Margaret Weis - Dragons of Summer Flame

The Protector gestured to the neat, snug houses surrounded by hedgerows and lovingly tended flower gardens. The other Irda knew what he meant. The houses were the same, unchanged by the magic that had supplied the illusion of mud huts. The difference could not be seen, but it could be felt, heard, tasted, and smelled. The birds, normally talkative and filled with song, were silent, afraid. The wild animals, who roamed freely among the Irda, had vanished back into their holes or up into the trees. The smell of steel and of blood was strong on the air.

Innocence and peace had been ravaged. The wounds would heal, the scars disappear, but the memory would remain. And now the Decider was suggesting that they defend this homeland! The very thought was appalling. The idea of moving was catching hold, gaining supporters.

The Decider saw that he had to swing around, take another tack.

“I am not suggesting we go to war,” he said, his tone now gentle, soothing. “Violence is not our way. I have long studied the problem. I foresaw disaster coming. I have just returned from a trip to the continent of Ansalon. Let me tell you what I have discovered.”

The other Irda stared at their Decider in amazement. So isolated were they—one from the other—that no one realized their leader had even been gone, much less that he had risked walking among outsiders.

The Decider’s face grew grave and sorrowful. “Our magic-blessed vessel took me to the human city of Palanthas. I walked its streets, listened to the people talk. I traveled thence to the stronghold of the Solamnic Knights, from there to the seafaring nations of Ergoth. I passed into Qualinesti, the land of the elves. I entered the gates of Thorbardin, realm of the dwarves. Invisible as the wind, I slipped over the borders of the cursed elven land of Silvanesti, walked the Plains of Dust, spent time in Solace, Kendermore, and Flotsam. Finally, I looked upon the Blood Sea of Istar and, from there, passed near Storm’s Keep, from whence came these same dark knights.

“Over twenty-five years—in human time—has passed since the War of the Lance. The people of Ansalon hoped for peace, hope that was in vain, as we could have told them. As long as the gods war among themselves, their battles will spill over onto the mortal plane. With these dark knights to fight for her, Queen Takhisis is more powerful than ever.

“Their lord, Ariakan, son of Highlord Ariakas, had the nerve and the temerity to point out to the Dark Queen wherein her weakness lay. ‘Evil turns in upon itself.’ The War of the Lance was lost due to the greed and selfishness of the Dark Queen’s commanders. Ariakan, a prisoner of the Knights of Solamnia during and after the war, realized that the Solamnic Knights had achieved victory through their willingness to make sacrifices for the cause—sacrifices that were epitomized in the death of the knight Sturm Brightblade.

“Ariakan put his ideas into practice and has now created an army of men and women committed body and soul to the Dark Queen and, more importantly, to conquering the world in her name. They will give up anything—wealth, power, their own lives—to achieve victory. They are bound in honor and in blood to each other. They are an indomitable foe, particularly since Ansalon is, once again, divided against itself.

“The elves are at war with each other. Qualinesti has a new ruler, a boy, the son of Tanis Half-Elven and the daughter of the late Speaker of the Sun, Laurana. The boy was first tricked and then constrained into accepting the role of king. He is, in reality, little more than a puppet, whose strings are being pulled by some of the old order of elves, isolationists who hate everyone different from themselves. That includes their Silvanesti cousins.

“And because these elves have grown in power, the dwarves of Thorbardin fear attack and are considering sealing shut their mountain once again. The Knights of Solamnia are building their defenses—not in fear of the dark knights, but in fear of the elves. Paladine’s Knights have been warned against the dark paladins of evil, but they refuse to believe that the tiger could have altered his stripes, as the saying goes. The Solamnics still believe that evil will turn upon itself, as it did in the War of the Lance, when Dragon Highlord Kitiara ended up battling her own commander, Highlord Ariakas, while the black-robed wizard Raistlin Majere betrayed them both. That will not happen this time.

“The balance is once again shifting in the Dark Queen’s favor. But this time, my friends”—the Decider gazed around at his people, his eyes going to each in turn, gathering them all in “—this time, it is my belief that Queen Takhisis will win.”

“But what of Paladine? What of Mishakal? We pray to them now as we have done in the past. They protect us.” The Protector spoke, but many others were nodding in agreement.

“Did Paladine protect us from the evil knights?” asked the Decider in stern tones. “No. He permitted them to land on our coast.”

“They did us no harm,” the Protector pointed out.

“Yet,” the Decider said ominously, “the gods of good, on whose protection we have so long relied, can do little for us. This terrible incident has proven that. Our magic, their magic, has failed us. It is time we rely on something more powerful.”

“You obviously have some idea. Tell us,” the Protector said, his voice grim.

“My idea is this: That we use one of the world’s most powerful magical artifacts to shield us—once and for all—from outsiders. You know the name of the artifact to which I am referring—the Graygem of Gargath.”

“The Graygem is not ours,” the Protector said sternly. “It does not belong to us. It belongs to the peoples of the world.”

“Not anymore,” the Decider stated. “We were the ones who sought out this artifact. We found it. We acquired it and brought it here for safekeeping.”

“We stole it,” the Protector said. “From a simpleminded fisherman who found it washed up on the shore, who took it to his house and kept it for its sparkling facets and the delight he took in showing it off to his neighbors. He made no use of it, knew nothing of its magic, cared nothing for its magic. And so, the Graygem could make no use of him. Perhaps he was intended to be its keeper. Perhaps, in taking it from him, we have unwittingly thwarted the plans of the gods. Perhaps that is why they have ceased to protect us.”

"Some might call what we did theft.” The Decider stared very hard at the Protector. “But I say that, in recovering the Graygem, we did the world a favor. This artifact has long been a problem, wreaking havoc wherever it goes. It would have fled the simpleton as it has fled so many others before it. But now it is bound by our magic. By holding it here, under our control, we are benefitting all of mankind.”

“You told us, as I recall, Decider, that the Graygem’s magic would protect us from incursion from the outside world. That is not, apparently, the case,” the Protector said. “How can you say now that its magic will shield us?”

“I have spent long years studying the Graygem and have recently made an important discovery,” the Decider answered. “The force that propels the Graygem, causes it to roam the world, is not peculiar to the stone itself, but is, I believe, hidden inside the stone. The stone is only a container—a vessel—which holds and constrains the power within. This magical force, once released, will undoubtedly prove to be immensely powerful. I propose to the assembly that we crack open the Graygem, release the force within, and use it to protect our homeland.”

The Irda were clearly unhappy. They did not like to take action of any kind, preferring to spend their lives in meditation and study. To take such drastic action was almost unthinkable! Yet, they had only to look around them to see the damage done to their beloved homeland, their last refuge from the world.