Margaret Weis - Dragons of the Fallen Sun

“I’ve decided to go back,” Tas said, not looking at Palin, but still looking out at the empty sky. “I made a promise. I never thought about it before, but a promise isn’t something you make with your mouth. You make a promise with your heart. Every time you break a promise, your heart breaks a little until pretty soon you have cracks running all through it. I think, all in all, it’s better to be squished by a giant.”

“You are very wise, Tas,” said Palin, feeling ashamed of self. “You are far wiser than I am.”

He paused a moment. He could hear again his father’s voice.

Don’t kill Tas! The vision was real, much more real than any dream. A mage learns to trust his instincts, to listen to the inner voices of heart and soul, for those are the voices that speak the language of magic.

He wondered if, perhaps, this dream wasn’t that inner voice cautioning him to slow down, take no drastic actions, do further study.

“Tas,” said Palin slowly. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to go back. At least not yet.”

Tas leaped to his feet. “What? I don’t have to die? Is that true? Do you mean it?”

“I said only that you didn’t have to go back yet,” Palin admonished. “Of course, you have to go back sometime.”

His words were lost on the excited kender. Tas was skipping around the room, scattering the contents of his pouches every which way. “This is wonderful! Can we go sailing off in a boat like Goldmoon?”

“Goldmoon went off in a boat?” Palin repeated, amazed.

“Yes,” said Tas cheerfully. “With the gnome. At least I guess Conundrum caught up with her. He was swimming awfully fast. I didn’t know gnomes could swim so well.”

“She has gone mad,” Palin said to himself. He headed for the door. “We must alert the guards. Someone will have to go rescue her.”

“Oh, they’ve gone after them,” Tas said casually, “but I don’t think they’ll find them. You see, Conundrum told me that the Destructible can dive down under the water just like a dolphin. It’s a sub-sup-soop-whatchamacallit. A boat that travels under water. Conundrum showed it to me last night. It looks exactly like a gigantic steel fish. Say, I wonder if we could see them from here?”

Tasslehoff ran to the window. Pressing his nose against the crystal, he peered out, searching for some sight of the boat. Palin forgot the strange vision in his amazement and consternation. He hoped very much that this was just another of Tasslehoff’s tales and that Goldmoon had not sailed away in a gnomish contraption.

He was about to go downstairs, to find out the truth of the matter, and was heading for the door when the morning stillness was split by a trumpet blast. Bells rang out, loudly, insistently. In the hallway voices could be heard demanding to know what was going on. Other voices answered, sounding panicked.

“What’s that?” Tas asked, still peering out the window.

“They’re sounding the call to arms,” Palin said. “I wonder why—”

“Maybe it has something to do with those dragons,” Tasslehoff said, pointing.

Winged shapes, black against the morning sky, flew toward the citadel. One shape, flying in the center, was larger than the rest, so large that it seemed the green tinge in the sky was a reflection of the sunlight on the dragon’s scales. Palin took one good look. Appalled, he drew back into the center of the room, into the shadows, as if, even at that distance, the dragon’s red eyes might find him.

“That is Beryl!” he said, his throat constricting. “Beryl and her minions!”

Tas’s eyes were round. “I thought it was finding out that I didn’t have to go back to die that was making me feel all squirmy inside. It’s the curse, isn’t it?” He gazed at Palin. “Why is she coming here?”

A good question. Of course, Beryl might have decided to attack the citadel on a whim, but Palin doubted it. The Citadel of Light was in the territory of Khellendros, the blue dragon who ruled this part of the world. Beryl would not encroach on the Blue’s territory unless she had desperate need. And he guessed what that need was.

“She wants the device,” Palin said.

“The magical device?” Tasslehoff reached into a pocket and drew forth the magical artifact.

“Ugh!” He brushed his hand over his face. “You must have spiders in here. I feel all cobwebby.” He clutched the device protectively. “Can the dragon sniff it out, Palin? How does she know we’re here?”

“I don’t know,” Palin said grimly. He could see it all quite clearly. “It doesn’t matter.” He held out his hand. “Give me the device.”

“What are we going to do?” Tas asked, hesitating. He was still a bit mistrustful.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Palin said. “The magical device must not come into her possession.”

Palin could only imagine what the dragon might do with it.

The magic of the device would make the dragon the undisputed ruler of Ansalon. Even if there was no longer past, she could go back to the point after the Chaos War when the great dragons had first come to Ansalon. She could go back to any point in time and change events so that she emerged victorious from any battle. At the very least, she could use the device to transport her great bloated body to circumnavigate the world. No place would be safe from her ravages.

“Give me the device,” Palin repeated urgently, reaching for it.

“We have to leave. Hurry, Tas!”

“Am I coming with you?” Tas asked, still hanging onto the device.

“Yes!” Palin almost shouted. He started to add that they didn’t have much time—but time was the one thing they did have. “Just. . . give me the device.”

Tas handed it over. “Where are we going?” he asked eagerly.

A good question. In all the turmoil, Palin had not given that important matter any thought.

“Solace,” he said. “We will go back to Solace. We’ll alert the Knights. The Solamnic Knights in the garrison ride silver dragons. They can come to the aid of the people here.”

The dragons were closer now, much closer. The sun shone on green scales and red. Their broad wings cast shadows that glided over the oily water. Outside the door the bells clamored, urging people to seek shelter, to flee to the hills and forests. Trumpets sounded, blaring the call to arms. Feet pounded, steel clashed, voices shouted terse orders and commands.

He held the device in his hands. The magic warmed him, calmed him like a draught of fine brandy. He closed his eyes, called to mind the words of the spell, the manipulation of the device.

“Keep close to me!” he ordered Tas.

The kender obediently clamped his hand firmly onto the sleeve of Palin’s robes.

Palin began to recite the spell.

“Thy time is thy own. . .”

He tried to turn the jeweled face of the pendant upward.

Something was not quite right. There was a catch in the mechanism. Palin applied a bit more force, and the face plate shifted.

“Though across it you travel. . .”

Palin adjusted the face plate right to left. He felt something scrape, but the face plate moved.

“Its expanses you see. . .”

Now the back plate was supposed to drop to form two spheres connected by rods. But quite astonishingly, the back plate dropped completely off. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Oops,” said Tas, looking down at the spherical plate that lay rolling like a crazed top on the floor. “Did you mean for that to happen?”