Margaret Weis - Dragons of Vanished Moon

Her chariot hung in the air, the wings of the five dragons fanning, keeping it aloft. Takhisis left the chariot, descended to the arena floor. She trod on the lightning bolts, the storm clouds were her cloak, trailing behind her.

Takhisis walked toward Mina. The five dragons lifted their heads, cried out a paean of triumph. Galdar could not move, he could not save her. The wind beat at him with such force that he could not even lift his head. He cried out to Mina, but his voice was whipped away by the raging wind, and his cry went unheard.

Mina smiled a tremulous smile. “My Queen,” she whispered.

Takhisis stretched out her taloned hand.

Mina stood, unflinching.

Takhisis reached for Mina’s heart, to make that heart her own. Takhisis reached for Mina’s soul, to snatch it from her body and cast it into oblivion. Takhisis reached out to fill Mina’s body with her own immortal essence.

Takhisis reached out, but her hand could not touch Mina.

Mina looked startled, confused. Her body began to tremble. She reached out her hand to her Queen, but could not touch her.

Takhisis glared. The eyes of flame filled the arena with the hideous light of her anger.

“Disobedient child!” she cried. “How dare you oppose me?”

“I do not!” Mina gasped, shivering. “I swear to you—”

“She does not oppose you. I do,” said a voice.

The strange elf walked past Galdar.

The wind of the Dark Queen’s fury howled around the elf and struck at him. Her lightning flared over him and sought to burn him. Her thunder boomed and tried to crush him. The elf was bowed by the winds, but he kept walking. He was knocked down by the lightning, but he rose again and kept walking. Undaunted, unafraid, he came to stand before the Queen of Darkness.

“Paladine! My dear brother!” Takhisis spat the words. “So you have found your misplaced world.” She shrugged. “You are too late. You cannot stop me.” Amused, she waved her hand toward the gallery. “Find a seat. Be my guest. I am glad you came. Now you can witness my triumph.”

“You are wrong, Sister,” the elf said, his voice silver, ringing. “We can stop you. You know how we can stop you. It is written in the book. We all agreed.”

The flame of the Dark Queen’s eyes wavered. The taloned fingers twitched. For an instant, her crystalline beauty was marred with doubt, anxiety. Only for an instant. Her doubts vanished. Her beauty was restored.

She smiled.

“You would not do that to me, Brother,” Takhisis said, regarding him with scorn. “The great and puissant Paladine would never make the sacrifice. ”

“You misjudge me, Sister. I already have.”

The elf thrust his hand into a pouch he wore at his side and drew out a small knife, a knife that had once belonged to a kender of his acquaintance.

Paladine drew the knife across the palm of his hand.

Blood oozed from the wound, dripped onto the floor of the arena.

“The balance must be maintained,” he said. “I am mortal. As are you.” Storm clouds, dragons, lightning, chariot, all disappeared. The sun shone bright in the blue sky. The seats in the gallery were suddenly empty, except for the gods.

They sat in judgment, five on the side of light: Mishakal, gentle goddess of healing; Kiri-Jolith, beloved of the Solamnic Knights; Majere, friend of Paladine, who came from Beyond; Habakkuk, god of the sea; Branchala, whose music soothes the heart.

Five took the side of darkness: Sargonnas, god of vengeance, who looked unmoved on the fall of his consort; Morgion, god of disease; Chemosh, lord of the undead, angered at her intrusion in what had once been his province; Zeboim, who blamed Takhisis for the death of her loved son, Ariakan; Hiddukel, who cared only that the balance be maintained.

Six stood between: Gilean, who held the book; Sirrion, god of nature; Shinare, his mate, god of commerce; Reorx, the forger of the world; Chislev, goddess of the woodland; Zivilyn, who once more saw past, present and future.

The three children, Solinari, Nuitari, Lunitari, stood together, as always. One place, on the side of light, was empty.

One place, on the side of darkness, was empty.

Takhisis cursed them. She screamed in rage, crying out with one voice now, not five, and her voice was the voice of a mortal. The fire of her eyes that had once scorched the sun dwindled to the flicker of the candle flame that may be blown out with a breath. The weight of her flesh and bone dragged her down from the ethers. The thudding of her heart sounded loud in her ears, every beat telling her that some day that beating would stop and death would come. She had to breathe or suffocate. She had to work to draw one breath after the other. She felt the pangs of hunger that she had never known and all the other pains of this weak and fragile body. She, who had traversed the heavens and roamed among the stars, stared down with loathing at the two feet on which she now must plod.

Lifting her eyes, that were gritty with sand and burning with fury, Takhisis saw Mina, standing before her, young, strong, beautiful.

“You did this,” Takhisis raved. “You connived with them to bring about my downfall. You wanted them to sing your name, not my own!”

Takhisis drew her sword and lunged at Mina. “I may be mortal, but I can still deal death!” Galdar gave a bellowing roar. He leaped to stop the blow, jumped in front of Mina to shield her with his body, raised his sword to defend her.

The Dark Queen’s blade swept down in a slashing arc. The blade severed Galdar’s sword arm, hacked it off below the shoulder.

Arm, hand, sword fell at his feet, lay there in a widening pool of his own blood. He fell to his knees, fought the pain and shock that were trying to rob him of his senses. The Dark Queen lifted her sword and held it poised above Mina’s head.

Mina said softly, “Forgive me,” and stood braced for the blow.

His own life ebbing away, Galdar was about to make a desperate lunge, when something smote him from behind. Galdar looked up with dimming eyes to see Silvanoshei standing over him. The elf king held in his hand the broken fragment of the dragonlance. He threw the lance, threw it with the strength of his anguish and his guilt, threw it with the strength of his fear and his love. The lance struck Takhisis, lodged in her breast.

She stared down in shock to see the lance protruding from her flesh. Her fingers moved to touch the bright, dark blood welling from the terrible wound. She staggered, started to fall. Mina sprang forward with a wild cry of grief and love. She clasped the dying queen in her arms.

“Don’t leave me, Mother,” Mina cried. “Don’t leave me here alone!” Takhisis ignored her. Her eyes fixed upon Paladine, and in them her hatred burned, endless, eternal.

“If I have lost everything, so have you. The world in which you took such delight can never go back to the way it was. I have done that much, at least.”

Blood frothed upon the queen’s lips. She coughed, struggled to draw a final breath. “Someday you will know the pain of death. Worse than that, Brother”—Takhisis smiled, grimly, derisively, as the shadows clouded her eyes—“you will know the pain of life.” Her breath bubbled with blood. Her body shuddered, and her hands fell limp. Her head lolled back on Mina’s cradling arm. The eyes fixed, stared into the night she had ruled so long and that she would rule no more.

Mina clasped the dead queen to her breast, rocked her, weeping. The rest, Galdar, the strange elf, the gods, were silent, stunned. The only sound was Mina’s harsh sobs. Silvanoshei, white-lipped and ashen-faced, laid a hand upon her shoulder.

“Mina, she was going to kill you. I couldn’t let her. . . .”

Mina lifted her tear-ravaged face. Her amber eyes were hot, liquid, burned when they touched his flesh.