"Yesterday and Tomorrow"

Nation of Gunthar, Sancrist Isle, 28 SC

“Do you think they still watch over us?”

 I had been waiting for this question ever since I took on the duties of preparing and then testing Sir Willam for advancement in the Order of the Sword. As part of my effort to get to know him, I had assigned myself to share his watch in the Whitestone Glade, one of the most holy sites on Ansalon. Until just a few years ago, we had believed magic had fled, but then a young Rose Knight named Linsha Majere believed that the intervention of the gods themselves saved her from an attacker in the Glade. This night, the winter wind blowing through the barren forest seemed particularly harsh, and the young Knight probably needed the conversation to take his mind off the cold.

 “What do you think, Willam?”

 His eyes wandered across the Whitestone Glade before us. The massive stone glinted under the light of the pale moon in the sky. “I don’t know. My father taught me to honor the gods whether they are present or not. Anything less would be a violation of the Measure: Just because the gods are absent doesn’t mean we should stop honoring them or obeying their strictures. But do you think they’re really gone?”

 “Well, you’ve heard of Lady Linsha’s experience in the Glade. That might be taken as proof that the powers of the gods can still be found here. All of her own energies were spent, but, from somewhere, she drew the strength to defeat her enemy. She believes it came from the gods, not from within her. I’m inclined to believe her because of two things. First, she was taught to master the Final Gift of the gods at the feet of Goldmoon herself. Second, she is a Rose Knight and I consider her honor to be beyond question.”

 “I would never question her honor, Sir, nor the truthfulness of her statement. Lady Sheryl beat me soundly on the training field to defend her friend’s honor when she suspected I was doing that very thing, and I do not want to repeat the mistake with the Knight who may sponsor me for admittance into the Order of the Sword. I just can’t help but wonder. Much changed in the wake of the gods’ departure. Can we truly be certain that we guard a true holy site?”

 “We can’t,” I said. “All we can be sure of is our own beliefs and the Measure. If you learn to be true to those and to uphold their standards, you will serve effectively as a Knight of the Sword.”

 “Just once,” Willam muttered. “I’d like to see the stars flash as they did for Vinas Solamnus. Just once, I’d like to see that there really is something greater than us that isn’t a dragon. I would really like to have a sign that they are still out there and that our service to them means something.”

 “If there is proof, Willam,” I said, “then what does belief matter? We cannot pretend we know the minds of gods, nor will we ever be certain that they will ever again give us proof of their existence beyond life itself and the Final Gift of mystic magic that they bestowed upon the world.”

 “Takhisis still whispers to the Dark Knights. Or so they claim.”

 I shrugged. “If you wish to believe the Dark Knights, Willam, then you have your proof that the gods are still active in the world. If you seek hard enough, maybe you’ll find your own proof. Or maybe it’s right here in this Glade.”

 He looked back at the stars. “What do you believe, Sir Gawthrop?”

 “What I believe is unimportant. Your beliefs are what matter. I will tell you this: I believe in the good of the Knighthoods. I believe that our duty to oppose Evil in all its forms, the duty that Paladine, Kiri-Jolith, and Habbakuk charged Vinas Solamnus with, is still ours. The gods do not need to impress me with priestly parlor tricks for me to know that. Here,” I struck my breastplate, “I first felt the Final Gift burning in my breast and giving me the ability to boost my strength when I thought I had none left.”

 Willam gave me a thoughtful look as he fell silent.

 I looked at the Whitestone. I hate thinking about the gods, because it always starts me thinking about the Orders when I was a child. I grew up during an age of revival for the Solamnic Knighthood. The ranks were swelling with new members and the gods were again guiding them forward. I dreamed of being like my father, a Sword Knight, a holy warrior who in his youth had brought the will of Kiri-Jolith to the remnants of the dragonarmies all across Ansalon.
 Sadly, I was not to follow his example. Within weeks of my becoming a squire to Lady Riva Silverblade of Castle Eastwatch, the Dark Knights invaded and seized Palanthas. As the Orders rallied to counter-attack, the Chaos God walked the surface of Krynn and we had to unite with the Dark Knights to drive him back to the Abyss from whence he had come.

 Blue and silver dragons united as their human allies had, and together the Knights of Solamnia and the Knights of Takhisis plunged into the Abyss. But not squires. Squires remained behind to hold the fortifications along with common warriors and the heads of the Orders. Chaos was defeated, but at the cost of virtually everyone who went to oppose him.

 If it hadn’t been for Lord Liam Ehrling and Lord Gunthar’s revised Measure, the Knighthood would probably have died. The attempt to join with the Dark Knights in rebuilding Ansalon almost led to our destruction anyway . . . they murdered Lord Gunthar and attempted to seize control of Sancrist and destroy us. This was before Takhisis supposedly started whispering in their ears again, but it clearly demonstrated the fact that they pay lip service to the concept of honor but in fact have none.

