The History of Krynn: Vol IV

by Dragon Lance

  The low sun blinded Gundabyr as he continued to search the ruins for Vixa. When he shielded his eyes against the glare, a thought came to him. Perhaps that was why the Dargonesti had departed so hastily. They wanted to avoid the sunlight. Taking this line of reasoning further, Gundabyr decided they were not likely to attack again until dusk at the least. Living in the ocean depths as they did, they were most likely unable to bear the direct heat and light of the sun. That could be a boon for the Silvanesti, and right now they needed any advantage.

  He was satisfied that Vixa had not been killed at the fortress. Now, he just had to find her. His knowledge of Silvanesti geography was meager, but he knew the city of Silvanost lay upriver, on an island in the midst of the Thon-Thalas. Shouldering his axe, he started north, keeping a discreet distance from the water’s edge. No sense tempting the blueskins to try their luck during the day.

  Near midday, when the sun was scorching his bare head, Gundabyr smelled smoke – a campfire, he thought. He slipped into the brush beside the river road and worked his way toward the source. Care was needed. He didn’t think the Dargonesti had taken to frying their fish these days, but he was a foreigner in Silvanesti territory and he’d seen enough elven prisons to last him several lifetimes.

  Voices filtered through the foliage. He tightened his grip on his axe. The weight of it was comforting. Gundabyr caught a glimpse of movement in a clearing ahead. The odor of cooking was much stronger. It smelled like apples baking. His mouth watered.

  “These will be ready soon,” said a familiar voice. Samcadaris?

  “I hope so. The general is in a bad way. He needs food.”

  Vixa! Popping out of a tangle of ivy, Gundabyr called, “Save an apple for me, Princess!”

  The dwarf’s sudden appearance startled the group around the campfire. Vixa, Samcadaris, and four Silvanesti soldiers leapt to their feet. Gundabyr found arrows and swords aimed at his broad chest.

  “Wait!” he cried, throwing up his arms. “It’s me!”

  “Hold!” Vixa commanded. The warriors lowered their weapons. The Qualinesti princess shook her head. “Gundabyr, it’s good to see you, but it’s dangerous sneaking up like that.”

  “My apologies!” He stepped out into the open. “I’m mighty glad to see you, too.”

  “What happened to you?”

  He briefly sketched his morning activities, including his return to Thonbec.

  “And there was no one left alive?” Samcadaris asked grimly.

  The dwarf shook his head. “Are you all that’s left?” he asked, gesturing around at the small group.

  Vixa replied, “We scattered when the walls and towers came down around us. I found Samca here, and we picked up the others with General Axarandes.”

  She cast a worried look upon the still figure that lay on a crude stretcher made from a cloak and two green saplings. A terrible wound showed on the general’s head. He’d been hit by falling masonry, Vixa explained.

  “Will he live?” whispered Gundabyr.

  “It’s very serious, but if we can get him to a healer soon —” Her voice trailed off, then she added, “Have you seen any Dargonesti?”

  “Not this morning.” He told them his theory that the sea elves couldn’t bear direct sunlight. Vixa concurred.

  “We’ve seen signs they’ve raided both sides of the river,” Samcadaris said. “We’ve encountered no farmers or fishers at all.”

  They were camped on the outskirts of the extensive orchard country that surrounded Silvanost. Green apples, plucked from the trees, were all they could find to eat. The soldiers were cooking the fruit to make it more palatable. The little band crouched around the fire, digging browned apples from the ashes and eating the hot fruit gingerly.

  Gundabyr watched Vixa for several minutes. She talked and even joked with the others, keeping their spirits up in the face of their crushing defeat. She herself looked surprisingly well, considering all that had happened. The dwarf commented on this.

  “I’m on dry land,” she said simply. “It’s amazing what a difference that simple fact makes. Everything else can be dealt with.”

  Samcadaris frowned. “I wish I shared your confidence, lady,” he said. “I’m not afraid of these blue-skinned warriors, but if they can command monsters of the deep, then all may be lost.”

  Vixa swallowed a bite of warm apple. She pointed through the widely spaced trees to the river, visible as a sparkling ribbon at the bottom of the hill. “How wide would you say the river is here, Samca?”

