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But we

Await the sun’s

Green fire upon

The trees.

Points of flickering lantern light spread from the courtyard like ripples in a still, calm pond, through the streets, into the forests and beyond. And, with each lamp lit, another voice was raised in song, until the surrounding forest itself seemed to sing with despair.

The wind

Dives through the days.

By season, by moon

Great kingdoms arise.

The breath

Of firefly, of bird,

Of trees, of mankind

Fades in a word.

Now Sleep,

Our oldest friend,

Lulls in the trees

And calls

Us in.

The Age,

The thousand lives

Of men and their stories

Go to their graves.

But We,

The people long

In poem and glory

Fade from the song.

Gilthanas’s voice died away. With a gentle breath, he blew out the flame of his lamp. One by one, as they had started, the others around the table ended the song and blew out their candles. All through Qualinost, the voices hushed and the flames were extinguished until it seemed that silence and darkness swept over the land. At the very end, only the distant mountains returned the final chords of the song, like the whispering of leaves falling to the ground.

The Speaker stood.

“And now,” he said heavily, “it is time for the meeting of the High Council. It will be held in the Hall of the Sky. Tanthalas, if you will lead your companions there.”

The Hall of the Sky, they discovered, was a huge square, lit by torches. The giant dome of the heavens, glittering with stars, arched above it. But it was dark to the north where lightning played on the horizon. The Speaker motioned to Tanis to bring the companions to stand near him, then the entire population of Qualinost gathered around them. There was no need to call for silence. Even the wind hushed as the Speaker began.

“Here you see our situation.” He gestured at something on the ground. The companions saw a gigantic map beneath their feet. Tasslehoff, standing in the middle of the Plains of Abanasinia, drew in a deep breath. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so wonderful.

“There’s Solace!” he cried in excitement, pointing.

“Yes, Kenderkin,” the Speaker replied. “And that is where the dragonarmies mass. In Solace”—he touched the spot on the map with a staff—“and in Haven. Lord Verminaard has made no secret of his plans to invade Qualinesti. He waits only to gather his forces and secure his supply routes. We cannot hope to stand against such a horde.”

“Surely Qualinost is easily defended,” Sturm spoke up. “There is no direct route overland. We crossed bridges over ravines that no army in existence could get through if the bridges were cut. Why do you not stand up to them?”

“If it were only an army, we could defend Qualinesti,” the Speaker answered. “But what can we do against dragons?” The Speaker spread his hands helplessly. “Nothing! According to legends, it was only with the Dragonlance that the mighty Huma defeated them. There are none now—at least that we know of—who remember the secret of that great weapon.”

Fizban started to speak, but Raistlin hushed him.

“No,” the Speaker continued, “we must abandon this city and these woods. We plan to go west, into the unknown lands there, hoping to find a new home for our people—or perhaps even return to Silvanesti, the most ancient elvenhome. Until a week ago, our plans were advancing well. It will take three days of forced marching for the Dragon Highlord to move his men into attack position, and spies will inform us when the army leaves Solace. We will have time to escape into the west. But then we learned of a third dragonarmy at Pax Tharkas, less than a day’s journey from us. Unless that army is stopped, we are doomed.”

“And you know a way to stop that army?” Tanis asked.

“Yes.” The Speaker looked at his youngest son. “As you know, men from Gateway and Solace and surrounding communities are being held prisoner in the fortress of Pax Tharkas, working as slaves for the Dragon Highlord. Verminaard is clever. Lest his slaves revolt, he keeps the women and children of these men hostages, ransom for the men’s behavior. It is our belief