Legacy of Steel Page 24

  Sara watched the two knights separate and approach the hut cautiously from two directions. Although she could not hear a sound, she guessed from the tension in the men's faces that their quarry was at home.

  All at once Derrick and the second knight scrambled back as two small girls in ragged dresses came pelting out of the doorway, their faces contorted in terror. A third form, a young man, flew out behind them, though it was obvious, even from Sara's position, that the man had been flung out. He landed in the mud in front of the girls and lay spread-eagled, shattered beyond hope of life. The two girls slid to a frantic stop and turned to bolt in another direction, unaware that the two knights were close by.

  Abruptly a huge shape paused in the doorway, then burst into the open, its face contorted with fury.

  Sara's stomach lurched in reaction. She had only heard about such brutes in the past few years, since it was rumored that the monstrous manlike things were spawns of Chaos, sprung from the earth during the Second Cataclysm. Chaos giants, they were called, and they were three times the height of a man and three as broad.

  This one looked as if it had eaten well. Its heavy body was ponderous with muscle and fat that rolled and bulged like cooling lava. Its great hairless head hunkered on its shoulders like a monolith crudely carved with thick, bulbous features. It saw the two knights immediately. It stamped the earth and bellowed its fury at the puny intruders.

  Derrick shouted something to the girls. They stared, stunned by the sudden appearance of the men, then the elder grabbed the younger's hand and fled up the path into the swamp.

  Both knights attacked the giant at once.

  The battle raged around the clearing. The giant, like a bull besieged by dogs, charged after first one assailant, then the other, and each time it thundered after one knight, the other harried it from behind. Again and again the giant rushed to catch one man in its crushing hands, and each time the knight slipped away.

  Alone, neither man could have fought the superior strength of the giant and survived, but together they worked as a team and wore the brute down to a staggering exhaustion.

  At last, bleeding from a dozen sword cuts and drenched in sweat, the giant stumbled to one side, lost its balance, and toppled over. The ground shook from the impact.

  Derrick and the Solamnic knight threw themselves at its prostrate body before the gigantic creature could get up and stabbed their swords through its eyes deep into its brain. The giant bawled in outrage, shuddered violently, and lay motionless.

  Sara exhaled in a slow breath. It was over.

  The knights, pleased with their success, shook hands and slapped each other on the back. Both looked tired and battered, but neither man was seriously injured.

  They rested for a few minutes before the Solamnic Knight walked over to the bizarre hut and gestured to Derrick. They entered the shelter. Then Sara saw them come out carrying a wooden strongbox. Back inside they went and brought out more boxes, some leather bags, and a few pieces of finely crafted weaponry and armor. Soon they had a goodly pile of spoils from the beast's lair.

  They fell into conversation again, this time over the heap of treasure and valuables. Sara watched in growing alarm as the talk grew heated. Both men argued their point with increasing aggression and animosity. Their faces darkened, their gestures turned sharp and savage.

  Suddenly swords were drawn. The blades angrily clashed above the heap of spoils.

  Stop it! Sara tried to cry, but she could not move her lips.

  Once they crossed swords, neither knight would surrender to the other. They were too evenly matched and too stubborn with pride. Ferociously they fought across the same ground they had struggled over together. The Solamnic drew blood first, cutting Derrick deeply across the thigh. The Dark Knight crashed back against the giant's body, his face contorted in pain. Blood flowed freely from the wound.

  Stop it! cried Sara's soul.

  Neither knight could hear her. Derrick threw himself forward and brought his sword whistling around in a vicious undercut toward his opponent's ribs.

  The Knight of the Rose was too exhausted to avoid the blow completely. He swerved left just enough so Derrick's blade missed his ribs, but the sharp edge slid across the chain mail and caught him under the armpit, where the mail did not protect him. Blood soaked his tunic and mail.

  Now both men bled freely. They swayed and staggered across the slippery mud and hacked at each other in clumsy, brutal blows that became automatic. There was no thought left in either knight, only the primal need to kill.

