Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [182]
Laurana ran toward the huge, gaping portcullis, the entryway into the Tower that made so little sense. The stone walls were a blur as she fled past them. Behind her she could hear a dragon swooping after her. She could hear its stertorous breathing, the rush of air past its wings. She heard the dragon rider’s command that stopped the dragon from following her right into the Tower. Good! Laurana smiled grimly to herself.
Running through the wide hallway, she sped swiftly past the second portcullis. Knights stood there, poised and ready to drop it.
“Keep it open!” she gasped breathlessly. “Remember!”
They nodded. She sped on. Now she was in the dark, narrower chamber where the oddly shaped, toothlike pillars slanted toward her with razor sharpness. Behind the pillars, she saw white faces beneath gleaming helms. Here and there, light sparkled on a dragonlance. The knights peered at her as she ran past.
“Get back!” she shouted. “Stay behind the pillars.”
“Sturm?” one asked.
Laurana shook her head, too exhausted to talk. She ran through the third portcullis—the strange one, the one with a hole in the center. Here stood four knights, along with Flint. This was the key position. Laurana wanted someone here she could depend on. She had no time for more than an exchange of glances with the dwarf, but that was enough. Flint read the story of his friend in her face. The dwarf’s head bowed for a moment, his hand covering his eyes.
Laurana ran on. Through this small room, beneath double doors made of solid steel and then into the chamber of the dragon orb.
Tasslehoff had dusted the orb with his handkerchief. Laurana could see inside it now, a faint red mist swirling with a myriad colors. The kender stood before it, staring into it, his magical glasses perched upon his small nose.
“What do I do?” Laurana gasped, out of breath.
“Laurana,” Tas begged, “don’t do this! I’ve read—if you fail to control the essence of the dragons within the orb, the dragons will come, Laurana, and take control of you!”
“Tell me what I need to do!” Laurana said firmly.
“Put your hands on the orb,” Tas faltered, “and—no—wait, Laurana!”
It was too late. Laurana had already placed both slender hands upon the chill crystal globe. There was a flash of color from inside the orb, so bright Tas had to avert his eyes.
“Laurana!” he cried in his shrill voice. “Listen! You must concentrate, clear your mind of everything except bending the orb to your will! Laurana …”
If she heard him, she made no response, and Tas realized she was already caught up in the battle for control of the orb. Fearfully he remembered Fizban’s warning, death for those you love, worse—the loss of the soul. Only dimly did he understand the dire words written in the flaming colors of the orb, but he knew enough to realize that Laurana’s soul was at balance here.
In agony he watched her, longing to help—yet knowing that he did not dare do anything. Laurana stood for long moments without moving, her hands upon the orb, her face slowly draining of all life. Her eyes stared deep into the spinning, swirling colors. The kender grew dizzy looking at it and turned away, feeling sick. There was another explosion outside. Dust drifted down from the ceiling. Tas stirred uneasily. But Laurana never moved.
Her eyes closed, her head bent forward. She clutched the orb, her hands whitening from the pressure she exerted. Then she began to whimper and shake her head. “No,” she moaned, and it seemed as if she were trying desperately to pull her hands away. But the orb held them fast.
Tas wondered bleakly what he should do. He longed to run up and pull her away. He wished he had broken this orb, but there was nothing he could do now. He could only stand and watch helplessly.
Laurana’s body gave a convulsive shudder. Tas saw her drop to her knees, her hands still holding fast to the orb. Then Laurana shook her head angrily. Muttering unfamiliar words