Finally the ground grew level at their feet, the trees cleared, and they walked on smooth grass, brawn with winter. Although none of them could see more than a few feet in the gray fog, they had the impression they were in a wide clearing.
“This is Foghaven Vale,” Silvara replied in answer to their questions. “Long years ago, before the Cataclysm, it was one of the most beautiful places upon Krynn . . . so my people said.”
“It might still be beautiful,” Flint grumbled, “if we could see it through this confounded mist.”
“No,” said Silvara sadly. “Like much else in this world, the beauty of Foghaven has vanished. Once the fortress of Foghaven floated above the mist as if floating an a cloud. The rising sun colored the mists pink in the morning, burned them off at midday so that the soaring spires of the fortress could be seen for miles. In the evening, the fog returned to coven the fortress like a blanket. By night, the silver and the red moons shone on the mists with a shimmering light. Pilgrims came, from all parts of Krynn-” Silvara stopped abruptly. “We will make camp here tonight.”
“What pilgrims?” Laurana asked, letting her pack fall.
Silvara shrugged. “I do not know.” she said, averting her face. “It is only a legend of my people. Perhaps it is not even true. Certainly no one comes here now.”
She’s lying, thought Laurana, but she said nothing. She was too tired to care. And even Silvara’s low, gentle voice seemed unnaturally loud and jarring in the eerie stillness. The companions spread their blankets in silence. They ate in silence, too, nibbling without appetite on the dried fruit in their packs. Even the kender was subdued. The fog was oppressive, weighting them down. The only thing they could hear was a steady drip, drip, drip of water plopping onto the mat of dead leaves on the forest floor below.
“Sleep now,” said Silvara softly, spreading her blanket near Gilthanas’s, “for when the silver moon has neared its zenith, we must leave.”
“What difference will that make?” The kender yawned. “We can’t see it anyway.”
“Nonetheless, we must go. I will wake you.”
“When we return from Sancrist-after the Council of Whitestone-we can be married,” Gilthanas said softly to Silvara as they lay together, wrapped in his blanket.
The girl stirred in his arms. He felt her soft hair rub against his cheek. But she did not answer.
“Don’t worry about my father,” Gilthanas said, smiling, stroking the beautiful hair that shone even in the darkness. “He’ll be stern and grim for a while, but I am the younger brother-no one cares what becomes of me. I Porthios will rant
and rave and carry on. But we’ll ignore him. We don’t have to live with my people. I’m not sure how I’d fit in with yours, but I could learn. I’m a good shot with a bow. And I’d like our children to grow up in the wilderness, free and happy Silvara-why, you’re crying!”
Gilthanas held her close as she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing bitterly. “There, there.” he whispered soothingly, smiling in the darkness. Women were such funny creatures. He wondered what he’d said. “Hush, Silvara,” he murmured. “It will be all right.” And Gilthanas fell asleep, dreaming of silver-haired children running in the green woods.
..what..
“It is time. We must leave.”
Laurana felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. Startled, she woke from a vague, frightening dream that she could not remember to find the Wilder elf kneeling above her.
“I’ll wake the others.” Silvara said, and disappeared.
Feeling more tired than if she hadn’t slept, Laurana packed her things by reflex and stood waiting, shivering, in the darkness. Next to her, she heard the dwarf groan. The damp air was making his joints ache painfully.
This journey had been hard on Flint, Laurana realized. He was, after all, what-almost one hundred and fifty years old? A respectable age for a dwarf. His face had lost some of its color during his illness on the voyage. His lips, barely visible beneath the beard, had a bluish tinge, and occasionally he pressed his hand against his chest. But he always stoutly insisted he was fine and kept up with them on the trail.
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127