Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [43]
“I don’t know,” she replied. “We parted. He was going to the Inn, to find you. I called my griffons to me.”
“Why didn’t you let him take you to Silvanesti if you needed warriors?”
“That is none of your concern.” Alhana turned her back to Tanis, who sat wordlessly, too tired to think clearly. Then he heard a voice shouting at him, barely distinguishable through the feathery rustle of the griffon’s mighty wings.
It was Caramon. The warrior was shouting and pointing behind them. What now? Tanis thought wearily.
They had left behind the smoke and the storm clouds that covered Tarsis, flying out into the clear night sky. The stars gleamed above them, their sparkling lights shining as cold as diamonds, emphasizing the gaping black holes in the night sky where the two constellations had wheeled in their track above the world. The moons, silver and red, had set, but Tanis did not need their light to recognize the dark shapes blotting out the shining stars.
“Dragons,” he said to Alhana. “Following us.”
Tanis could never afterward clearly remember the nightmare flight from Tarsis. It was hours of chill, biting wind that made even death by a dragon’s flaming breath seem appealing. It was hours of panic, staring behind to see the dark shapes gaining on them, staring until his eyes watered and the tears froze on his cheeks, yet unable to turn away. It was stopping at dusk, worn out from fear and fatigue, to sleep in a cave on a high rock cliff. It was waking at dawn only to see—as they soared through the air again, the dark, winged shapes still behind them.
Few living creatures can outfly the eagle-winged griffon. But the dragons—blue dragons, the first they had ever seen—were always on the horizon, always pursuing, allowing no rest during the day, forcing the companions into hiding at night when the exhausted griffons must sleep. There was little food, only quith-pa, a dried-fruit type of iron ration that sustains the body, but does little to ease hunger—which Alhana carried and shared. But even Caramon was too weary and dispirited to eat much.
The only thing Tanis remembered vividly occurred on the second night of their journey. He was telling the small group huddled around a fire in a damp and cheerless cave about the kender’s discovery in the library at Tarsis. At the mention of the dragon orbs, Raistlin’s eyes glittered, his thin face lit from within by an eager, intense glow.
“Dragon orbs?” he repeated softly.
“I thought you might know of them,” Tanis said. “What are they?”
Raistlin did not answer immediately. Wrapped in both his own and his brother’s cloak, he lay as near the fire as possible, and still his frail body shook with the chill. The mage’s golden eyes stared at Alhana, who sat somewhat apart from the group, deigning to share the cave but not the conversation. Now, however, it seemed she half-turned her head, listening.
“You said there is a dragon orb in Silvanesti,” the mage whispered, glancing at Tanis. “Surely I am not the one to ask.”
“I know little about it,” Alhana said, turning her pale face to the firelight. “We keep it as a relic of bygone days, more a curiosity than anything else. Who believed humans would once again wake this evil and bring the dragons back to Krynn?”
Before Raistlin could answer, Riverwind spoke angrily. “You have no proof it was humans!”
Alhana swept the Plainsman an imperious glance. She did not reply, considering it beneath her to argue with a barbarian.
Tanis sighed. The Plainsman had little use for elves. It had taken long days before he had come to trust Tanis, longer for Gilthanas and Laurana. Now, just as Riverwind seemed to be able to overcome his inherited prejudices, Alhana with her equal prejudices had inflicted new wounds.
“Very well, Raistlin,” Tanis said quietly, “tell us what you know of the dragon orbs.”
“Bring my drink, Caramon,” the mage ordered. Bringing the cup of hot water as commanded, Caramon set it before his brother. Raistlin propped himself up on one elbow and mixed herbs into the water. The strange,