Legacy of Steel

by Mary H. Herbert

  The uncertainty plagued her, too. She did not know how long the dragon would or could stay with her, and the thought of losing him bothered her intensely. He was content where he was for now, but how soon would it be before he changed his mind and left her, or a wanderer stumbled across his lair in the woods and spread the alarm, or Khellendros caught him unaware and killed him?

  Deep in her heart, Sara knew the course of her present life would change—perhaps drastically. It was only a matter of time.

  6

  Autumn came in its time and brought with it the days of harvest and gathering. Everyone worked hard, from the grannies who shelled beans to the youngest children, who could pick nuts and gather apples. After the blistering hot summer of three years before when the crops withered on the vine and the people went hungry the following winter, no one wanted to miss a single opportunity to put food aside for winter.

  With the balmy winds of autumn, however, came a chilling frost of dark tidings and evil rumors. Connersby was not close to any of the major roads through Coastlund, and news sometimes took a while to reach the village. Thus it was autumn before the people heard the first real news of the dragon, Malystryx. Vague rumors had drifted through Ansalon during the year of a great red dragon that landed on Misty Isle, but most people considered the story of a dragon from another land a mere fireside tale. That autumn showed them differently.

  Other news, equally as foreboding, trickled into the village as the season passed, news of troubles and disasters, of a strange new bard known only as the Herald, of the growing activity of frost wights in the south and the increasing influence of Khellendros to the north. The war with Chaos was over, but Krynn's troubles seemed to move on, with or without the gods.

  Sara had been so busy during the cool days of autumn, she had heard little outside news of any sort. That changed one evening with the arrival of the traveling cobbler.

  Known In the region only as Bootjack, the cobbler was mall man with a pointed beard and agile fingers. Some said he was part kender, because of his broad smile and loved of talk. Others thought he was part dwarf because his short stature and the wonderful ability of his fingers. He never told. He made any kind of footwear from slippers to fancy dress boots, and his workmanship was unequaled. He traveled in a small red wagon through the villages of Coastlund, the Vingaard Mountains, the plains of Solamnia, gathering news and sharing tales and making shoes.

  He up Sara's lane near dusk, leading his cart horse, a little plump mare favoring her front leg. Sara saw him coming and came to greet him.

  "How did you know I needed boots?" she said, smiling at him as she swung open the gate of a small corral.

  "How did you know I needed help for my horse?" he replied with a laugh.

  It was a trade easily done. Sara provided the leather for a pair boots, and Bootjack provided the labor. While she examined his mare, he leaned over the fence and launched into his latest news.

  "I just came back from Palanthas," he said, shaking his head. "The place just isn't the same since that sorcerer came in and leveled the Tower of High Sorcery. Can you believe that?"

  It wasn't a real question, Sara knew. Bootjack rarely gave his listeners time to make a reply. He launched into a long recital of the city's woes from the dropping population and shrinking trade to the disappearance of the books from the Great Library of the Ages and the destruction the Tower of High Sorcery.

  "Many of the temples are empty, too," the cobbler said, shaking his shaggy head. "A few clerics hold out, but with the magic gone and the gods vanished, most don't feel it's worth the effort." He clicked his tongue loudly, drew a small flask out of his vest, and took a long swallow to lubricate his dry throat.

  "That big, evil-sucking dragon doesn't help either. He's lurking up there in the north, scaring off the locals, and giving the shipping fits. I hear tell he's spreading the northern wasteland farther and farther south. Some say he's just waiting to pounce on Palanthas."

  Sara ran her hands down the mare's leg. The well-trained animal calmly lifted her foot for Sara's inspection. Although the woman looked busy, her attention was focused almost entirely on Bootjack's words.

  "Of course, that isn't the worst of it. I heard from some Dark Knights in the city a few stories that will curl your hair. That red beast of a dragon, Malystryx? She charred the Misty Isle. Burned everything to a crisp. Then last spring, I heard, she crossed over to the Dairly Plains. It's anyone's guess what she plans to do there."