 But, although we’ve survived, I still feel as though we are but a pale imitation of our forebears. My father’s armor glittered in sun. He was like a giant walking among men when he inspected his troops. I have to struggle to keep my armor polished, and I have to struggle to keep focused on the Measure and to keep my actions devoted to furthering the precepts of the gods . . . because in my darkest moments, my faith both in them and in the Solamnic Orders is weak.
 “Ho!” Willam cried, his voice and the hiss of his sword leaving its scabbard bringing my attention back to our guard duty. “Who goes there?”

 “Stay your hand, Sir Knight,” said a dark figure among the trees, his Solamnian tinged with a slight accent. “We are friends who have come in search of information.”

 The speaker emerged from the trees, stepping into the moonlight-drenched glade. He was a blonde-tressed elf male who was slightly taller than is the average among his kind. Something about him was slightly familiar. When two other elves emerged from the woods, my heart almost stopped. One was a fairly nondescript male, but the other . . . the other . . .

 White hair flowed around her face, which was a vision of beauty, and under her thick winter cloak I caught sight of the buckskin garments traditionally worn by the Kagonesti elves on Southern Ergoth. Because of her, I knew where I’d seen the blonde elf before! In Kalaman, in the castle of the lord, there hangs a portrait of the two painted shortly after the War of the Lance! Gilthanas and Silvara had just stepped into my life!

 But weren’t they both dead? Could the gods have answered my prayers? Could they have come from the past to take me with them? But these joyous thoughts were swiftly proven as silly as I should have recognized them to be the moment they entered my head.

 “I am Gilthanas of Qualinesti,” Gilthanas said, “and these are my trusted companions, Leth and Alla. We have come to Sancrist in search of information about the Good dragons.”

 “You are not Silvara?” I asked the Kagonesti Gilthanas identified as Alla.

 She blinked. “By the gods, no! I am not Gilthanas’s lost love! I am just a good friend and traveling companion!”

 Alla and Leth exchanged looks. My first thought was that they were amused at my expense, but then I noticed that she reached out and touched Leth’s hand. It was a quick and very brief movement, but enough to make me realize that if she was anyone’s love, she was his.

 My thoughts must have appeared in my face, for Gilthanas said, “No offense has been given, Sir Knight, let me assure you of that. But we do need your help, if you can grant it.”

 “I will help in whatever way I can, but first forgive my manners. I am Sir Gawthrop, Knight of the Sword and this is Sir Willam, Knight of the Crown. Further, a prince such as yourself should have been directed to the castle, Your Highness,” I replied. “Which of the men at the docks sent you here instead?”

 “None. We arrived on the backs of griffins, but I thought it best to land in the woods and not cause alarm in the castle. I wanted to revisit the Whitestone Glade along the way . . . and, honestly, I was as surprised to see you two here as you must have been to see me.”

 “How so?” Willam asked.

 “I thought the gods gone. Why guard this place?”

 “Your commander’s absence does not mean that it is appropriate to disrespect him by forgetting to tend to his equipment or accomplish the tasks he set before you,” I said. “Besides, we believe that Paladine’s power still resides here.”

 “Is that so?” Gilthanas swept his eyes across the Glade, undoubtedly noting the withered grass and the absence of the eternal spring that once had existed there. He did not comment on that, but instead looked at me with an earnest expression. “Then Silvara must have been here. She honored Paladine above all other gods.”

 “Is that what you require our assistance with? Finding the Lady Silvara?”

 “Yes. We parted ways in Kalaman. I am desperately trying to find her. Has she been here? Has she been assisting the Knighthoods in continuing their service to the gods?”

 “Perhaps,” I said. “I don’t know. If she has visited Sancrist, Lord Liam would know. Come, follow us to the castle. Willam will attend to your beasts.”

 “No, I believe it’s best if we take care of that, Sir Knight,” Leth said. “Griffins don’t take particularly well to strangers, especially not ones that are barely tamed such as these.”

 “Understood. If you would be so kind, Leth, we will wait here while you and Alla take care of them then.”

 “I should go along,” Willam said. “There may be gnome creations in the forest.”

 This took me somewhat aback, but I saw no reason to deny his request. As he followed Leth and Alla from the clearing, I again saw her touch her companion very briefly.

* * * * *

When we returned the castle, Lord Liam had, naturally, already retired for the night. Gilthanas insisted that he not be disturbed, and so I had Willam contact the seneschal so quarters could be arranged for them while I contacted the shift after ours to let them know to start their watch in the Glade early.

 The following morning, I heard from a page that Gilthanas had asked Lord Liam about Silvara, but that Liam knew not of her whereabouts. My thoughts drifted back to a dispatch from Southern Ergoth dating back a few years. It claimed that a silver dragon had been spotted there. I wondered if I should tell the elf-prince, or if it would just be sending him off on a fruitless chase. But, then I received orders through another page that Lord Liam expected my attendance at a feast that evening in Gilthanas’ honor. I decided to speak with the elf-prince then. I had Willam’s training to think about during the day. Lady Sheryl and I were to drill him in skill with polearms today.

* * * * *

Although hastily arranged, the feast was nonetheless as splendid as protocol required when honoring royal visitors like Gilthanas of Qualinesti. The Grand Master wanted his senior Knights there, so a pair of recent initiates in the Order of the Sword took my next shift in the Glade. I wanted Willam at the feast, as I feel that a mentor should attend to all aspects of his student’s training—and learning to sit still for hours on end during feasts can be an important diplomatic skill.