  “How wide? Maybe two hundred yards, two-fifty at most.”

  “The kraken is more than a mile wide. I know. I walked on its back and mistook it for an island. I doubt it can drag itself this far from deep water. Even at Thonbec it was too large for the river channel and stayed in the much broader delta area. And once the sun came up, it went back to deep water with the sea elves. Silvanost is safe from it, I think.”

  Samcadaris looked at the distant Thon-Thalas. “Thank Astarin for that, at least.”

  “What we really need are horses,” Vixa said, rising. “We need to take a warning to Silvanost with all possible speed.”

  The elf captain managed a smile. He stood and dusted his hands. “I can do something about that, lady.”

  He went to General Axarandes. Vixa and Gundabyr followed. They could see the general’s thin chest rising and falling as he breathed. Samcadaris knelt by his commander, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “Sir? My lord Axarandes?”

  Under a bruised brow, the general’s eyes slowly opened. “Samca,” he rasped.

  “Sir, we need horses. We must get to Silvanost as quickly as possible.”

  “Sent … couriers.”

  “Yes, sir, I know,” Samcadaris said patiently. “But we don’t know if they got through. And you, my lord, are in need of a healer. Your wound is very serious.”

  “I should be dead. My citadel pulled down like a wattle hut, elves of Silvanesti fleeing in panic … you should have left me in the rubble.”

  Vixa knelt on the general’s other side. “Look here, General. You’re alive and there’s a lot of fighting to be done yet. Will you give up on your country when it needs you most?”

  He regarded her with bloodshot eyes. “Are you really a princess of the House of Kith-Kanan?”

  Her back stiffened. She looked down on him with proud eyes. “I am Vixa Ambrodel, granddaughter of Kith-Kanan, first Speaker of the Sun.”

  A tiny smile lifted Axarandes’s lips. “I’m sorry I doubted you, lady. You have the spirit, the carriage of a princess. I should have known it.”

  “Don’t let it trouble you, sir. If I’d been in your shoes, I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

  Samcadaris cleared his throat. “Sir, the horses?”

  “Ah, yes.”

  Axarandes raised a hand stiffly to his neck and groped in the folds of his tunic. He produced a small golden talisman, which hung around his neck on a thong. It was a horse rampant, beautifully worked. Closing his hand around the figurine, he began to speak, though no sound passed his lips.

  Gundabyr leaned over Vixa’s shoulder and whispered loudly, “What’s up? Is he praying?”

  “The general is summoning horses,” Samcadaris explained quietly. “Some elders of House Protector have the ability to call horses to them in times of emergency.”

  It was a long spell Axarandes soundlessly chanted. When at last the talisman fell from his fingers, he lost consciousness from the exertion. Samcadaris and Vixa stood up.

  “Is that it?” asked the dwarf, unimpressed.

  “Wait,” said Samcadaris. “You must be patient.”

  Gundabyr shrugged his broad shoulders and went back to the fire for another apple. He’d taken only a few bites when a distant thundering reached his ears. Soon, the sound was recognizable as the pounding of hooves. Gundabyr was happily surprised by the sight of ten horses cantering into the clearing. They were of all colors and sizes – from heavy farm anima
ls still wearing leather collars around their necks to half-wild ponies with ragged coats and unshod hooves. As only eight mounts were needed, the elves sorted out the best of the lot and sent the remaining two on their way.

  The soldiers made halters out of rawhide for each of the animals. General Axarandes’s makeshift stretcher was lashed behind one of the muscular farm horses. The travois wasn’t ideal, but he was in no condition to ride. Gundabyr was provided with a wicked-looking pony. It bared yellow teeth at him and pranced nervously when he approached. The dwarf put his face up close to the pony’s and bared his own yellow teeth. The fractious horse settled down after that. Gundabyr led it to convenient stump, and was soon mounted.

  “Remarkable,” said Samcadaris. “I doubt that animal’s ever been ridden. How did you tame him so quickly?”

  “Nothing to it. I just let him know that if he bites me, I’ll bite back!”

  For the first time since arriving in Silvanesti, Vixa Ambrodel laughed.

