Dragons of Summer Flame

by Tracy Hickman

  Caramon’s face flushed angry red. “What are you implying?”

  “Porthios,” Tanis intervened, “you know perfectly well that the dark paladin won’t surrender. He’ll fight, and your people will fight, and—”

  “You do any harm to my son,” Caramon said coolly, hands clenching to fists, “and you’ll regret it.”

  He took a step forward.

  Elven soldiers—those who were Qualinesti—immediately leapt in front of Porthios. Swords rattled; steel flashed.

  “What do you men think you are doing?”

  Her face pale with fury, her voice tight with scorn, Tika shouldered her way past her husband, glared at him and everyone else in the room. Reaching behind the bar, Tika snatched up the old iron skillet that had once walloped so many draconians on the head.

  Advancing on the nearest elf, she threatened him with the skillet.

  “Have you fools all gone mad?” she asked in a hissing whisper. “You, sir.” The skillet pointed in the direction of Porthios. “Your wife is having your baby! And she’s not having an easy time of it, let me tell you! Elves and their small hips and all. And you men”—she moved the skillet in an arc—“are down here clashing your swords and acting worse than children! I won’t have it. Do you hear me? I won’t have it.”

  Bang went the skillet down on one of the tables.

  The elves, looking both foolish and grimly determined, held their positions. Caramon wasn’t backing off his. Tika tightened her grip on the skillet’s handle.

  Tanis had slipped over to stand at Porthios’s side. He spoke in low tones, in Elvish, so that neither Tika nor Caramon could understand. “Your scout mentioned that the dark paladin was dragging a sled on which were two bodies. It is possible that these bodies are the sons of Caramon and Tika. Would you disturb the rest of the dead?”

  This was the one argument that was likely to persuade Porthios to change his mind. Due to their inordinately long life span, elves revere death and honor the dead.

  Porthios glanced at Caramon, appeared irresolute.

  Tanis continued, pressing his advantage. “I may be wrong, but I think I know this dark paladin. Let me speak to him and the young mage, alone. If what is going on is what I think is going on, then the paladin—servant of the Dark Queen or not—is acting in an honorable and noble manner, at peril of his life. Let me find out the truth, before blood is shed and the dead dishonored.”

  Porthios considered the matter. “My guards will accompany you.”

  “That’s not necessary, Brother. Look, the worst that could happen is that I get myself killed,” Tanis added dryly.

  One side of the elf’s stern face twitched. Porthios actually smiled. “Believe it or not, Half-Elven, that would grieve me. I have always liked you, though you might not believe it. There have even been times when I actually admired you. I merely consider you an unsuitable match for my sister.”

  The smile faded, replaced by lines of sorrow, weariness, overwhelming fatigue. Porthios looked up in the direction of the room where Alhana lay, perhaps fighting for her life, for his child’s life.

  “Go on, Half-Elven,” Porthios said softly, wearily. “Go talk to this honorable spawn of evil. You will do things your way. You always have.” He looked back up, and his eyes glinted. “But my guards will accompany you.”

  It was a victory of sorts, and Tanis knew better than to try to gain more ground. He’d won this much only because Porthios was too tired and too worried to argue.

  Perhaps, Tanis reflected as he strapped his sword around his waist, the stern and unbending elf does love his wife after all. Tanis wondered what Alhana, elf-queen of the Silvanesti, thought of the man she had married for the sake of politics. Had she come to love him as well?

  “It’s all right,” Tanis said to both Caramon and Tika, reverting back to the Common language. “Porthios has agreed to let me deal with the situation. Tika, you better go back to Alhana.”

  Not understanding, but relieved that the issue had been settled, Tika sniffed, harrumphed, plunked down the skillet, and hastened upstairs.

  Tanis was heading for the door when he noted Caramon carefully untying the apron he wore around his large middle. Obviously, he was preparing to accompany his friend. Tanis crossed quickly over to Caramon, rested his hand on the big man’s arm.

  “Let me handle this one, Caramon. You might be needed here.”

  Caramon shook his head. “You’re right. That boy out there may be Palin. If it is, something’s happened to him.”

