Margaret Weis - Dragons of Winter Night (Dragonlance Chronicles, Volume II)

I N THE INN OF THE RED DRAGON

Do not fear, knight. The lives of those you leave in our care are safe if any are safe. Farewell, my friends, Raistlin hissed, his strange hourglass eyes gleaming. And a long farewell it will be. Some of us are not destined to meet again in this world! With that, he bowed and, gathering his red robes around him, began to climb the stairs.

Trust Raistlin to exist with a flourish, Tanis thought irritably, but there was no more time for talk. The sound of booted feet was nearing the door.

Go on! he ordered Caramon. If hes right, theres nothing we can do about it now.

The world grows more dangerous, and now the heroes have been separated. This dark prediction and even darker dreams haunt them as they search for the mysterious dragon orbs and the legendary dragonlance.

DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES
Volume Two
DRAGONS OF WINTER NIGHT
1985 TSR, Inc.
Cover Copyright 2000 Wizards of the Coast LLC

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. W IZARDS OF THE C OAST , D RAGONLANCE , D UNGEONS & D RAGONS , D&D, their respective logos and A DVANCED D UNGEONS & D RAGONS are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries.

All Wizards of the Coast characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof are trademarks owned by Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Cover art by Matt Stawicki
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-65605

eISBN: 978-0-7869-5438-4

Visit our web site at www.wizards.com

v3.1

To my parents, Dr. and Mrs. Harold R. Hickman,
who taught me what true honor isTracy Raye Hickman

To my parents, Frances and George Weis, who gave
me a gift more precious than lifethe love of booksMargaret Weis

We gratefully acknowledge the help of the authors of the
Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dragonlance
role-playing adventure game modules:

Douglas Niles, Dragons of Ice; Jeff Grubb, Dragons of Light; and
Laura Hickman, co-author, Dragons of War.

Finally, to Michael: Est Sularus oth Mithas.

T he winter winds raged outside, but within the caverns of the mountain dwarves beneath the Kharolis Mountains, the fury of the storm was not felt. As the Thane called for silence among the assembled dwarves and humans, a dwarven bard stepped forward to do homage to the companions.

Song of the Nine Heroes

From the north came danger, as we knew it would:
In the vanguard of winter, a dragons dance
Unraveled the land, until out of the forest,
Out of the plains they came, from the mothering earth,
The sky unreckoned before them.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

One from a garden of stone arising,
From dwarf-halls, from weather and wisdom,
Where the heart and mind ride unquestioned
In the untapped vein of the hand.
In his fathering arms, the spirit gathered.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

One from a haven of breezes descending,
Light in the handling air,
To the waving meadows, the kenders country,
Where the grain out of smallness arises itself
To grow green and golden and green again.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, the long lands keeping,
Nurtured in distance, horizons of nothing.
Bearing a staff she came, and a burden
Of mercy and light converged in her hand:
Bearing the wounds of the world, she came.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, in the moons shadow,
Through custom, through ritual, trailing the moon
Where her phases, her wax and her wane, controlled
The tide of his blood, and his warriors hand
Ascended through hierarchies of space into light.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

One within absences, known by departures,
The dark swordswoman at the heart of fire:
Her glories the space between words,
The cradlesong recollected in age,
Recalled at the edge of awakening and thought.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

One in the heart of honor, formed by the sword,
By the centuries flight of the kingfisher over the land,
By Solamnia ruined and risen, rising again
When the heart ascends into duty.
As it dances, the sword is forever an heirloom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next in a simple light a brother to darkness,
Letting the sword hand try all subtleties,
Even the intricate webs of the heart. His thoughts
Are pools disrupted in changing wind
He cannot see their bottom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The next the leader, half-elven, betrayed
As the twining blood pulls asunder the land,
The forests, the worlds of elves and men.
Called into bravery, but fearing for love,
And fearing that, called into both, he does nothing.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.

The last from the darkness, breathing the night
Where the abstract stars hide a nest of words,
Where the body endures the wound of numbers,
Surrendered to knowledge, until, unable to bless,
His blessing falls on the low, the benighted.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight: