Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

He wouldn’t disgrace the memory of his father.

Every muscle in Tanis’s body ached. Fortunately, his opponent, a young knight, was in such awe of the great hero that he was fighting only halfheartedly. Sir Wilhelm was looking exasperated. This battle should have been over by now. He glanced at the stairs. Now he was going to raise the alarm, shout for reinforcements.

If that happened, they were doomed.

“Sturm Brightblade,” Tanis said softly, “you got us into this. The least you can do is help get us out!”

The iron doors, decorated with Paladine’s symbol, stood open at the top of the stairs. It might have been a freakish prank of nature, or it might have been the breath of the god. Suddenly, a great gust of wind blasted through the door, blew out the torches as if they’d been candles, and plunged the tomb into darkness. Lifting the dust of centuries, the wind tossed dirt into the faces of the Solamnic Knights.

Sir Wilhelm, in the act of drawing a deep breath to call for help, sucked in a great cloud of dust. He began to choke and cough. The knights staggered around blindly, their eyes filled with grit, their mouths coated.

Oddly, the dust didn’t affect Tanis. He located Steel in the darkness by the faint white light gleaming from beneath his breastplate. Grabbing hold of the young paladin, who was raising his sword over his suddenly disadvantaged foe, Tanis yelled in the young man’s ear.

“Let"s get out of here!”

He thought for a minute he was going to face an argument—Sturm would have argued—but then Steel flashed Tanis a grin—a crooked grin, Kitiara’s crooked grin. Sword in hand, he ran for the stairs. Tanis found Caramon by the sound of heavy breathing.

Resting his hand on the big man’s shoulder, Tanis said, “The stairs, our only chance. Can you make it?”

Caramon nodded—too spent to talk—and started lumbering after Steel. On his way past the catafalque, Tanis rested his hand lightly, briefly, on the antique armor.

“Thank you, my friend,” Tanis whispered.

They clamored up the staircase. Bursting through the iron doors, Steel headed for the main gate. The fire of battle shone in his dark eyes. Tanis caught hold of him and nearly pulled the eager young man off his feet. Steel glared at him in fury and struggled to free himself.

Tanis held the young man fast. “Caramon, the doors!”

Caramon grabbed hold of the iron doors, swung them shut, then glanced hurriedly around for something to keep them shut. Several heavy marble blocks being used in repair work stood nearby. Heaving and grunting, Caramon shoved one of the blocks against the doors, just as footsteps could be heard stumbling up the stairs. A blow hit the iron doors, but they didn’t budge.

Blows and muffled shouts came from inside the Chamber of Paladine. It would be only a matter of moments before someone heard.

“Now, we go,” said Tanis to the young man. “Try to look as if nothing has happen—Oh, forget it.”

Caramon was red in the face, huffing and puffing like an enraged bull. Tanis’s shirt sleeves hung in ribbons around his left arm; he was bleeding from a wound he never knew he’d taken. Steel’s head was bloodied, his armor dented and scratched.

And, Tanis thought, I have the feeling no one will ever again mistake a Knight of Takhisis for a Knight of Solamnia.

He was right. The three had no sooner reached the main gate when there came a trumpet call behind them. It was the alarm, the call to arms. The knights guarding the gate jumped to action, immediately began to take defensive measures.

Within moments, the gate would be shut, secured.

“Run for it!” Tanis ordered. “And keep running,” he said to Steel.

They made a wild and desperate dash for the closing gates. The knights on duty took one look at Steel and, drawing their swords, rushed to stop him.

Lightning breath crackled outside the gate. The tip of a gigantic, blue wing could be seen swooping past. Civilians caught outside were screaming about dragons. Panic-stricken, the frightened people stampeded the entrance, hampering both the knights' attack and their ability to shut the gate.

Tanis and Caramon joined the melee. It took them both to drag away Steel, who had turned to slash at an opposing knight.

Outside the tower, the blue dragon, Flare, was flying low over the heads of the terrified crowd, sending people tumbling into the ditches. Occasionally, the dragon increased the panic by blasting holes in the ground and the fortress walls with her lightning breath.

“Sara!” Tanis yelled, waved his arm.

Sara guided the dragon to the ground. She reached out a hand, pulled Tanis onto the saddle. He, in turn, caught hold of the still-battling Steel and, with Caramon’s help from behind, managed to heave the young man up onto the dragon’s back. Caramon jumped on last. Sara shouted a command, and Flare soared into the sky.

The knights ran out of the fortress, shouting and cursing, in Paladine’s name, those who had committed the heinous act of desecrating the sacred tomb. Arrows flew from the bowmen posted on the walls. Tanis was more worried about the silver dragons, who guarded the fortress, and who had taken to the air when the trumpet had sounded.

But either the silver dragons had no desire to fight a blue and break the uneasy truce that existed among the dragons at this time, or the silvers, too, were being held back by an immortal hand. They eyed Flare balefully, but let her fly away in safety.

Perched on the back of a blue dragon, Tanis glanced down at the arrows, now whistling harmlessly beneath them.

“How,” he wondered gloomily, “am I ever going to explain all this?"

At Tanis’s suggestion, Flare flew for the foothills of the Khalkist Mountains, still a no-man’s-land, where they could rest in safety and figure out what to do next.

None of them spoke during the journey. Sara cast frequent worried glances at Steel. Tanis had explained, in a few brief words, some—not all—of what had occurred in the chamber. It would be up to Steel to tell her fully and completely what had happened to him.

Sara asked Steel about it, several times, but the young man didn’t answer. He didn’t even seem to hear her. He sat staring out into the deep blue sky, his gaze abstracted, eyes dark and fathomless, his thoughts unreadable.

At length Sara gave up and concentrated on flying. She chose a suitable landing place, a wide clearing surrounded by a thick forest of pine trees.

T

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Tanis said. “We can all use the sleep. Then, in the morning, we’ll decide what to do, where to go.” Sara agreed.

Steel said nothing. He hadn’t spoken a word since they had left the High Clerist’s Tower. Immediately on landing, he jumped lightly from the dragon’s back and took off for the forest. Sara was going to follow, but Caramon stopped her.

“Let him go,” he said gently. “He needs time to think. A lot has happened to that young man. The person who went into that chamber isn’t the same one who came out.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Sara said with a sigh. She stood staring into the woods, her hands twisting together nervously. “Will he . . . Has this changed his mind, do you think?”

“Only he knows that,” Tanis said.

Sara sighed again, then glanced at him anxiously. “Is there any doubt in your mind that he is the son of Sturm Brightblade?”

“None whatsoever,” Tanis answered firmly.

Sara smiled. Looking more hopeful, she went to settle the dragon down for the night.

“Just what did happen back there in the chamber, Tanis?” Caramon asked in a low voice, as they set about building a small cooking fire. “Did I really see what I thought I saw?”