Steel and Stone

Read Steel and Stone Online

Authors: Ellen Porath

Young Haudo crept along the back of the ridge, remembering everything his father had told him about tracking game. Even before he slipped his head above the ridge, he smelled the acrid stench of the minotaurs. He caught, also, the greasy fish smell of the thanoi, the walrus men. And Haudo smelled something else—a nasty odor of garbage and rancid meat. Then he peered at his village, barely keeping from coughing in the smoky haze, and his breath caught in his throat. “Two-headed beasts!” he whispered.

He wanted to jump back, to avoid seeing the image he knew would never vanish from his mind. His kinsmen, his friends, lay sprawled in death on the blood-soaked snow. Minotaurs, walrus men, and the two-headed monsters brought body after body forth from iceblock huts and skin tents. A few bodies were still twitching. An old man moaned, and one of the two-headed brutes hurried over, waving a spiked club over its head.

Overseeing it all was the robed figure of a man, silhouetted against the southern sky.…

The DRAGONLANCE
®
Saga

Chronicles Trilogy

Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Dragons of Winter Night

Dragons of Spring Dawning

Tales Trilogy

The Magic of Krynn

Kender, Gully Dwarves, and Gnomes

Love and War

Heroes Trilogy

The Legend of Huma

Stormblade

Weasel’s Luck

Preludes Trilogy

Darkness and Light

Kendermore

Brothers Majere

Meetings Sextet

Kindred Spirits

Wanderlust

Dark Heart

The Oath and the Measure

Steel and Stone

The Companions (January 1993)

Legends Trilogy

Time of the Twins

War of the Twins

Test of the Twins

Tales II Trilogy

The Reign of Istar

The Cataclysm

The War of the Lance (Nov. 1992)

Heroes II Trilogy

Kaz, the Minotaur

The Gates of Thorbardin

Galen Beknighted

Preludes II Trilogy

Riverwind, the Plainsman

Flint, the King

Tanis, the Shadow Years

Elven Nations Trilogy

Firstborn

The Kinslayer Wars

The Qualinesti

The Art of the DRAGONLANCE Saga
The Atlas of the DRAGONLANCE World

To all who have dared to enter Darken Wood,
this book is dedicated

 

With thanks to the following: Mary Kirchoff, for taking a chance on me; Pat McGilligan, for his blunt criticism; J. Eric Severson, for the book title and many nifty ideas; Bill Larson, for his careful editing; and B. Wolfgang Hoffmann, for the author photo.

STEEL AND STONE
D
RAGONLANCE
®
Meetings Sextet • Volume Five
©1992 TSR, Inc.

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Published by Wizards of the Coast LLC. Hasbro SA,
represented by Hasbro Europe, Stockley Park, UB11 1AZ. UK
.

D
RAGONLANCE
, Wizards of the Coast, D&D, their respective logos, and TSR, Inc. are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries. All other trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

All Wizards of the Coast characters and their distinctive likenesses are property of Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Cover art by: Clyde Caldwell

eISBN: 978-0-7869-6327-0
640-A1584000-001-EN

For customer service, contact:

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Visit our websites at
www.wizards.com
www.DungeonsandDragons.com

v3.1

Contents
P
ROLOGUE

F
OG HUNG LOW OVER THE DAMP GROUND, CLINGING
to scattered crusts of dirty snow as night eased into predawn gray. A black-haired woman, mist curling around her knee-high ebony boots, slapped canvas tents with an ungloved hand as she wove through a nearly silent camp. A few dozen soldiers were already awake; they looked up and smiled as she passed.

“It’s time to earn your pay, you lazy meadow slugs,” she snapped at the slumbering men. “Get moving!” In her wake, curses resounded. Soldiers verbally abused the woman’s ancestors as the men groped for weapons, boots, and helmets. One by one they opened tent flaps and emerged into the winter chill. The soldiers
fastened woolen cloaks at their necks and swore at the weather’s bite.

“By the gods, couldn’t the crazy Valdane and his accursed mage have waited until summer?” a bearded man complained, glaring over a red nose and sandy mustache toward two large tents erected uphill from the main camp, a hundred paces away.

“Quiet, Lloiden!” his companion cautioned. An elderly-looking man had appeared suddenly in the opening of the smaller of the two tents and now fastened a dark gaze directly on the pair of complainers. The old man’s black robe was tied at the waist with a silken rope, from which hung a dozen gathered pouches. Gaunt fingers toyed with one pouch, and Lloiden’s companion went pale. He again gestured to his tentmate to remain silent.

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