 As I looked around the Grand Hall, I noticed that the hall could accommodate perhaps five times the people that were currently seated here. As Lord Liam rose to his feet and offered a brief speech and a welcome toast to Gilthanas and his companions, I noticed how his voice echoed in the hall. My mind drifted back for the second time that day, back to when I was a child. I would sometimes sneak onto the balconies that circled the hall on the second floor and there watch Lord Gunthar and the Knights feast, the light of the torches dancing off their armor. When Lord Gunthar or another Knight would toast the assemblage, his voice would not echo from the walls, because the room was almost full.

 I shifted in my seat, allowing my eyes to slide across the Knights, most of who were watching Lord Liam as he spoke. Of the two who weren’t, one was watching Willam—Lady Sheryl, who has been pining for his attentions since she took command of Revered Daughter Crysania’s honor guard, at the specific request of the venerable priestess—and Willam himself, who was watching Alla.

 Lady Sheryl is a sad case. She isn’t very skilled in the courtly arts, having been raised in the less-than-gentile town of Newports, and Willam is a bit too thick skulled to realize that her overtures on the training fields are not to belittle him but instead to get his attention. It’s interesting how adults often behave like children in affairs of the heart, as in Sheryl’s case relying on jibes and punches when she should just tell him how she feels. She is no shrinking violet in all other matters, so no one would bat an eye if she were to do so. Except perhaps Willam, who would probably be as surprised as can be.

 I looked briefly at Alla. She wore a borrowed gown and jewelry and appeared even more stunning than she had earlier in the day. It was clear to me why Willam couldn’t keep her eyes off her. Her exotic beauty in the Glade intrigued the boy, and now he appeared to be completely entranced by the image of her as a noble woman of unsurpassed beauty. I found myself hoping that Willam was wise enough to not let his heart become captured by her beauty.

 That hope strengthened when I saw Leth’s hand wander to her slender fingers as they lay on the table and gently squeeze them. Alla turned to him, and he smiled warmly. It confirmed to me what I had suspected yesterday: They were a couple, which meant there was no room for the likes of Willam.

 As the feast progressed, Gilthanas spent most of his time speaking with Sir Liam. Clearly, he had been out of touch for some time, and much of what he knew of the tumultuous years since the Chaos War was rife with misinformation. On the matter of the current state of the Knights of Solamnia, Gilthanas interrupted the Grand Master’s explanation of how covert Circles are being established in many areas by cursing the name of Sir Auraffil. He quickly apologized for his outburst, but then explained that Auraffil had told him a wide variety of lies during the year he spent in the city, including the “fact” that the Knights now limited themselves only to Sancrist.

 “He might not have been purposefully lying,” Lord Liam said. “Few people realize how extensive our rebuilding efforts have been. Most of the attention is being focused on the Legion of Steel, which serves our purpose rather well. We are finding ourselves with capable allies in many cities when we attempt to establish our covert Circles, and while the Knights of Takhisis are busy watching the Legionnaires, we can regain the footing we lost in the Chaos War.”

 “Speaking of the Legion, Lord Liam, have you had a chance to review Lady Karine’s latest dispatch from Sanction?” asked Lord Quintayne. “The notion of using a single Knight as the visible contact point between our Circle there and the Legion seems like the perfect way to avoid the debacles of years past.”

 “I agree,” Lord Liam replied. “Now, if only young Linsha, or any of the other Knights, could discern Hogan Bight’s motives in the city, we might actually get somewhere.”

 The discussion about Sanction continued as kender tumblers rushed onto the floor of the grand hall and began performing the classic routine Lord Toede’s Hunt. During this, Gilthanas turned to me and said, “I have been hearing tales of great dragons that have seized huge swaths of territory, dragons larger and more powerful than any we ever faced during the War of the Lance. What of the metallic dragons? Surely, they must be opposing these beasts?”

 “Alas, I wish it could be said to be so. Only two metallic dragons are currently known to have survived the Dragon Purge: a brass dragon who has taken up residence along the Silvanesti border in the south, and a silver dragon known as Mirror at the Citadel of Light.”

 “Yes. I heard of Mirror while in Kalaman.” A sudden sadness appeared on his features as his eyes drifted to the kender clowns. “As I told Lord Ehrling, Sir Knight, I came to Sancrist hoping to find a dragon, or at the very least someone who knew where she was last seen . . . and if not her, then maybe one that could tell me where she may have gone.”

 “You’re searching for Silvara?”

 “Yes. Did Lord Liam mention it to you?”

 I shook my head and smiled. “No. The story of the love you and Silvara shared has become quite famous since the War of the Lance. Some even categorize it as one of the greatest love stories Krynn has ever known.”

 Gilthanas smiled back at me, but it was not a smile of humor, but one filled with sorrow and perhaps even a little bitterness. He slumped in his chair and drank deeply from the goblet before him. “I think the bards are wishing for what might have been, Sir Gawthrop, or what might still be. That’s why I’m trying to find her.”

