Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [102]
“But it’s only temporary,” the smith puffed, catching up with Sturm and Laurana. “That won’t stop them for long.”
Laurana couldn’t answer. Her lungs were on fire. Blue and gold stars burst before her eyes. She was not the only one suffering. Sturm’s breath rasped in his throat. His grasp on her arm was weak and his hand shook. Even the strong smith was blowing like a winded horse. Rounding a boulder, they found the dwarf on his knees, Tasslehoff trying vainly to lift him.
“Must … rest …” Laurana said, her throat aching. She started to sit down, but strong hands grabbed her.
“No!” Silvara said urgently. “Not here! Just a few more feet! Come on! Keep going!”
The Wilder elf dragged Laurana forward. Dimly she was aware of Sturm helping Flint to his feet, the dwarf groaning and swearing. Between them, Theros and Sturm dragged the dwarf up the trail. Tasslehoff stumbled behind, too tired even to talk.
Finally they came to the top of the pass. Laurana slumped into the snow, past caring what happened to her. The rest sank down beside her, all except Silvara who was staring below them.
Where does she get the strength? Laurana thought through a bleak haze of pain. But she was too exhausted to question. At the moment, she was too tired to care whether the elves found her or not. Silvara turned to face them.
“We must split up,” she said decisively.
Laurana stared at her, uncomprehending.
“No,” Gilthanas began, trying without success to get to his feet.
“Listen to me!” Silvara said urgently, kneeling down. “The elves are too close. They will catch us for certain, then we must either fight or surrender.”
“Fight,” Derek muttered savagely.
“There is a better way,” Silvara hissed. “You, knight, must take the dragon orb to Sancrist alone! We will draw off the pursuit.”
For a moment no one spoke. Everyone stared silently at Silvara, considering this new possibility. Derek lifted his head, his eyes gleaming. Laurana flashed a look of alarm at Sturm.
“I do not think one person should be charged with such a grave responsibility,” Sturm said, his breath coming haltingly. “Two of us should go—at least.”
“Meaning yourself, Brightblade?” Derek asked angrily.
“Yes, of course, Sturm should go,” Laurana said, “if anyone.”
“I can draw a map through the mountains,” Silvara said eagerly. “The way is not difficult. The outpost of the knights is only a two-day journey from here.”
“But we can’t fly,” Sturm protested. “What about our tracks? Surely the elves will see we’ve split up.”
“An avalanche,” Silvara suggested. “Theros throwing the boulders down behind us gave me the idea.” She glanced up. They followed her gaze. Snow-covered peaks towered above them, the snow hanging over the edges.
“I can cause an avalanche with my magic,” Gilthanas said slowly. “It will obliterate everyone’s tracks.”
“Not entirely,” cautioned Silvara. “We must allow ours to be found once again—though not too obviously. After all, we want them to follow us.”
“But where will we go?” asked Laurana. “I don’t intend to wander aimlessly through the wilderness.”
“I—I know a place.” Silvara faltered, her gaze dropping to the ground. “It is secret, known only to my people. I will take you there.” She clasped her hands together. “Please, we must hurry. There isn’t much time!”
“I will take the orb to Sancrist,” Derek said, “and I will go alone. Sturm should go with your group. You’ll need a fighter.”
“We have fighters,” Laurana said. “Theros, my brother, the dwarf. I, myself, have seen my share of battle—”
“And me,” piped Tasslehoff.
“And the kender,” Laurana added grimly. “Besides, it will not come to bloodshed.” Her eyes saw Sturm’s troubled face and wondered what he was thinking. Her voice softened. “The decision is up to Sturm, of course. He must do as