Margaret Weis - Dragons of the Hourglass Mage

The wizards were ruled by a governing body known as the Conclave, which was made up of an equal number of wizards from each order. The head of the conclave during such turbulent times was a white robe wizard named Par-Salian. In his early sixties, Par-Salian was deemed by most to be a strong leader, just and wise. But given the rising disorder among the ranks of the wizards, there were those who began to say that he had lost control, that he was not fit for the job.

Par-Salian sat alone in his study in the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth. The night was cold, and a small fire burned in the grate-a real fire, not a magical one. Par-Salian did not believe in using magic for the sake of convenience. He read by candlelight, not magical light. He swept his floor with a plain, ordinary broom. He required everyone living and working in the Tower to do the same.

The candle burned out, and the fire dwindled, leaving Par-Salian in darkness, save for the glow of the dying embers. He gave up trying to study his spells. That required concentration, and he could not concentrate his mind upon memorizing the arcane words.

Ansalon was in turmoil. The forces of the Dark Queen were perilously close to winning the war. There were some glimmerings of hope. The meeting of the Whitestone Council had brought together elves, dwarves, and humans. The three races had agreed to set aside their differences and unite against the foe. The Blue Lady, Dragon Highlord Kitiara, and her forces had been defeated at the High Clerist's Tower. Clerics of Paladine and Mishakal had brought hope and healing to the world.

Yet for all the good, the mighty force of the dragonarmies and the terrifying threat of the evil dragons were arrayed against the Forces of Light. Even now, Par-Salian waited in dread for the news that Palanthas had fallen…

A knock came on the door. Par-Salian sighed. He was certain it was the news he feared to hear. His assistant having long since gone to bed, Par-Salian rose to answer the knock himself. He was astonished to find his visitor was Justarius, the head of the Order of Red Robes.

"My friend! You are the last person I expected to see this night! Come in, please. Sit down."

Justarius limped into the room. He was a tall man, strong and hale, except for his twisted leg. An athletic youth, he had been fond of participating in contests of physical skill. All that had ended with the Test in the Tower, which had left him permanently maimed. Justarius never spoke of the Test and he never complained about his injury, other than to say, with a shrug and a half smile, that he had been most fortunate. He might have died.

"I am glad to see you safe," Par-Salian continued, lighting candles and adding wood to the fire. "I thought you would be among those battling the dragonarmies in Palanthas."

He paused in his work to look at his friend in dismay. "Has the city already fallen?"

"Far from it," said Justarius, seating himself before the blaze. He positioned his injured leg on a small footstool, to keep it elevated, and smiled. "Open a bottle of your finest elven wine, my friend, for we have something to celebrate."

"What is it? Tell me quickly. My thoughts have been filled with darkness," said Par-Salian.

"The good dragons have entered the war!"

Par-Salian stared at his friend for long moments; then he gave a great, shuddering sigh. "Praise be to Paladine! And to Gilean, of course," he added quickly with a glance at Justarius. "Tell me the details."

"Silver dragons arrived this morning to defend the city. The dragonarmies did not launch their anticipated attack. Laurana of the Qualinesti elves was named Golden General and made leader of the forces of Light, including the Knights of Solamnia."

"This calls for something special." Par-Salian poured wine for them both. "My last bottle of Silvanesti wine. Alas, there will be no more elven wine from that sad land for a long time, I fear."

He resumed his seat. "And so they have chosen the daughter of the elf king of Qualinesti to be Golden General. The choice is a wise one."

"A politic one," said Justarius wryly. "The Knights could not settle on a leader of their own. The defeat of the dragonarmies at the High Clerist's Tower was due in large part to Laurana's courage and valor and quick thinking. She has the power to inspire men with both words and deeds. The knights who fought at the Tower admire and trust her. In addition, she will bring the elves into the battle."

The two wizards lifted their glasses and drank to the success of the Golden General and to the good dragons, as they were popularly known. Justarius replaced the silver goblet on a nearby table and rubbed his eyes. His face was haggard. He settled back into his chair with a sigh.

"Are you well?" Par-Salian asked with concern.

"I have not slept in many nights," Justarius replied. "And I traveled the corridors of magic to come here. Such a journey is always wearing."

"Did the Lord of Palanthas ask for your help in defending the city?" Par-Salian was astonished.

"No, of course not," said Justarius with some bitterness. "I was prepared to do my part, however. I have my home, my family to protect, as well as my city, which I love."

He lifted his goblet again, but he did not drink. He stared morosely into the dark, plum-colored wine.

"Come, out with it," said Par-Salian grimly. "I hope your bad news does not offset the good."

Justarius gave a heavy sigh. "You and I have often wondered why the good dragons refused to heed our pleas for help. Why they did not enter the war when Takhisis sent her evil dragons to burn cities and slaughter innocents. Now I know the answer. And it is a terrible one."

He was silent again. Par-Salian took a drink of his wine, as though to brace himself.

"A silver dragon who calls herself Silvara made the horrible discovery," Justarius said. "It seems that years ago, sometime around 287 AC, Takhisis ordered the evil dragons to secretly creep into the lairs of the good dragons as they slept the Long Sleep and steal their eggs.

"Once their young were in her possession, Takhisis awakened the good dragons to tell them that she intended to launch a war upon the world. If the good dragons intervened, Takhisis threatened to destroy their eggs. Afraid for their young, the good dragons took an oath, promising that they would not fight her."

"And that oath is now broken," said Par-Salian.

"The good dragons discovered that Takhisis had broken her oath first," Justarius replied. "The wise have speculated as to the origin of the so-called lizardmen, the draconians…"

Par-Salian stared at his friend in horror. "You don't mean to tell me…" He clenched his fist. "That is not possible!"

"It is, I am afraid. Silvara and a friend, an elf warrior named Gilthanas, discovered the terrible truth. Through the use of dark and unholy magic, the eggs of the metallic dragons were perverted, changed from dragons into the creatures we know as draconians. Silvara and Gilthanas attest to this. They witnessed the ceremony. They barely escaped with their lives."

Par-Salian was stricken. "A terrible loss. A tragic loss. Beauty and wisdom and nobility transformed into hideous monstrosities."

He fell silent. Both men knew the question that must be asked next. Both knew the answer. Neither wanted to speak it aloud. Par-Salian was Master of the Conclave, however. The discovery of the truth, however unpleasant, was his responsibility.

"I notice you said that the eggs were perverted through the use of unholy magic and dark magic. Are you saying that one of our order performed this monstrous act?"

"I am afraid so," Justarius said quietly. "A Black Robe named Dracart in conjunction with a cleric of Takhisis and a red dragon devised the spells. You must take swift action, Par-Salian. That is why I came here in all haste tonight. You must dissolve the Conclave, denounce the Black Robes, cast them out of the Tower, and forbid them from ever coming here again."