Mary Herbert - Legacy of Steel

Once in a while Sara would fly with him. She had to rig a crude dragon saddle out of strips of leather, heavy padding for his scarred back, and a cobbled horse saddle, but she was pleased with the results. Once it was in place and she climbed up behind his neck ridges, the saddle held her firmly in place while he spiraled upward into the evening sky and dipped and swirled and flew to his heart's content.

Sara loved those brief hours in the air. She did not realize how much she had missed the feel of a powerful dragon beneath her, or the flow of the wind in her face, or the incredible vistas of land that spread below them She reveled in the powerful upbeat of Cobalt's wings and in the incredible freedom of his flight. Now she did not have to worry about avoiding other dragons swooping around them, teaching battle strategies, or fretting that someone else could get hurt. All she had to do was sit back in her saddle and experience the joy of the ride.

Cobalt seemed to pick up some of her pleasure, for he flew longer, higher, farther, better when she was with him.

Spring came and went in a blur of planting and lambing, and summer waltzed in with a long stretch of warm days and balmy nights. The anniversary of the Battle of the Rift on a hot day in Fleurgreen, and the village took the opportunity to celebrate the day with music, festivities, and a bonfire. Sara observed it quietly with Cobalt in the cool shade of his glade.

As summer passed, Sara continued her busy days, when working late into the night. She sometimes wondered how much longer she would be able to keep up such a heavy load of responsibilities. The constant labor was beginning to wear thin.

The uncertainty plagued her, too. She did not know how long the dragon would or could stay with her, and the thought of losing him bothered her intensely. He was content where he was for now, but how soon would it be before he changed his mind and left her, or a wanderer stumbled across his lair in the woods and spread the alarm, or Khellendros caught him unaware and killed him?

Deep in her heart, Sara knew the course of her present life would change-perhaps drastically. It was only a matter of time.

Autumn came in its time and brought with it the days of harvest and gathering. Everyone worked hard, from the grannies who shelled beans to the youngest children, who could pick nuts and gather apples. After the blistering hot summer of three years before when the crops withered on the vine and the people went hungry the following winter, no one wanted to miss a single opportunity to put food aside for winter.

With the balmy winds of autumn, however, came a chilling frost of dark tidings and evil rumors. Connersby was not close to any of the major roads through Coastlund, and news sometimes took a while to reach the village. Thus it was autumn before the people heard the first real news of the dragon, Malystryx. Vague rumors had drifted through Ansalon during the year of a great red dragon that landed on Misty Isle, but most people considered the story of a dragon from another land a mere fireside tale. That autumn showed them differently.

Other news, equally as foreboding, trickled into the village as the season passed, news of troubles and disasters, of a strange new bard known only as the Herald, of the growing activity of frost wights in the south and the increasing influence of Khellendros to the north. The war with Chaos was over, but Krynn's troubles seemed to move on, with or without the gods.

Sara had been so busy during the cool days of autumn, she had heard little outside news of any sort. That changed one evening with the arrival of the traveling cobbler.

Known In the region only as Bootjack, the cobbler was mall man with a pointed beard and agile fingers. Some said he was part kender, because of his broad smile and loved of talk. Others thought he was part dwarf because his short stature and the wonderful ability of his fingers. He never told. He made any kind of footwear from slippers to fancy dress boots, and his workmanship was unequaled. He traveled in a small red wagon through the villages of Coastlund, the Vingaard Mountains, the plains of Solamnia, gathering news and sharing tales and making shoes.

He up Sara's lane near dusk, leading his cart horse, a little plump mare favoring her front leg. Sara saw him coming and came to greet him.

"How did you know I needed boots?" she said, smiling at him as she swung open the gate of a small corral.

"How did you know I needed help for my horse?" he replied with a laugh.

It was a trade easily done. Sara provided the leather for a pair boots, and Bootjack provided the labor. While she examined his mare, he leaned over the fence and launched into his latest news.

"I just came back from Palanthas," he said, shaking his head. "The place just isn't the same since that sorcerer came in and leveled the Tower of High Sorcery. Can you believe that?"

It wasn't a real question, Sara knew. Bootjack rarely gave his listeners time to make a reply. He launched into a long recital of the city's woes from the dropping population and shrinking trade to the disappearance of the books from the Great Library of the Ages and the destruction the Tower of High Sorcery.

"Many of the temples are empty, too," the cobbler said, shaking his shaggy head. "A few clerics hold out, but with the magic gone and the gods vanished, most don't feel it's worth the effort." He clicked his tongue loudly, drew a small flask out of his vest, and took a long swallow to lubricate his dry throat.

"That big, evil-sucking dragon doesn't help either. He's lurking up there in the north, scaring off the locals, and giving the shipping fits. I hear tell he's spreading the northern wasteland farther and farther south. Some say he's just waiting to pounce on Palanthas."

Sara ran her hands down the mare's leg. The well-trained animal calmly lifted her foot for Sara's inspection. Although the woman looked busy, her attention was focused almost entirely on Bootjack's words.

"Of course, that isn't the worst of it. I heard from some Dark Knights in the city a few stories that will curl your hair. That red beast of a dragon, Malystryx? She charred the Misty Isle. Burned everything to a crisp. Then last spring, I heard, she crossed over to the Dairly Plains. It's anyone's guess what she plans to do there."

"Sounds as if this dragon is more than just a rumor," Sara managed to say as she drew a hoof-pick from her belt and began to clean the mare's hoof. The news of the dragon was disheartening, but something else he had just said sent an electric spark sizzling through her mind.

Bootjack threw up his hands. "More than a rumor! I wish to the absent gods she was just a rumor. I heard tell she's bigger than Khellendros and twice as wicked. No one can stop her. And what if there are more like her? One of those knights I talked to said even Riverwind has gone to the Dairly Plains to see this dragon for himself."

Sara gently dropped the mare's hoof to the ground and straightened. There, he had said it again. Almost fearfully, she asked Bootjack, "You said 'Dark Knights' told you all of this. What knights? I thought all the Dark Knights had left Palanthas during the Summer of Chaos."

He started, surprised by her question. "What? Oh! Not really. A few Solamnics are there and some of the Knights of Takhisis. They have an unspoken detente at the moment. Both groups stay out of sight and don't cause trouble." He paused and rubbed his whiskery cheek, "Come to think of it, things look to get a little tougher for the Solamnics. Seems I heard a rumor that most of the Knights of Takhisis are leaving Palanthas for Neraka."

Sara stiffened. Her hands tightened in the mare's stiff mane. "Why there?" she asked. Why at all?

"The council of the Last Heroes gave the knighthood control of the area around Neraka, you know. Seems they may be regathering there."