Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [185]
“Laurana, the door’s stuck!” Tas shouted. “The dragon orb—”
“Come on!” Laurana yanked at the kender’s hand. Lightning flashed, and Tas turned and fled, hearing the room behind him explode into flame. Rock and stone filled the chamber. The white light of the dragon orb was buried in the debris as the Tower of the High Clerist collapsed on top of it.
The shock threw Laurana and Tas off balance, sending them slamming against the wall. Tas helped Laurana to her feet, and the two of them kept going, heading for the bright daylight.
Then the ground was still. The thunder of falling rock ceased. There was only a sharp crack now and again or a low rumble. Pausing a moment to catch their breath, Tas and Laurana looked behind them. The end of the passage was completely blocked, choked by the huge boulders of the Tower.
“What about the dragon orb?” Tas gasped.
“It is better destroyed.”
Now that Tas could see Laurana more clearly in the daylight, he was stunned at the sight. Her face was deathly white, even her lips drained of blood. The only color was in her green eyes, and they seemed disturbingly large, shadowed by purple smudges.
“I could not use it again,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I nearly gave up. Hands … I can’t talk about it!” Shivering, she covered her eyes.
“Then I remembered Sturm, standing upon the wall, facing his death alone. If I gave in, his death would be meaningless. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let him down.” She shook her head, trembling. “I forced the orb to obey my command, but I knew I could do it only once. And I can never, never go through that again!”
“Sturm’s dead?” Tas’s voice quavered.
Laurana looked at him, her eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Tas,” she said “I didn’t realize you didn’t know. He—he died fighting a Dragon Highlord.”
“Was it—was it …” Tas choked.
“Yes, it was quick,” Laurana said gently. “He did not suffer long.”
Tas bowed his head, then raised it again quickly as another explosion shook what was left of the fortress.
“The dragonarmies …” Laurana murmured. “Our fight is not ended.” Her hand went to the hilt of Sturm’s sword, which she had buckled around her slender waist. “Go find Flint.”
Laurana emerged from the tunnel into the courtyard, blinking in the bright light, almost surprised to see it was still day. So much had happened, it seemed to her years might have passed. But the sun was just lifting over the courtyard wall.
The tall Tower of the High Clerist was gone, fallen in upon itself, a heap of stone rubble in the center of the courtyard. The entryways and halls leading to the dragon orb were not damaged, except where the dragons had smashed into them. The walls of the outer fortress still stood, although breached in places, their stone blackened by the dragons’ lightning bolts.
But no armies poured through the breaches. It was quiet, Laurana realized. In the tunnels behind her, she could hear the dying screams of the second dragon, the hoarse shouts of the knights finishing the kill.
What had happened to the army? Laurana wondered, looking around in confusion. They must be coming over the walls. Fearfully she looked up at the battlements, expecting to see the fierce creatures pouring over them.
And then she saw the flash of sunlight shining on armor. She saw the shapeless mass lying on the top of the wall.
Sturm. She remembered the dream, remembered the bloody hands of the draconians hacking at Sturm’s body.
It must not happen! she thought grimly. Drawing Sturm’s sword, she ran across the courtyard and immediately realized the ancient weapon would be too heavy for her to wield. But what else was there? She glanced around hurriedly. The dragonlances! Dropping the sword, she grabbed one. Then, carrying the lightweight footman’s lance easily, she climbed the stairs.
Laurana reached the top of the battlements and stared out across the plain, expecting to see the black tide of the army surging forward. But the plain