  There could be no victor in a battle such as this. While Sara stared, wracked by grief, Derrick struck a heavy blow to the Solamnic's leg. The knight could not evade it. The blade slashed deep into the muscle just behind his knee.

  The Knight of the Rose could no longer hold himself up. Disbelieving, torn by pain, he toppled over and crashed into the mud.

  Derrick looked stunned. He sank slowly to his knees, unaware of the blood that soaked his leather leggings. The color drained from his face. He tried to lean his weight on his sword, but he had no strength left. His eyes rolled up into his head, his hands slipped off the bloody sword, and he fell sideways beside the other knight. His ribs rose and fell, then sank slowly into stillness.

  The vision stopped on this scene, everything held in place as if a sorcerer had frozen an image in a mirror.

  Sara stared frantically at the two knights for some sign of life until her head pounded and her eyes burned with tears. The picture blurred and wavered; the dark well of her vision swirled inward.

  "No," she cried out loud. "He can't be…" Somewhere within her, she was aware of pain, deep and biting, and of anger at the senseless waste.

  "Mother," a voice whispered beside her.

  The image of Derrick dissolved into dark motes and was blown away on a sudden gust of wind.

  "Mother."

  Steel? Sara raised her head, her hope raw in her heart at the sound of that beloved voice. Her fingers clutched at the cold stone, and she pulled herself to her feet.

  "Steel?" she cried brokenly, and her hand came to rest again over his cold appendage.

  A dazzling light flared beside her. She blinked and rubbed the spots in her eyes, half-blinded by the unexpected light. By squinting hard, she adjusted her sight to the new radiance and finally saw its source.

  Steel stood at the foot of the catafalque. Or something did. His lifeless body still lay supine on the marble, yet his image stood before her, his form bathing her in soft white light. The vision looked so real, Sara reached out her hand to touch him, then jerked it back, afraid to learn that the image might not be her son.

  He smiled at her then, his crooked grin filled with love and understanding, and Sara lost any doubt. Sometimes a mother's love sees clearer than fallible eyes.

  She did not try to speak. She simply filled her gaze with him, his fine features, his black hair, the line of his jaw, the angle of his shoulders. She soaked in his presence like dry earth absorbing a spring rain.

  He lifted his hand, and his fingers closed around something. A second light, pure and white, welled from his fist. Steel reached out to the only mother he ever had.

  Sara was shaking like a leaf. Instinctively she held out her hand, palm up.

  "Mother," Steel said, his words ringing in the dark tomb. "All we have is each other," and he dropped the white light into her hand.

  The light pulsed like a tiny star, dazzling and exquisitely beautiful. A sudden burst of radiance surged through Sara and sent her senses reeling.

  "Steel!" she cried frantically. She could no longer see him, could no longer feel the stone-coldness of his hand. The light became a darkness so complete that Sara could not bear it. She staggered and fell onto something frigid and unrelenting that sapped away what little strength she had left. She tried once to push herself up and found she had not the energy to move her arms or legs. She sagged down to the stone floor and lay there while the cold seeped insidiously into her limbs
.

  Unable to move, unwilling to leave, she closed her eyes. Her breath fluttered out in a sigh, and her weary spirit fled to the comfort of sleep.

  23

  "Do you think she enjoys sleeping on snow-covered stone?" the first voice murmured.

  "Sure. Why else would she do it?" answered a second.

  "It is rather cold tonight. We might find her frozen stiff in the morning."

  The second voice sounded pleased by that prospect. "Do you think so? They'd have to pry the body off the step. That might be interesting to watch."

  Sara listened to this conversation in an offhand sort of way. It meant nothing to her.

  "Do you think she's dead already?" the second voice added hopefully.

  A finger poked Sara's shoulder. "No. Look, she's warm and still breathing, too."

  Small hands patted her belt and her clothes. "See This?" said the first excitedly. "She's a dragon rider."

  "Ooooh, I wonder where her dragon is. I'd love to see a dragon. I haven't seen any dragons since the summer it got so hot.