  "Sounds as if this dragon is more than just a rumor," Sara managed to say as she drew a hoof-pick from her belt and began to clean the mare's hoof. The news of the dragon was disheartening, but something else he had just said sent an electric spark sizzling through her mind.

  Bootjack threw up his hands. "More than a rumor! I wish to the absent gods she was just a rumor. I heard tell she's bigger than Khellendros and twice as wicked. No one can stop her. And what if there are more like her? One of those knights I talked to said even Riverwind has gone to the Dairly Plains to see this dragon for himself."

  Sara gently dropped the mare's hoof to the ground and straightened. There, he had said it again. Almost fearfully, she asked Bootjack, "You said 'Dark Knights' told you all of this. What knights? I thought all the Dark Knights had left Palanthas during the Summer of Chaos."

  He started, surprised by her question. "What? Oh! Not really. A few Solamnics are there and some of the Knights of Takhisis. They have an unspoken detente at the moment. Both groups stay out of sight and don't cause trouble." He paused and rubbed his whiskery cheek, "Come to think of it, things look to get a little tougher for the Solamnics. Seems I heard a rumor that most of the Knights of Takhisis are leaving Palanthas for Neraka."

  Sara stiffened. Her hands tightened in the mare's stiff mane. "Why there?" she asked. Why at all?

  "The council of the Last Heroes gave the knighthood control of the area around Neraka, you know. Seems they may be regathering there."

  Sara leaned against the mare's warm side and tried to stifle the sudden chill that settled in her stomach. "I thought they no longer existed as a group. Their leader is dead, their queen is gone. Most of their ranks were slaughtered." Despite her wish to sound casual, her voice rose higher with every word.

  Bootjack lifted his skinny shoulders in a shrug. "Well, that's true enough. But there are a few still lurking around. In fact, I heard tell they have a new headquarters and are looking for recruits. Can you believe it?" He glanced at Sara and saw in surprise that she had turned as pale as milk. He patted his round belly, pleased he had spread some news that elicited such a response. It wasn't often he got to shock someone down to her bootstraps.

  Sara didn't want to believe it. The world had suffered enough from the Knights of Takhisis. Let them stay dead and buried. And yet what if Bootjack was right? Could it be possible someone was reorganizing the dark knighthood?

  The thought plagued Sara through the dinner she served Bootjack and remained with her for days afterward. Her mind roved far on the news she had heard, and she pondered its portent in her silent thoughts. She wondered if she should talk to Cobalt about her fears, then decided against it. She wanted to be certain of her facts before she brought up the subject. There would be time to talk to him later.

  Six days after Bootjack dropped off her new boots, fetched his mare, and went whistling on his way. Sara dragged herself out of bed from another miserable night of internal debate and made a decision. Wearily she rode her horse back into the mountains to tell Cobalt her plans. She found the dragon absorbed in digging up a large tree for no more reason than he wanted the exercise. While he dug and tore at the roots and played in the dirt, she ran through her sword drills and tried to find the words that would explain her emotions without angering her friend.

  It was hard enough trying to explain them to herself. She felt beset by a complicated welter of feelings about the Dark Knights—anger, resentment, frustration, intense dislike, even outrage that they would consider reforming
their sinister organization. She firmly believed the knighthood should have died out with its founder, Lord Ariakan. But how could she explain all of this to a blue dragon, a servant of Takhisis?

  Maybe—if the rumors were not true—she wouldn't have to.

  When the tree finally crashed down and Cobalt stood over it like a triumphant gladiator, Sara laughed and put away her sword.

  "Come talk to me," she said, wiping her forehead and sitting on a flat boulder.

  Cobalt flopped down on the ground beside her. A coating of dirt and bark covered his legs and chest, and a branch with a few leaves still clinging dangled from his horns. He bent his neck to take a close look at her. "You look worried, Sara. What is bothering you?"

