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Margaret Weis - Dragons of Autumn Twilight (Dragonlance Chronicles, Volume I)

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A N UNLIKELY GROUP OF HEROES Tanis Half-Elven leader of the companions A - photo 1

A N UNLIKELY GROUP OF HEROES

Tanis Half-Elven, leader of the companions. A skilled fighter who detests fighting, he is tormented by love for two womenthe tempestuous swordswoman, Kitiara, and the enchanting elfmaiden, Laurana.

Sturm Brightblade, Knight of Solamnia. Once revered in the days before the cataclysm, the knights have since fallen into disgrace. Sturms goalmore important to him than life itselfis to restore the honor of the knighthood.

Goldmoon, Chieftains Daughter. Bearer of the blue crystal staff, her love for a tribal outcast, Riverwind, leads them both on a dangerous quest in search of the truth.

Riverwind, Grandson of Wanderer. Given the blue crystal staff in a city where death flew on black wings, he barely escaped with his life. And that was only the beginning.

Raistlin, Caramons twin brother, magic-user. Though his health is shattered, Raistlin possesses great powers beyond his young age. But dark mysteries are concealed behind his strange eyes.

Caramon, Raistlins twin brother, warrior. A genial giant of a man, Caramon is the exact opposite of his twin. Raistlin is the one person he cares forand the one person he fears.

Flint Fireforge, dwarf, fighter. Taniss oldest friend, the ancient dwarf regards these youngsters as his children.

Tasslehoff Burrfoot, kender, handler. Kenderthe nuisance race of Krynnare immune to fear. Consequently, trouble just seems to follow them home.

T HE EIGHT ARE GIVEN THE POWER TO SAVE THE WORLD . B UT FIRST THEY MUST LEARN TO UNDERSTAND THEMSELVESAND EACH OTHER .

The Lands of Abanasinia

DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES Volume one DRAGONS OF AUTUMN TWILIGHT 1984 TSR - photo 2

DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES Volume one DRAGONS OF AUTUMN TWILIGHT 1984 TSR - photo 3

DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES
Volume one
DRAGONS OF AUTUMN TWILIGHT
1984 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, and their respective logos 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 property of Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Cover art by Matt Stawicki
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-65602

eISBN: 978-0-7869-5437-7

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v3.1

Contents
Canticle of the Dragon

Hear the sage as his song descends
like heavens rain or tears,
and washes the years, the dust of the many stories
from the High Tale of the Dragonlance.
For in ages deep, past memory and word,
in the first blush of the world
when the three moons rose from the lap of the forest,
dragons, terrible and great,
made war on this world of Krynn.

Yet out of the darkness of dragons,
out of our cries for light
in the blank face of the black moon soaring,
a banked light flared in Solamnia,
a knight of truth and of power,
who called down the gods themselves
and forged the mighty Dragonlance, piercing the soul
of dragonkind, driving the shade of their wings
from the brightening shores of Krynn.

Thus Huma, Knight of Solamnia,
Lightbringer; First Lancer;
followed his light to the foot of the Khalkist Mountains,
to the stone feet of the gods,
to the crouched silence of their temple.
He called down the Lancemakers, he took on
their unspeakable power to crush the unspeakable evil,
to thrust the coiling darkness
back down the tunnel of the dragons throat.

Paladine, the Great God of Good,
shone at the side of Huma,
strengthening the lance of his strong right arm,
and Huma, ablaze in a thousand moons,
banished the Queen of Darkness,
banished the swarm of her shrieking hosts
back to the senseless kingdom of death, where their curses
swooped upon nothing and nothing
deep below the brightening land.

Thus ended in thunder the Age of Dreams
and began the Age of Might,
When Istar, kingdom of light and truth, arose in the east,
where minarets of white and gold
spired to the sun and to the suns glory,
announcing the passing of evil,
and Istar, who mothered and cradled
the long summers of good,
shone like a meteor
in the white skies of the just.

Yet in the fullness of sunlight
the Kingpriest of Istar saw shadows:
At night he saw the trees as things with daggers,
the streams
blackened and thickened under the silent moon.
He searched books for the paths of Huma,
for scrolls, signs, and spells
so that he, too, might summon the gods, might find
their aid in his holy aims,
might purge the world of sin.

Then came the time of dark and death
as the gods turned from the world.
A mountain of fire crashed like a comet through Istar,
the city split like a skull in the flames,
mountains burst from once-fertile valleys,
seas poured into the graves of mountains,
the deserts sighed on abandoned floors of the seas,
the highways of Krynn erupted
and became the paths of the dead.

Thus began the Age of Despair.
The roads were tangled.
The winds and the sandstorms dwelt in the husks of cities.
The plains and mountains became our home.
As the old gods lost their power,
we called to the blank sky
into the cold, dividing gray to the ears of new gods.
The sky is calm, silent, unmoving.
We have yet to hear their answer.

The Old Man

T ika Waylan straightened her back with a sigh, flexing her shoulders to ease her cramped muscles. She tossed the soapy bar rag into the water pail and glanced around the empty room.

It was getting harder to keep up the old inn. There was a lot of love rubbed into the warm finish of the wood, but even love and tallow couldnt hide the cracks and splits in the well-used tables or prevent a customer from sitting on an occasional splinter. The Inn of the Last Home was not fancy, not like some shed heard about in Haven. It was comfortable. The living tree in which it was built wrapped its ancient arms around it lovingly, while the walls and fixtures were crafted around the boughs of the tree with such care as to make it impossible to tell where natures work left off and mans began. The bar seemed to ebb and flow like a polished wave around the living wood that supported it. The stained glass in the window panes cast welcoming flashes of vibrant color across the room.

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