Dragonlance 08 - Dragons of the Highlord Skies (17 page)

13

Recovery. Fewmaster Toede

surpasses expectations.

itiara fought on. Clawed hands had hold of her, and she lashed out in fury, kicking and hitting, and screaming curses. “Hold her down!” a guttural voice ordered angrily. “I’m trying, sir!” panted another. “Belek, sit on her feet. Rult, pour more water down her throat!”

A heavy weight immobilized Kit’s lower limbs. Strong hands seized her wrists and prized open her jaws. Someone poured water into her mouth.

The water went down the wrong way, and Kitiara choked. Gasping for air brought her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes and saw monstrous faces leering at her. She couldn’t move and she tensed to fight, then the mists cleared and she realized the faces were covered in scales, not fur, and none of them were faces from her past.

They were kapak faces, and the lizard-men had never looked so wonderful to her as they did now.

“You can let go of me,” she mumbled.

The commander regarded her warily, then gave a nod of his head. The kapak who had been sitting on her legs got up, groaned and limped off—apparently she had kneed him in a sensitive spot. The two kapak soldiers who held her wrists backed off.

“What about the guardian?” Kit asked.

“Dead,” said the commander.

Kit nodded thankfully and closed her eyes to let the dizziness pass.

“What was it?” she demanded.

“Hard to tell,” said the kapak. “You hacked it to bits. Whatever it was, none of us had ever seen one before.”

“Some foul creation of the wizard’s,” said Kit, shuddering. “You’re
sure
it’s dead?”

“Very,” replied the commander.

Kitiara sighed and relaxed. She was not in pain, but she felt weak and trembly and her brain wasn’t working right. Her father had been there … and Tanis. But that wasn’t possible, and the dragon orb, talking to her …

Kit’s eyes flared open. “The dragon orb! I have to go save it—”

“No, you don’t,” said the commander. “Sleet’s guarding the orb. Takhisis’s orders. You should rest. You’ve earned it.”

“How long have I been out?” Kit wondered confusedly. “A week,” said the kapak.

“A week!” Kitiara repeated, staring at him disbelief. “The healing water closed your wounds, but you lost a lot of blood, then a fever set in. We thought you were dead a couple of times. Her Dark Majesty must think highly of you.”

“And you went to all this trouble to save me.” Kit shook her head and noticed even that small motion exhausted her. “Why didn’t you just let me die? You dracos don’t have much love for humans.”

“We don’t like humans,” the kapak agreed, “but we don’t like elves more.”

Kit smiled weakly. “Speaking of elves, I’m surprised Feal-Thas didn’t kill me.”

“He hasn’t been here with flowers,” said the kapak dryly. “In fact, he hasn’t been here at all. He’s holed up in that ice palace of his.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t know his guardian’s dead.”

“Oh, he knows,” said the kapak. “The winternorn knows everything. They say he can read minds. He’s cunning, that one. He has as many twists and turns as a snake. If you want my opinion, he set you up to die. He wants you out of the way. One less rival.”

Kitiara thought this over. It made sense, as much as anything made sense around here.

“I’ll guess I’ll have to kill him,” she said. “Give me my sword—”

She tried to sit up. The kapak gave her a shove and Kit fell back on the bed with a groan.

“Maybe I’ll wait until tomorrow …” she mumbled.

The commander chuckled. “I can see why you’re a Dragon Highlord. And speaking of dragons, a blue has been hanging about, worried sick about you. He threatened to tear down the castle if anything happened to you. I never saw a dragon in such a stew.”

“It must be Skie. Good old Skie.” Kitiara sighed deeply and contently. “Tell Skie I’m all right, will you? And thanks, Commander. For everything.”

She rolled over on her side, hugged the fur blankets around her, and went to sleep.

Two days and several caribou steaks later, Kitiara felt well enough to leave her bed. The first thing she did was to see for herself that the guardian was truly dead. She ventured cautiously into the narrow tunnel, sword in hand. The blood—her blood—was frozen in the ice, but no corpse. The kapak had told her there wasn’t much left of the monster, and now there was nothing at all.

Feal-Thas must have removed the remains. Either that or they’d disappeared on their own.

Kit left the chamber where she’d almost died and continued down the tunnel to the dragon’s lair, intending to discuss Ariakas’s plan for the dragon orb. This did not go well, for Sleet proved to be every bit as dull and obtuse as Skie had predicted. The white dragon blinked at Kit with heavy eyelids, scratched her ear with a clawed foot, and tilted her head to the side, as if viewing Kitiara from that angle somehow made her instructions clearer. At length Sleet yawned, lay her head down on the ice, and closed her eyes.

“Do you understand what you’re supposed to do?” Kitiara asked, exasperated.

“I’m to guard the dragon orb,” Sleet muttered.

“Guard it from Feal-Thas,” said Kit.

“I hate Feal-Thas.” The dragon’s lip curled back over her teeth.

“When the Solamnic knight comes, you—”

“I hate Solamnic knights,” the dragon added, and rolling over on her back, she fell asleep with her legs in the air and her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Kit gave up and walked out. She hoped they all killed each other.

Kit was ready to leave Icereach. She had decided against seeking revenge on Feal-Thas. Ariakas more than half-suspected her of being complicit in the death of Lord Verminaard. She didn’t want the emperor to think she was going about Ansalon on a quest to murder his Highlords. She would have her revenge on the elf, but in a time and place of her choosing, not his.

She sent a message to Feal-Thas in his Ice Palace, saying she was leaving. His message back to her read,
I didn’t know you were still here
.

“The emperor was a fool to put a dark elf in charge of anything,” Skie remarked when Kitiara told him her tale. “Good elves are bad, but bad elves are worse.”

The two stood on a wind-swept ice field outside the castle walls. Kitiara was bundled in furs and held her hand over her eyes to protect against the blinding glare of the sun off the ice. She wondered irritably how a sun this bright could shed such little heat.

“You should go inside,” Skie added. “Your teeth are chattering.”

“So are yours,” said Kit, fondly stroking the neck of the blue dragon. Icicles hung off Skie’s chin, making it look as if he had grown a hoary beard.

“I’m cold inside and out,” said the dragon glumly. “When do we leave this horrible place?”

“I have to read those dispatches Ariakas sent first, see if he has any orders for me.”

She left the dragon stomping about the glacier, flapping his wings, trying to keep warm.

The first dispatch she read was from Emperor Ariakas, informing her of victories in the eastern part of Krynn. The Highlord Lucien of Takar now had half the continent under his control, or so Ariakas claimed. Kitiara ground her teeth as she read this. Solamnia would be under her control now if Ariakas had permitted it. As for Lucien, what had he conquered? Kender, elves, and goat herders. Bah!

Ariakas said he hoped her meeting with Highlord Feal-Thas was going well. Kitiara growled deep in her throat at this. He expected her to send him a full report.

Kitiara sat for a long while, pondering the message. Something was wrong. Ariakas had never before written her anything as formal and stiff as this. The letter was not even in his handwriting. He had dictated it. Always before he had written to her personally.

There were many reasons why Ariakas might have dictated this message—he was fighting a war, trying to govern a large region, searching for the Green Gemstone man, dealing with an impatient goddess. Small wonder if he did not have time to write her a personal note.

Still, Kit was bothered by this and by other small details. She had expected him to ask for her report in person and he had instead told her to write it. He had said nothing about future orders. He had said nothing about Solamnia. Kitiara decided she would leave the blue wing to search for Tanis around Thorbardin. She would travel immediately to Neraka to find out what was going on.

She rolled up the missive in a tight twist and held it to the flame floating atop the seal oil. She watched the fire consume it, dropping it only when the flame was about to burn her fingers.

The next thirty or so dispatches were all from Fewmaster Toede. Kit glanced over them, grinning. They were copies of dispatches sent to commanders of the forces of the Red Dragonarmy containing orders that contradicted his former orders that countermanded his previous orders. Kitiara figured the commanders simply tossed these away, which is what she was prepared to do when she noticed that one was addressed to her.

Kitiara settled down and prepared to enjoy it, figuring the inanities of the hobgoblin would at least give her a good laugh.

The opening salutation did just that. Written in a hand certainly not belonging to the hobgoblin, it took up half a page and began by addressing Kitiara as: “Most Exalted, Revered and Esteemed Highlord, Honored Among Men and Gods and Nations,” and it went on from there. She skipped over most of it to reach the main body of the missive, which began by describing the pleasure the Fewmaster had received from meeting her and expressing his ardent desire that he be permitted to polish her boots again the next time they met, which he hoped and prayed to Her Dark Majesty would be soon.

Then Kitiara’s chuckles ceased. She sat bolt upright and reread the paragraph.

My spies in Thorbardin report that those persons in whom you most graciously expressed an interest, these being those assassins who murdered our much beloved and deeply lamented Lord Verminaard (may Chemosh embrace him) have left the mountain fastness of the dwarves and are reportedly en route to Tarsis, trying to flee the justice they so richly deserve
.

“Tarsis …” murmured Kitiara, interested. She read on.

Immediately upon receiving this news, I put out a bounty on these criminals and I fully expect they will be captured soon. Knowing that your most gracious lordship was interested in seeing these miscreants brought to account and for your lordship’s further edification, I have included here within a copy of the bounty notice I drew up, complete with the names and descriptions of these assassins. I have sent these notices to the commanders of our illustrious forces in the region. I confidently expect to have these criminals under lock and key at any moment
.