Dragons of Spring Dawning by Weis, Margaret

“We’re not going anywhere!” Laurana said angrily, staring at the creatures in alarm.

At first Flint thought they were small dragons, but as he drew nearer, the dwarf caught his breath.

“Wyvern!” he breathed.

Distantly related to dragons, wyvern are smaller and lighter and were often used by the Highlords to relay messages, as the griffons were used by the elven lords. Not nearly as intelligent as dragons, the wyvern are noted for their cruel and chaotic natures. The animals in the grove peered at the companions with red eyes, their scorpion-like tails curled menacingly. Tipped with poison, the tail could sting an enemy to death within seconds.

“Where is Tanis?” Laurana demanded.

“He grew worse,” Gakhan answered. “If you want to see him, you must come to Dargaard Keep.”

“No,” Laurana drew back, only to feel Bakaris’s hand close over her arm in a firm grip.

“Don’t call for help,” he said pleasantly, “or one of your friends will die. Well, it seems we’re taking a little trip to Dargaard Keep. Tanis is a dear friend. I’d hate for him to miss seeing you.” Bakaris turned to the draconian. “Gakhan, go back to Kalaman. Let us know the reaction of the people when they discover their ‘general’ missing.”

Gakhan hesitated, his dark reptilian eyes regarding Bakaris warily. Kitiara had warned him something like this might occur. He guessed what Bakaris had in mind-his own private revenge. Gakhan could stop Bakaris, that was no problem. But there was the chance that-during the unpleasantness-one of the prisoners might escape and go for help. They were too near the city walls for comfort. Blast Bakaris anyway! Gakhan scowled, then realized there was nothing he could do but hope Kitiara had provided for this contingency. Shrugging, Gakhan comforted himself with the thought of Bakaris’s fate when he returned to the Dark Lady.

“Certainly, Commander,” the draconian replied smoothly. Bowing, Gakhan faded back into the shadows. They could see his cloaked figure darting from tree to tree, heading for Kalaman. Bakaris’s face grew eager, the cruel lines around the bearded mouth deepened.

“Come on. General.” Bakaris shoved Laurana toward the wyvern.

But instead of advancing, Laurana whirled to face the man,

“Tell me one thing,” she said through pale lips. “Is it true? Is Tanis with … with Kitiara? Th-the note said he was wounded at Vingaard Keep . . . dying…”

Seeing the anguish in her eyes-anguish not for herself, but for the half-elf, Bakaris smiled. He had never dreamed revenge could be so satisfying. “How should I know? I’ve been locked in your stinking prison. But I find it difficult to believe he’d be wounded. Kit never allowed him near a fight! The only battles he wages are those of love…”

Laurana’s head drooped. Bakaris laid a hand on her arm in mocking sympathy. Angrily Laurana shook free, turning to keep her face hidden.

“I don’t believe you!” Flint growled. “Tanis would never allow Kitiara do this-”

“Oh, you’re right there, dwarf,” Bakaris said, realizing quickly just how far his lies would be believed. “He knows nothing of this. The Dark Lady sent him to Neraka weeks ago, to prepare for our audience with the Queen.”

“You know, Flint,” Tas said solemnly. “Tanis was really fond of Kitiara. Do you remember that party at the Inn of the Last Home? It was Tanis’s Day of Life Gift party. He’d just ‘come of age’ by elven standards and-boy! Was that some party! Do you remember? Caramon got a tankard of ale dumped over his head when he grabbed Dezra. And Raistlin drank too much wine and one of his spells misfired and burned up Otik’s apron, and Kit and Tanis were together in that corner next to the fire-pit, and they were-”

Bakaris glanced at Tas in annoyance. The commander disliked being reminded of how close Kitiara really was to the half-elf.

“Tell the kender to keep quiet, General,” Bakaris growled, “or I’ll let the wyvern have him. Two hostages would suit the Dark Lady just as well as three.”

“So it is a trap,” Laurana said softly, looking around in a daze. “Tanis isn’t dying . . . he’s not even there! I’ve been a fool-“