 Or maybe the bards saw what was in their hearts where Gilthanas and Silvara couldn’t. One bard’s tale in particular claimed Silvara died of a broken heart after Gilthanas drove her off because he couldn’t accept she was a dragon, and then he hanged himself when he realized that he truly did love her. It was one of the less popular variations of the tale, and one that I thought that Gilthanas would not want to hear. Instead, I said, “I don’t know if this means anything, but we recently had word from Castle Eastwatch stating that a silver dragon had settled in the nearby area.”

 “Any word as to whether it is a male or female?” Gilthanas suddenly straightened in his chair, his face brightening.

 “No, I’m afraid not. At any rate, I don’t put much stock in the report. This wouldn’t be the first time that Lady Riva and her Knights have either misinterpreted or simply imagined something. One can hardly blame them as their assignment is not an enviable one.”
 Gilthanas frowned. “What do you mean?”

 “You haven’t heard? About fifteen years ago, the biggest white dragon anyone had ever seen claimed dominion over most of Southern Ergoth. People just call him the White these days. By all reports, the beast has buried Huma’s Tomb and much of the Ergoth Mountains under magically generated ice.”
 “What of Qualimori? And Silvamori?”

 “Most of the citizens fled to Cristyne. The Kagonesti stayed and attempted to defend their lands from the dragon. As far as we can tell, they were mostly wiped out in the process.”

 Gilthanas sat stunned for moment, the building excitement I had detected in him dispelled. I noticed that Alla was gripping Leth’s hand so hard that her knuckles were whitening. Her eyes seemed to be shimmering with tears. The poor woman must have been witness to some of the atrocities perpetrated against her people by the White Dragon. Chivalry dictated that I end this particular line of conversation.

 “With the almost total absence of metallic dragons on Ansalon now, I think that the silver dragon in question is more likely a product of their imaginations rather than your Silvara.”

 “Still,” Gilthanas said, “this is the best lead I have had since I started my quest to reunite with her! And it makes sense—Castle Eastwatch is close to Foghaven Vale where she once made her home! If any dragon were to attempt to drive off that white beast, it would be her. Are you personally acquainted with Lady Riva, Sir Gawthrop?”

 “She was one of my sponsors,” I said.

 “Excellent. Could I trouble you for a letter of introduction? I would very much like to travel to Castle Eastwatch and speak with her and her Knights about this silver dragon. If it is not Silvara, at least my mind will be at ease. She has no reason to trust me, however, and may not be as hospitable as you are here on Sancrist—I know I would think twice about trusting strangers if I were living in the shadow of a powerful dragon. Even white dragons can be devious if they put their minds to it.”

 “I’d be happy to write you a letter of introduction, Your Highness. And I feel confident in assuring you, Lady Riva will give you every bit of cooperation she can.”

 “I am in your debt, Sir Knight.”

 “Nonsense.” I smiled gently. “This is but a trifle, and if you find your beloved, my ability to take joy from it due to the small part I played will place me in your debt.”

 Gilthanas nodded and smiled, this time with radiant joy. He turned to watch the kender performers with an absent look on his face, almost as if he was reliving a pleasant memory or perhaps imagining something pleasant to come.

 “Sir Knight, what happened to the Kagonesti?” I turned my gaze toward Alla. Her large, dark eyes were still shimmering with threatened tears. “Do any live still?”

 “I believe so, milady. Some have fled to Cristyne, but others continue to resist the White. The Kagonesti most definitely still live.”

 Tears finally spilled over her cheeks. “I didn’t have the courage to stay. May the Blue Phoenix forgive me, but I could not bear the destruction any longer. But they live still?”

 “By my honor, milady, the Kagonesti continue to struggle against those who would take their ancestral lands from them.”

 “Good.” She lowered her head, continuing to weep silently, her tears flowing freely. My eyes drifted to Leth. The young Qualinesti put his arm around her and leaned close. He whispered something in her ear. She nodded and swiftly wiped the tears from her eyes. She stood and with an obvious effort of will steadied her voice to say, “Sir Liam, I appreciate your gracious hospitality . . . but I have grown tired. I bid you good night.”

 Sir Liam rose to his feet. “I shall have a Knight escort you—“

 “No need, Sir Liam,” Leth said. “I shall see Alla safely to her chamber. Allow your Knights to continue to enjoy themselves.”
 Liam nodded. “As you wish.”

 “Are you all right?” Gilthanas asked, genuine concern in his voice.

 “Yes,” Alla said, another tear trickling down her cheek. She swiftly wiped it away. “I am tired. That’s all. Just tired.”

 Leth took her arm. Although he was trying to hide it, I saw in his face a pain at her sorrow. As they left the table, Willam came into view. My young charge was watching them as they left—watching her to be specific. And he was not making any effort to hide the pain he was feeling. The damn boy was smitten and every tear that she had just shed at the table had probably felt like a dagger in his heart.

 I swear that the gods made elven women the way they did to torment young men.
 
* * * * *

The next night, Willam and I again stood at our post in Whitestone Glade. We had been on watch for mere minutes when the topic I knew he would broach came up.