  "That's probably a good thing. There are some dragons I never want to see."

  Something about the talk of dragons set off a nagging spark in Sara's exhausted mind. Dragons? No, just one dragon. A special one of deep blue. Flare? No, her memory told her, Flare was dead. Cobalt, then. He was alone, looking for someone.

  "He will be back," she whispered to the two voices.

  "She said something!" the first voice cried in excitement. "Maybe she'll wake up now and talk to us."

  A finger poked her shoulder harder. "Hey, dragon rider, are you asleep?"

  The voices, Sara noted, were childlike and pleasant, too high-pitched to be human. She groaned, then hauled her eyes open and found herself literally nose to nose with two kender bent over her face.

  "She's awake," yelped the first voice. This voice belonged to a slender female with a round apple face and a bountiful topknot of nut-brown hair. She grinned at Sara.

  Her companion, a young male kender, asked without preamble, "Why are you sleeping on the stone steps? Is it an adventure, a penance, a bet? Is it fun? Could we try it with you?"

  Sara gazed at them, unblinking, for several long minutes. Bits of memory, odd visions, and the feeling of something urgent floated around in her mind. "I don't know…" she replied, her thoughts fuzzy. "I didn't mean to."

  "Ahh! Of course," the female kender snapped her fingers. "She's sick."

  Sara noticed she was lying across the stone steps of some building at such an angle that the steps were digging into her back and shoulders. It was dark and a light snow fell around her. What an odd place to be, she mused. So thick and unwieldy were her thoughts, she gave up trying to make sense of anything and turned her attention toward making her body move.

  The male kender patted Sara's shoulder and proffered a small hand to help her up. He was about the same height as his companion. He had the same apple-round face, bright brown eyes, and an abundant head of redbrown hair tied in a topknot with a strip of yellow leather.

  "My name is Badger Coltsfoot, and this is my sister, Lemmi. Who are you? You don't look sick, but you look awfully tired. Do you know someone in the tomb? Is that why you're here? We don't get many dragon riders around here."

  Sara shook her head to stem the flow of questions. "Is Badger your name or what you do?" she asked with a small chuckle. She took his hand and let him slowly pull her up to a sitting position.

  Her head suddenly reeled, and for a moment she thought she would faint. She leaned her head between her knees and took several deep breaths.

  "Oh, what do you have in your hand?" Lemmi asked curiously. "It's beautiful."

  Sara didn't know she had anything in her hand. Curishe looked down at her right hand resting on her lap and saw that her fingers were tightly clenched over something small that glowed with its own soft white light. The light leaked between her fingers and made her skin glow red from the blood within.

  Sara choked on a cry. Her fingers opened, and there on her palm lay an elven jewel, carved in the shape of a star and hung on a slender steel chain. The only time she had seen that jewel before was the day Steel received it from his father, Sturm Brightblade, in a vision at the tombs in the High Clerist's Tower. As far as she knew, he had carried it ever since.

  Like the flare of a lamp in a darkened room that lights everything around it, the star jewel pulsed through the dark confusion of her brain and illuminated her thoughts and memories with pure clarity. Everything fell into place.

  Yet it all seemed so unreal. She twisted around and saw that the silver door to the tomb was closed tightly and the lamp was back on the wall. If it were not for the star jewel in her hand, she would have thought she had dreamed the whole thing.

  Sara realized this was too important to deal with alone, and besides, she could barely sit, not to mention stand or walk or summon Cobalt for a ride. Her legs were numb, and her hands were patched white with frostbite. She was trembling so badly, she could barely hold the jewel. She needed help.

  The young kender watched her expectantly.

  Remembering who she was dealing with, Sara slipped the steel chain over her head and tucked the jewel into her tunic. Badger looked slightly disappointed.

  "Do you know the Inn of the Last Home?" she asked both kender.

  Their faces lit up and Lemmi giggled. "I should say we do. The innkeeper just threw us out a little while ago."

  Sara frowned. That did not bode well for a message she wanted to send. Nevertheless, she didn't have anyone else. "Could you please go to Caramon Majere and tell him I'm here? Tell him my name is Sara Dunstan and I need his help. Again."

