Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (76 page)

they are in the past. Your story is just begun, Silvanoshei

Caladon."

Mina reached out her hand, the chains ringing like altar bells.

She touched Silvan's cheek. Exerting a gentle pressure, she drew

him near. "Swear to me by the One True God that you will not

reveal what I am about to tell you to anyone."

"But I don't believe in this god," Silvan faltered. Her touch

was like the lightning bolt that had struck so near him, raised the

hair on his neck and arms, sent prickles of desire through his

bloodstream.

"The One God believes in you, Silvanoshei," Mina told him.

"That is all that matters. The One God will accept your oath."

"I swear, then, by the . . . One God." He felt uncomfortable,

saying the word, felt uncomfortable swearing the vow. He did not

believe, not at all, but he had the strange and uneasy impression

that his vow had been recorded by some immortal hand and that

he would be held to it.

"How did you enter the shield?" Mina asked.

"Glaucous raised the shield so that I could-" Silvan began,

but he stopped when he saw her smile. "What? Did this God lift

it for me, as you told Glaucous?"

"I told him what he wanted to hear. In effect, you did not

enter the shield. The shield captured you while you were

helpless."

"Yes, I see what you are saying." Silvan remembered back to

the night of the storm. "I was unconscious. I collapsed on one

side of the Shield and when I woke, I was on the other. I did not

move. The shield moved to cover me! Of course, that is the

explanation!"

"The shield will stand firm against an attack, but it will try to

apprehend the helpless, or so I was given to know. My soldiers

and I slept and while we slept, the shield moved over us."

"But if the shield protects the elves," Silvan argued. "How

could it admit our enemies?"

"The shield does not protect you," Mina replied. "The Shield

keeps out those who would help you. In truth, the shield is your

prison. Not only your prison, it is also your executioner."

Silvan drew back, away from her touch. Her nearness con-

fused him, made thinking difficult. "What do you mean?"

"Your people are dying of a wasting sickness," she said.

"Every day, many more succumb. Some believe the shield is caus-

ing this illness. They are partly right. What they do not know is

that the lives of the elves are being drained to provide energy to

the shield. The lives of your people keep the shield in place. The

shield is now a prison. Soon it will be your tomb."

Silvan sank back on his heels. "I don't believe you."

"I have proo£" Mina said. "What I speak is true. I swear by

my God."

"Then give your proof to me," Silvan urged. "Let me consider

it."

"I will tell you, Silvanoshei, and gladly. My God sent me here

with that purpose. Glaucous-"

"Your Majesty," said a stem voice outside the tent.

Silvan cursed softly, turned swiftly.

"Remember, not a word!" Mina warned.

His hand trembling, Silvan opened the tent flap to see General

Konnal, flanked by the two guards.

"Your Majesty," General Konnal repeated and his voice held a

patronizing tone that grated on Silvan, "not even a king may dis-

miss those who guard such an important and dangerous prisoner.

Your Majesty places himself in peril, and that cannot be allowed.

Take up your positions," the general ordered.

The elf guard moved to stand in front of the prison tent.

Words of explanation clustered thick on Silvan's tongue, but

he couldn't articulate any of them. He might have said that he

was there to interrogate the prisoner about the shield, but that

was coming too close to her secret, and he feared he could not

mention one without revealing the other.

"I will escort Your Majesty back to his tent," said Konnal.

"Even heroes must sleep."

Silvan maintained a silence that he hoped was the silence of

injured dignity and misunderstood intentions. He fell into step

beside the generaL walked past campfires that were being al-

lowed to die down. Those elves not out on patroL searching for

the humans, had wrapped themselves in their blankets and were

already asleep. Elf healers tended to the wounded, made them

.. comfortable. The camp was quiet and still.

"Good night, General," said Silvan coldly. "1 give you joy on

your victory this day." He started to enter his tent.

"I advise Your Majesty to go straight to bed," the General said.

"You will need to be rested for tomorrow. To preside over the

execution."

"What?" Silvan gasped. He caught hold of the tent post to

steady himself. "What execution? Whose?"

"Tomorrow at noon, when the glorious sun stands high in the

sky to serve as our witness, we will execute the human," said

Konnal. He did not look at the king as he spoke, but stared

straight into the night. "Glaucous has recommended it, and in

this I agree with him."

"Glaucous!" Silvan repeated.

He remembered Glaucous in the tent, remembered the fear he

had sensed in him. Mina had been about to tell Silvan something

about Glaucous before they had been interrupted.

"You cannot kill her!" Silvan said firmly. "You will not. I

forbid it."

"I am afraid that Your Majesty has no say in this matter," said

Konnal. "The Heads of House have been apprised of the situa-

tion. They have voted, and their vote is unanimous."

"How will she be killed?" Silvan asked.

Konnallaid a kindly hand on the king's shoulder. "I know this

is an onerous task, Your Majesty. You don't need to remain to

watch. Just step out and say a few words, and then retire to your

tent. No one will think the worse of you."

"Answer me, damn you!" Silvan cried, striking the man's

hand away.

Konnal's face froze. "The human is to be taken to the field that

is drenched in the blood of our people. She is to be tied to a stake.

Seven of our best archers will be chosen. When the sun is directly

overhead, when the human no longer casts a shadow, the archers

will fire seven arrows into her body."

Silvan could not see the general for the blinding white rage

that filled his being. He clenched his fist, dug his nails into his

flesh. The pain helped him steady his voice. "Why does Glaucous

say she must die?"

"His reasoning is sound. So long as she lives, the humans will

remain in the area, hoping to rescue her. With her execution, they

will lose all hope. They will be demoralized. Easier to locate,

easier to destroy."

