The History of Krynn: Vol V Read online

  The History of Krynn

  The Age of Dreams

  Volume 5

  All Stories ©1984 TSR, Inc.

  ©2012 Wizards of the Coast LLC

  The Dragons – First published October 1996

  “Storytellers” – First published in The Dragons at War May 1996

  “The Best” – First published in The Dragons of Krynn March 1994

  “Quarry” – First published in The Dragons at War May 1996

  “Easy Pickings” – First published in The Dragons at War May 1996

  The Legend of Huma – First published April 1988

  “Silver And Steel” – First published in Tales Volume 3: Love and War November 1987

  The Kagonesti – First published January 1995

  “Kaz and the Dragon’s Children” – First published in The Dragons of Krynn March 1994

  Kaz, The Minotaur – First published July 1990

  Land of the Minotaurs – First published January 1996

  Cover design by Dead^Man

  Cover and ebook design by Dead^Man

  Cover pictures used for this collection are from various sources around the net. Sorry, most sites do not credit the original artists. Thank you for the wonderful art, whomever you all may be.

  These ePub and Mobi/K8 editions v1.0 by Dead^Man December 2012

  First release December 2012

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  The Dragons

  PART III (continued)

  Storytellers

  The Dragons

  PART III (continued)

  The Best

  The Dragons

  PART III (continued)

  Quarry

  The Dragons

  PART III (continued)

  Easy Pickings

  The Legend of Huma

  Silver And Steel

  The Kagonesti

  PART II

  Kaz and the Dragon’s Children

  Kaz, The Minotaur

  Land of the Minotaurs

  The Dragons

  PART III (continued)

  CHAPTER 28

  SILVER LORDS

  (ca. 1400 PC)

  The wild elf maiden was a blur of laughter and speed. Arms and legs pumping, silver-white hair trailing in the breeze, she sprinted like a deer along the forest trail, ducking a mossy limb, casting a merry smile over her shoulder as she put on another dazzling burst of speed. She leapt a mossy fallen trunk, ducked around a tight corner, and without hesitation splashed through a gravel-bedded stream. Silver drops of water sparkled in the sunlight, and her bright cry of delight rang in harmony with the trilling of the water as she sprang onto the far bank to fly onward with a pounding of bare feet against the path.

  She was a creature of exquisite beauty, this fleet elf of the forest. Muscles rippled in her limbs, yet her body possessed a lush fullness that made her doelike speed all that much more astounding. Her skin was a pale, almost translucent pearl, now a white blur in the semidark shadows of the forest floor. The small strip of foxskin girding her loins did little to preserve even a semblance of modesty.

  Not that modesty had any place in the mind of the one who chased the elusive maid through the forest. Harder footsteps thudded behind her, and a wild elf brave came into view. Head low, he dashed forward with single-minded determination, leaping in a single bound the stream that had slightly slowed his alluring quarry.

  The warrior’s body was covered with whorls and leaf patterns of black tattoos. A trailing horsetail bound his shock of long black hair, a plume that, suspended by his speed, floated like smoke in the air. He, too, sprinted with an easy grace, a fluid rippling as the trail straightened and he slowly closed on the elfmaid. Like the female, the brave was unarmed, though he bore the horn of a great ram on a silver chain around his shoulder. He lacked even the limited clothing that encircled her waist.

  Head down now, drawing deep and measured breaths through his flaring nostrils, the runner seemed unaware of the woods passing in a blur on either side. He was blinded by the beauty, the scents and sounds and sights that combined to draw him after his exquisite quarry. Now he was desperate to catch her, to bring her to ground.

  With another teasing refrain of laughter, the female elf darted through a blossomed bower and sprinted into the clear. The brave followed, eyes fixed upon her lush form, mind blinded to all thoughts except this alluring maiden that led him so tantalizingly onward.

  “Hargh! Heads up! Looks like we’ve got some prizes, me lads!”