  Badger shrugged lightly. "Sure. Need anything else? Our tents are right over there. We're camping here for a few days while we visit the tomb and pay our respects to our Uncle Tas. We've met some fun people here. There was—"

  Lemmi tugged his arm, cutting off his enthusiastic explanations. "I think we'd better go see Innkeeper Majere, Badger, before it gets too late. We can tell Sara about our new friends later."

  Sara silently blessed the more practical Lemmi. She watched the two kender trot off into the darkness toward the distant lights of Solace. Now she could only sit and hope that Caramon or Tika would listen to the kender and come find her.

  Time lost all meaning for Sara, sitting by the tomb in the snowy night. She paid no heed to the cold or the darkness or the fact that her feet had no feeling. All she could think about was Derrick, Steel, and the jewel that hung about her neck. She did not even see Caramon and Tika come huffing out of the darkness.

  "Look!" she heard Tika Majere call. "It is Sara! Blessed Paladine, what are you doing out here?"

  Sara looked up at the faces of her rescuers and burst into tears.

  An hour later she was comfortably ensconced in a large chair in front of a roaring fire in the main room of the Majeres' inn. Tika had replaced Sara's damp, frosted clothes with dry ones and wrapped her in blankets while Caramon carefully removed her boots and set about treating her frostbitten hands and feet with warm water and gentle massage. She sat back in her chair and grinned stupidly while the two bustled around her and exclaimed over her condition. A mug of hot mulled wine was pressed into her hand, and Tika brought her a plate heaped with Otik's famous spiced potatoes, heaps of roasted meat, a wedge of golden cheese made only in Solace, and enough spice cakes to feed an army.

  The two kender who brought the Majeres naturally had to see what was happening, so they had followed Caramon, with Sara in his arms, back to the inn and made themselves at home near Sara. She was too grateful to to them to ask them to leave, so she pushed several spice cakes in their direction and fell on her own meal like a ravenous wolf. It was the best food she'd had since leaving Connersby.

  Once Sara's immediate needs were seen to, Tika and Caramon pulled chairs to her table to join her. She grinned her appreciation at them between bites and took the opportunity to study her friends.

  She h
ad met both Majeres that night nine years ago when she came begging Caramon for his help. Despite her ties to the Knights of Takhisis and her wild tale of Steel's parentage, he had believed her, and with his friend, Tanis Half-Elven, had taken Steel to the High Clerist's Tower to see the body of their friend, Sturm. It was during that visit that Steel was met by the spirit of| his father and given the elven star jewel.

  Although the visit had not persuaded Steel as Sara hoped it would, she had been indebted to the Majeres their trust and help. She stayed with them for several months after Steel returned to Storm's Keep and left only because she did not want to endanger them with her presence. She decided a small, isolated village far from Solace would be safer for them all, so she had wandered to Solamnia and eventually found Connersby. She had not seen the Majeres again until this night.

  She was pleased to see they had not changed very much in the past nine years. Tika's bright red hair had mellowed to a rich roan of gray and red, and her face had more wrinkles than Sara remembered, but her figure was still youthful, and her beauty had ripened to a full blush.

  Caramon was much the same as ever—bluff, hearty, and softhearted. If the big man was a little rounder in his barrel chest and a little more worn around the face, Sara put it down to the years and to the grief of losing his two oldest sons during the Summer of Chaos.

  When Sara finished her plate at last and pushed it away with a sigh of contentment, Tika whisked it away and came right back to the table. The Majeres exchanged a glance between them to see which one would speak first.

  It was Tika who refilled Sara's mug and said bluntly. "Sara, we are so glad to see you. But what are you doing here dressed in the clothes of a dragon rider?"

  With that simple question, Tika opened a floodgate in Sara's reserve. She had been so careful, so contained while in Neraka, she hadn't realized how much she missed having someone safe to talk to. She wrapped her hands around her mug and said to warn them, "It's a long tale."