Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

Laurana waited until his breathing became quiet and regular.

Then she led Silvara from the room, gripping the dragonlance firmly beneath her cloak.

“Who goes there?” softly called a human voice in elven.

“Who asks?” replied a clear elven voice.

“Gilthanas? Is that you?”

“Theros! My friend!” The young elflord stepped swiftly from the shadows to embrace the human blacksmith. For a moment Gilthanas was so overcome he could not speak. Then, startled, he pushed back from the smith’s bearlike hug. “Theros! You have two arms! But the draconians in Solace cut off your right arm! You would have died, if Goldmoon hadn’t healed you.”

“Do you remember what that pig of a Fewmaster told me?” Theros asked in his rich, deep voice, whispering softly. ” ‘The only way you’ll get a new arm, smith, is to forge it yourself!’ Well, I did just that! The story of my adventures to find the Silver Arm I wear now is a long one-”

“And not for telling now,” grumbled another voice behind him. “Unless you want to ask a couple of thousand elves to hear it with us.”

“So you managed to escape, Gilthanas,” said Derek’s voice out of the shadows. “Did you bring the dragon orb?”

“I did not escape.” Gilthanas returned coldly. “I left my father’s house to accompany my sister and Sil-her maid through the darkness. Taking the orb is my sister’s idea, not mine. There is still time to reconsider this madness, Laurana.” Gilthanas turned to her. “Return the orb. Don’t let Porthios’s hasty words drive away your common sense. If we keep the orb here, we can use it to defend our people. We can find out how it works, we have magic-users among us.”

“Let’s just turn ourselves over to the guards now! Then we can get some sleep where it’s warm!” Flint’s words came out in explosive puffs of frost.

“Either sound the alarm now, elf, or let us go. At least give us time before you betray us,” Derek said.

“I have no intention of betraying you,” Gilthanas stated angrily. Ignoring the others, he turned once more to his sister. “Laurana?”

“I am determined on this course of action,” she answered slowly. “I have thought about it and I believe we are doing the right thing. So does Elistan. Silvara will guide us through the mountains-”

“I, too, know the mountains,” Theros spoke up. “I have had little to do here but wander them. And you’ll need me to get you past the guards.”

“Then we are resolved.”

“Very well.” Gilthanas sighed. “I am coming with you. If I stayed behind, Porthios would always suspect me of complicity.”

“Fine,” snapped Flint. “Can we escape now? Or do we need to wake up anyone else?”

“This way,” Theros said. “The guards are accustomed to my late night rambles. Stay in the shadows, and let me do the talking.” Reaching down, he caught hold of Tasslehoff by the collar of his heavy fur coat and lifted the kender off the ground to look him right in the eye. “That means you, little thief,” the big smith said sternly.

“Yes, Theros,” the kender replied meekly, squirming in the man’s silver hand until the smith set him down. Somewhat shaken, Tas readjusted his pouches and tried to regain his injured dignity.

The companions followed the tall, dark-skinned smith along the outskirts of the silent elven encampment, moving as quietly as possible for two armor-clad knights and a dwarf. To Laurana, they sounded as loud as a wedding party. She bit her lip to keep silent as the knights clanked and rattled in the darkness, while Flint fell over every tree root and splashed through every puddle.

But the elves lay wrapped in their complacency like a soft, fleecy blanket. They had safely fled the danger. None believed it would find them again. And so they slept as the companions escaped into the night.

Silvara, carrying the dragon orb, felt the cold crystal grow warm as she held it near her body felt it stir and pulse with life.

“What am I to do?” she whispered to herself distractedly in Kaganesti, stumbling almost blindly through the darkness. “This came to me! Why? I don’t understand? What am I to do?”