Margaret Weis - Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Both dragons slammed against the mountain. The peak trembled and split apart as the face of the mountain exploded in flames.

In later years when the Death of Flamestrike was legend, there were those who claimed to have heard a dragon's voice fade away like smoke on an autumn wind, whispering:

"My children…"

The last day of autumn dawned clear and bright. The air was warm-touched by the fragrant wind from the south, which had blown steadily ever since the refugees fled Pax Tharkas, taking with them only what they could scrounge from the fortress as they fled the wrath of the dragonarmies.

It had taken long days for the draconian army to scale the walls of Pax Tharkas, its gates blocked by boulders, its towers defended by gully dwarves. Led by Sestun, the gully dwarves stood on top of the walls throwing rocks, dead rats, and occasionally each other down on the frustrated draconians. This allowed the refugees time to escape into the mountains where, although they skirmished with small forces of draconians, they were not seriously threatened.

Flint volunteered to lead a party of men through the mountains, searching for a place where the people could spend the winter. These mountains were familiar to Flint since the hill dwarves' homeland was not far to the south. Flint's party discovered a valley nestled between vast, craggy peaks whose treacherous passes were choked with snow in the winter. The passes could be easily held against the might of the dragonarmies and there were caves where they could hide from the fury of the dragons.

Following a dangerous path, the refugees fled into the mountains and entered the valley. An avalanche soon blocked the route behind them and destroyed all trace of their passing. It would be months before the draconians discovered them.

The valley, far below the mountain peaks, was warm and sheltered from the harsh winter winds and snows. The woods were filled with game. Clear streams flowed from the mountains. The people mourned their dead, rejoiced in their deliverance, built shelters, and celebrated a wedding.

On the last day of autumn, as the sun set behind the mountains, kindling their snow-capped peaks with flame the color of dying dragons, Riverwind and Goldmoon were married.

When the two came to Elistan to ask him to preside over their exchange of vows, he had been deeply honored and had asked them to explain the ways of their people to him. Both of them replied steadily that their people were dead. The Que-shu were gone, their ways were no more.

"This will be our ceremony," Riverwind said. "The beginning of something new, not the continuation of that which has passed away."

"Though we will honor the memory of our people in our hearts," Goldmoon added softly, "we must look forward, not behind. We will honor the past by taking from it the good and the sorrowful that have made us what we are. But the past shall rule us no longer."

Elistan, therefore, studied the Disks of Mishakal to find what the ancient gods taught about marriage. He asked Goldmoon and Riverwind to write their own vows, searching their hearts for the true meaning of their love-for these vows would be spoken before the gods and last beyond death.

One custom of the Que-shu the couple kept. This was that the bridegift and the groomgift could not be purchased. This symbol of love must be made by the hand of the beloved. The gifts would be exchanged with the saying of the vows.

As the sun's rays spread across the sky, Elistan took his place on the top of a gentle rise. The people gathered in silence at the foot of the hill. From the east came Tika and Laurana, bearing torches. Behind them walked Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in streams of molten gold, mingled with silver. Her head was crowned with autumn leaves. She wore the simple fringed doeskin tunic she had worn through their adventures. The medallion of Mishakal glittered at her throat. She carried her bridegift wrapped in a cloth as fine as cobweb, for the beloved one's eyes must be the first to see it.

Tika walked before her in solemn, misty-eyed wonder, the young girl's heart filled with dreams of her own, beginning to think that this great mystery shared by men and women might not be the terrifying experience she had feared, but something sweet and beautiful.

Laurana, next to Tika, held her torch high, brightening the day's dying light. The people murmured at Goldmoon's beauty; they fell silent when Laurana passed. Goldmoon was human, her beauty the beauty of the trees and mountains and skies. Laurana's beauty was elvish, otherworldly, mysterious.

The two women brought the bride to Elistan, then they turned, looking to the west, waiting for the groom.

A blaze of torches lit Riverwind's way. Tanis and Sturm, their solemn faces wistful and gentle, led. Riverwind came behind, towering over the others, his face stern as always. But a radiant joy, brighter than the torches, lit his eyes. His black hair was crowned with autumn leaves, his groomgift covered by one of Tasslehoff's hankerchiefs. Behind him walked Flint and the kender. Caramon and Raistlin came last, the mage bearing the lighted-crystal Staff of Magius instead of a torch.

The men brought the groom to Elistan, then stepped back to join the women. Tika found herself standing next to Caramon. Reaching out timidly, she touched his hand. Smiling down at her gently, he clasped her little hand in his big one.

As Elistan looked at Riverwind and Goldmoon, he thought of the terrible grief and fear and danger they had faced, the harshness of their lives. Did their future hold anything different? For a moment he was overcome and could not speak. The two, seeing Elistan's emotion and, perhaps, understanding his sorrow, reached out to him reassuringly. Elistan drew them close to him, whispering words for them alone.

"It was your love and your faith in each other that brought hope to the world. Each of you was willing to sacrifice your life for this promise of hope, each has saved the life of the other. The sun shines now, but already its rays are dimming and night is ahead. It is the same for you, my friends. You will walk through much darkness before morning. But your love will be as a torch to light the way."

Elistan then stepped back and began to speak to all assembled. His voice, husky to begin with, grew stronger and stronger as he felt the peace of the gods surround him and confirm their blessings on this couple.

"The left hand is the hand of the heart," he said, placing Goldmoon's left hand in Riverwind's left hand and holding his own left hand over them. "We join left hands that the love in the hearts of this man and this woman may combine to form something greater as two streams join together to form a mighty river. The river flows through the land, branching off into tributaries, exploring new ways, yet ever drawn to the eternal sea. Receive their love, Paladine-greatest of the gods; bless it and grant them peace at least in the hearts, if there is no peace in this shattered land."

In the blessed silence, husbands and wives put their arms around each other. Friends drew close, children quieted and crept near their parents. Hearts filled with mourning were comforted. Peace was granted.

"Pledge your vows, one to another," Elistan said, "and exchange the gifts of your hands and hearts."

Goldmoon looked into Riverwind's eyes and began to speak softly.