Silvan felt his gorge rise. He feared he would be sick, but

he struggled to make one last argument. "We elves revere life.

We do not by law take the life of any elf, no matter how terri-

ble his or her crime. Elf assassins exist, but only outside the

law."

"We do not take the life of an el£" Konnal answered. "We take

the life of a human. Goodnight Your Majesty. I will send a mes-

senger to you before dawn."

Silvan entered his tent and shut the flap behind him. His ser-

vants awaited him.

"Leave me," Silvan ordered irritably, and the servants hur-

riedly departed.

Silvan threw himself on his bed, but he was up almost imme-

diately. He flung himself into a chair and stared moodily into the

darkness. He could not let this girl die. He loved her. Adored her.

He had loved her from the moment he had seen her standing

courageously, fearlessly, among her soldiers. He had stepped off

the precipice of sanity and plummeted down on love's sharp

rocks. They tore and mangled him. He gloried in the pain and

wanted more.

A plan formed in his mind. What he was doing was wrong.

He might well be placing his people in danger, but-he ar-

gued-what they were doing was wrong, and their wrong was

greater than his. He was, in a way, saving them from themselves.

Silvan gave the general time to return to his tent, then

wrapped himself in a dark cloak. He thrust a long, sharp knife

into his boot. Peering out of the tent flap, he looked to see that no

one was about. He left his tent sneaked through the slumbering

camp with quiet tread.

Two guards, alert and watchfuL stood outside Mina's tent.

Silvan did not go near them. He circled to the back of the tent

where he had hidden to eavesdrop on Glaucous. Silvan looked

carefully around. The woods were only a few paces away. They

could reach them easily. They would find a cave. He would hide

her there in safety, come to visit her in the night bring her food,

water, his love. . .

Removing the knife, Silvan placed its sharp point against

the fabric of the tent and, working carefully and silently, cut a

slit near the bottom. He crawled through the slit and inside the

tent.

The candle still burned. Silvan was careful to keep his body

from passing in front of it afraid that the guards would see his

shadow.

Mina had fallen asleep on her straw pallet. She slept on her

side, her legs drawn up, her hands-still chained-curled up

against her breast. She looked very fragile. Her slumbers were

seemingly dreamless, and peaceful. Her breath came and went

easily through her nose and her parted lips.

Silvan clapped his hand over her mouth to prevent any star-

tled exclamation. "Mina!" he whispered urgently. "Mina."

Her eyes opened. She made no sound. The amber eyes gazed

up at him, aware of him, cognizant of her surroundings.

"Don't be afraid," he said and realized as he said it that this

girl had never known fear. She did not know fear now. "I've come

to free you." He tried to speak calmly, but his voice and his hands

trembled. "We can escape out the back of the tent into the woods.

We have to get these manacles off."

He moved his hand away. "Call the guard. He has the key. Tell

him you're ill. I'll wait in the shadows and-"

Mina put her fingers on his lips, stopped his words. "No," she

said. "Thank you, but I will not leave."

"What was that?" one of the guards asked his fellow. "Did

you hear something?"

"It came from inside the tent."

Silvan lifted his knife. Mina laid a restraining hand on his

arm. She began to sing.

Sleep, love; forever sleep.

Your soul the night will keep.

Embrace the darkness deep.

Sleep, love; forever sleep.

The voices of the guards ceased.

"There," she said to Silvan. "The guards are asleep. We may

talk without fear."

"Asleep. . ." Silvan lifted the tent flap. The guards remained

standing at their posts, their heads bowed, their chins resting on

their chests. Their eyes were closed.

"Are you a sorceress?" he asked, coming back to her.

"No, I am only a faithful follower," Mina replied. "The gifts I

have are from my God."

"May your God keep you safe. Hurry, Mina! Out this way. We

will find a path not far from here. The path runs through. . ."

Silvan halted.

She was shaking her head.

"Mina," he said desperately, "we must escape! They're going

to execute you at noon this very day. With the rising of the sun.

Glaucous has convinced them. He fears you, Mina."

"He has good reason to fear me," she said sternly.

"Why, Mina?" Silvan asked. "You were going to tell me some-

thing about him. What is it?"

"Only that he is not what he appears and that by his magic,

your people are dying. Tell me this "-she put her hand upon his

cheek-"is it your desire to punish Glaucous? Reveal his inten-

tions to your people and thereby reveal his murderous plan?"

"Yes, of course, but what-"

"Then do as I instruct you," Mina said. "Do exactly as I say.

My life is in your keeping. If you fail me-"

"I will not fail you, Mina," Silvan whispered. Seizing her

hand, he pressed it to his lips. "I am yours to command."

"You will attend my execution- Hush! Say nothing. You

promised. Make certain that you are armed. Position yourself at

Glaucous's side. Keep a large number of your bodyguards

around you. Will you do that?"

"Yes, but what then? Must I watch you die?"

"You will know what to do and when to do it. Rest assured.

The One God is with us. You must go now, Silvan. The general

will send someone to your tent to check on you. He must not find

you absent."

To leave her was to leave a part of himself. Silvan reached out

his hand, ran his fingers over her head, felt the warmth of her

skin, the sofu1ess of the downlike hai4 the hardness of the bone

beneath. She held perfectly still under his touch, did not warm to

him, but did not move away from him either.

"What did your hair look like, Mina?" he asked.

"It was the color of flame, long and' thick. The strands would

curl around your finger and tug at your heart like a baby's

hand."

"Your hair must have been beautiful," Silvan said. "Did you

lose it in a fever?"

"I cut it," she told him. "I took a knife and I cut it off at the

roots."

"Why?" He was aghast.