Jean Rabe - Dragons of a New Age

“I had hoped more sorcerers would have answered your summons, Majere,” he stated. “Or in their answers had not declined. This conclave you’ve called could well be the last on Ansalon.” The man was known as the Master of the Tower. He was caretaker of the Tower of Wayreth and a bit of a mystery. No one remembered having seen him before the Chaos War.

“Some said they were too preoccupied to attend. Others claimed they simply did not have the means to get here,” said the speaker who sat to Palin’s left, the one called the Shadow Sorcerer. It was impossible to discern if the voice was male or female because it was muted as it came from behind a metallic face mask that only sported eye slits. The speaker was a slight figure dressed entirely in black. The hood of the sorcerer’s cloak seemed to swallow the expressionless metal face inside it. “But I believe the other sorcerers did not come because they’ve lost faith in what little magic is left. It seems no one studies magic anymore. Apprentices are rare. And the dragons have killed the spellcasters who dared to stand up to them.”

“I think we’re all frightened of the dragons,” Palin said.

“We should be,” the Master said.

“Then this meeting is pointless.” The Shadow Sorcerer pushed away from the table, the chair legs screeching against the stone floor. “I doubt that the dragons can be stopped. We certainly don’t have the means to do so.”

“But there are so few of the dragons left, at least compared to their numbers before the Chaos War—and before they started fighting each other,” the Master offered.

“I’ll grant that their so-called Dragon Purge seems to be at an end,” the Shadow Sorcerer replied. The sorcerer’s shoulders were hunched, hinting at age or despair. “But the ones we are left to deal with are more cunning. Deadlier. Perhaps undefeatable.”

Palin sighed and silently looked to his companions.

“You’ve been having visions again,” the Master prompted.

“The dragon I saw in my dreams was a tremendous blue. The same one as before. It had to be Khellendros,” Palin stated. “If someone hadn’t destroyed the Tower of High Sorcery, the dragon would’ve claimed it, taken the magic inside and done who knows what with it. Maybe Palanthas wouldn’t be here today.”

“The dragon would have turned the magic against someone, no doubt,” the Master agreed.

“Have you had any dreams about the Red to the east—Malystryx? About any other dragon?” the Shadow Sorcerer asked softly.

Palin shook his head. “Just the Blue.” He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “He is near Palanthas, but he hasn’t threatened the city. Not since thirty years ago, the day the tower was destroyed. But until I can understand the visions, determine what he is up to, let us attend to other urgencies.”

“Your discovery, Majere?” the Master asked.

“Yes. I believe it might have an impact on whatever we try against the dragons.” Palin stood and steepled his fingers on the table. “I think I’ve learned how to cast spells.”

“How is it possible?” the Shadow Sorcerer’s voice was laced with intrigue.

“I kept thinking it was up to me to figure out how to bring magic back to Krynn. I refused to accept that it was simply gone. And then it occurred to me that maybe I could do it, me personally, and that maybe magic hadn’t left our world.”

“We’ve all wished the same. We’ve all tried,” said the Master.

“Yes, but we’ve only tried to use magic in the same way we always have. This is not the same Krynn that it was some thirty years ago. We’ve always used the magic of High Sorcery given to us by the gods millennia ago, but they are gone now. We don’t have their help now, so, of course, we can’t access Krynn’s magic the way we used to.”

“ Krynn’s magic,” said the Shadow Sorcerer, nodding his head.

“Yes! It’s still here in our world, an innate, primordial magic that still permeates Krynn —Krynn’s magic.”

“But how do you use it without written or memorized spells?” asked the Master, leaning forward in his chair.

“Find your own way!” shouted Palin enthusiastically.

The two seemed to take offense at this and they leaned back in their chairs.

“I mean reach out for Krynn’s magic in your way, weave your own unique spells,” Palin said quietly.

“If one can feel the magic, he can shape it to his will,” remarked the Shadow Sorcerer in an off-handed way that surprised Palin.

The three stared at each other, and for several long minutes the only sound heard was the wind whistling through the spiral staircase beyond the chamber.

“This new sorcery of yours could never be as powerful as the old wizardry,” said the Master with a tone of regret.

Palin reluctantly agreed. “It’s true that it is less powerful, at least, for now.”

The room fell silent again.

“Perhaps one could draw out the energy from a magical item to enhance his spell,” said the Sorcerer.

Palin smiled, nodding his head in affirmation as the idea grew more and more plausible to him. His smile faded when he saw the worried look on the Master’s dark face.

“If it is possible to boost a spell by exhausting a magical item, no one must know.”

Palin glared at him. “To keep such a thing a secret!”

“Indeed!” the Master said. “To keep it a secret is the best course. What would you have us do, Majere, declare open season on Ansalon’s most precious artifacts? We only just now came up with the idea. Who’s to say if it will even work? What do you think, Sorcerer?”

“I think it is best if I consider this matter for a while,” said the Shadow Sorcerer quietly.

Palin sat heavily in his chair. “Let’s concentrate on what we can do.”

“Quite right,” said the Shadow Sorcerer. “This new sorcery ought to come as quite a surprise to the dragons. I vote we launch an attack on Beryl.”

“Your enthusiasm is commendable, colleague, but don’t you think we need to learn how to cast spells first?” asked the Master.

“It’s just that the elves are in such dire need. That’s one of the reasons we came here,” said the Shadow Sorcerer.

The discussion went late into the evening, past the hour when Palin was supposed to go to dinner with his children. Usha went ahead without him, whispering that she understood and that Linsha and Ulin would, too.

Palin was unable to sleep that night. His restlessness came more from excitement than worry. The Master of the Tower had declared that their meeting constituted the Last Conclave and had instructed Palin to dissolve the old Orders of Magic and open a school to teach the new sorcery. And, though they didn’t have enough magic to destroy Beryl, they were going to try to drive her off. The future of elvenkind depended on them at least giving the Green a setback.

Palin was finally equipped with the means to do something. He was glad, but he also felt somewhat alone, burdened with a great deal of responsibility. Where were all the good dragons? Where were the brasses and the bronzes, the golds, silvers, and coppers? Where were the ones who always helped men in the past?

His thoughts drifted back a few decades, to the Chaos War. He had witnessed blues flying next to golds, some with riders, some alone, all united under the same banner. There were no evil dragons then, as far as Palin was concerned. There were simply dragon champions who fought to save Krynn. More humans died than dragons that day. Knights of Solamnia and Knights of Takhisis both—their loyalties were cast aside during the fight. And when the battle was over, the knights, once enemies, were buried side by side in a tomb in Solace that honored fallen heroes.