 “You spent time on Southern Ergoth, didn’t you Gawthrop?”

 “Yes, Willam. I served under Lady Riva for three years before returning to Gunthar. At the time, the White was expanding his domain. We helped many elves flee the island to Crystine.”

 “So, you’ve seen many elves?”

 “Yes, lad. And before you even ask, I have seen some that rival Alla in beauty.”

 “But none as graceful, I am certain.” His face took on a distant expression. “When she moves . . . it’s as though the wind itself has taken mortal form and is gliding through the courtyard.”

 I grunted. “She’s taken, boy.”

 He snapped back to reality. “What?”

 “She’s taken. Did you see the way Leth looks at her?”

 “No,” he said, his tone guarded.

 “Well, when you’re around them tomorrow, take a closer look. It’s more than just chivalry for him, and she returns his feelings. Spare yourself embarrassment and heartbreak.” He looked so crestfallen that I had to laugh. “Consider yourself lucky, boy. You know what happened the last time an upstanding knight got involved with an elf-maid, don’t you?”

 “He died a heroic death, defending the Tower of the High Clerist against the forces of Evil.”

 “All right. I forgot about Tanis Half-elven. I was thinking of Lord Soth, Willam. Don’t let lust override your sense of honor.”

 “I think you insult me, Sir.”

 “No, Willam, I’m just imparting to you the benefit of my years. Elven women are beautiful, exotic creatures. The first few times a young man encounters them, they set his head spinning. I know, because I’ve been there. And I know that you should put her out of your mind because she and Leth are already in love with one another.”

 A silence fell between us. For several long minutes, the only sound was the wind snapping at our cloaks.

 “I can’t get her out of mind, Gawthrop.”

 I looked at him, trying not to laugh. “You’ll never become a Knight of the Sword with that kind of willpower, Willam.”

 A miserable expression crossed his face. “I’ve gotten past the gender of Lady Sheryl and Lady Hannah—I view them now just as fellow Knights—but how can I ever reclaim my heart from Alla?”

 “She doesn’t have your heart, you young fool! And I suspect that Lady Sheryl wouldn’t mind if you were to acknowledge that she’s a woman as well as Knight.”

 “Now you mock me. She belittles my abilities as a swordsman every chance she gets.”

 “And she also offers to train with you every chance she gets! Why do you think that is?”

 Willam blinked. Then a startled expression appeared on his face. “But she turned me down when I asked to escort her to the Autumn’s Twilight festival.”

 “Of course she did. She was leaving for Gwynned the day of the festival, escorting Lady Crysania and her party to the Emperor’s court for an audience.”

 “She never said that.”

 “No, because you scurried out the hall so fast she didn’t have a chance to explain. Lady Crysania was traveling to Ergoth to see if the emperor’s daughter was ill or strong in the mystic arts—the child was claiming that spirits spoke to her. Sir Liam wanted the Revered Daughter to have extra escort while away from Sancrist.”

 Willam looked like he was about to say something, but then closed his mouth and looked up at the moon.

 “Talk to Lady Sheryl tomorrow, Willam. Her you might be able to win, but Alla is as unreachable for you as the moon.”

 “Lady Sheryl is a beautiful and intelligent woman indeed, but she is to Alla as the moon is to the sun—she pales by comparison.”

 I sighed. “I’ve done what I can for you in this matter. This conversation is at an end.”

 The rest of the watched passed in silence, with Willam deep in thought. After we had been relieved and were walking back to sleeping Castle Uth Wistan, he said, “I’m not sure I can accept your estimation of Lady Sheryl.”

 “My advice is that you seek out Lady Sheryl to at least clarify her feelings toward you,” I said. “Don’t be surprised if she laughs at you initially and challenges you to a sparring match. If she does, I am right. If she instead gets serious and apologizes to you, then I am wrong.” One of the tales of Gilthanas and Silvara came to mind again, the version where he doesn’t discover what he has lost until it is too late. “I have given you my best advice already, but I want to add this: I truly believe you should seek out Lady Sheryl and talk to her, man to woman. If you don’t, you may find it’s too late and then you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

 As I spoke, we climbed the steps to the battlement, intending to enter our quarters from there. Alla, in her cloak, appeared at the top of the stairs, starting down them without really looking ahead. After a few steps, she noticed us, a startled look on her narrow face. She began to apologize and to retreat up the stairs.
 “No, milady, please, you go first,” Willam said, moving back down the stairs, pushing me behind him. “We would not think of impeding your progress.”

 The elf lowered her eyes demurely, a slight smile on her face. I got the sense that she was embarrassed by Willam’s chivalry.

 “Why are you up at this late hour?” Willam asked. “Is there something you need assistance with?”

 “No, kind sir. I just found myself unable to sleep, so I decided to visit with the griffins.”

 “Allow me to escort you, milady.”

 She lowered her eyes again. “I don’t want to be a bother, Sir Knight. I will be fine. You need not concern yourself.”

 “Nonsense. It is no bother. Further, I would be fascinated to hear of your travels with Gilthanas of Qualinesti. I have heard many tales of his deeds in the years during the War of the Lance, and I would like to hear some more.”

