Margaret Weis - The Second Generation

Tanis pondered. “I don’t know for certain, Caramon. I’m not that sure myself. There was a blinding light, and my eyes were dazzled, but I could swear I saw Sturm standing there. He held out his hand, and the next thing I knew, the elven jewel was hanging around Steel’s neck.”

“Yeah, that"s what I saw, too.” Caramon pondered. “Still, it could have been a trick. Maybe he did steal it—”

“I don’t think so. I saw the look on his face. Steel was the most startled person in that chamber. He stared at the jewel in amazement, then he grabbed hold of it and hid it beneath his armor. Trust your heart, Caramon. Sturm gave Steel the jewel and his sword. He gave them both to his son.”

“What will he do with them—an elven love token and the sword of a Knight of Solamnia? Surely, he won’t go back to that horrid place now?”

“That"s up to him,” Tanis said quietly.

“And if he does decide to stay, what do we do with him? And his mother?"

Caramon asked. “I can’t very well take them home with me. I’ll be lucky if the sheriff and his men aren’t waiting for me on the inn steps when I get back. Not to mention the fact that Ariakan will be out looking for his lost paladin. Maybe you—”

“I’m going to have to do some fast talking to keep from getting arrested myself,” Tanis said, with a wry smile. He scratched his beard and turned the matter over in his mind. “We could take Steel and Sara to Qualinesti,” he decided at last. “They’d both be safe there. Not even Lord Ariakan would dare follow them into the elven kingdom. Alhana would let Steel in, once she saw the jewel, heard his story.” Caramon shook his head. “Won’t be much of a life for that young man, will it? Living among the elves. No offense, Tanis, but you and I both know how they’ll treat him. I don’t suppose the Solamnic Knights would let him into the knighthood?”

“I hardly think so,” Tanis said dryly. “Then what will he do? Become a mercenary? Sell his sword to the highest bidder? An aimless drifter...” “What were we, my friend?” Tanis asked him. “We were wanderers,” Caramon said, after a moment’s profound thought. “But Sturm Brightblade wasn’t.”

Steel was gone all afternoon. Tanis slept. Caramon—always thinking about where his next meal was coming from—went fishing. He caught some trout in a nearby stream. Adding pine nuts and wild onions he found growing in the forest, he wrapped the trout in the wet leaves and cooked the fish on rocks heated in the fire.

By sunset, Sara was growing exceedingly anxious. She was about to send Flare to search for the young man when he appeared, walking out of the shadows of the trees. Saying nothing, Steel squatted down by the fire. He laid the sword, sheathed in its ancient seaboard, in the grass at his side. Then he helped himself to the fish.

Tanis waited for Sara to ask her son the question she had been longing to ask him ever since his escape from the tower. But now either she was afraid to hear the answer or else she was waiting for him to broach the subject, because she kept silent. Her fond and loving gaze never left him, however.

He concentrated on the food, appeared to be avoiding his mother’s eyes.

Tanis had the feeling the young man’s decision had been made. Steel was wondering, perhaps, how to tell her.

The meal continued in silence, until Caramon, looking skyward, touched Tanis’s arm.

“Company,” Caramon said.

Tanis stood up swiftly. Off toward the west, from the direction of Palanthas, four dragons veered and wheeled against the red and orange streaks of the dying sun.

“Damn! And here we sit, all cozy in front of a fire! You’d think we were on a picnic! I’ve been away from this sort of thing for too long, my friend,” Tanis said ruefully.

“Douse that,” Caramon ordered.

Steel was already doing so, flinging dirt on the fire to keep it from smoking.

“What kind of dragons are they? Can you see?” Caramon was squinting. He tried to sound hopeful. “Maybe Solamnic Knights, out on patrol.”

“Knights, all right, but not Solamnic,” Tanis said grimly.

“Those are blue dragons,” Sara agreed, with certainty.

Her own blue dragon was restive, stamping its feet, lashing its tail. Well-disciplined, the beast was keeping quiet, not calling out to its mates, as it would have been inclined to do otherwise. But it was obvious the dragon had recognized its fellows and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t being permitted to join them.

Steel watched the dragons. “Half-Elven, you know these parts. Is there some town nearby, within walking distance?”

Sara clasped her hands together, her eyes bright with joy.

Tanis considered. “There’s a village of hill dwarves at the base of the mountain. I should say if s about a day’s journey from here. The dwarves trade with Palanthas. Caravans come and go all the time.”

“Excellent,” Steel said, keeping his gaze on the distant blues. “I didn’t want to leave you stranded. I’m taking Flare with me.”

The joy drained from Sara’s eyes; the blood drained from her face.

“They’re searching for me, of course,” the young man continued briskly. “I’ll fly to join them. You will be safe here. My return should satisfy Lord Ariakan.

He’ll call off the pursuit/'

Sara gave a low, anguished cry.

Steel looked at her and paled, but the firm resolve on his face did not weaken. He shifted his gaze back to the two men.

“I have decided to keep the sword,” Steel said defiantly, as if he expected an argument. “It is old-fashioned, admittedly, but I have never seen a sword so well-constructed.”

Tanis nodded and faintly smiled. “The blade is yours, by right. Your father gave it to you. Care for his sword well, Steel Brightblade. The blade is accustomed to being treated with respect. Its lineage is long and proud.”

“According to your father,” Caramon said, “the sword will break only if the one who wields it breaks first.”

“The blade never broke when Sturm carried it,” Tanis added, “not even at the end.”

Steel was obviously overcome. The dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears. His hands gently, reverently clasped the hilt, decorated with the rose and the crown. “It is a fine weapon,” he said in a low, husky voice. “I will give it the care and honor it deserves, you may be sure of that.”

He will keep the sword, Tanis thought, but what of the jewel he wears around his neck? Does he have it still? Or did he rid himself of it in the forest? What will he say about that? Nothing, apparently.

Steel was continuing. “I want to thank you, Tanis Half-Elven, and you, Caramon Majere, for fighting at my side. I know that you’ve let yourselves in for serious trouble, maybe even danger, for my sake. I won’t forget it.” He drew the sword, held it up before him. “With my father’s blade, I offer honor to you both.”

He gave them each the knight’s salute. Then, thrusting the sword carefully into its battered scabbard, he turned, at last, to Sara.

Despairing, she stretched out her arms to him. “Steel—” He took hold of her, embraced her, held her close. “You promised it would be my decision, Mother.” “Steel, no! How can you? After what you saw, after what happened!” Sara began to weep.

Gently, but firmly, Steel broke free of her loving grip. “Take care of her, won’t you, Uncle?” he said softly, to Caramon. “Keep her safe.”

“I will, Nephew.” Caramon took hold of Sara and drew her away.

Turning on his heel, the young man ran for the blue dragon. Flare was eager, waiting. Steel leapt onto the dragon’s back. The creature spread its wings.

Sara broke loose from Caramon’s grip and ran to her son.