Insane, desperate rage twisted Tanis’s face. Somehow he’d make Raistlin listen to reason! Somehow they would all use this strange magic to escape! Tanis started forward, then stopped. From nowhere—seemingly—had come a small silver dagger, long concealed, fastened to the mage’s wrist by a cunningly designed leather thong.
“All right,” Tanis said, breathing heavily. “You’d kill me without a second thought. But what about your brother? Caramon, stop him!”
Caramon took a step toward his twin. Raistlin raised the silver dagger warningly.
“Don’t make him come near me, Tanis,” Raistlin said. “I assure you. I am capable of this, truly. What I have sought all my life is within my grasp. I will let nothing stop me. Look at Caramon’s face, Tanis! He knows! I killed him once. I can do it again.…”
The War of the Lance nears its end … for good … or for evil.…
DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES
Volume Three
DRAGONS OF SPRING DAWNING
©1985 TSR, Inc.
Cover Copyright ©2000 Wizards of the Coast LLC
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Cover art by Matt Stawicki
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eISBN: 978-0-7869-5439-1
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v3.1
To Angel and Curtis, my children, my hope, and my life
—Tracy Raye Hickman
To the Commons Bridge Group, University of Missouri, 1966-70:
Nancy Olson, Bill Fisher, Nancy Burnett, Ken Randolph,
Ed Bristol, Herb the fry cook,
And in memory of Bob Campbell and John Steele, who died in Viet Nam,
And to the rest of that wonderful group
of mismatched friends—
this book about friends is fondly dedicated—Margaret Weis
Contents
Cover
Map
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
The Everman
Book 1 Chapter 1 - Flight from darkness into darkness.
Chapter 2 - Pursuit.
Chapter 3 - Gathering darkness.
Chapter 4 - “My brother …”
Chapter 5 - The chronicler and the mage.
Chapter 6 - Palanthas.
Chapter 7 - Commander of the Knights of Solamnia.
Chapter 8 - The Oath of the Dragons.
Chapter 9 - Victory.
Book 2 Chapter 1 - Spring Dawning.
Chapter 2 - The penalty of failure.
Chapter 3 - The trap …
Chapter 4 - A peaceful interlude.
Chapter 5 - “I killed him once …”
Chapter 6 - Apoletta.
Chapter 7 - Berem. Unexpected help.
Chapter 8 - Dark tidings.
Chapter 9 - A single candle.
Book 3 Chapter 1 - An old man and a golden dragon.
Chapter 2 - The golden span.
Chapter 3 - Godshome.
Chapter 4 - Everman’s story.
Chapter 5 - Neraka.
Chapter 6 - Tanis bargains. Gakhan investigates.
Chapter 7 - The Temple of the Queen of Darkness.
Chapter 8 - The Queen of Darkness.
Chapter 9 - Horns of doom.
Chapter 10 - “Whoever wears the Crown, rules.”
Chapter 11 - “Jasla calls—”
Chapter 12 - The debt repaid.
Chapter 13 - Kitiara.
Chapter 14 - The end. For good or for evil.
The Homecoming
Raistlin’s Farewell
About the Authors
Kitiara, of all the days these days
are rocked in dark and waiting, in regret.
The clouds obscure the city as I write this,
delaying thought and sunlight, as the streets
hang between day and darkness. I have waited
past all decision, past the heart in shadows
to tell you this.
In absences you grew
more beautiful, more poisonous, you were
an attar of orchids in the swimming night,
where passion, like a shark drawn down a bloodstream,
murders four senses, only taste preserving,
buckling into itself, finding the blood its own,
a small wound first, but as the shark unravels
the belly tatters in the long throat’s tunnel.
And knowing this, the night still seems a richness,
a gauntlet of desires ending in peace,
I would still be part of these allurements,
and to my arms I would take in the darkness,
blessed and renamed by pleasure;
but the light,
the light, my Kitiara, when the sun
spangles the rain-gorged sidewalks, and the oil
from doused lamps rises in the sunstruck water,
splintering the light to rainbows! I arise,
and though the storm resettles on the city,
I think of Sturm, Laurana, and the others,
but Sturm the foremost, who can see the sun
straight through the fog and cloudrack. How could I
abandon these?
And so into the shadow,
and not your shadow but the eager grayness
expecting light, I ride the storm away.
The Everman
Why, look, Berem. Here’s a path.… How strange. All the times we’ve been hunting in these woods and we’ve never seen it.”
“It’s not so strange. The fire burned off some of the brush, that’s all. Probably just an animal trail.”
“Let’s follow it. If it is an animal trail, maybe we’ll find a deer. We ’ve been hunting all day with nothing to show for it. I hate to go home empty-handed.”