 “Okay,” she said with a sweet, bright smile. He offered her his arm and she took it.

 I caught Willam’s eye and frowned at him. “We have an early morning tomorrow, Sir Willam.”

 “You’ve no need to concern yourself, Sir Gawthrop. I will go straight to bed once Lady Alla has checked on the griffins.”

 “Please, Sir Knight! I am not of noble blood!”

 “But your beauty alone makes you deserving nonetheless of the honorific,” he said, smiling at her. She dropped her eyes again, blushing and smiling slightly. He then looked back at me, an imploring look on his face.

 “Very well,” I said. “On your honor, you will rest this evening. And you will uphold the Measure in every way.”

 “Of course, Sir Gawthrop!” He sounded startled. Yet, there he was, arm and arm with another man’s woman. “My honor is my life!”

 I frowned at him again, unsure as to whether he understood how serious I was taking this matter . . . but if I brought it up, I would have embarrassed young Alla. I felt that if I were to berate Willam in front of her, I would be dishonoring myself, as I feared he was about to dishonor both her and himself.

 Instead, I merely said, “I know, Sir Willam. Escort Alla back to her chamber when she is done inspecting the griffins. I will see you at sunrise tomorrow.” I headed up the stairs without looking back.

 As I entered by quarters, a page was returning the bedwarmer to its stand. “Good evening, Sir Gawthrop,” the boy said. “How was your watch?”

 “Cold,” I replied, dismissing him with a gesture. My thoughts revolved around Willam as I removed my weapons belt. Greater Knights than he had fallen victim to the temptation of an elven woman. In my youth, I myself had done so. She hadn’t been involved with another man, however. As I started to remove my armor, a pounding on the door and shouts in the hallway interrupted my thoughts. I swiftly grabbed my sword and threw the door open. The page was outside, white as a sheet.

 “Monsters!” he shouted. “There are monsters on the castle walls! Sir Willam is fighting them!”

 I pushed the boy aside and stormed down the hallway. “Sound the alarm!” I shouted. From beyond the reinforced door that led to the battlement of the castle came a strange screech, a sound that could only have been uttered by a creature from the Abyss, I thought. I hesitated briefly, but then my courage rose again and I flung open the door.

 Hovering above the wall was one of the griffins. Willam clung to its side, his arms wrapped around the waist of a black-clad person—I could not tell if it was a man or woman, for a billowing cloak obscured his or her form and hid the face in the shadows of a drawn hood.

 Willam looked over his shoulder as I rushed forward. “Gawthrop! Thank the gods!”

 Then I saw a flash of steel amidst the folds of the cloak. The rider twisted in Willam’s grasp and drove a short sword through the crack where his breastplate and back armor met. Willam let out a strangled cry and released his grip. The griffin soared upward, Willam’s weight pulled him free of the blade, and he clattered to the hard stones of the battlement.

 I leapt over his prone figure and onto the crenellation. I swung wide with my sword, hoping to strike the griffin before it was too far away, but all I achieved was to almost lose my balance and plunge into the icy moat 40 feet below. Against the bright disk of the moon, I could see all three griffins that Gilthanas, Leth, and Alla had arrived on. The one I had witnessed on the wall was lagging significantly behind the others. A single cloaked figure sat upon each of the two trailing griffins—but I could see two figures upon the lead one . . . and one of the people had long hair that fluttered in the wind. It was Alla!

 I jumped off the wall and strode to Willam’s side. Blood was streaming from the wound and the page stood over him, looking confused and frightened. The boy was actually wringing his hands.

 “Fetch one of the mystics,” I barked. “And make sure it’s one who knows how to heal!”

 The page blinked at me, then rushed into the castle, leaving the door open behind him. I put my sword aside and kneeled next to Willam. I pulled him into my arms and said, “It’ll be all right, Willam. Just relax.”

 He looked at me, his face twisted with pain. Then he coughed, and blood spilled forth from his mouth as he trembled in my arms. I’d seen enough good men die to know that he didn’t have much time.

 “Get a healer to the northern battlements,” I shouted. “To the Abyss with the damn mystics, just bring me a healer!” Elsewhere in the castle, someone finally sounded the alarm.

 Willam clutched at my cloak. His breath hissed over his lips, forming bubbles in the blood. “Alla,” he moaned, his eyes locking with mine. “Alla.”
 “You did your best, Willam. There is no dishonor in failing, only in not trying to perform your duty. You and I shall hunt down the villains that abducted her when you have healed. They will pay for what they’ve done with their lives, and we shall mete out justice together.”

 His eyes widened and a strange look passed over his face, a look the meaning of which I wasn’t able to determine—it almost seemed like desperation. He drew a shuddering breath and spoke her name again. “Alla.”

 Then his eyes went blank. His final breath bubbled across his lips as life fled his body.

 “By the goddess!” I heard someone cry. It was the young girl who served as the Revered Daughter’s assistant and the page I had dispatched. She was wearing only a dressing gown and ran across the icy flagstones of the battlement in bare feet. “I will help him Sir Knight. Goldmoon has instructed me in healing magic!”

