Darkness swallowed them. Involuntarily, they crept closer together. Silvara seemed to have vanished with the light. Gilthanas called for her, but she did not answer.
Then the mist turned to shimmering silver. They could see once more, and now they could see Silvara, a dark, shadowy outline against the silvery mist. She stood at the foot of the bridge, staring up into the sky. Slowly she raised her hands, and slowly the mists parted. Looking up, the companions saw the mists separate like long, graceful fingers to reveal the silver moon, full and brilliant in the starry sky.
Silvara spoke strange words, and the moonlight poured down upon her, bathing her in its light. The moon’s light shone upon the bubbling waters, making them come alive, dancing with silver. It shone upon the marble bridge, giving life to the knights who spent eternity crossing the stream.
But it was not these beautiful sights that caused the companions to clasp each other with shaking hands or to hold each other closely. The moon’s light on the water did not cause Flint to repeat the name of Reorx in the most reverent prayer he ever uttered, or cause Laurana to lean her head against her brother’s shoulder, her eyes dimmed with sudden tears, or cause Gilthanas to hold her tightly, overwhelmed by a feeling of fear and awe and reverence.
Soaring high above them, so tall its head might have torn a moon from the sky, was the figure of a dragon, carved out of a mountain of rock, shining silver in the moonlight.
“Where are we?” Laurana asked in a hushed voice. “What is this place?”
“When you cross the Bridge of Passage, you wall stand before the Monument of the Silver Dragon.” answered Silvara softly. “It guards the Tomb of Huma, Knight of Solamnia.”
The Tomb of Huma.
In Solinari’s light, the Bridge of Passage across the bubbling streams of Foghaven Vale gleamed like bright pearls threaded on a silver chain.
“Do not fear.” Silvara said again. “The crossing is difficult only for those who seek to enter the Tomb for evil purposes.”
But the companions remained unconvinced. Fearfully they climbed the stairs leading them up to the bridge itself. Then, hesitantly, they stepped upon the marble arch that rose before them, glistening wet with the steam from the springs. Silvara crossed first, walking lightly and with ease. The rest followed her more cautiously, keeping to the very center of the marble span.
Across from them, on the other side of the bridge, loomed the Monument of the Dragon. Even though they knew they must watch their footing, their eyes seemed constantly drawn up to it. Many times, they were forced to stop and stare in awe, while below them the hot springs boiled and steamed.
“Why-I bet that water’s so hot you could cook meat in it!” Tasslehoff said. Lying flat on his stomach, he peered over the edge of the highest part of the arched bridge.
“I’ll b-bet it c-could c-cook you,” stuttered the terrified dwarf, crawling across on his hands and knees.
“Look, Flint! Watch. I’ve got this piece of meat in my pack. I’ll get a string and we’ll lower it in the water-”
“Get moving!” Flint roared. Tas sighed and closed his pouch.
“You’re no fun to take anywhere.” he complained, and he slid down the other side of the span on the seat of his pants.
But for the rest of the companions, it was a terrifying journey, and all of them sighed in heartfelt relief when they came down off the marble bridge onto the ground below.
None of them had spoken to Silvara as they crossed, their minds being too occupied with getting over the Bridge of Passage alive. But when they reached the other side, Laurana was the first to ask questions.
“Why have you brought us here?”
“Do you not trust me, yet?” Silvara asked sadly.
Laurana hesitated. Her gaze went once again to the huge stone dragon, whose head was crowned with stars. The stone mouth was open in a silent cry, and the stone eyes stared fiercely. The stone wings were carved out of the sides of the mountain. A stone claw stretched forth, as massive as the trunks of a hundred vallenwood trees.
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