Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [186]
What could it mean? Laurana had no idea, and she was too exhausted to think. Her wild elation died. Weariness descended on her now, as did her grief. Dragging the lance behind her, she stumbled over to Sturm’s body lying in the blood-stained snow.
Laurana knelt beside the knight. Putting her hand out, she brushed back the wind-blown hair to look once more upon the face of her friend. For the first time since she had met him, Laurana saw peace in Sturm’s lifeless eyes.
Lifting his cold hand, she pressed it to her cheek. “Sleep, dear friend,” she murmured, “and let not your sleep be troubled by dragons.” Then, as she lay the cold white hand upon the shattered armor, she saw a bright sparkle in the blood-stained snow. She picked up an object so covered with blood she could not see what it was. Carefully Laurana brushed the snow and blood away. It was a piece of jewelry. Laurana stared at it in astonishment.
But before she could wonder how it came to be here, a dark shadow fell over her. Laurana heard the creak of huge wings, the intake of breath into a gigantic body. Fearfully she leaped to her feet and whirled around.
A blue dragon landed upon the wall behind her. Stone gave way as the great claws scrabbled for a hold. The creature’s great wings beat the air. From the saddle upon the dragon’s back, a Dragon Highlord gazed at Laurana with cold, stern eyes from behind the hideous mask.
Laurana took a step backward as the dragonfear overcame her. The dragonlance slipped from her nerveless hand, and she dropped the jewel into the snow. Turning, she tried to flee, but she could not see where she was going. She slipped and fell into the snow to lie trembling beside Sturm’s body.
In her paralyzing fear, all she could think of was the dream! Here she had died—as Sturm had died. Laurana’s vision was filled with blue scales as the creature’s great neck reared above her.
The dragonlance! Scrambling for it in the blood-wet snow, Laurana’s fingers closed over its wooden shaft. She started to rise, intending to plunge it into the dragon’s neck.
But a black boot slammed down upon the lance, narrowly missing her hand. Laurana stared at the shining black boot, decorated with gold work that gleamed in the sun. She stared at the black boot standing in Sturm’s blood, and she drew a deep breath.
“Touch his body, and you will die,” Laurana said softly. “Your dragon will not be able to save you. This knight was my friend, and I will not let his killer defile his body.”
“I have no intention of defiling the body,” the Dragon Highlord said. Moving with elaborate slowness, the Highlord reached down and gently shut the knight’s eyes, which were fixed upon the sun he would see no more.
The Dragon Highlord stood up, facing the elfmaid who knelt in the snow, and removed the booted foot from the dragonlance. “You see, he was my friend, too. I knew—the moment I killed him.”
Laurana stared up at the Highlord. “I don’t believe you,” she said tiredly. “How could that be?”
Calmly, the Dragon Highlord removed the hideous horned dragon mask. “I think you might have heard of me, Lauralanthalasa. That is your name, isn’t it?”
Laurana nodded dumbly, rising to her feet.
The Dragon Highlord smiled, a charming, crooked smile. “And my name is—”
“Kitiara.”
“How did you know?”
“A dream …” Laurana murmured.
“Oh, yes—the dream.” Kitiara ran her gloved hand through her dark, curly hair. “Tanis told me about the dream. I guess you all must have shared it. He thought his friends might have.” The human woman glanced down at the body of Sturm, lying at her feet. “Odd, isn’t it—the way Sturm’s death came true? And Tanis said the dream came true for him as well: the part where I saved his life.”
Laurana began to tremble. Her face, which had already been white with exhaustion, was so drained of blood it seemed transparent. “Tanis? … You’ve seen Tanis?”
“Just two days ago,” Kitiara said. “I left him in Flotsam, to look after matters while I was gone.”
Kitiara’s cold, calm words