  The bark of alarm, harsh and deep, was the elves’ first clue that the clearing was already occupied. Huge shapes stirred to the right and left, rushing from the shady bowers along the meadow’s fringes. A pair of brawny, two-legged figures, each bearing a heavy, knotted club, advanced to block the path of the two Kagonesti, while more of their hulking comrades closed in from all sides.

  “Ogres!” gasped the maiden in quick recognition, skidding to a halt as a dozen or more brutish cohorts rushed to join the two blocking her path through the clearing. The brave whirled to see more of the monsters charge from the far sides of the sun-swept meadow, blocking any attempt they might have made to return the way they had come.

  The elfmaid spun in a swirl of silvery hair, casting looks to either side, placing her back to the brave’s. The two Kagonesti stood barehanded, facing at least two dozen of the burly humanoids. Clubs raised, drooling tusks exposed, the brutes closed in for an easy kill.

  “I dislike the odds,” murmured the lean warrior, with an attitude of mild concern.

  “I agree,” replied the maiden, nodding as she frowned at the encircling ring. “Do you think we should change them?”

  “Immediately.”

  Silver scales swirled into view, coiling around the place where the two wild elves had stood, as a pair of huge serpentine bodies took their places on the ground. In a flash of reflection, mighty wings flapped and grew, driving gusts of wind, dust, and debris into the faces of the startled ogres. Many of the brutes shrieked in terror, turning to flee from the pair of menacing silver dragons that suddenly loomed before them. Others fell to the ground, wailing and groveling, begging for mercy or trying to claw a place of concealment into the hard soil.

  Only one displayed the courage, or foolishness, to continue the attack. This was a brutish chieftain who hurled himself at the male dragon and was met by a savage, darting snap of those great jaws. Lectral bit hard and felt the crunch of sturdy bone. He killed the ogre instantly and, with a contemptuous spit, hurled the burly body into the faces of its companions.

  Heart’s blast of deadly frost exploded from her silver jaws, a white cloud of death roaring outward in a magical blizzard, expanding with hissing violence through the warm spring air of the clearing. The dragonbreath froze a dozen ogres in the garish postures of instant death even before the brutes realized they were being attacked. Still more of the monsters threw themselves onto the ground, and the wailing of their abject fear echoed through the woods.

  Lectral pounced, crushing an ogre with each forepaw, snatching up another in his great jaws. Breaking the muscle-bound body in a crushing bite, he tossed his neck and sent the creature’s remains tumbling into a pair of fleeing ogres. His silver tail lashed around, crushing several more of the monsters, sending the great, brutish warriors tumbling like children’s toys.

  Smashing with his great body, the silver dragon settled heavily downward until the desperate thrashing underneath him was crushed into stillness. Whipping his head toward a band of the brutes huddled beyond his left wing, he belched a cloud of killing frost. The lethal breath expanded through the clearing, freezing flowers and bees in the same swath that slew a dozen fleeing ogres.
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  In an instant, the rest of the monstrous band had vanished into the forest. Terror wafted in their wake, an acrid stench in the air. Lectral saw that many of the brutes had even cast their weapons aside, shrilling cries of utter panic in their haste to reach the imagined shelter of the forest paths. Abruptly four or five more broke from a nearby clump of brush, lumbering toward the trees, casting terrified glances behind.

  Heart’s jaws gaped again, and she expelled a cloud of white gas, a forceful explosion of her breath that gusted strongly toward her targets without the roaring destructiveness of her deadly frost. Nevertheless, the monsters saw the mist churning toward them and screamed in panic, sprinting desperately to get away as the vapor swept forward and enveloped them.

  When the mist dissipated, the remaining ogres were scattered across the ground, limp and motionless – except for the slow rising and falling of chests stirred by deep, placid breathing. Eyes wide, those ogres lucky – or unlucky – enough to be lying on their backs stared in mute horror at the two serpents looming overhead, masters of this sun-swept patch of meadow. Others, facedown, grunted and groaned but were obviously unable to move a muscle.

