Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [165]
The clerics of Paladine had lived in the High Clerist’s Tower during the Age of Dreams. Here young knights had come for their religious training and indoctrination. There were still many traces of the clerics’ presence left behind.
It wasn’t only fear of the legend that forced the dragonarmies to sit idle. It didn’t take a legend to tell their commanders that taking this tower was going to be costly.
“Time is in our favor,” stated the Dark Lady before she left. “Our spies tell us the knights have received little help from Palanthas. We’ve cut off their supplies from Vingaard Keep to the east. Let them sit in their tower and starve. Sooner or later their impatience and their stomachs will cause them to make a mistake. When they do, we will be ready.”
“We could take it with a flight of dragons,” muttered a young commander. His name was Bakaris, and his bravery in battle and his handsome face had done much to advance him in the Dark Lady’s favor. She eyed him speculatively, however, as she prepared to mount her blue dragon, Skie.
“Perhaps not,” she said coolly. “You’ve heard the reports of the discovery of the ancient weapon—the dragonlance?”
“Bah! Children’s stories!” The young commander laughed as he assisted her onto Skie’s back. The blue dragon stood glaring at the handsome commander with fierce, fiery eyes.
“Never discount children’s stories,” the Dark Lady said, “for these were the same tales that were told of dragons.” She shrugged. “Do not worry, my pet. If my mission to capture the Green Gemstone Man is successful, we will not need to attack the Tower, for its destruction will be assured. If not, perhaps I will bring you that flight of dragons you ask for.”
With that, the giant blue lifted his wings and sailed off toward the east, heading for a small and wretched town called Flotsam on the Blood Sea of Istar.
And so the dragonarmies waited, warm and comfortable around their fires, while—as the Dark Lady had predicted—the knights in their Tower starved. But far worse than the lack of food was the bitter dissension within their own ranks.
The young knights under Sturm Brightblade’s command had grown to revere their disgraced leader during the hard months that followed their departure from Sancrist. Although melancholy and often aloof, Sturm’s honesty and integrity won him his men’s respect and admiration. It was a costly victory, causing Sturm a great deal of suffering at Derek’s hands. A less noble man might have turned a blind eye to Derek’s political maneuvers, or at least kept his mouth shut (as did Lord Alfred), but Sturm spoke out against Derek constantly—even though he knew it worsened his own cause with the powerful knight.
It was Derek who had completely alienated the people of Palanthas. Already distrustful, filled with old hatreds and bitterness, the people of the beautiful, quiet city were alarmed and angered by Derek’s threats when they refused to allow the Knights to garrison the city. It was only through Sturm’s patient negotiations that the knights received any supplies at all.
The situation did not improve when the knights reached the High Clerist’s Tower. The disruption among the knights lowered the morale of the footmen, already suffering from a lack of food. Soon the Tower itself became an armed camp—the majority of knights who favored Derek were now openly opposed by those siding with Lord Gunthar, led by Sturm. It was only because of the knights’ strict obedience to the Measure that fights within the Tower itself had not yet broken out. But the demoralizing sight of the dragonarmies camped nearby, as well as the lack of food, led to frayed tempers and taut nerves.
Too late, Lord Alfred realized their danger. He bitterly regretted his own folly in supporting Derek, for he could see clearly now that Derek Crownguard was going insane.
The madness grew on him daily; Derek’s lust for power ate away at him and deprived him of his reason. But Lord Alfred was