The History of Krynn: Vol I

by Dragon Lance

  “I’d rather die,” Karada spat.

  “I thought you would.” Balif sighed and gestured to his soldiers. The ring of javelins surrounding her lowered.

  The older elf, his posture deferential, said something to Balif in their own tongue. Balif shook his head, saying, “No, Vedvedsica. I have a better idea.” Then he spoke to Nianki. “I think a better message would be sent to your people if I spared your life and sent you on your way.”

  “Not a wise choice,” warned Vedvedsica quickly, all deference gone.

  “No one asked you.” The sharp retort shut the elder elf’s mouth and brought satisfied grins to the faces of Balif’s retainers.

  “You’re letting me go?” demanded Nianki.

  “Just so.”

  Karada tore off her bear’s tooth headband and hurled it to the ground. “No! Damn you, a warrior doesn’t let a dangerous enemy go free! Do you think I’m so harmless, I’m not worth killing?”

  “On the contrary,” he replied, swinging back onto his horse. “You’ve caused much trouble to my lord Silvanos. Neither my lord nor I wishes to pursue a war against the plainsmen in our territory. By sparing you I send a clear message to your comrades that Silvanos’s rule is just and temperate. You’ll be deprived of your arms and your horse, and you’ll have to leave this province before the next conjunction of the red and white moons. After that time, if you attack subjects or property of my lord Silvanos, you’ll be declared an outlaw. You’ll be hunted down and killed without mercy. Is that clear?”

  She did not reply. When the silence lengthened, the elves around her slowly recovered their javelins and broke ranks. Balif, Vedvedsica, and his retainers rode past her, down to the river to relieve the battered elf force there.

  *

  Line after line of elf warriors rode by Karada, inspecting her with cool indifference. She felt her face burn with impotent fury.

  Appleseed was led away, and her spear was taken as a trophy by Balif’s squire. Seething, Karada turned her back on the elf host and walked away, toward the distant mountains.

  She followed the trampled grass trail of the plainsmen who’d abandoned her. Before long she came upon a group of her people on foot, led by the towering Pakito.

  “Karada! You live! The day isn’t totally lost!” said the giant.

  “I live, if I can bear the shame of this day.” Balif hadn’t even left her a sword to fall on. “I’m pleased you made it and led these good men to safety,” she said, clasping Pakito’s burly arm. The remaining plainsmen who’d fought on foot gathered round her. She told them how she’d fought Balif and lost, and how he’d outlawed them all from the province.

  “What’ll we do?” asked Targun, one of her oldest followers. “Where do we go?”

  “Away,” she said. “We’ve lost, and all we can do is gather our strength and fight another day.”

  “You mean we’re not giving up?”

  She looked over all that remained of her once-proud band of followers. Tired, sore, bleeding from a handful of superficial cuts, Karada managed to smile in her old, fierce way.

  “The land where our ancestors roamed will be the land where our children live,” she declared. “So long as we live, we can rise and fight again. Is that not so?”

  “Aye!” Pakito shouted.

  “Aye!” echoed the others.

  “For now, we’ll go over the mountains,” she said, pointing northwest. “There are no elves there.”

  Chapter 11

  In winter the mountains slumbered under a thick layer of snow. The passes were filled with deep drifts, ice formed on every surface, and the cold air cut through the heaviest furs like a fine bronze blade. Summer was more agreeable, though often strange. Warm, humid air from the lowlands got trapped in the high passes, filling them with dense white fog that could linger for days.

  This was the situation when Duranix and Pa’alu arrived at Vulture’s Beak, the highest pass in the mountains. On the eastern side of the peak the sun shone, and a dry wind flowed down the slopes to the plain. As soon as they crossed over to the western side, the world was wrapped in chill, damp mist.

  “I should’ve flown,” Duranix muttered, rubbing his arms.

  “Why didn’t you?” Pa’alu asked. He pulled a fur cloak from his pack and threw it around his shoulders.