  Chapter 19

  CITY OF THE STARS

  The trip to Silvanost passed quickly. It was nearly sunset when they came in sight of the fabled capital of the eastern elven realm. Tired though she was, Vixa sat up straight as the first silver towers gleamed over the distant trees. No one she knew, not even Colonel Armantaro, had seen this ancient city. He had often spoken of his desire to see the city of their ancestors. Vixa’s excitement was tempered with sadness at the thought that he would never get his wish.

  Unlike the buildings of Qualinost, which were formed from naturally occurring rose quartz, the spires of Silvanost were constructed of white marble. They soared to remarkable heights and were so slender and sharply peaked as to resemble giant inverted icicles or spikes of the purest white glass.

  At least one of General Axarandes’s couriers must have gotten to Silvanost ahead of them. Samcadaris pointed out that the river was devoid of the usual collection of small water craft. Large, heavy barges, their sides lined with bronze shields, were anchored in midstream to bar the way to enemy ships. The warning had not been ignored completely.

  Banners flew from every masthead and tower peak. The setting sun warmed the white walls of Silvanost, and against that majestic backdrop, Vixa saw troops moving along the lengthy battlements.

  They left behind the orchards and neatly tended gardens and entered a grassy plain that rolled down to the river. At once they were surrounded and challenged by handsomely outfitted cavalry on snow-white horses.

  “Stand!” called a rider in herald’s plumage. “Name yourselves!”

  “Samcadaris, of House Protector. I have General Axarandes of Thonbec with me, gravely wounded. These are his warriors.”

  “Who are the outlanders?”

  Samcadaris nodded to Vixa and Gundabyr, indicating they should speak for themselves. Vixa drew herself up and said in a loud, clear voice, “Vixa Ambrodel, daughter of Verhanna Kanan and Kemian Ambrodel, niece of Silveran, Speaker of the Sun!”

  The dwarf merely waved a hand and said tiredly, “Gundabyr. Forgemaster. Thorbardin.”

  “You will come with me.” The herald reined his prancing horse and sent it galloping off toward the shore. Vixa, Samcadaris, and the rest thumped heels against their ragged mounts and followed.

  At the water’s edge, a broad stone ramp slanted at a gentle angle into the river. The herald halted and put a golden horn to his lips. Two crystalline notes echoed across the Thon-Thalas. He sounded them once more.

  “Now what?” rumbled Gundabyr. Vixa shrugged in reply.

  In moments, they saw a stately barge of considerable size coming across the river toward them. At first she and Gundabyr couldn’t figure out how it was powered. It had no sails, oars, or sweeps. A pair of thick chains ran taut from the bow out into the water ahead of the vessel. Gundabyr asked about their purpose, but before anyone could reply, the answer rose to the surface. A vast green dome emerged from the river in front of the barge. It loomed higher and higher. Unconsciously, both newcomers edged their horses away from the shore.

  The dome was jointed, made up of dozens of smaller plates. Vixa was astonished to realize that it was a creature of some sort. Its head, the size of a fishing dory, rose dripping from the water, and huge brown eyes stared impassively at her.

  “It’s a turtle!” yelped Gundabyr. “The father of all turtles!”

  “They are bred as tow beasts for the cross-river ferry.” Samcadaris was grinning.

  “Fantastic,” Vixa breathed. “How do you control such a monster?”

  “They are gentle as lambs, lady. Priests of the Blue Phoenix train them to work. I do not know what spells they use.”

  It didn’t take long for the giant turtle to cross the Thon-Thalas. Soon it was hauling itself out of the water onto the stone ramp, laboriously turning the barge for the return trip. The vessel bumped along until the barge master whistled for the beast to halt. A gangplank was lowered, and two soldiers from Thonbec carried Axarandes aboard. Vixa, Gundabyr, and Samcadaris followed.

  The barge was crammed with Silvanesti – by the look of them, river sailors hastily pressed into service as soldiers. Unlike the splendidly dressed cavalry, the barge marines were decked out in an assortment of ill-fitting cuirasses and helms. Like all the Silvanesti, they were tall and slender, with light eyes and hair. Vixa was used to the mixture of races found in Qualinost. Elves – many descended from the darker, stockier Kagonesti line – humans, some dwarves, and a few kender all called Qualinost home. The peaceful coexistence of the races was what her grandfather, Kith-Kanan, had envisioned for the city he founded. No such mixing of the races occurred in Silvanost.