  Tanis tried again, a different approach. “You have to stay behind. Keep an eye on these elves. Porthios is desperate, cornered. He could start trouble. We don’t want a bloodbath.”

  Caramon hesitated, glanced over at the outlawed elf-king.

  “If it is Palin, I’ll take care of him,” Tanis continued. “As if he were my own son.” His voice trembled slightly, remembering the loved son he hadn’t seen or heard from in months.

  Caramon shifted his gaze to Tanis, regarded him with steadfast intensity. “You know something you’re not telling me.”

  Tanis flushed. “Caramon, I—”

  The big man sighed, then he shrugged. “Go ahead. I know you’ll take care of my boy—and Steel, if it’s him that’s truly there. Who knows, perhaps he’s come to our side after all. I’ll keep an eye on Grim-and-Dour there.” He jerked a thumb at Porthios.

  “Thanks, my friend,” Tanis said, and left before either Caramon or Porthios had a chance to change their minds.

  10

  An excellent place for an ambush.

  n the woods on the outskirts of Solace, Palin and Steel stopped to rest. Or rather, Palin stopped to rest. Steel stopped in order to remain with Palin. The young mage’s wound was troubling him; he was in pain, worn out. True, he was close to home, but this homecoming would bring him no comfort, only the terrible task of telling his parents that two of their children were dead. He sat down on the stump of a tree.

  “Here, drink this.” Steel thrust a waterskin at the mage.

  He accepted it, drank sparingly, as he had learned to do on the road with the knights. He handed it back.

  “Thank you. I guess I lost mine during the … back at the beach.”

  Steel didn’t hear him, didn’t see the proffered waterskin. They were in a small glade that—judging from the abandoned toys and refuse scattered about—was used by the local children as a play area. Steel stood gazing upward, into one of the vallenwoods. Palin, following his line of sight, saw a dark, hulking object in the branches. At first he was startled, then memories returned.

  “Don’t be alarmed. That’s only a tree fort,” he said. “My brothers used to play war up there when we were little. Play war. It was all a game to us back then. They were the fighters, and I was their mage. When they ‘died,’ I used to use my ‘magic’ to bring them back to—”

  “Children play here, you say,” Steel interrupted, talking loudly.

  His hand gripped Palin’s shoulder hard. The knight wasn’t offering sympathy, Palin realized, startled. That grip was a warning.

  “Keep talking,” Steel said softly. His right hand was on Palin’s shoulder, while his left held a dagger. Palin could see the flash of the blade beneath the knight’s dark blue cloak.

  Palin tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his bag of spell components. Then he remembered where he was. This was Solace, for mercy’s sake!

  He rose, a bit unsteadily, to his feet. “It’s probably just the local kids—”

  Steel cast Palin a brief, flashing-eyed glance. “It is not children.” His gaze went back to the trees. “Elves. Do as I command, and keep out of my way.”

  “Elves! You can’t be—”

  Steel’s grip on Palin’s arm tightened painfully.

  Palin lowered his voice to a whisper. “There aren’t any elves within fifty leagues of—”

  “Shut up,” Steel said coolly. “What magic spells do you have prepared?”

  Palin was bewildered.
“I … I … None, really. I never thought … Look, this is my home—”

  A pftt sound, followed by a thunk, interrupted him. A feathered shaft quivered on the tree stump where Palin had been seated. The arrow was of elven make and design.

  Five elven warriors dropped out of the trees, landed lightly on the ground. Quicker than the eye could follow, the elves raised their bows, arrows nocked and ready. Four arrows were pointed at Steel. One was aimed at Palin.

  He gaped at the elves, astonished and bewildered. The only thought to surface amidst the confusion was that, once again, he’d failed. Even if he had committed to memory his magical spells, what few he possessed were almost worthless—or so he considered them. And the moment he started reciting the words, he’d likely be dead anyway, an arrow through his heart.

  Steel released Palin. Shoving the dagger in his belt, the knight drew his sword, faced his enemies.

