“There is her sign.” Mina pointed to the heads of the five dragons that guarded the Portal.
Shuddering, Goldmoon turned. Dark and lifeless, the heads began to glow with an eerie radiance, one red, one blue, one green, one white, one black.
She moaned and averted her eyes.
“Mother,” said Mina, gently rebuking, “the One God does not ask you for thanks for these past gifts. Rest assured, she has more gifts to bestow on her faithful in the future. But she does require service, Mother. She wants you to serve her and to love her, as she has served you and loved you. Do this, Mother. Kneel down and offer your prayers of faith and thanksgiving to the One True God. The One God who remained faithful to her creation.”
“No! I don’t believe what you are telling me!” Goldmoon said through lips so stiff she could barely cause them to form the words. “You have been deceived, child. I know this One God. I know her of old. I know her tricks and her lies and deceits.”
Goldmoon looked back at the five-headed dragon, whose terrible radiance shone undimmed, for no other opposing force existed that could cloud it.
“I do not believe your lies, Takhisis!” Goldmoon cried defiantly. “I will never believe that the blessed Paladine and Mishakal left us to your mercy! You are what you have always been—a God of Evil who does not want worshipers but slaves. I will never bow down to you. I will never serve you.”
Fire flared from the eyes of the five dragons. The fire was white hot, and Goldmoon withered in the terrible heat. Her body shrank and shriveled. Her strength ebbed, and she collapsed to the floor. Her hands shook with palsy. The skin stretched tight over tendon and bone. Her arms grew thin and splotched with age. Her face wrinkled. Her beautiful silver-gold hair was white and wispy. She was an old woman, her pulse feeble, her heartbeat slowing.
“See, Mother,” Mina said and her voice was sorrowful and afraid, “see what will happen if you continue to deny the One God what is due her?”
Kneeling beside Goldmoon, Mina took hold of the old woman’s palsied hands and pressed them again to her lips. “Please, Mother. I can restore your youth. I can bring back your beauty. You can begin life all over again. You will walk with me, and together we will rule the world in the name of the One God. All you have to do is to come to the One God in humility and ask this favor of her, and it will be done.”
Goldmoon closed her eyes. Her lips did not move.
Mina bent close. “Mother,” she begged, and she sounded fearful. “Mother, do this for me if not for yourself. Do this for love of me!”
“I pray,” said Goldmoon. “I pray to Paladine and Mishakal that they forgive me for my lack of faith. I should have known the truth,” she said softly, her voice weakening as she spoke the words with her dying breath, “I pray that Paladine will hear my words, and he will come … for love of Mina … For love of all.…”
Goldmoon sank, lifeless, to the floor.
“Mother,” said Mina, as bewildered as a lost child, “I did this for you.…”
EPILOGUE
hat night, in the small port city of Dolphin View, in northern Abanasinia, a ship set sail across the Straits of Schallsea. The ship carried a single passenger, whose identity was known only to the captain. Heavily cloaked and hooded, the passenger boarded during the night, bringing with him nothing except his horse, a wild-eyed, short-tempered beast, who was housed below deck in a specially built stall.
The mysterious passenger was obviously a man of means, for he had hired the Gull Wing specially, and he had paid extra for his horse. The sailors, intensely curious about the passenger’s identity, were envious of the cabin boy, who was granted permission to take the passenger his supper. They waited eagerly for the boy to return to tell them what he had seen and heard.
The cabin boy knocked on the door. No one answered and after a few more knocks, he trepidatiously tried the lock. The door opened.
A tall, slender man, wrapped in his cloak, stood staring out the porthole at the vast and glittering sea. He did not turn around, even after the cabin boy mentioned dinner several times. Shrugging, the cabin boy was about to withdraw when the mysterious passenger spoke. He used Common, but with a heavy accent. His voice quivered with impatience.
“Tell the captain I want this ship to go faster. Do you hear? We must go faster.”
In her mountain lair, surrounded by the skulls of the dragons she had slain, the great red dragon Malystryx dreamed of water, inky black water, rising up over her red legs, her belly, her massive red tail. Rising to cover her red wings, her back. Rising to her mane. Rising to cover her head, her mouth and nostrils. She could not breathe. She fought to lift herself above the water, but her legs were pinned. She could not free herself. Her lungs were bursting. Stars exploded before her eyes. She gasped, opened her mouth. The water poured in, and she was drowning.…
Malystryx woke, suddenly, glared around, angry and uneasy. She had been dreaming, and she never dreamed. Never before had any dream disturbed her rest. She had heard voices in her dream, mocking, goading, and she heard them still. The voices came from the skull totem, and they sang a song about sleep. Forever sleep.
Malystryx lifted her enormous head and stared hard at the skull totem, at the white skulls of blue dragons piled on top of the skulls of silver dragons; at the skulls of red dragons lying atop of the skulls of gold dragons.
From out the empty eye sockets of all the dead dragons, eyes, living eyes, stared back at Malystryx.
Sleep. Forever sleep.
In the Tower of High Sorcery, Galdar waited for Mina, but she didn’t return. At last, worried about her, not trusting this place or the wizards who inhabitated it, he went in search of her.
He found her in the old laboratory.
Mina sat huddled on the floor beside the body of an old, old woman. Galdar approached, spoke to her. Mina did not look up. Bending down, Galdar saw that the old woman was dead.
Galdar lifted Mina, put his good strong right arm around her, and led her from the chamber.
The light of the dragons faded.
The laboratory was once more shrouded in darkness.
About the Authors
Margaret Weis
Margaret Weis began her collaboration with Tracy Hickman on the DRAGONLANCE® series more than fifteen years ago when she was an editor for TSR, Inc. A decade and a half later she is the author of numerous DRAGONLANCE novels, the four-volume galactic fantasy Star of the Guardian, and coauthor with her husband Don Perrin of The Doom Brigade, Draconian Measures, Knights of the Black Earth, Robot Blues, and Hung Out. She and Perrin are also the authors of Brothers in Arms, the sequel to Weis’ best-selling novel The Soulforge. Currently she is hard at work with Tracy Hickman on volume three of the War of Souls Trilogy. She lives happily in a converted barn in Wisconsin with her husband, an assortment of dogs and cats, and far, far too many books.
Tracy Hickman
In 1983, when Tracy Hickman was driving across country to start a new job at TSR, Inc. as a game designer, he conceived of a world in which dragons would play a big part. That world became the DRAGONLANCE campaign setting and helped launch Hickman’s career as a major voice in fantasy fiction. He has also written, in collaboration with Margaret Weis, the Darksword series and the Death Gate Cycle, is the designer of the game setting Starshield, and is the author of The Immortals. In his spare time—not that he has much—he lives in Utah with his wife, two daughters, and two sons.
DRAGONLANCE, WIZARDS OF THE COAST, and their respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC, in the U.S.A. and other countries. ©2002 Wizards of the Coast LLC
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