  Duranix did not reply. Of course, he could have changed to dragon form and carried Pa’alu along, as he did Amero, but he wanted time to get to know this barbarian better. There was an aura of menace about Pa’alu that Duranix couldn’t quite fathom. He needed to take the measure of Pa’alu before introducing him to the peaceful, sheltered world of Yala-tene.

  Their rate of progress slowed as the fog closed in, leaving them to work their way along a narrow ledge. The drop-off might have been two steps away or two hundred; the fog made it impossible to tell. Even the dragon’s powerful senses were of little use. Between the muffling effect of his human guise, the cold, and the fog, he could discern little about their surroundings.

  As they crept along, they played a game of questions to pass the time. The plainsman began.

  “Why do you protect humans?”

  Duranix slid his right foot forward, feeling loose gravel give way when he put his weight on it.

  “Oh, to be on all fours,” he grumbled.

  “Well, what’s your answer?” prodded the hunter.

  “I protect what is mine,” Duranix said, moving forward a few inches. “I have rivals, other dragons, who would steal my territory away from me. The worst of these is a green dragon named Sthenn. He thought to extend his influence at my expense by sending a horde of predators to attack the humans living on my range.”

  “The yevi.”

  “I see the name has penetrated beyond the mountains. Yes, using the yevi to exterminate free-roaming humans, Sthenn hoped to bring my lands under his control.”

  Duranix’s progress stirred up a flock of raucous crows. They burst from a rock ledge above the disguised dragon’s head, cawing loudly. Both Pa’alu and Duranix flattened themselves against the cliff as the birds flew off into the mist.

  “Damn noisy birds. Another question, dragon-man —”

  “No, it’s my turn,” Duranix said. “How long have you been in love with your chief.”

  Pa’alu flinched as if speared. “Who told you that?”

  “No one. The signs are obvious. I’ve studied humans, you know. When you’re near her, your face glows with hot blood, and your heart beats faster.”

  Pa’alu said nothing. He let the interval between Duranix and himself widen. Duranix looked back and raised an eyebrow.

  “I take it from your silence that your feelings are not returned?” the dragon said, waiting for Pa’alu to catch up.

  “I won’t discuss this. Ask a different question.”

  Genuinely curious, Duranix would not be dissuaded. “Have you confessed your feelings to her?” Pa’alu said nothing and the dragon misread his silence. “You haven’t. Well, then, perhaps she does love you. How can you know if you don’t —”

  “I have told her, for all the good it did me!” the plainsman said.

  “She rejected you.”

  “Karada is a hunter and a fighter, the leader of our people. She has little time for aught else.”

  Pa’alu looked away into the featureless fog. Duranix let him think for a while, then resumed his inquiry.

  “Does she love someone else?”

  “No. Other men have pursued her. When I joined the hand nine seasons past, she had a close friend, a fellow called Neko. He was like her shadow, never far from her side. She treated him like – a brother, I guess. Karada is a keen tracker and a bold leader, but she doesn’t look deeply into people’s hearts. She never knew Neko loved her and wanted her as a mate. One day, the two of them went out to hunt together. This was before we learned to ride horses. They should’ve returned after two days, yet four went by before Karada came back, alone. She refused to say what had happened, or where Neko
was. Pakito, me, and a few others searched the bush and found Neko’s body. His throat had been cut.”

  “Now that’s rejection,” said Duranix.

  Pa’alu glared. “Don’t speak ill of her! We brought his body back to camp. He was one of us, and deserved a hunter’s burial. The entire band sat in judgment of Karada. She told us what had happened. On the first night out, Neko tried to force himself on her after his spoken overtures were refused. She rejected him and went her separate way, but he wouldn’t be denied. He tracked her down and attacked her.” A look of savage satisfaction darkened Pa’alu’s face. “So she killed him.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “All of us believed her.”

  The ledge widened into a broad path slanting down toward the west. Duranix and the plainsman paused there, sharing swallows from Pa’alu’s water gourd.

  “My turn to answer,” said the dragon, leaning back against a boulder. “Ask a question.”

  Pa’alu shook his head. “No, I weary of talking.” He excused himself and walked off into the fog.

