Маргарет Уэйс - Dragons of Spring Dawning

“This used to lead to some stairs that led up to the top of the wall, across it, then back down to the other side,” whispered Tasslehoff, fumbling in one of his pouches until he found his lock-picking tools.

“How do you know?” Flint muttered, peering around nervously.

“I used to come to Kalaman when I was little,” Tas said. Finding the slender piece of wire, his small, skilled hands slipped it inside the lock. “My parents brought me. We always came in and out this way.”

“Why didn’t you use the front gate, or would that have been too simple?” Flint growled.

“Hurry up!” ordered Laurana impatiently.

“We would have used the front gate,” Tas said, manipulating the wire. “Ah, there.” Removing the wire, he put it carefully back into his pouch, then quietly swung the old door open. “Where was I? Oh, yes. We would have used the front gate, but kender weren’t allowed in the city.”

“And your parents came in anyway!” Flint snorted, following Tas through the door and up a narrow flight of stone stairs. The dwarf was only half-listening to the kender. He kept his eye on Bakaris, who was, in Flint’s view, behaving himself just a bit too well. Laurana had withdrawn completely within herself. Her only words were sharp commands to hurry.

“Well, of course,” Tas said, prattling away cheerfully. “They always considered it an oversight. I mean, why should we be on the same list as goblins? Someone must have put us there accidentally. But my parents didn’t consider it was polite to argue, so we just came in and out by the side door. Easier for everyone all around. Here we are. Open that door—it’s not usually locked. Oops, careful. There’s a guard. Wait until he’s gone.”

Pressing themselves against the wall, they hid in the shadows until the guard had stumbled wearily past, nearly asleep on his feet. Then they silently crossed the wall, entered another door, ran down another flight of stairs, and were outside the city walls.

They were alone. Flint, looking around, could see no sign of anybody or anything in the half-light before dawn. Shivering, he huddled in his cloak, feeling apprehension creep over him. What if Kitiara was telling the truth? What if Tanis was with her? What if he was dying?

Angrily Flint forced himself to stop thinking about that. He almost hoped it was a trap! Suddenly his mind was wrenched from its dark thoughts by a harsh voice, speaking so near that he started in terror.

“Is that you, Bakaris?”

“Yes. Good to see you again, Gakhan.”

Shaking, Flint turned to see a dark figure emerge from the shadows of the wall. It was heavily cloaked and swathed in cloth. He remembered Tas’s description of the draconian.

“Are they carrying any other weapons?” Gakhan demanded, his eyes on Flint’s battle-axe.

“No,” Laurana answered sharply.

“Search them,” Gakhan ordered Bakaris.

“You have my word of honor,” Laurana said angrily. “I am a princess of the Qualinesti—”

Bakaris took a step toward her. “Elves have their own code of honor,” he sneered. “Or so you said the night you shot me with your cursed arrow.”

Laurana’s face flushed, but she made no answer nor did she fall back before his advance.

Coming to stand in front of her, Bakaris lifted his right arm with his left hand, then let it fall. “You destroyed my career, my life.”

Laurana, holding himself rigid, watched him without moving. “I said I carry no weapons.”

“You can search me, if you like,” offered Tasslehoff, interposing himself—accidentally—between Bakaris and Laurana. “Here!” He dumped the contents of a pouch onto Bakaris’s foot.

“Damn you!” Bakaris swore, cuffing the kender on the side of the head.

“Flint!” Laurana cautioned warningly through clenched teeth. She could see the dwarf’s face red with rage. At her command, the dwarf choked back his anger.

“I’m s-sorry, truly!” Tas snuffled, fumbling around the ground after his things.

“If you delay much longer, we won’t have to alert the guard,” Laurana said coldly, determined not to tremble at the man’s foul touch. “The sun will be up and they will see us clearly.”

“The elfwoman is right, Bakaris,” Gakhan said, an edge in his reptilian voice. “Take the dwarf’s battle-axe and let’s get out of here.”

Looking at the brightening horizon—and at the cloaked and hooded draconian—Bakaris gave Laurana a vicious glance, then snatched the battle-axe away from the dwarf.

“He’s no threat! What’s an old man like him going to do, anyway?” Bakaris muttered.

“Get moving,” Gakhan ordered Laurana, ignoring Bakaris. “Head for that grove of trees. Keep hidden and don’t try alerting the guard. I am a magic-user and my spells are deadly. The Dark Lady said to bring you safely, ‘general.’ I have no instructions regarding your two friends.”

They followed Gakhan across the flat, open ground outside the city gates to a large grove of trees, keeping in the shadows as much as possible. Bakaris walked beside Laurana. Holding her head high, she resolutely refused to even acknowledge his existence. Reaching the trees, Gakhan pointed.

“Here are our mounts,” he said.

“We’re not going anywhere!” Laurana said angrily, staring at the creatures in alarm.

At first Flint thought they were small dragons, but as he drew nearer, the dwarf caught his breath.

“Wyvern!” he breathed.

Distantly related to dragons, wyvern are smaller and lighter and were often used by the Highlords to relay messages, as the griffons were used by the elven lords. Not nearly as intelligent as dragons, the wyvern are noted for their cruel and chaotic natures. The animals in the grove peered at the companions with red eyes, their scorpion-like tails curled menacingly. Tipped with poison, the tail could sting an enemy to death within seconds.

“Where is Tanis?” Laurana demanded.

“He grew worse,” Gakhan answered. “If you want to see him, you must come to Dargaard Keep.”

“No,” Laurana drew back, only to feel Bakaris’s hand close over her arm in a firm grip.

“Don’t call for help,” he said pleasantly, “or one of your friends will die. Well, it seems we’re taking a little trip to Dargaard Keep. Tanis is a dear friend. I’d hate for him to miss seeing you.” Bakaris turned to the draconian. “Gakhan, go back to Kalaman. Let us know the reaction of the people when they discover their ‘general’ missing.”

Gakhan hesitated, his dark reptilian eyes regarding Bakaris warily. Kitiara had warned him something like this might occur. He guessed what Bakaris had in mind—his own private revenge. Gakhan could stop Bakaris, that was no problem. But there was the chance that—during the unpleasantness—one of the prisoners might escape and go for help. They were too near the city walls for comfort. Blast Bakaris anyway! Gakhan scowled, then realized there was nothing he could do but hope Kitiara had provided for this contingency. Shrugging, Gakhan comforted himself with the thought of Bakaris’s fate when he returned to the Dark Lady.

“Certainly, Commander,” the draconian replied smoothly. Bowing, Gakhan faded back into the shadows. They could see his cloaked figure darting from tree to tree, heading for Kalaman. Bakaris’s face grew eager, the cruel lines around the bearded mouth deepened.

“Come on, General.” Bakaris shoved Laurana toward the wyvern.

But instead of advancing, Laurana whirled to face the man,

“Tell me one thing,” she said through pale lips. “Is it true? Is Tanis with... with Kitiara? Th-the note said he was wounded at Vingaard Keep . . . dying...”

Seeing the anguish in her eyes—anguish not for herself, but for the half-elf, Bakaris smiled. He had never dreamed revenge could be so satisfying. “How should I know? I’ve been locked in your stinking prison. But I find it difficult to believe he’d be wounded. Kit never allowed him near a fight! The only battles he wages are those of love...”