Dragons of Spring Dawning by Weis, Margaret

Flint quit peering at the rock wall to watch Laurana walk toward them from a great dark hallway, which opened onto the battlement. She was dressed once more in the armor she had worn at the High Clerist’s Tower; the blood had been cleaned off the gold-decorated steel breastplate, the dents repaired. Her long, honey-colored hair flowed from beneath her red-plumed helm, gleaming in Solinari’s light. She walked slowly, her eyes on the eastern horizon where the mountains were dark shadows against the starry sky. The moonlight touched her face as well. Looking at her, Flint sighed.

“She’s changed,” he said to Tasslehoff softly. “And elves never change. Do you remember when we met her in Qualinesti? In the fall, only six months ago. Yet it could be years-”

“She’s still not over Sturm’s death. It’s only been a week,” Tas said, his impish kender face unusually serious and thoughtful.

“It’s not just that.” The old dwarf shook his head. “It had something to do with that meeting she had with Kitiara, up on the wall of the High Clerist’s Tower. It was something Kitiara did or said. Blast her!” the dwarf snapped viciously. “I never did trust her! Even in the old days. It didn’t surprise me to see her in the get-up of a Dragon Highlord! I’d give a mountain of steel coins to know what she said to Laurana that snuffed the light right out of her. She was like a ghost when we brought her down from the wall, after Kitiara and her blue dragon left. I’ll bet my beard,” muttered the dwarf, “that it had something to do with Tanis.”

“I can’t believe Kitiara’s a Dragon Highlord. She was always . . . always . . .” Tas groped for words, “well, fun!”

“Fun?” said Flint, his brows contracting. “Maybe. But cold and selfish, too. Oh, she was charming enough when she wanted to be.” Flint’s voice sank to a whisper. Laurana was getting close enough to hear. “Tanis never did see it. He always believed there was more to Kitiara beneath the surface. He thought he alone knew her, that she covered herself with a hard shell to conceal her tender heart. Hah! She had as much heart as these stones.”

“What’s the news, Laurana?” Tas asked cheerfully as the elf-maid came up to them.

Laurana smiled down at her old friends, but-as Flint said- it was no longer the innocent, gay smile of the elfmaid who had walked beneath the aspen trees of Qualinesti. Now her smile was like the bleakness of the sun in a cold winter sky. It gave light but no warmth-perhaps because there was no matching warmth in her eyes.

“I am commander of the armies,” she said flatly.

“Congratu-” began Tas, but his voice died at the sight of her face.

‘There is nothing to congratulate me about,” Laurana said bitterly. “What do I command? A handful of knights, stuck in a ruined bastion miles away in the Vingaard mountains, and a thousand men who stand upon the walls of this city.” She clenched her gloved fist, her eyes on the eastern sky that was beginning to show the faintest glimmer of morning light. “We should be out there! Now! While the dragonarmy is still scattered and trying to regroup! We could defeat them easily. But, no, we dare not go out onto the Plains-not even with the dragonlances. For what good are they against dragons in flight? If we had a dragon orb-”

She fell silent for a moment, then drew a deep breath. Her face hardened. “Well, we don’t. It’s no use thinking about it. So we’ll stand here, on the battlements of Palanthas, and wait for death.”

“Now, Laurana” Flint remonstrated, clearing his throat gruffly, “perhaps things aren’t that dark. There are good solid walls around this city. A thousand men can hold it easily. The gnomes with their catapults guard the harbor. The knights guard the only pass through the Vingaard Mountains and we’ve sent men to reinforce them. And we do have the dragonlances-a few at any rate, and Gunthar sent word that more are on the way. So we can’t attack dragons in flight? They’ll think twice about flying over the walls-“