  The golden nugget Duranix had taken from the field of standing stones suddenly awakened and throbbed against his jawbone. Curious about sudden activity in the stone after so many quiet days, he took it out and examined it. It looked just the same as when he put it there. There were no visible changes, yet even as he looked at it, the nugget seemed to pulsate between his fingers.

  “Pa’alu!” he called. When there was no answer after a few seconds, he called again.

  “What is it?” said the plainsman, emerging from the fog. “I was only gone a moment —”

  The dragon displayed the nugget. “It’s come alive. I can feel it vibrating.”

  Pa’alu turned a half-circle, surveying the trail in both directions. “Would it do that on its own?”

  Duranix stood up. “Unlikely. It must be reacting to some other source of power.”

  “Are there rings of spirit-stones in these mountains?” Duranix shook his head. He had been through this pass many times before.

  They picked up their gear and hurried on. The path widened until the towering peaks were shrouded in fog. Heavy mist closed in behind them, cutting them loose from all visible landmarks. Duranix walked ahead, the nugget lying on his open palm.

  “Wait,” he said in a low voice. Something about his tone made Pa’alu draw his elven sword.

  Noiselessly, Duranix began to swell. His flesh darkened to reddish bronze and his limbs elongated dramatically. Pa’alu stepped back in wonder to make room for a formidable length of tail snaking back to where he was standing. He’d spent four days with Duranix and had accepted his claim that he was a dragon in disguise. However, merely hearing the words had not prepared Pa’alu for the actual sight.

  Fifteen paces long, Duranix was four paces tall at the shoulder and seven from the ground to the top of his long, bronze-scaled neck. Fog swirled about his enormous, horned head.

  “By all the spirits!” Pa’alu gasped.

  Duranix bent his neck around and glared at the astonished plainsman. His vast nostrils flared. “Shh!” he said, and Pa’alu thought it sounded like all the snakes in creation hissing at once.

  Arcs of blue light flickered through the mist. Duranix opened his wings and flapped them a few times. The resulting wind parted the fog just enough to reveal a lone figure standing on a patch of level ground not far ahead. Wrapped head to toe in a long garment the color of the fog, the stranger was almost invisible. Duranix advanced slowly, his great four-toed claws driving deep into the rocky soil.

  “Priest!” the dragon demanded in a thunderous tone. “Why are you here?”

  The stranger came toward them slowly. He raised his hands to shoulder height, parting the pale gray cape he wore. Pa’alu finally recognized him. It was Vedvedsica, the elf priest they’d bested at the field of standing stones.

  “You have something of mine,” said the elf. He seemed unaffected by Duranix’s overpowering presence. “I want it back.”

  “I don’t think I’ll give it to you,” the dragon replied. “Children and savages shouldn’t play with fire.”

  Vedvedsica brought his hands together. A beam of blue light lanced out from them, striking Duranix in the chest. The dragon grunted and slid backward a step. Shaking his horned head, he opened his mouth and exhaled at the elf. Vedvedsica crossed his arms and stood unflinching in the stream of fear-inducing gas.

  “I’m not so weak as to succumb to this child’s-play,” he said, smiling benignly.

  Pa’alu worked his way around the dragon’s left and crouched behind a low boulder. Closer now, he saw the priest wore a breastplate of shiny white metal, studded with rough gems and chips of striated black granite – just like the boulders where he and the dragon first encountered him.

  Duranix snapped his jaws shut, staring with increased respect at Vedvedsica. His huge, panther-like pupils raked the elf priest up and down.

  “We seem to be at an impasse,” he said finally. “Your spells cannot hurt me, and my powers will not affect you so long as you wear that breastplate.” Duranix displayed his fearsome teeth. “I could just bite your head off. It’s crude, I know, but it would solve the problem of your being here.”

  At that moment Pa’alu stood out from his hiding place and hurled a pair of rocks at Vedvedsica, one from each hand. They never reached their target but fell to the ground a few steps away.

