. She couldn’t speak, but nodded her head.

  “C’mon, Caramon,” Tanis said. “We’ve got to get off this mountain before dark—”

  “Wait a minute,” Steel said abruptly. He turned around, then stalked over to stand in front of Sara. Putting his hand on her chin, he turned her face to the sunlight. “You’re crying,” he said softly, and there was wonder in his voice. “All these years, I’ve never seen you cry.”

  He would have known how to defend himself against a battalion of knights, but his mother’s tears disarmed him completely.

  “Do you truly want me to go through with this … folly?” he asked, frustrated, helpless, bewildered.

  Sara’s face brightened. Eagerly, she clung to him. “Oh, yes, Steel. Please! Do this for me.”

  Tanis and Caramon stood silently by, waiting.

  Steel gazed at her, his face a battlefield, revealing the struggle waging within. Then, with a dark, sidelong glance at the two older men, he said coldly, “I will accompany you, sirs—for her sake.”

  Turning on his heel, he walked to the edge of the ledge, leapt lightly onto another rock ledge below it, and started down the mountainside, picking his way among the tangle of rocks with the nimble dexterity and strength of youth.

  Caught flat-footed by the unexpected move, Tanis hurried after, but his elegant and expensive boots—meant for walking his estate, not climbing mountains—slipped on a patch of gravel. He lost his balance and might have tumbled down the cliff had not a strong hand grasped the collar of his tunic and dragged him back.

  “Take it slow, my friend,” said Caramon. “We’ve a long way to go, and this isn’t going to be easy on either our boots or our bones.” He nodded down at Steel, whose dark curls could barely be seen among the boulders. “Let our young friend go it alone awhile. He needs time to think. His mind must feel about like that creek there.”