Dragons of the Highlord Skies

by Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman

  She was not alone in her grief. Sturm’s sorrow was etched on his pallid face. Flint remained silent and stoic, though his grief over the loss of his longtime friends must run deep as the fathomless sea. Tasslehoff pulled out a handkerchief he thought had once belonged to Caramon and had to fight off a snuffle. Yet they carried on bravely, even finding the strength to murmur a gruff and awkward word of sympathy to her or give her a kind pat on the hand. Elistan tried to comfort her and at his gentle touch, she felt her sorrow ease a little, but when his hand was removed and his voice was silent, she sank back into misery.

  Laurana also sensed the mounting impatience of the knights. “At this rate,” Derek was heard to state grimly, “we might reach Rigitt by springtime!” She sensed the tension and the fear that kept everyone watching the skies. She felt she should try to crawl out of this well of black despair into which she had fallen, but she did not want to leave the darkness. The light up top was too bright. Voices were too loud, jarring. She found comfort in the silence. She dreamed of pulling the rocks and dirt down on top of her and letting them bury her, as the debris had buried Tanis, and put an end to her suffering.

  They walked on until darkness overtook them. Laurana discovered that if the day had been bad, the night was worse, for again she could not sleep. Morning broke, cold and cheerless, and they started out. After a time, night and day began to merge together for Laurana. She walked in a waking dream in one, and dreamed she walked in another. She had no idea what time it was, how far they had come, or how many days they had traveled. She could not eat. She drank water only because someone thrust the water skin into her hands. She walked, numb with grief and fatigue and cold, heedless of all around her. She knew her friends were growing increasingly concerned about her and she wanted to tell them not to bother, but even that called for more effort than she had to give.

  Then came the day when shouts of alarm roused her from her somnambulist state.

  She saw everyone looking into the sky, pointing and exclaiming. Aran was armed with a bow, and he had nocked an arrow on the string. Derek had grabbed hold of Tasslehoff and tossed him into a snow-filled ditch. Brian was urging the rest of them to take cover.

  Laurana stared into the clouds and could see nothing, at first, and then ten enormous winged beasts appeared, spiraling down out of the sky.

  Aran raised his bow, taking aim.

  Laurana gasped and whispered, “No! Stop!” just as Gilthanas gave a hoarse cry and threw himself against the knight, jostling his aim and nearly knocking the man down. Derek turned on Gilthanas and punched him on the jaw, felling him. Elistan ran to help Gilthanas, who lay limp in the snow. Flint stood alongside Sturm, both of them staring into the sky. Sturm had his sword drawn; Flint was fingering his axe.

  Tasslehoff, floundering knee deep in snow in the ditch, was wailing, “I can’t see! What’s happening? I can’t see!”

  Aran regained his balance and was once more nocking his arrow. Laurana looked at her brother, but he was still unconscious. She ran forward, seized Aran’s arm and gripped him tightly.

  “Do not shoot, Sir Knight! They are griffons!”

  “Yes, so?” he said harshly.

  “Griffons are dangerous,” Laurana cried, keeping fast hold of him, “but only to our foes!”

  Aran hesitated. He looked at Derek, who scowled and said in Solamnic, “I do not trust her. Shoot them down.”

  Laurana did not understand his words, but she understood the dark look he gave her and she guessed what he had said. Aran was once more taking aim.

  “Can you shoot all of them with one arrow, sir?” Laurana demanded angrily. “Because that is what you will have to do. If you strike one, the others will attack and rip us apart.”

  Sturm was by her side, adding his own urging. “You can trust her, Aran,” he said. “My life on her word.”

  Since the griffons were almost upon them now, it made little difference whether Aran trusted her or not. The great beasts landed some distance away, their feathery wings extended, powerful leonine hind legs touching the ground, gaining purchase by digging in the sharp claws of their eagle talons. Fierce black eyes glared at them above the curved beaks.

  “Lower your bow,” Laurana told Aran. “Sturm, Flint, the rest of you—sheathe your weapons.”

