Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [10]
“Bah! The man had already dug his own grave. He was obsessed, lost sight of the true purpose.” The dragon flicked a glance at his master. “The same might be said of others.”
“Obsessed? Yes, Verminaard was obsessed, and there are those who should be taking that obsession more seriously. He was a cleric, he knew what damage the knowledge of the true gods, once spread among the people, can do us,” answered the Highlord. “Now, according to reports, the people have a leader in this human called Elistan, who has become a cleric of Paladine. Worshipers of Mishakal bring true healing back to the land. No, Verminaard was farseeing. There is great danger here. We should recognize and move to stop it—not scoff at it.”
The dragon snorted derisively. “This priest—Elistan—doesn’t lead the people. He leads eight hundred wretched humans, former slaves of Verminaard’s in Pax Tharkas. Now they’re holed up in Southgate with the mountain dwarves.” The dragon settled down on the rock, feeling the morning sun finally bringing a modicum of warmth to his scaled skin. “Besides, our spies report they are traveling to Tarsis even as we speak. By tonight, this Elistan will be ours and that will be that. So much for the servant of Paladine!”
“Elistan is of no use to me.” The Dragon Highlord shrugged without interest. “He is not the one I seek.”
“No?” Skie raised his head, startled. “Who, then?”
“There are three in whom I have particular interest. But I will provide you with descriptions of all of them”—the Dragon Highlord moved closer to Skie—“because it is to capture them that we participate in the destruction of Tarsis tomorrow. Here are those whom we seek.…”
Tanis strode across the frozen plains, his booted footsteps punching noisily through the crust of wind-swept snow. The sun rose at his back, bringing a great deal of light but little warmth. He clutched his cloak about him and glanced around to make certain no one was lagging behind. The companions’ line stretched out single-file. They trod in each other’s tracks, the heavier, stronger people in front clearing the way for the weaker ones behind them.
Tanis led them. Sturm walked beside him, steadfast and faithful as ever, though still upset over leaving behind the Hammer of Kharas, which had taken on an almost mystical quality for the knight. He appeared more careworn and tired than usual, but he never failed to keep step with Tanis. This was not an easy feat, since the knight insisted on traveling in his full, antique battle armor, the weight of which forced Sturm’s feet deep into the crusted snow.
Behind Sturm and Tanis came Caramon, trudging through the snow like a great bear, his arsenal of weapons clanking around him, carrying his armor and his share of supplies, as well as those of his twin brother, Raistlin, on his back. Just watching Caramon made Tanis weary, for the big warrior was not only walking through the deep snow with ease but was also managing to widen the trail for the others behind him.
Of all of the companions the one Tanis might have felt closest to, since they had been raised together as brothers, was the next, Gilthanas. But Gilthanas was an elflord, younger son of the Speaker of the Suns, ruler of the Qualinesti elves, while Tanis was a bastard and only half elven, product of a brutal rape by a human warrior. Worse, Tanis had dared to find himself attracted—even if in a childish, immature fashion—to Gilthanas’s sister, Laurana. And so, far from being friends, Tanis always had the uneasy impression that Gilthanas might well be pleased to see him dead.
Riverwind and Goldmoon walked together behind the elflord. Cloaked in their furskin capes, the cold was little to the Plainsmen. Certainly the cold was nothing compared to the flame in their hearts. They had been married only a little over a month, and the deep love and compassion each felt for the other, a self-sacrificing love that had led the world to the discovery of the