 She kneeled at our side and placed her hands on Willam’s bloody chest. She closed her eyes and prepared to use the final gift of the gods, but then her eyes flew open and she drew back her hands as though she had been burned.

 “It’s too late,” I said, regretting the words even as they left my lips. It had been an unbidden phrase, said without consideration. They were not the words this child needed to hear.

 She raised her hands and looked at the blood upon them. They were trembling. Her doe-like eyes drifted to Willam’s body, and she burst into sobs and tears. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get here in time. I was sleeping. I’m sorry!”

 “It’s not your fault,” I said, forcing back tears of my own, struggling to keep my voice steady. I lowered Willam to the cold stones and covered him with my cloak. I then helped the girl to her feet. She put her arms around me and sobbed against my armor. I lifted my eyes to sky, to where I had seen the three griffins pass by the moon. “It’s not your fault, milady. They killed Willam, not you. And, by my honor, they will pay.”

 The battlement exploded with activity. Squires and a healer arrived. Knights in varying states of dress with their swords drawn suddenly seemed to be everywhere. Somewhere, I heard Leth calling the name of his beloved. That odd, desperate expression in Willam’s eyes flashed in my mind. I wondered if the boy had died with a burning passion for a woman with another man in her life—died afraid that he would never see her again.

 Then I heard Gilthanas’ voice. “What happened?” the elf asked.

 I turned to him after passing the sobbing girl off to the page. As he led her away, I said, “The castle was infiltrated. Someone has abducted Alla, stolen your griffins, and used them in their escape. Sir Willam was slain trying to stop them.”

 The elf-lord’s brow furrowed in a frown. “That’s not possible.”

 “You saw the blood on that girl’s hands, did you not?” I said, anger welling up inside me. “Do you see the body here on the ground before us? If you check the courtyard, you will see that your mounts are indeed gone. It is possible, Lord Gilthanas, and it has happened.”

 “Yes, Sir Knight, I understand, but what you are suggesting has happened here is impossible.”

 “Are you saying I am lying? Are you calling my honor into question?”

 “No, Sir Gawthrop,” he replied softly. “I was thinking about the griffins. They won’t obey anyone but Leth. How could they have taken the griffins with him still here.” As if to prove Gilthanas’ point, Leth howled Alla’s name. Someone had told him the news.

 “They could have taken the griffins if they used dark mysticism to usurp the bond that Leth has nurtured with them.” Lady Sheryl emerged from the chaos of Knights that were streaming back and forth along the battlement. She was dressed in her nightgown and steel-toed boots. In one hand, she carried her sword. In the other, she held a piece of parchment. She offered it to me, her eyes drifting to the shrouded form on the ground. Blood was starting to seep from beneath the cloak.

 I examined the parchment. On it was a crude representation of the Seal of the Emperor of Ergoth with a black spot at the center.
 “What do you mean dark mysticism usurped Leth’s bond with the griffins?” Gilthanas asked.

 “I went through my trials on Schallsea with a Knight who spent part of her childhood at the Citadel of Light. She could communicate with animals through the Powers of the Heart, and I once saw her convince a hunter’s loyal hound to abandon the scent of a deer she wanted to go free.

 “Yes,” I said. “Lady Linsha.”

 “If she can do it, so can mystics who are of a darker spirit.”

 “And this symbol relates to them?” I passed the parchment to Gilthanas who studied it intently.

 “Yes,” Lady Sheryl replied. “While at the Ergothian court earlier this year, the Emperor’s daughter said that the spirits that speak to her warned her of an Evil that is represented by this symbol. When the librarians researched it, they discovered that it is the symbol of a movement that rose during the War of the Lance, a movement devoted to the service of Sargonnas and the destruction of the Empire of Ergoth.”

 “But why abduct Alla?” Gilthanas asked.

 “I don’t know,” Lady Sheryl said. She shivered violently as she looked at Willam’s body again. “The Revered Daughter would know. We should go ask her.”

 “Yes,” I said. “Let us go. You’ll catch your death, Sheryl.”

 “He should be brought in from the cold as well,” she said, her eyes still on the body. “He’s going to be much colder than I.”

 “Go, Sheryl. Ask the Revered Daughter to prepare herself for an audience with myself and Prince Gilthanas.”

 “Yes, Sir Gawthrop.” Her eyes fluttered to my face. Her lower lip trembled, but her voice remained steady as she said, “I kept asking him to let me teach him how to use his sword better.”

 I barked at a couple of squires who were gawking open-mouthed at my fallen charge. “Take him to the crypt, you lazy dogs. Start preparing the body for its time in state!”

 “Were they close?” Gilthanas nodded toward Sheryl who was walking down the hall, too slowly and with her shoulders slumping. The blade of her sword was barely off the floor.

 “No,” I replied. “But they should have been.”

* * * * *

Sir Liam, Gilthanas, Leth, and I stood in the Revered Daughter’s audience room, listening as Sheryl—now more appropriately dressed in a tunic and trousers—explained what she knew of the cult. I confess that I barely heard a word she said. The sight of Willam dying in my arms hovered before my eyes and the echo of his final word was reverberating with deafening intensity in my head.

