Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

“I know,” she said, and pulled herself up onto the dragon.

“What have you done, Mother?” the young paladin demanded furiously.

Awakening in the mountains, on a windswept promontory overlooking the High Clerist’s Tower, Steel was groggy and disoriented at first, but realization, then anger, soon burned away the potion-induced mists.

“I want to give you a chance to reconsider what you are doing,” Sara told him.

She did not plead or beg; she was not a pathetic figure. She was calm and dignified and, as the two faced each other, Tanis saw a resemblance that was not born in the blood, but sprang from long years of mutual respect and affection.

Whatever clay the father and mother had brought into this world, it was Sara who had formed and molded it.

Steel swallowed any bitter recriminations or angry words. Instead he turned his dark-eyed gaze on Tanis and Caramon.

“Who are these men?”

“They are friends of your father,” Sara replied.

“So that’s what this is about,” Steel said, favoring both Tanis and Caramon with a cold and haughty stare.

Magnificent in his youth and strength, retaining his pride and his composure when his head must have been swimming and his mind groping about in befuddled confusion, Steel won the grudging admiration of both men.

The blue dragon sniffed the air, shook her head, and snarled. Silver dragons, favored by the Knights of Solamnia, occasionally patrolled the skies above the tower. None could be seen in the skies this early, but the blue obviously scented something she didn’t like.

Sara calmed Flare and led her into a large opening in the rocks, where the dragon would be at least partially hidden from view—the main reason she had chosen this particular landing site. The three men remained standing on the rock ledge, regarding each other in uncomfortable silence.

Steel looked ill, was unsteady on his feet, but he would obviously sooner die than admit to weakness, and so neither Tanis nor Caramon made any offer of assistance or comfort.

Caramon nudged Tanis.

“Do you remember the autumn the war started, right after we’d left Solace with Goldmoon and Riverwind? We ran afoul of draconians and Sturm was wounded. Blood covered his face. He could barely stand, let alone walk, and yet he never said a word of complaint, refused to stop...”

“Yes,” said Tanis quietly, looking at the young man. “I remember.” The memory was very vivid, just now.

Steel—aware that he was under scrutiny, if not discussion—turned proudly away.

Tanis eyed the dark paladin’s black armor—hideously adorned with symbols of death—and wondered gloomily just how he and the others were supposed to march into the High Clerist's Tower. And, as if this wasn’t trouble enough, when Sara emerged from the cave, Tanis knew at a glance that there was more.

“What is it, Sara? What's wrong?”

Caramon cast a nervous glance at the sky. “Not a patrol—”

“Flare claims that we were followed,” Sara said in a low voice, not looking at Steel. “That knight... he must have suspected something.”

“Great, just great!” Tanis muttered. “How many?”

Sara shook her head. “One blue with a single rider. He’s not here now. He returned to the fortress ... once he found out where we were bound ...”

“But the Knights of Takhisis will come for us,” said Steel with a cool and triumphant smile. He turned to Sara. “We can leave now, Mother, before any harm is done. Leave these two old fossils to their moldy memories.”

Sighing, he touched her cheek gently. “I know what you’re trying to do, Mother, but it won’t work. Nothing will make me change my mind. Let us go back home. I’ll see to it that Lord Ariakan doesn’t blame you. I will tell my lord this mad scheme was my idea. A dare, taken over wine and dice, to spit on the High Clerist’s Tower—”

Caramon made a rumbling sound, deep in his chest. “Mind how you talk, boy,” he growled. “Your father’s blood is red on those stones. His body lies inside.”

Steel was obviously taken aback. He regained his composure swiftly, however, and shrugged. “So my father died in the assault—”

“He died defending the tower,” said Tanis, observing the young man intently, “and the knighthood.”

“He is honored among all Ansalon,” Caramon added. “His name, like Huma’s, is spoken with reverence.”

“That name is Sturm. Sturm Brightblade,” said Sara softly. “And that is the name you bear, Steel.”

The young man had gone white. He stared at them all in disbelief that rapidly darkened to suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”

“To tell you the truth,” Tanis said, treading on Caramon’s foot to warn him to keep silent, “neither do we. This woman here”—he gestured at Sara—“came to us with some wild tale of a liaison between your mother and a man who was our friend, a liaison of which you were the unwitting product. We refused to believe her, and so we told her to bring you here to prove it.”

“Why?” Steel demanded, sneering. “What will this prove?”

“Good question, Tanis,” Caramon said under his breath. “What will this prove?”

Tanis looked at Sara for the answer.

Take my son inside the tower, her eyes begged him. Let him see the knights. He will remember how he honored them in his childhood. I know he will. My stories will come back to him.

“I wish to Paladine I had your faith, mistress,” Tanis said into his beard. He scratched his chin, trying to think up some excuse. This whole scheme was beginning to make less and less sense, becoming more and more dangerous.

Aloud, he said the first thing that came to mind, “There’s a jewel that hangs around your father’s neck. It was buried with him. The star jewel is magical. It was given to him by an elven queen, Alhana Starbreeze. This jewel will...”

“Will what?” Steel mocked him. “Dissolve when I enter the sacred chamber.”

“It will tell us the truth,” Tanis snapped, irritated by this arrogant youngster.

“Believe me, I don’t like this any more than you do. What? What’s that you say, Caramon?” “The elf jewel is just a love token. It won’t..."

“You’re right, my friend,” Tanis interrupted him loudly. “It is a wondrous jewel. Very magical.”

“This is a trick,” said Steel. He put his hand to his sword belt, forgetting that he’d taken off his sword. It was back in his mother’s house. Flushing, he clenched his fists. “You intend to take me prisoner. Once we get to the tower, you’ll hand me over to the knights. That’s your plan, isn’t it, Mother?”

“No, Steel!” Sara cried. “I never meant that, truly. Neither do these men. If you decide, after all this, to return to Storm’s Keep, we will do nothing to stop you. The decision will be yours, Steel.”

“I pledge you, by my honor and my life, that this is not a trick. I will guard you as if you were my own son,” Tanis said quietly.

“Me, too, Nephew.” Caramon nodded, then rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re my flesh and blood. You have my word. I swear by my own children—your cousins.”

Steel laughed. “You’ll fight in my defense. Thank you, but I doubt if the day will come when I need the services of two soft, middle-aged—” He paused, suddenly struck by what he’d heard. “Nephew. Cousins.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“Your uncle, Caramon Majere,” Caramon replied with dignity. “And this is Tanis Half-Elven.”

Steel eyed Caramon speculatively, curiously. “My mother’s half-brother."

The dark-eyed gaze shifted to Tanis.

“And one of her lovers, according to Lord Ariakan.” The young man’s lip curled.