  “You are a creature of evil, though of what manner, we cannot tell,” said one of the elves to Steel. “We could have killed you back there, on the road. But your conversation with this White Robe interested us. That and the fact that you have with you the bodies of two Knights of Solamnia. They must be true, then, the rumors we’ve heard. My lord will be interested in speaking to you.”

  Steel tossed his cloak back over one shoulder, proudly revealing the insignia he wore upon his breastplate: the skull and the death lily. “See this and see your doom. I am a Knight of Takhisis. I care nothing about what rumors you may have heard and, as for your lord, he can go to the Abyss.”

  The elves drew back their bowstrings.

  “If you’re going to do something, Sir Mage, I suggest you do it now,” Steel said softly, grimly.

  Palin licked dry lips, spoke the first and only magical word that came into his mind. “Shirak!”

  The crystal ball atop the Staff of Magius burst into radiant light, momentarily blinding the elves. They blinked, turned their heads away.

  “Well done!” Steel said and leapt forward, swinging his sword in a lethal arc.

  “No! Wait!” Palin caught hold of Steel’s arm, attempting to drag him back.

  The light of the staff dimmed. The elves could see again, if not perfectly, at least well enough. An arrow tore through the sleeve of Palin’s robe. Another struck and bounced off Steel’s breastplate. The next two would find their marks.

  “Astanti!” came the sharp command in what Palin recognized as Qualinesti Elvish.

  The elves lowered their bows, searched for the source of the order.

  “Put down your weapons, all of you,” the voice continued, shifting to the Common language. “You, too, Steel Brightblade.”

  Startled at hearing his name spoken from behind him, Steel fell back, but only to see what new danger threatened him. He kept his sword raised.

  Tanis Half-Elven, accompanied by six elven warriors, strode into the glade. He was alone, bore no weapons, though his sword hung from his belt. His gaze flicked over the two bodies bound to the sled, glanced briefly over Palin and Steel, finally focused on the elven warriors holding the two hostage.

  “I have been sent by your lord, Porthios,” Tanis said to the elves, continuing to speak Common in order that Palin and—especially—Steel would understand what the half-elf was saying. “Ask your comrades who accompany me, if you don’t believe me.”

  One of the elves who had arrived with Tanis gave a brief nod of his head.

  “I know both these men,” Tanis continued, moving to stand in front of Palin and Steel, shielding them with his own body. “It is my belief that you have misunderstood their intentions—”

  “What intentions do you attribute to this slave of darkness?” one of the elves demanded. “Other than our destruction?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out,” Tanis returned. He placed his hand on Steel’s shoulder, cautioning the knight to restrain himself. “Trust me,” he said in low tones. “Trust me now as you trusted me in the High Clerist’s Tower. I won’t betray you. I think I know why you’ve come.”

  Steel tried to shake free. His blood was hot; he was eager for a fight.

  “You can’t win,” Tanis repeated softly. “You will die uselessly. Would your queen want that?”

  Steel hesitated, wrestling with the battle-lust. The fire faded from his eyes, leaving them dark and chill. With an ill grace, he thrust his sword back in its sheath.

  “Your turn.” Tanis looked around at the elves.

  Slowly, sullenly, they lowered their bows. They might not have done so at Tanis’s request, but the elf sent by Porthios added force to the command with a gesture of his own.

  “Return to your posts,” Tanis ordered. “Leave us alone a moment,” he added to Porthios’s soldiers.

  The elves backed off, retreated into the shadows of the vallenwood trees. But they remained in sight and in arrow range.

  Now that they were alone, Tanis turned to Palin. “Tell me, Son. Tell me what happened.”

  The kind voice, the familiar face, the thought of the tidings he bore were too much. Tears blurred Palin’s vision, choked off his voice.

  “Courage,” said Tanis, adding, “tears are nothing to be ashamed of, Palin, but there is a time for weeping, and this isn’t it, believe me! I need to know what you are doing here. Both of you. And I need to know now, before we all end up looking like something out of your mother’s sewing basket.”

  Courage, young one, came a whisper. I am with you.