  "I've heard some disquieting news," she said, each word deliberately slow. "I need to go to Palanthas for a few days to learn more."

  "I shall go with you."

  "No not this time. I don't want you anywhere near Khellendros. I plan to go as a craftswoman to sell my weaving .If all goes well, I'll be back within two weeks."

  The dragon's head dropped lower, and his eyelids slid halfway down to hood his golden eyes. "What is so important that it sends you across the mountains to Palanthas?"

  "I have heard that the Knights of Takhisis may be regrouping in Neraka. I want to know for sure."

  "Why? Surly you do not wish to rejoin them."

  "I just have to know. For my own peace of mind." Sara decided not to say any more than that now. Once she knew the truth, she could decide how much of her feelings to tell him. It was possible he would take offense at her attitude and leave her. That possibility truly worried her. she had become quite used to his companionship and would miss him horribly if he left.

  Cobalt's gaze locked into hers, and he studied her for a long time before he replied. "Be careful, Sara. If you are not back in two sevendays, I will come looking for you."

  She nodded, her heart grateful for his concern. "You be careful,too. No stealing cows while I'm gone. And stay out of sight." She reached up and scratched his eye ridges gently. "I'll miss you," she added in a voice barely above a whisper.

  He crouched on his belly and watched her mount the old horse for the ride back down the trail. He continued to stare at the spot long after she had ridden out of sight.

  "I'll miss you, too,"you, too," he said sadly.

  7

  Sara packed carefully for her trip to Palanthas. The rugs, shawls, scarves, cloth, and wall hangings she had woven and saved for several years were brought out of her loft shaken out, and folded into the horse panniers she borrowed from a neighbor. Seven days of trail food was added to the baskets, as well as several changes of clothing. She topped one pannier with her cloak and a blanket and filled the other with a nose bag, an extra halter, and a bag of grain for the horse.

  She debated taking her sword before she realized that it was simply her nervousness trying to influence her. No mere weaver would have a sword among her belongings. She contented herself with her short hunting bow a dagger at her belt, and a second long, slim blade tucked into the calf of her new boot.

  Dawn had not yet lightened the sky when Sara loaded the panniers on the horse and left her cottage. Although it was early and she had slept little, she didn't want to be distracted by curious villagers or farmers needing help with an animal. She just wanted to get moving and finish this trip as soon as possible.

  Unfortunately, while Palanthas was due east of Connersby as the dragon flies, there was no direct land route from the village over the mountains to the city. Sara had to go north to Daron, then take the trail southeast past the iron mines and on to Palanthas. It was a dangerous trip for a woman alone, but Sara hoped to find other travelers in Daron who would not mind another person joining their group.

  She reached the port town by evening and found an inn on the outskirts near the trail to Palanthas. The inn, named the Widow's Walk, was a large, prosperous establishment befitting a town as busy as Daron. It was owned by a woman—the widow, Sara imagined—who kept it well. The stables were clean, the inn courtyard was neat, and the long, tall building was in good repair.

  Sara decided to splurge on a room. If there were travelers leaving for the city, this would be a good place to find them. She left her horse in the care of a young lad and paid extra to store her packs.

  The common room was busy—another good sign— filled with local fishermen, sailors, merchants, a few local farmers, and a group of dwarves. Most of the customers were engrossed in their own food and conversation. Only a few looked her way when Sara entered.

  That was to Sara's liking. She had deliberately dressed in a plain, drab skirt and tunic to ensure her presence was not memorable. Her silver hair had been rolled into a bun, topped by a loose hat; her dagger was tucked out of sight under a voluminous vest. Her face was pleasant, but at her age, not enough beauty remained to attract casual eyes.

  After a few words with the lady innkeeper, she learned what she wanted to know. A party of merchants was leaving for Palanthas in the morning. When she approached the men dining near the fireplace, they eyed her up and down for a mere moment and nodded agreement. For a small fee, she could join their party.