 The events that brought Willam and the kidnappers to the battlements of the castle were shrouded in mystery, but for some reason, he had left his weapons belt in the courtyard below. Perhaps the villains had threatened to harm Alla unless he dropped his blades. They then took to the air and he leapt up and grabbed hold of one of the riders. Perhaps it was something else. We will never know, for although a Rose Knight with the ability to communicate with the spirits of the recently dead attempted to speak with Willam, he had already gone to join Paladine in the Beyond. Only those who had flown off on the griffins could now tell us what transpired.

 “I will hunt these animals to the very edge of the Abyss,” Leth cried, shaking with rage. “And if they have harmed her, I will kill each and every one of them!”

 Gilthanas put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a stern look. “Be calm, my friend. We will hunt these villains together . . . but first we must allow Lady Sheryl and the Revered Daughter tell us what they know about these cultists.

 “There isn’t much more to tell,” Lady Sheryl said. “They have their lair somewhere in the mountains along the border between the Ergothian empire and the goblin kingdom of Sikk’et Hul. They are rumored to perform some manner of rites on the Winter Solstice, so it is quite possible that they kidnapped Alla to sacrifice her in some foul ritual.”

 “But why her?!” Leth wailed. “Why her?!”

 “Few places on Ansalon have such a concentration of men and women who are valiant and pure in body and soul,” Crysania said softly, her sightless eyes turning toward us. “Perhaps they abducted Alla over one of the Knights because of the reputed bond that the Kagonesti share with the land. The very fact that they subverted Leth’s bond with his griffins show that they are powerful dark mystics. Perhaps they intend to tap into her energies.”

 “Is such a thing possible?” Sheryl asked.

 “The dragons absorbed the life energies of their slain foes during the Dragon Purge. Perhaps these followers of Sargonnas at Raekel’s Pit are engaged in similar activities.”

 “Or perhaps they are merely honoring their god,” Gilthanas muttered. He looked around the room with a pained expression. “Several years ago, I encountered people who I now believe to be members of this cult on the island of Elian, off the coast of Kender—“ he stopped and corrected himself—“the Desolation. Almost a decade later, I met a man I thought I’d befriended back then, in Solamnia, but he was bent on killing me.

 “Alla’s predicament is my fault, for I believe she was abducted as part of an attempt to gain revenge upon me. For what, I’m not sure, but it could be as straightforward as them wishing to avenge the death of a comrade. It could be bigger than that. But that is why she was chosen, I am certain of it.” He placed a hand on Leth’s shoulder. The other elf looked at him with smoldering eyes. “If Lord Liam will provide us with a fast ship, we will travel to Northern Ergoth together . . . and I shall see that you are reunited with the woman you love, or I will die in the attempt.”

 “You will not go alone,” I said, a knot of anger clenching in my breast. “I will join you to avenge my friend. He was murdered most foully, and I will be the one to destroy these followers of Dark Vengeance.”

 “It won’t be an easy task,” Sheryl muttered, a look of deep sorrow appearing on her face. “I should be there at your side, taking the lives of . . . of a dear comrade. But I can’t. I have a duty here. I have to stay and protect the Revered Daughter. For all we know, she was their intended target, and may still be.”

 Crysania held out a hand and Sheryl took it. The aged priestess said, “I appreciate your devotion to duty even if your heart cries out to avenge Willam. The gods will reward your sacrifice some day, dear Sheryl, because you are putting Good above the need to expunge your pain.”

 “My thanks, Revered Daughter,” Sheryl replied so softly that it was almost inaudible. “That is small comfort, as I don’t think the gods have ever heard a single of my prayers.”

 “You may take my ship,” Crysania said after a slight pause. “Sheryl, would you please go wake the crew and tell them to prepare to depart with the tide?”

 “I will fetch my gear,” I said to Gilthanas. “I will meet you at the ship.”

* * * * *

I chose to travel light: a cloak, my broadsword, two daggers, a crossbow and ten quills, and a rucksack containing extra clothes, a spare pair of boots, and oil for my weapons and armor, and my armor. These evil priests were going to know that they were meeting their end at the hands of a Knight of the Sword.
 I returned to the Whitestone Glade before heading to the harbor. The Knights posted there realized with a single glance at my grim visage that they should not speak to me. They retreated deeper into the forest as I kneeled in front of the cracked and broken Whitestone.

 The wind rushed through the glade, biting at my cheeks as I looked up, into the heavens where the chaotic swirl of stars left in Chaos’ wake glimmered dimly.

 Do you think they still watch over us?

 I pushed the sound of Willam’s voice out of my mind. I cleared my mind and whispered a prayer to Kiri-Jolith, the patron of my Order. I kept my face turned skyward, my eyes scanning the stars. Kiri-Jolith would guide me in this quest. Kiri-Jolith would ensure that I conducted myself honorably, as a man devoted to his service should. I didn’t want to be sent to a different age. I just wanted strength to comport myself with honor.

 Do you think they still watch over us?

 I stopped praying. “No,” I whispered to the echo of the dead man. “ I do not. If Linsha Majere found anything in this grove, it was the memory of the gods but not their presence.”

 I went to the docks.