Маргарет Уэйс - Dragons of Spring Dawning

“That isn’t enough, Flint!” Laurana sighed. “Oh, sure, we may hold the dragonarmies off for a week or two weeks or maybe even a month. But then what? What happens to us when they control the land around us? All we can do against the dragons is shut ourselves up in safe little havens. Soon this world will be nothing but tiny islands of light surrounded by vast oceans of darkness. And then—one by one—the darkness will engulf us all.”

Laurana laid her head down upon her hand, resting against the wall.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” Flint asked sternly.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “My waking and sleeping seem mixed together. I’m walking in a dream half the time, and sleeping through reality the other half.”

“Get some sleep now,” the dwarf said in what Tas referred to as his Grandfather Voice. “We’re turning in. Our watch is almost up.”

“I can’t,” Laurana said, rubbing her eyes. The thought of sleep suddenly made her realize how exhausted she was. “I came to tell you—we received reports that dragons were seen, flying westward over the city of Kalaman.”

“They’re heading this direction then,” Tas said, visualizing a map in his head.

“Whose reports?” asked the dwarf suspiciously.

“The griffons. Now don’t scowl like that.” Laurana smiled slightly at the sight of the dwarf’s disgust. “The griffons have been a vast help to us. If the elves contribute nothing more to this war than their griffons, they will have already done a great deal.”

“Griffons are dumb animals,” Flint stated. “And I trust them about as far as I trust kender. Besides,” the dwarf continued, ignoring Tas’s indignant glare, “it doesn’t make sense. The Highlords don’t send dragons to attack without the armies backing them up...”

“Maybe the armies aren’t as disorganized as we heard.”

Laurana sighed wearily. “Or maybe the dragons are simply being sent to wreak what havoc they can. Demoralize the city, lay waste to the surrounding countryside. I don’t know. Look, word’s spread.”

Flint glanced around. Those soldiers that were off duty were still in their places, staring eastward at the mountains whose snow-capped peaks were turning a delicate pink in the brightening dawn. Talking in low voices they were joined by others, just waking and hearing the news.

“I feared as much.” Laurana sighed. “This will start a panic! I warned Lord Amothus to keep the news quiet, but the Palanthians aren’t used to keeping anything quiet! There, what did I tell you?”

Looking down from the wall, the friends could see the streets starting to fill with people—half-dressed, sleepy, frightened. Watching them run from house to house, Laurana could imagine the rumors being spread.

She bit her lip, her green eyes flared in anger. “Now I’ll have to pull men off the walls to get these people back into their homes. I can’t have them in the streets when the dragons attack! You men, come with me!” Gesturing to a group of soldiers standing nearby, Laurana hurried away. Flint and Tas watched her disappear down the stairs, heading for the Lord’s palace. Soon they saw armed patrols fanning out into the streets, trying to herd people back into their homes and quell the rising tide of panic.

“Fine lot of good that’s doing!” Flint snorted. The streets were getting more crowded by the moment.

But Tas, standing on a block of stone staring out over the wall, shook his head. “It doesn’t matter!” he whispered in despair. “Flint, look—”

The dwarf climbed hurriedly up to stand beside his friend. Already men were pointing and shouting, grabbing bows and spears. Here and there, the barbed silver point of the dragonlance could be seen, glinting in the torchlight.

“How many?” Flint asked, squinting.

“Ten,” Tas answered slowly. “Two flights. Big dragons, too. Maybe the red ones, like we saw in Tarsis. I can’t see their color against the dawn’s light, but I can see riders on them. Maybe a Highlord. Maybe Kitiara... Gee,” Tas said, struck by a sudden thought, “I hope I get to talk to her this time. It must be interesting being a Highlord—”

His words were lost in the sound of bells ringing from towers all over the city. The people in the streets, stared up at the walls where the soldiers were pointing and exclaiming. Far below them, Tas could see Laurana emerge from the Lord’s palace, followed by the Lord himself and two of his generals. The kender could tell from the set of her shoulders that Laurana was furious. She gestured at the bells, apparently wanting them silenced. But it was too late. The people of Palanthas went wild with terror. And most of the inexperienced soldiers were in nearly as bad a state as the civilians. The sound of shrieks and wails and hoarse calls rose up into the air. Grim memories of Tarsis came back to Tas—people trampled to death in the streets, houses exploding in flames.

The kender turned slowly around. “I guess I don’t want to talk to Kitiara,” he said softly, brushing his hand across his eyes as he watched the dragons fly closer and closer. “I don’t want to know what it’s like being a Highlord, because it must be sad and dark and horrible... Wait—”

Tas stared eastward. He couldn’t believe his eyes, so he leaned far out, perilously close to falling over the edge of the wall.

“Flint!” he shouted, waving his arms.

“What is it?” Flint snapped. Catching hold of Tas by the belt of his blue leggings, the dwarf hauled the excited kender back in with jerk.

“It’s like in Pax Tharkas!” Tas babbled incoherently. “Like Huma’s tomb. Like Fizban said! They’re here! They’ve come!”

“Who’s here!” Flint roared in exasperation.

Jumping up and down in excitement, his pouches bouncing around wildly, Tas turned without answering and dashed off, leaving the dwarf fuming on the stairs, calling out, “Who’s here, you rattlebrain?”

“Laurana!” shouted Tas’s shrill voice, splitting the early morning air like a slightly off-key trumpet. “Laurana, they’ve come! They’re here! Like Fizban said! Laurana!”

Cursing the kender beneath his breath, Flint stared back out to the east. Then, glancing around swiftly, the dwarf slipped a hand inside a vest pocket. Hurriedly he drew out a pair of glasses and—looking around again to make certain no one was watching him—he slipped them on.

Now he could make out what had been nothing more than a haze of pink light broken by the darker, pointed masses of the mountain range. The dwarf drew a deep, trembling breath. His eyes dimmed with tears. Quickly he snatched the glasses off his nose and put them back into their case, slipping them back into his pocket. But he’d worn the glasses just long enough to see the dawn touch the wings of dragons with a pink light-pink glinting off silver.

“Put your weapons down, lads,” Flint said to the men around him, mopping his eyes with one of the kender’s handkerchiefs. “Praise be to Reorx. Now we have a chance. Now we have a chance...”

The silver dragons settled to the ground on the outskirts of the great city of Palanthas, their wings filled the morning sky with a blinding radiance. The people crowded the walls to stare out uneasily at the beautiful, magnificent creatures.

At first the people had been so terrified of the huge beasts, that they were intent on driving them away, even when Laurana assured them that these dragons were not evil. Finally Astinus himself emerged from his library and coldly informed Lord Amothus that these dragons would not harm them. Reluctantly the people of Palanthas laid down their weapons.

Laurana knew, however, that the people would have believed Astinus if he told them the sun would rise at midnight. They did not believe in the dragons.