  “Why didn’t you kill them?” Lectral asked, with a raised eyebrow. Like all the metal dragons, he and Heart possessed a nonlethal breath weapon as well as their deadly expulsions. Still, he was surprised she had used it on the ogres. He prodded one of the motionless brutes with his foreclaws, rolling it onto its back to inspect the tusked maw, which now gaped slackly, allowing a copious spill of drool to soak the ogre’s chest. “They’re just paralyzed.”

  Heart shook her great silver head, though her own expression was also a trifle puzzled. “I didn’t have to kill them, so I didn’t. It seemed a good time to show mercy.”

  “Well, as Regia says, we dragons could kill all the ogres, and the humans and bakali, too, if we wanted. But why waste the breath?” Lectral replied.

  “Our golden sister is too inclined to think in terms of the abstract. It’s more that the threat is gone now … and I don’t feel like killing any more.”

  “That sits well with me as well,” Lectral agreed. He leaned forward, trailing his head along Heart’s neck. “In any event, Regia is not the female who concerns me just now.”

  The silver male’s lids drooped lazily over his eyes as he reared back and regarded the supple curves, the shimmering scales, and gleaming wings of the silver female. He squatted before her, ready to pounce, waiting for the flick of her tail that would recommence the tantalizing game that had just been interrupted.

  But Heart shook her head. “No, Lec … let’s fly, together.”

  He was about to protest, but he knew she wouldn’t be swayed by any argument he could make. Too, with the passing of her teasing manner, his own excitement had rapidly faded. Heart seemed to him once more as she had always been: a silver nestmate who had grown to adulthood at his side, a friend and comrade during the hundreds of winters through which they and their kin-dragons had ruled the skies of Krynn.

  Callak had been their sire, and their matriarch, Daria, had raised them in her lair, deep in the mountainous wilderness of western Ergoth. For the first century or two of their lives, they and their silver nestmates had been alone in the world, insofar as they had known nothing of other dragons. They had, of course, engaged in social intercourse with elves and humans, and both had formed strong friendships – particularly among the Kagonesti, in Lectral’s case. Heart had enjoyed the company of the wild elves, but also displayed fascination with humankind, most notably the armored and heroic knights who ruled the realm of Solamnia.

  After Callak had grown old, he had given Lectral the clan treasure: the horn of the great ram that he now wore on the silver chain around his neck. The silver dragons had grown to maturity with an understanding of the deep bonds between the Kagonesti wild elves and the dragons of argent.

  Only after reaching adulthood had Heart and Lectral encountered dragons of other colors – first in the person of the sociable brass dragon Kord, scion of Dazzall, who seemed to know everybody and everything. He had become a good friend to all the silver nestmates, and in turn had introduced them to the less extroverted wyrms of the copper and bronze clans. Lectral had developed a grudging sense of respect for a copper male, Cymbol, who had once demonstrated great speed and quickness in stealing an elk that Lectral regarded as his rightful prey. Eventually the two wyrms had reached an understanding, and Lectral had learned that Cymbol’s barely contained fury was a constant thing, a drive for vengeance against the chromatic dragons that had been inculcated in him by his sire, Tharn. Unfortunately – at least, so it seemed – neither of them had ever encountered one of the Dark Queen’s dragons. To all appearances, they had ceased to exist during the time of their sire’s early life.

  The bronze, Bolt, had been less hostile initially than the copper had been, but neither had he been overly friendly. Still, Heart, Lectral, and their nestmates had learned from Daria the tale of the grotto and its abandonment, and it had been good to discover for certain that the others of the metal dragons had also survived to breed.

  Lectral had been impressed by the differences even more than the similarities between the five clans. One of the most different was the dignified and studious Arumnus, a gold of approximately Lectral’s age. Scion of Auricus, he was wise and thoughtful, if a trifle dull as a companion. And his sister, Regia, had been only haughty and aloof.