  Sturm immediately did as she asked. Flint put his axe back in its harness, but he kept his hand near the handle. Aran lowered his bow. Brian slowly slid his sword back into the scabbard. Derek shook his head stubbornly and held fast to his weapon.

  Watching the griffons, Laurana saw the glint in their eyes. Their beaks snapped. Their lion claws tore at the ground, their lion tails twitched, their eagle talons lifted and flexed.

  “Sheathe your sword now, Sir Knight!” Laurana hissed at Derek through clenched teeth, “or you will get us all killed!”

  Derek glanced at her, his expression grim. Then, with an angry gesture, he thrust his sword back into its scabbard.

  Laurana looked over her shoulder at her brother, hoping he could deal with this dangerous situation. Gilthanas had regained his senses, but he was leaning against Elistan, rubbing his jaw, and peering about dazedly. It was up to her.

  Laurana ran her fingers through her hair, doing what she could to comb the golden tangles, and smoothed and straightened her clothing. Picking up a handful of snow, she scrubbed her face. The rest were staring at her as though she had taken leave of her senses, but she knew what she was about. She had dealt with griffons often in Qualinesti.

  Noble, dignified beasts, griffons are fond of ceremony and formalities. They are easily insulted and must be approached with the utmost politeness, or they could quite literally fly into a rage. Their attention was fixed on her. They ignored the rest. Griffons dislike and distrust humans, dwarves, and kender, and would just as soon kill them as not. Griffons do not always love elves, but they know elves and sometimes can be convinced to serve them, particularly by the elven royalty, who enjoy a special bond with griffons. Laurana’s attempts to make herself neat and presentable before she spoke to them would please the griffons.

  She started to walk forward to meet them. Sturm moved to accompany her, but she saw the beasts’ black eyes glitter with anger and she shook her head.

  “You are human and you carry a sword,” she said softly. “They don’t like that. I must do this alone.”

  When Laurana was about six feet from the leader, she stopped and bowed low.

  “I am honored to be in the presence of one of such magnificence,” she said, speaking Elvish. “How may I and my comrades”—she gestured to those standing behind her—“be of service to you?”

  Griffons, unlike dragons, do not have the gift of speech. The story goes that when the gods created the griffons, the gods offered the beasts the ability to communicate with humanoids, but the griffons, seeing no reason to have speech with such lesser creatures, proudly declined. In this and in most other things, griffons consider themselves superior to dragons.

  Over the centuries, however, as the griffons and the elves developed their unique bond, members of the elven royal family learned to communicate mind-to-mind with the winged beasts. Laurana had acted often as her father’s emissary to those griffons who had made their home near Qualinesti. She knew how to treat them with the courtesy and respect they required, and she could understand the gist of what they were saying, if not their precise words.

  The beast’s thoughts entered her head. The griffon wanted to know if she was truly Daughter of the Speaker of the Sun of Qualinesti. The griffon was clearly dubious. Laurana couldn’t blame the beast. She did not look much like an elf princess.

  “I have the honor to be the daughter of my father, the Speaker of the Sun of Qualinesti.” Laurana managed the correct reply, though she was considerably startled by the question. “Forgive my asking, Great One, but how do you know me? How did you know where to find me?”

  “What is going on?” Derek asked in a low voice. “Does she really expect us to believe she
is communicating with these monsters?”

  Elistan cast him a rebuking glance. “Like many members of the Qualinesti and Silvanesti royal families, Laurana has the ability to mentally communicate with griffons.”

  Derek shook his head in disbelief and whispered to Brian, “Be ready to fight our way out of this.”

  The griffon continued to inspect Laurana, looking her up and down, and apparently decided to believe her. The griffon told her they were sent by Lady Alhana Starbreeze to take the Daughter of the Speaker of the Sun and her brother wherever they wanted to go.

  That explained the mystery. Laurana had heard from Gilthanas how he and Tanis and the others had met the Silvanesti princess, and how they had saved Alhana from being thrown into a Tarsian prison. The Silvanesti princess was mindful of her debt to them, it seemed. She had sent the griffons to find them and make certain they were safe.