  Palin started, trembled. He’d heard that voice before, knew it as well as he knew his father’s voice. Or, maybe, better. It had not spoken to him in a long, long time.

  Surely, he thought, this is a sign!

  His tears dried. He related the events of yesterday, events that seemed so very far away.

  “We were sent to Kalaman to look over its fortifications and report back how it could best be defended, in case of attack from the north. We were a small contingent, maybe fifty people, altogether. But only about twenty knights. The rest were squires, pages, commoners who drove the baggage carts. We spent several months at Kalaman, supervising the strengthening of fortifications there. Then we rode eastward, intending to go to North Keep. It was on our way there …”

  He paused, drew a shivering breath, then continued. “We were riding along the coast. We made camp that night. The sea was calm, empty. At dawn, we saw the first ship.”

  “But surely you had dragons flying with your forces. How did they miss—”

  “We had no dragons, Tanis,” Palin said, his pale cheeks flushing faint crimson. “High Command didn’t think it was necessary, didn’t like to impose on them.”

  “Fools!” said Tanis bitterly. “There should have been dragons. There should have been five hundred knights, not twenty. I told them. I warned them!”

  “They didn’t really believe anything you said.” Palin sighed. “They only sent us in order to ‘placate’ you. I’m sorry, Tanis. That was what we heard from our commander. None of the knights took what we were doing very seriously. It was more of a … a holiday.”

  Tanis shook his head, glanced over at the shrouded bodies. “Why didn’t you return to North Keep to warn the others?”

  “There was only one ship at first,” Palin explained lamely. “One of the Lord Knights laughed and said something to the effect that we had beaten them twenty-six years ago, we’d beat them now.”

  “Fools,” Tanis repeated, but he muttered it into his beard.

  “We drew up along the shoreline, waiting for them. Everyone was joking, singing. And then …” Palin’s voice trembled. “Then a second ship came into view. And then a third. After that, we lost count.”

  “And you stayed to fight. Outnumbered, hopeless.”

  “The enemy could see us from ships,” Palin returned defensively. “How would it look if we ran?”

  “Sensible?” Tanis demanded.

  Palin’s flush deepened. He looked down at the bodies, blinked his eyes rapidly.

  Tanis sighed, s
cratched his beard. “They all died?” he asked in low tones.

  Palin swallowed, nodded. “I was the only survivor.” He spoke so quietly that Tanis had to lean forward to hear him.

  “Your brothers, Tanin … Sturm …”

  Palin pointed at the sled.

  “Paladine keep them,” Tanis said. He put his arm around Palin. The young man was shivering, but holding up well. “You were taken prisoner, I assume.” He glanced at Steel.

  Palin nodded, unable to respond.

  “That much I understand,” Tanis continued, “but I’m a bit confused as to why you came here, Steel Brightblade.” Tanis’s voice hardened. “Were you responsible for their deaths?”

  Steel was scornful. “What difference would it make if I had killed them? We are soldiers. This is war. I assume they knew the risks, else they would not have been knights.”

  “It makes a difference, believe me,” Tanis said. “You are cousins. Of the same blood. I ask again: did you slay them?”

  Palin intervened. “He didn’t, Tanis. We were attacked by strange, outlandish men, barbarians who painted their bodies blue. But the barbarians were led by knights.”

  “I am a knight. I fight on dragonback,” Steel said proudly. “The Solamnics fell to the ground forces.”

  “I see,” Tanis said thoughtfully, undoubtedly storing away this vital information to be given to the commander of the Solamnic Knights in the High Clerist’s Tower. He shifted his gaze back to Steel. “I still don’t understand why you came. If it was for Palin’s ransom money, that could have been handled by any messenger.…”

  “I have come to repay a debt. The bodies of the dead were to be placed in a common tomb. With honor, of course,” Steel added, dark eyes flashing. “They fought bravely. They did not run, as some might have counseled. But word of their deaths will not reach their families for some time. Perhaps never. When I discovered the name of the young mage here, and found out that his two brothers had been killed in the battle, I took the opportunity of paying back the debt I owe their father, Caramon Majere. I have brought back the bodies of his two sons for proper burial.”