Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [34]
Closing her eyes, she conjured up an image in her mind and sent a message speeding to the outskirts of the city where her friends waited to carry her from this world of humans. Receiving their telepathic answer in reply, Alhana sighed and began anxiously to scan the smoke-filled skies, waiting.
“Ah,” said Raistlin calmly as the first horn calls shattered the stillness of the afternoon, “I told you so.”
Riverwind cast an irritated glance at the mage, even as he tried to think what to do. It was all very well for Tanis to say protect the group from the town guards, but to protect them from armies of draconians, from dragons! Riverwind’s dark eyes went over the group. Tika rose to her feet, her hand on her sword. The young girl was brave and steady, but unskilled. The Plainsman could still see the scars on her hand where she had cut herself.
“What is it?” Elistan asked, looking bewildered.
“The Dragon Highlord, attacking the city,” Riverwind answered harshly, trying to think.
He heard a clanking sound. Caramon was getting up, the big warrior appearing calm and unperturbed. Thank goodness for that. Even though Riverwind detested Raistlin, he had to admit that the mage and his warrior brother combined steel and magic effectively. Laurana, too, he saw, appeared cool and resolute, but then she was an elf—Riverwind had never really learned to trust elves.
“Get out of the city, if we don’t return,” Tanis had told him. But Tanis hadn’t foreseen this! They would get out of the city only to meet the armies of the Dragon Highlords on the Plains. Riverwind now had an excellent idea who had been watching them as they traveled to this doomed place. He swore to himself in his own language, then—even as the first dragons swept down over the city—he felt Goldmoon’s arm around him. Looking down, he saw her smile—the smile of Chieftain’s Daughter—and he saw the faith in her eyes. Faith in the gods, and faith in him. He relaxed, his brief moment of panic gone.
A shock wave hit the building. They could hear the screams in the streets below, the roaring whoosh of the fires.
“We’ve got to get off this floor, back to ground level,” Riverwind said. “Caramon, bring the knight’s sword and the other weapons. If Tanis and the others are—” He stopped. He had been about to say “still alive,” then saw Laurana’s face. “If Tanis and the others escape, they’ll return here. We’ll wait for them.”
“Excellent decision!” hissed the mage caustically, “especially as we have nowhere else to go!”
Riverwind ignored him. “Elistan, take the others downstairs. Caramon and Raistlin, stay with me a moment.” After they were gone, he said swiftly, “Our best chance, the way I see it, is to stay inside, barricade ourselves in the Inn. The streets will be deadly.”
“How long do you think we can hold out?” Caramon asked.
Riverwind shook his head. “Hours, maybe,” he said briefly.
The brothers looked at him, each of them thinking about the tortured bodies they had seen in the village of Que-shu, of what they had heard about the destruction of Solace.
“We cannot be taken alive,” Raistlin whispered.
Riverwind took a deep breath. “We’ll hold out as long as we can,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “but when we know we can last no longer—”
He stopped, unable to continue, his hand on his knife, thinking of what he must do.
“There will be no need for that,” Raistlin said softly. “I have herbs. A tiny bit in a glass of wine. Very quick, painless.”
“Are you certain?” Riverwind asked.
“Trust me,” Raistlin replied. “I am skilled in the art. The art of herblore,” he amended smoothly, seeing the Plainsman shudder.
“If I am alive,” Riverwind said softly, “I will give her, them—the drink myself. If not—”
“I understand. You may trust me,” the mage repeated.
“What about Laurana?” Caramon asked. “You know elves. She won’t—”
“Leave it to me,” Raistlin repeated softly.
The Plainsman stared at the mage, feeling horror creep over him. Raistlin stood before him coolly, his arms folded in the sleeves of his robe, his hood pulled up over his