  Sara was satisfied. The fee was not exorbitant and was only to be expected. The merchants had five armed guards traveling with them and a train of pack animals. Few bandits or lone ogres would dare attack a party that.

  They left the Widow's Walk after breakfast in a long, noisy caravan and took the trail into the rugged Vingaard Mountains. The trail, while not a maintained high road, had been traveled enough to be fairly wide and, on the lower slopes of the mountains at least, easily negotiated. The morning was cool and rainy, and the towering peaks of the range stayed veiled behind clouds of mist.

  Leading her horse, Sara stayed in the rear of the caravan with several other hangers-on and the servants.

  That night the rain blew itself out and a stiff wind dried the trail. The sun rose into a brilliantly clear sky at dawn and turned the snow on the high peaks into dazzling mantles of purest white.

  The merchant train found its stride in the following days, and to Sara's relief, the miles fell quickly behind her. Three days out of Daron, the caravan crossed over the pass and began the downward descent toward the Bay of Branchala. Five days out, the caravan topped the last ridge and wove down the steep road into the broad sheltered basin of Palanthas. She drew aside at the top of the trail to let the others pass. Her eyes followed the long line of pack animals down the switchbacks to the valley below and her gaze filled with the walls and towers and buildings that once had been the shining center of Solamnia.

  The rays of the late afternoon sun touched the rooftops of the sprawling city and illuminated the streets Sara had known well so many years ago. The light sparkled on the waters of the bay where the docks bustled with activity. It gleamed on the windows of the great palace in the center of the city and it gilded the walls of the massive Great Library of the Ages.

  Sara knew the city had suffered damage from the backlash of energy from the Abyss that opened in the ocean to the north. From the looks of things, much of the obvious damage had been cleared away or repaired, leaving just a few razed streets along the bay and some humble ruins in abandoned lots.

  Only one obvious landmark was missing from her view of the city, and its absence glared like a wound on unprotected skin. The awe-inspiring black Tower of High Sorcery with its bloody minarets and its fearsome Shoikan Grove, was gone, wiped from the face of Palanthas in one horrifying stroke. No one knew exactly what caused the disaster or what happened to the tower and it's contents. All that remained was a pool of a shining obsidian substance and an echoing emptiness.

  "Better not stand there all night," someone called to her, "The shops close at six chimes, and the city guards still impose a limited curfew."

  Sara tugged her weary horse into a walk and trod the final distance into the city.

  The chimes, hanging in the clock tower in the Temple of Paladi
ne, were just ringing six when Sara left the merchants' caravan and strode into the city on her own. Six strikes from the clock marked the end of the business day in Palanthas and were accompanied by much slamming of shutters and locking of doors and bustling about in the streets.

  It had been a long time since Sara had been in Palanthas, and she walked slowly to see everything, pleased to be back in the city. With no real destination in mind, she simply wandered where chance took her. Old memories assailed her, memories of Steel as a small boy walking hand in hand with her through these very streets. She remembered his dark, curly head and his vivid gaze and the rapt attention he gave to the stories she used to tell about knights and honor and courage.

  With the good memories came the bad ones, too: her growing Fear that Kitiara would come to claim her son, the grief she felt over the battling darkness she saw in Steel's soul, the terror of the fires in the city that destroyed their home. And worst of all, she remembered that dark night when Steel was twelve years old when the black riders appeared at her door and Lord Ariakan lured Steel into his evil order.

  Sara shivered with a cold that was not in the air. In her mind's eye, she saw again the cold visage of the dark lord and the determined, proud face of her son. She had begged and pleaded and cried for him to stay, but Steel was entranced by the promises of Ariakan and determined to go. Sara felt her eyes burn with unshed tears The passersby around her faded into a blur of colors and distant movement.

  She had tried everything, and finally all she won was the chance to accompany him to Storm's Keep. For her, it may as well have been a prison. For years, she cooked and cared for Ariakan's recruits and trained his dragons, and when he desired, Ariakan took her to his bed. The only things that kept her going through those long, brutal years were Steel and the dragons.