Without waiting for my reply, she turns onto the trail. Shrugging, I follow her. It is pleasant being outdoors today, the first warm day after the bitter chill of winter. The sun is warm on my neck and shoulders. Walking through the fire-ravaged woods is easy. No vines to snag you. No brush to tear at your clothing. Lightning, probably that thunderstorm which struck late last fall.
But we walk for a long time and finally I begin to grow weary. She is wrong—this is no animal trail. It is a man-made path and an old one at that. We’re not likely to find any game. Just the same as it’s been all day. The fire, then the hard winter: The animals dead or gone. There’ll be no fresh meat tonight.
More walking. The sun is high in the sky. I’m tired, hungry. There’s been no sign of any living creature.
“Let’s turn back, sister. There’s nothing here.…”
She stops, sighing. She is hot and tired and discouraged, I can tell. And too thin. She works too hard, doing women’s work and men’s as well. Out hunting when she should be home, receiving the pledges of suitors. She’s pretty, I think. People say we look alike, but I know they are wrong. It is only that we are so close—closer than other brothers and their sisters. But we’ve had to be close. Our life has been so hard.…
“I suppose you’re right, Berem. I’ve seen no sign … Wait, brother … Look ahead. What’s that?”
I see a bright and shining glitter, a myriad colors dancing in the sunlight—as if all the jewels on Krynn were heaped together in a basket.
Her eyes widen. “Perhaps it’s the gates of the rainbow!”
Ha! Stupid girlish notion. I laugh, but I find myself running forward. It is hard to catch up with her. Though I am bigger and stronger, she is fleet as a deer.
We come to a clearing in the forest. If lightning did strike this forest, this must have been where the bolt hit. The land around is scorched and blasted. There was a building here once, I notice. Ruined, broken columns jut up from the blackened ground like broken bones sticking through decaying flesh. An oppressive feeling hangs over the place. Nothing grows here, nor has anything grown here for many springs. I want to leave, but I cannot.…
Before me is the most beautiful, wonderful sight I have ever seen in my life, in my dreams.… A piece of a stone column, encrusted with jewels! I know nothing about gemstones, but I can tell these are valuable beyond belief! My body begins to shake. Hurrying forward, I kneel down beside the fire-blasted stone and brush away the dirt and filth.
She kneels beside me.
“Berem! How wonderful! Did you ever see anything like it? Such beautiful jewels in such a horrible place.” She looks around and I feel her shivering. “I wonder what this used to be? There’s such a solemn feeling about it, a holy feeling. But an evil feeling, too. It must have been a temple before the Cataclysm. A temple to the evil gods … Berem! What are you doing?”
I have taken out my hunting knife and I begin to chip away the stone around one of the jewels—a radiant green gemstone. It is as big as my fist and sparkles more brilliantly than the sun shining on green leaves. The rock around it comes away easily beneath my knife blade. “Stop it, Berem!” Her voice is shrill. “It—it’s desecration! This place is sacred to some god! I know it!”
I can feel the gemstone’s cold crystal, yet it burns with an inner green fire! I ignore her protests.
“Bah! You said before it was the rainbow’s gates! You’re right! We’ve found our fortune, as the old story says. If this place was sacred to the gods, they must have abandoned it years ago. Look round, it’s nothing but rubble! If they wanted it, they should have taken care of it. The gods won’t mind if I take a few of these jewels.…”
“Berem!”
An edge of fear in her voice! She’s really frightened! Foolish girl. She’s beginning to irritate me. The gemstone is almost free. I can wiggle it.
“Look, Jasla.” I am shaking with excitement. I can barely talk. “We’ve nothing to live on, now—what with the fire and the hard winter. These jewels will bring money enough in the market at Gargath for us to move away from this wretched place. We’ll go to a city, maybe Palanthas! You know you’ve wanted to see the wonders there.…”
“No! Berem, I forbid it! You are committing sacrilege!”
Her voice is stern. I have never seen her like this! For a moment I hesitate. I draw back, away from the broken stone column with its rainbow of jewels. I, too, am beginning to feel something frightening and evil about this place. But the jewels are so beautiful! Even as I stare at them, they glitter and sparkle in the sunshine. No god is here. No god cares about them. No god will miss them. Embedded in some old column that is crumbling and broken.
I reach down to pry the jewel out of stone with my knife. It is such a rich green, shining as brilliantly as the spring sun shines through the new leaves of the trees.…
“Berem! Stop!”
Her hand grasps my arm, her nails dig into my flesh. It hurts … I grow angry, and, as sometimes happens when I grow angry a haze dims my vision and I feel a suffocating swelling inside of me. My head pounds until it seems my eyes must burst from their sockets.
“Leave me be!” I hear a roaring voice—my own!
I shove her …
She falls …
It all happens so slowly. She is falling forever. I didn’t mean to … I want to catch her … But I cannot move.
She falls against the broken column.
Blood … blood …
“Jas!” I whisper, lifting her in my arms.