  Laurana clasped her hands. She forgot the formalities in her joy. “You can take us home?” she cried. “To Qualinesti?”

  The griffon assented.

  Laurana longed for home. To be once more in her father’s warm embrace. To see again the green woodlands and the sparkling rivers. To breathe the perfumed air and hear the soft, sweet music of flute and harp. To know she was safe and loved. To lie down among the tall green grass, there to drift into deep and dreamless sleep.

  Laurana forgot, in her dream of home, that her people had been driven from Qualinesti, that they were living in exile, but even if she had remembered, it would not have made much difference.

  “Gilthanas!” Laurana cried to her brother in Elvish. “They have come to take us home!” She flushed, remembering that the others could not understand her, and then repeated her words in Common. She looked back at the griffons. “Will you take my friends as well?”

  The griffons did not appear at all pleased with this. They glared at the knights and looked extremely hostile at the sight of the kender, who had at last managed to climb out of the ditch and was saying excitedly, “Do I really get to fly on a griffon? I’ve never done that before. I rode on a pegasus once.”

  The griffons conferred, cawing raucously, and at length agreed to carry the others. Laurana had the vague impression that Lady Alhana had asked them for this favor, though she guessed the griffons would not admit it. They laid down many conditions, however, before they would consent to let the others come near them, particularly the kender and the knights.

  Laurana turned to give the others the good news, only to find her words met with grim, dubious, or uneasy looks.

  “You and your brother and the rest may fly off with these creatures if you choose, Lady Laurana,” Derek said coldly, “but the kender stays with us.”

  “What if the kender doesn’t want to stay with you?” Tasslehoff demanded, but everyone ignored him.

  Gilthanas was on his feet. His jaw was swollen, but he had his wits about him. “I’m staying with the knights,” he said in Elvish. “I’m not going to let them get hold of this dragon orb, and I think you should stay, too.”

  Laurana stared at him in dismay. “Gil, this is some tale Tas made up—”

  Gilthanas shook his head. “You’re wrong about that. The knights discovered confirmation of the orb’s existence in the library back in Tarsis. If there is a chance a dragon orb has survived all these centuries, I want to be the one to find it.”

  “What are you two jabbering about?” Derek demanded suspiciously. “Speak Common, so that we may all understand.”

  “Stay with me, Laurana,” her brother urged, continuing to speak in Elvish. “Help me recover this orb. Do this for the sake of our people instead of wallowing in grief over the half-elf.”

  “Tanis gave his life for mine!” Laurana cried in a choked voice. “I would be dead if he hadn’t—”

  But Gilthanas wasn’t listening. Glancing at the knights, then turning back to his sister, he said, speaking Common, “Ask the griffons to take us to Icereach.”

  Derek, Aran and Brian exchanged glances. Although unorthodox, this mode of transportation solved all their problems. The griffons could fly over the sea and thereby take them directly to their destination, saving them days and perhaps weeks of travel, even if they could find a ship, which was not guaranteed.

  “Gil, please, let’s just go home,” Laurana begged.

  “We will go home, Laurana, once we have the dragon orb,” Gilthanas replied. “Will you desert our friends in this time of peril? Leave them behind? Our friends would not abandon you. Ask Sturm what he intends to do.”

  None of her friends had spoken yet. They had been watching and listening in silence, not thinking it right to intervene. They regarded her with sympathy, preparing to offer comfort, understanding her need, leaving the decision to her.

  “What should I do?” she asked Sturm.

  “Tell the griffons to take you home, Laurana,” he said gently. “The rest of us will travel to Icereach.”

  Laurana shook her head. “You don’t understand. The griffons will take you humans only if I am with you … I’m the only one who can understand them. Gilthanas never had the patience to learn.”

  “Then we will find our way to Icereach without their help,” Flint declared.

  “You could come back to Qualinesti with me,” Laurana said. “Why don’t you?”

  “It’s the kender,” Flint explained. “The knights plan to take him to Icereach.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Laurana. “If Tas doesn’t want to go, Derek can’t make him.”

  “You tell her,” Flint said, nudging Sturm.

