Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

“What gifts we received from the gods we earned. You humans and half-humans”-the scorn in her voice cut like a dagger-“had these same gifts and threw them away in your greed for more. We are capable of fighting for our own survival without your help us to your survival, that matters little to us.”

“You seem willing enough to accept our help now!”

“For which you will be well-rewarded,” Alhana returned.

“There is, not steel nor jewels enough in Silvanesti to pay us.”

“You seek the dragon orbs.” Alhana interrupted. “I know where one is located. It is in Silvanesti!”

Tanis blinked. For a moment, he could think of nothing to say, but the mention of the dragon orb brought back thoughts of his friend. “Where’s Sturm?” he asked Alhana. “The last I saw him, he was with you.”

“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 noise 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 right 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 drapes 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 outcry 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, darting the companions into hiding at night when the exhausted griffons must sleep. There was little food, only quith-pah, 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 a both his own and his brothers cloak, he lay as near the fire as possible, and all his trail body shook with the chill. The mage’s golden eyes stared at Alhana, who sat somewhat apart from the group, deigning to share the cane but not the conversation. Now, however, it seemed she half-turned her head, listening.

“You said there is a dragon orb in Silvanesti.” the wage 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 of a curiosity than anything else. Who believed humans would once again wake this evil and bring the dragons back to Krynn?”