  Lately Lectral had been dazzled by the changes he had sensed in Heart as the two of them approached full maturity, a feeling that matters between them were progressing toward something magical. The thought of her elven form fleeing through the woods caused his silver scales to shiver, and once again he regarded her with a sidelong inspection, wishing that she would flick her tail or arch her neck in that gesture of invitation.

  Instead, she spread her wings and crouched, ready to take to the sky. With a sigh, Lectral, too, stretched wide, scooping downward as he leapt after her, dragging himself slowly into the air. The grasses of the meadow swept by, and finally he had enough speed to pull upward at the edge of the trees.

  The two silvers steadily climbed, moving into the clear skies of late spring. A perfect day, thought Lectral, for flying, or hunting, or doing any kind of living at all. But still, as they flew side by side through summery skies, he pondered the questions of Heart’s strange allure and the mood that had been shattered by the bothersome presence of the ogres.

  Of course, the brutes were no real threat to a nearly mature silver such as Lectral or Heart, save the unlikely circumstance of a bunch of ogres coming upon a sleeping dragon. In fact, the world of the two nestmates’ lives contained nothing that was a real threat.

  “I wonder what it was like when the evil dragons still lived,” mused the great male, pensive as the measured strokes of his wings carried him forward. “When there was real danger in Krynn … threats even to mighty dragons.”

  “Perhaps those old stories were just to scare us,” Heart replied, teasing. “Have you ever seen a dragon that wasn’t gold or silver or one of the brown metals?”

  “Regia and Arumnus believe in those old legends!” Lectral replied, rising to the bait. He shivered, unwilling to admit that he, too, sometimes pictured in his dreams a vague, five-headed image, a being he regarded with considerable unease. “And how else do you explain the small number of our forefathers, the five pairs who escaped the great scourge of Deathfyre? Or the wild magic that wracked the land, that caused the three brother mages to be hunted down and killed by vengeful elves?”

  “Good stories, all of those. But I still think those gold dragons spend too much time in libraries!” Heart declared. “They should get out and fly once in a while!”

  “There’s nothing like flight to clear one’s head,” Lectral agreed, relishing the sweep of wind across his face, his wings, and his scales.

  “Oh look – there’s one of the knights!” cried the female, with a sudden dip of her head toward the brown plains. Lectra
l looked down and saw a great war-horse with a fully armored rider. The knight was trailed by a retinue of a half-dozen squires and pages, each mounted on a lighter, smaller horse. The party was riding across the dragons’ path of flight, and apparently none of the humans had yet noticed the serpents.

  “Come on, Lectral! Let’s go talk to him!”

  “Not again,” groaned the male, knowing it was useless. Heart had already dipped her wing, sideslipping into a gliding dive that would carry them to ground out of sight of the riders, allowing them to land behind a screening line of tall pines.

  By the time Lectral had settled to the grassy turf, Heart had changed to the form she preferred for these increasingly frequent encounters. Cloaked in the body of a tall, beautiful human woman, garbed in a typical noblewoman’s silks that were perhaps a trifle more revealing than modesty would require, she strode forward into the roadway. Experience had shown her that an appearance like this would invariably bring the armored rider to a halt, no matter how pressing his business.

  Lectral barely had time to assume his own disguise. In the form of a severe warrior, avuncular of appearance yet still strapping and capable in physique, he followed Heart as she waited for the rider to approach. The male dragon reflected that, if Heart’s appearance was certain to get the knight to stop, his own stern and glowering visage was calculated to prevent the human from lingering for too long.

  “Ho, my lady!” cried the warrior, lifting the visor of his helm with a gauntlet-covered hand. “And your honored grandfather as well!” he added hastily as Lectral advanced protectively at Heart’s side.

  “Greetings, Sir Knight!” The shapely maiden dipped into a polite curtsy.

  “Stand your horses there, men,” the rider directed, sending his followers into a nearby meadow as he dismounted.