The elves were not, after all, caught unprepared. Lorac had lived too long for that. Ships waited to take the people to safety. Lorac ordered them to depart under his daughter’s command. Then, when he was alone, he descended to the chambers beneath the Tower of the Stars where he had secreted the dragon orb.
Only his daughter and the long-lost elven clerics knew of the orb’s existence. All others in the world believed it destroyed in the Cataclysm. Lorac sat beside it, staring at it for long days. He recalled the warnings of the High Mages, bringing to mind everything he could remember about the orb. Finally, though fully aware that he had no idea how it worked, Lorac decided he had to use it to try and save his land.
He remembered the globe vividly, remembered it burning with a swirling, fascinating green light that pulsed and strengthened as he looked at it. And he remembered knowing, almost from the first seconds he had rested his fingers on the globe, that he had made a terrible mistake. He had neither the strength nor the control to command the magic. But by then, it was too late. The orb had captured him and held him enthralled, and it had been the most hideous part of his nightmare to be constantly reminded that he was dreaming, yet unable to break free.
And now the nightmare had become waking reality. Lorac bowed his head, tasting bitter tears in his mouth. Then he felt gentle hands upon his shoulders.
“Father, I cannot bear to see you weep. Come away from the window. Come to bed. The land will be beautiful once more in time. You will help to shape it-”
But Alhana could not look out the window without a shudder. Lorac felt her tremble and he smiled sadly.
“Will our people return, Alhana?” He stared out into the green that was not the vibrant green of life but that of death and decay.
“Of course,” Alhana said quickly.
Lorac patted her hand. “A lie, my child? Since when have the elves lied to each other?”
“I think perhaps we may have always lied to ourselves,” Alhana murmured, recalling what she had learned of Goldmoon’s teaching. “The ancient gods did not abandon Krynn, Father. A cleric of Mishakal the Healer traveled with us and told us of what she had learned. I-I did not want to believe, Father. I was jealous. She is a human, after all, and why should the gods come to the humans with this hope? But I see now, the gods are wise. They came to humans because we elves. would not accept them. Through our grief, living in this place of desolation, we will learn-as you and I have learned-that we can no longer live within the world and live apart from the world. The elves will work to rebuild not only this land, but all lands ravaged by the evil.”
Lorac listened. His eyes turned from the tortured landscape to his daughter’s face, pale and radiant as the silver moon, and he reached out his hand to touch her.
“You will bring them back? Our people?”
“Yes, Father.” she promised, taking his cold, fleshless hand in her own and holding it fast. “We will work and toil. We will ask forgiveness of the gods. We will go out among the peoples of Krynn and-” Tears flooded her eyes and choked her voice, for she saw Lorac could no longer hear her. His eyes dimmed, and he began to sink back in the chair.
“I give myself to the land,” he whispered. “Bury my body in the soil, daughter. As my life brought this curse upon it, so, perhaps, my death will bring its blessing.”
Lorac’s hand slipped from his daughter’s grasp. His lifeless eyes stared out into the tormented land of Silvanesti. But the look of horror on his face faded away, leaving it filled with peace.
And Alhana could not grieve.
That night, the companions prepared to leave Silvanesti.
They were to travel under the cover of darkness for much of their journey north, since by now they knew the dragonarmies controlled the lands they must pass through. They had no maps to guide them. They feared trusting ancient maps anymore, after their experience with the landlocked seaport city Tarsis. But the only maps that could be found in Silvanesti dated back thousands of years. The companions decided to travel north from Silvanesti blindly, with some hope of discovering a seaport where they could find passage to Sancrist.
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