  Sturm hesitated, then said, “I think Tas should go, Laurana. I agree that this dragon orb may be of great help to us, and if Tas goes …” He paused, then said, “Derek would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for his cause, Laurana, and he would not hesitate to sacrifice the lives of others. Do you understand?”

  “I go with Sturm and the knights,” said Flint, adding gruffly, “After all, someone has to protect them from Tasslehoff.” The dwarf reached out, awkwardly patted her hand. “Sturm is right. You go home, Laurana. We’ll manage.”

  Laurana looked last to Elistan, her mentor, her guide. He lightly touched the medallion of Paladine he wore around his neck.

  He was saying she should turn to Paladine in her trouble. Laurana had no need to ask the god. She knew what she wanted to do, and she knew what she had to do. She could not fly off to safety and leave her friends to face a long and dangerous trek to Icereach, not when she could provide them with safe, swift transport. Gilthanas was right. She could not desert friends who would never think of deserting her.

  Laurana gave one last longing thought to her homeland, then left her friends and walked back the griffons. “I thank you for your offer to take us to Qualinesti,” she said. Her voice quivered as she began, but grew stronger as she proceeded. “However, we have urgent business to the south in Icereach. I was wondering if you would take my friends and me to that land.”

  Derek said loudly, “Tell the beasts that an evil elf wizard named Feal-Thas is Dragon Highlord of Icereach and that we go to destroy him.”

  The griffons appeared highly amused by this. Several cawed loudly and stomped their hind feet and twitched their lion tails. The leader rubbed his beak with a talon and told Laurana that they knew of this Feal-Thas. He was a dark elf, cast out of Silvanesti before the Cataclysm for murdering his lover, and he was an extremely powerful wizard who would not be taken down by a handful of iron-clad fools. The griffon advised her that her first course of action was wise. The beast told her to return home to her father, where she belonged.

  “I thank you, Great One,” Laurana said, gently but firmly, “but we will travel to Icereach.”

  The griffon’s admonition to go home “where she belonged”—as though she were some errant, heedless child—stung Laurana. She had been just such a child once, but no more.

  “If you will not take us,” she continued, seeing the griffons about to refuse, “then we must travel to th
at land on our own. When you return to Silvanesti, give the Lady Alhana my grateful thanks for her care and concern.”

  The griffon mulled over her request. The griffon would be forced to tell Lady Alhana that he had refused to carry Laurana and the others to her chosen destination. Griffons do not consider themselves obliged to serve elves they are not bonded to, but they had agreed to this task and the beasts would consider themselves honor-bound to undertake it. Besides, on consideration, Icereach was close to their home, which was near Silvanesti. Qualinesti was far away.

  “We will take you,” the griffon agreed grudgingly, “for the sake of Lady Alhana.”

  “I thank you and your brethren with all my heart,” said Laurana, bowing. “I will give you rich reward when I am in my own homeland and able to do so.”

  The griffon grunted. He appreciated the gesture, though the beast obviously doubted that Laurana would live long enough to fulfill her promise.

  Flint glowered at the thought of riding a griffon, especially without a saddle.

  “It is not much different from riding a horse bareback,” Gilthanas told him soothingly.

  “Except if you fall off a horse, you get bumps and bruises,” Flint pointed out. “Whereas if I fall off that great beast, I will end up splattered over a lot of ground!”

  He continued to mutter his protests, even as he allowed Sturm to assist him onto the griffon’s back.

  Laurana instructed the dwarf to sit forward of the wings and hang on tightly, keeping his arms around the griffon’s neck. The last was unnecessary, for Flint had hold of the griffon in a grip that appeared likely to strangle the beast.

  “Don’t look down. If you feel giddy once you are airborne, close your eyes or bury your head in the griffon’s mane,” she told him.

  At this, Flint looked triumphantly at Tasslehoff. “I told you griffons had manes, you doorknob!”

  “But, Flint,” Tas returned, “the griffon’s mane is made of feathers. The mane on your helm is horse hair—”

  “It is the mane of a griffon!” Flint insisted.