  “Keep out of the way, human, or you might get hurt,” said Vedvedsica blandly. “Your barbarian chieftain and her band have already been destroyed by my lord Balif. If you value your life, you’ll keep clear of me.”

  “Liar!” Pa’alu started forward, only to find his way blocked by the dragon’s tail.

  “Stand away,” ordered Duranix.

  The dragon gathered his four legs beneath himself, coiling his back to spring. The elf stood his ground, coolly watching his mighty adversary preparing to attack. When Duranix sprang, however, Vedvedsica whipped his cape around his body and vanished. The dragon landed with a crash on all fours where the cleric had been standing. Looking momentarily astonished, Duranix whirled around.

  Pa’alu caught a twinkle of azure from the comer of one eye. Vedvedsica had reappeared behind Duranix. Swiftly the elf threw open his cape and brought his hands together for another blast of that spirit-light he commanded. Silently, Pa’alu lunged. The captured elven sword caught the priest’s left wrist, and Vedvedsica screamed. There was a brilliant flash of light and a thunderclap that hurled Pa’alu to the ground.

  Deafness and blindness followed, then Pa’alu felt himself being hauled to his feet. By the time he recovered his senses, he saw Duranix had resumed human guise and was helping him to stand.

  “Wh-what?” the plainsman stammered. His head was throbbing, and the ground seemed to spin beneath his feet.

  “My thanks,” said the dragon. He steadied Pa’alu until he could stand on his own then added, “I underestimated Vedvedsica. He’s very powerful. His first blow was just a test. The second might actually have injured me.” Duranix closed his human hand around the gold nugget. “Strong as he is, though, he has limitations. You stopped him, Pa’alu. I thank you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Duranix pointed to the spot where the elf had disappeared. Lying on the ground was a slender white hand, severed raggedly at the wrist. It was pale as wax, as if it had no blood in it. There was no blood on the ground either.

  Duranix picked up the hand. The stump was seared dry, cauterized by the very power Vedvedsica had tried to use against them.

  Pa’alu found his sword, knocked from his grip by the powerful blast. The blade was bent and partly melted at a point two thirds of the way from the hilt. Awed, he touched the ruined blade, then snatched his hand back when he discovered how hot the bronze still was.

  “That shaman is evil!” he declared, rejoining Duranix.

  “No, not evil. He probably serves his lord quite loyally. But he is ambitious, hungry for power, and
careless of how he gets it.” Duranix replaced the nugget in his mouth. “This encounter will give him something to think about.”

  “Do you think he spoke the truth about Karada?”

  The disguised dragon shrugged. “Your chief is a tough woman, but I doubt she can stand against the might of Silvanos.”

  Pa’alu slipped the ruined sword into his belt, as it would no longer fit the wooden scabbard. “Then I must go back and find her!”

  “Go if you must, but consider!” Duranix called after him. “We’re closer to Yala-tene than to Karada’s last camp. It would be better to go on to the village. Once there, you can get tools and supplies for a return journey, while I fly back and search for your comrades.”

  Pa’alu hesitated. The dragon added, “If the battle is over, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “I should have gone back with Pakito!”

  “Then you might be dead or captured now, too. Come, let’s go. You cannot change what has been, but you can shape what will be.”

  Pa’alu turned around, and they marched down the ravine another league, finally breaking through the omnipresent fog. Below the white mist the sun shone brightly on the valleys and lower peaks spread out before them. Duranix pointed to a distant green summit.

  “Yala-tene lies below that mountain,” he said. “We should be there by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “It will be good to see people again.” No sooner had he said it, Pa’alu apologized.

  “No need,” the dragon said. “Humans are herd animals, after all. They’re happiest in a flock of their fellow beasts. But you, Pa’alu, are due a reward. You dealt bravely with Vedvedsica and did me a good turn. I want to repay you.”

  “I can’t imagine how.”

  “Well, think on it. I am in your debt.”

  They continued their descent to the lower valley. The long-hidden sun was warm on Pa’alu’s face. He accepted it without complaint, along with the gratitude of his strange and powerful companion.

  *

  “All right – fan!”