  Hundreds of years earlier, when Silvanesti was home to all elves, Speaker of the Stars Sithel had been slain by a party of humans hunting the fringes of Silvanesti territory. Though the humans insisted the death had been accidental, the outraged elves had set about ridding their land of all nonelves, especially humans, many of whom had intermarried with the ancient race. The humans resisted, and so was begun the Kinslayer War.

  When the fighting was over, the elves withdrew into their country, disdaining any contact with those not of the – to their way of thinking – superior race. Their natural arrogance had blossomed into outright bigotry.

  However, some elves chafed under the rigid traditions and rules that governed their land. They were championed by Kith-Kanan, son of former Speaker Sithel and twin brother of Speaker of the Stars Sithas. This rift widened until it brought about the sundering of the elven nation. Kith-Kanan led his followers west, to found a new country called Qualinesti, where all races would be welcome.

  Only Silvanesti feet had trodden the streets of Silvanost these last four hundred years. Now the eastern elves were faced with not only a dwarven intruder, but a Qualinesti one as well. They had a deep mistrust of their western cousins, as some Qualinesti had sided with the humans during the Kinslayer War. The Silvanesti also believed that if elves had never married humans, bringing the humans into Silvanesti, the entire bloody conflict would never have happened. There were even those who worried that the exiles – as the eastern elves called the Qualinesti – would one day try to return to Silvanesti to take back their ancestral home by force.

  Vixa had always stood out among the inhabitants of her own country, with her height, light coloring, and bright blond hair. Here, she blended into the crowd.

  It was obvious the Silvanesti didn’t see it that way, however. Once Vixa and Gundabyr were on the barge, conversation among the crew quickly died. The dwarf and the Qualinesti girl were greeted with stares, some curious, but none welcoming.

  “What’s the matter with them?” muttered Gundabyr.

  “Nothing,” she replied just as softly. “They just don’t get many – any – strangers here.”

  From his tower at the ferry’s prow, the barge master gave a whistle. The turtle lurched into motion again, heading down the muddy ramp into the water. The barge did a swift right turn, sending the landlubbers skittering to the port bu
lwark. When the ride smoothed out, Samcadaris cornered the herald.

  “Has the enemy been seen near the city?” he asked.

  “No. I’m not even sure who the enemy is,” the young herald replied. He eyed Vixa. “Are the Qualinesti attacking us?”

  Vixa opened her mouth to protest, but Samcadaris intervened. “Indeed not,” the captain said. “These brave foreigners brought us warning of the coming invasion.”

  The herald’s gaze lost some of its hostility, but he still looked skeptical. “How was General Axarandes wounded? In battle?”

  “His fortress fell on him,” Gundabyr said bluntly. “When the kraken knocked it down.”

  “The what?”

  Samcadaris explained grimly. “Thonbec is no more. The enemy command a great sea monster, which tore the fortress apart as though it were made of parchment. Its tentacles —”

  “Hadn’t you better save the report for the Speaker?” Vixa interrupted, noting the terrified looks Samcadaris’s words were generating among the others on the ferry.

  One of the crew, fear draining the color from his face, blurted, “Sea monster, Captain?”

  Another put in, “What sort of fearsome beast could destroy an entire fortress?”

  “Don’t worry,” Gundabyr said in a loud, genial voice. “The kraken can swallow three-masters for breakfast and swamp cities with a single belch, but it won’t come to Silvanost.”

  The elves stared at him, openmouthed. “Why not?” asked one.

  “Your river’s too small. The kraken’s a mile across, after all.”

  The Silvanesti did not look reassured.

  They docked at an elegant white marble gatehouse, with raised drawbridge and arrow loops bristling with wary elven archers. The herald went ashore as soon as the bridge was lowered. The four soldiers from Thonbec bore their wounded general off the barge and took him away to be tended. Silvanesti from all over the quayside gathered to see the strange outlanders. As Vixa and Gundabyr awaited their turn to come ashore, quite a crowd collected.