But she doesn’t answer me. Blood covers the jewels. They don’t sparkle anymore. Just like her eyes. The light is gone.…
And then the ground splits apart! Columns rise from the blackened, blasted soil, spiraling into the air! A great darkness comes forth and I feel a horrible, burning pain in my chest.…
“Berem!”
Maquesta stood on the foredeck, glaring at her helmsman.
“Berem, I told you. A gale’s brewing. I want the ship battened down. What are you doing? Standing there, staring out to sea. What are you practicing to be—a monument? Get moving, you lubber! I don’t pay good wages to statues!”
Berem started. His face paled and he cringed before Maquesta’s irritation in such a pitiful manner that the captain of the Perechon felt as if she were taking out her anger on a helpless child.
That’s all he is, she reminded herself wearily. Even though he must be fifty or sixty years old, even though he was one of the best helmsmen she had ever sailed with, mentally, he was still a child.
“I’m sorry, Berem,” Maq said, sighing. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just the storm … it makes me nervous. There, there. Don’t look at me like that. How I wish you could talk! I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours—if there is anything! Well, never mind. Attend to your duties, then go below. Better get used to lying in your berth for a few days until the gale blows itself out.”
Berem smiled at her—the simple, guileless smile of a child.
Maquesta smiled back, shaking her head. Then she hurried away, her thoughts busy with getting her beloved ship prepared to ride out the gale. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Berem shuffle below, then promptly forgot about him when her first mate came aboard to report that he had found most of the crew and only about one-third of them were so drunk as to be useless.…
Berem lay in the hammock slung in the crew’s quarters of the Perechon. The hammock swung back and forth violently as the first winds of the gale struck the Perechon as it rode at anchor in the harbor of Flotsam on the Blood Sea of Istar. Putting his hands—the hands that looked too young on the body of a fifty-year-old human—beneath his head, Berem stared up at the lamp swinging from the wooden planks above him.
“Why, look, Berem. Here’s a path.… How strange. All the times we’ve been hunting in these woods and we’ve never seen it.”
“It’s not so strange. The fire burned off some of the brush, that’s all. Probably just an animal trail.”
“Let’s follow it. If it is an animal trail, maybe we’ll find a deer. We ’ve been hunting all day with nothing to show for it. I hate to go home empty-handed.”
Without waiting for my reply, she turns onto the trail. Shrugging, I follow her. It is pleasant being outdoors today—the first warm day after the bitter chill of winter. The sun is warm on my neck and shoulders. Walking through the fire-ravaged woods is easy. No vines to snag you. No brush to tear at your clothing. Lightning, probably that thunderstorm which struck late last fall.…
BOOK 1
1
Flight from darkness into darkness.
T he dragonarmy officer slowly descended the stairs from the second floor of the Saltbreeze Inn. It was past midnight. Most of the inn’s patrons had long since gone to bed. The only sound the officer could hear was the crashing of waves of Blood Bay on
the rocks below.
The officer paused a moment on the landing, casting a quick, sharp glance around the common room that lay spread out below him. It was empty, except for a draconian sprawled across a table, snoring loudly in a drunken stupor. The dragonman’s wings shivered with each snort. The wooden table creaked and swayed beneath it.
The officer smiled bitterly, then continued down the stairs. He was dressed in the steel dragonscale armor copied from the real dragonscale armor of the Dragon Highlords. His helm covered his head and face, making it difficult to see his features. All that was visible beneath the shadow cast by the helm was a reddish brown beard that marked him—racially—as human.
At the bottom of the stairs, the officer came to a sudden halt, apparently nonplussed at the sight of the innkeeper, still awake and yawning over his account books. After a slight nod the dragon officer seemed about to go on out of the inn without speaking, but the innkeeper stopped him with a question.
“You expecting the Highlord tonight?”
The officer halted and half turned. Keeping his face averted, he pulled out a pair of gloves and began putting them on. The weather was bitterly chill. The sea city of Flotsam was in the grip of a winter storm the like of which it had not experienced in its three hundred years of existence on the shores of Blood Bay.
“In this weather?” The dragonarmy officer snorted. “Not likely! Not even dragons can outfly these gale winds!”
“True. It’s not a fit night out for man or beast,” the innkeeper agreed. He eyed the dragon officer shrewdly. “What business do you have, then, that takes you out in this storm?”
The dragonarmy officer regarded the innkeeper coldly. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business where I go or what I do.”
“No offense,” the innkeeper said quickly, raising his hands as if to ward off a blow. “It’s just that if the Highlord comes back and happens to miss you, I’d be glad to tell her where you could be found.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the officer muttered. “I—I’ve left her a—note … explaining my absence. Besides, I’ll be back before morning. I—I just need a breath of air. That’s all.”
Dragons of Spring Dawning Page 1
