Dragons of Summer Flame (Dragonlance Chronicles Book 4) by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

Author:Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman [Weis, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786954407
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2011-10-11T00:00:00+00:00

3

Ariakan’s battle plan.

Steel’s own battle.

t was hours before dawn, but the army of Lord Ariakan was already on the move, winding its way from the plains into the Virkhus Hills, heading for Westgate Pass and their target, the Tower of the High Clerist.

The road was clear; the Knights of Solamnia could not afford to waste their forces in defending it. Ariakan’s armies moved rapidly, their way lighted by fire of torch and fire of magic. Steel, walking in the vanguard, turned to look and marvel. The line of men, equipment, and machines stretched from the hills back down to the plains. Massed on the road, moving with well-trained precision, the army appeared as a flaming snake in the darkness—a gigantic snake that would soon wind around and crush the life out of its victim. The army’s numbers were incalculable. In the history of the world, no mightier force had ever been assembled on Ansalon.

The defenders of the High Clerist’s Tower would be able to see the army clearly now. They would be watching that dread serpent make its inexorable approach. Steel could imagine their awe, their dismay. Any hope the Knights of Solamnia might have entertained of holding their tower must surely be gone by now.

As he buckled on his sword, Steel recalled stories he had heard of his father’s brave stance, alone on the battlements of the very tower his son was about to attack. Sturm Brightblade had foreseen his death as well. He had also seen beyond, seen the bright victory that awaited him.

Steel felt closer to his father now than his warrior mother. Sturm understood the decision his son had made, the decision to choose death over dishonor. His mother, Kitiara, did not.

Throughout the night, Steel had felt the heat of their battle, a war he had known all his life. He could hear his father’s voice speaking of honor, self-sacrifice, his mother’s voice urging him to lie, connive, or charm his way out of trouble. The fight had been a long one and exhausting; it had continued even in his sleep, apparently, for he dreamed of silver armor and blue, the clash of weapons.

Dreams ended with the trumpet call to arms. Steel woke feeling well rested, exhilarated, empty of fear. He and his men—a force of barbarian swordsmen and archers, all of whom were as excited as their commander—marched rapidly, so rapidly that they had to occasionally slow their pace, to avoid tripping on the heels of the talon in front of them.

Steel would die this day, he knew it for a certainty. But he would die gloriously, and this night his soul would stand before his queen, his loyalty proven beyond question, the tumult within him ended forever.

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