Dragons of a Lost Star

20 The March into Nightlund

Mina’s small army, only a few hundred in number, made up of the group of Knights who had followed her from the ghastly valley of Neraka to Sanction to Silvanesti, and now to this strange land.

The dragons flew through darkness so deep that Galdar could not see Captain Samuval flying on the dragon next to him. Galdar could not even see his own dragon’s long tail or wings for the darkness that shrouded them. He saw one dragon only and that was the strange dragon Mina rode, the death dragon, for it shimmered with a ghostly iridescence that was both terrible and beautiful. Red, blue, green, white, red-blue, as two of the souls of the dead dragons combined, then white-green, constantly changing until he grew dizzy and was forced to look away.

But his gaze was drawn back to the death dragon, marveling, awed. He wondered how Mina found courage to ride a beast that seemed as insubstantial as the morning mist, for he could see through the dragon, see the darkness beyond it. Mina had no qualms apparently, and her faith was justified, for the dragon bore her safely through the skies of Ansalon and deposited her gently and reverently on the ground.

The other dragons landed on a vast plain, allowed their riders to dismount, then took to the air again.

“Listen for my call,” Mina told the dragons. “I will have need of you.”

The dragons—giant reds and fleet blues, sly blacks, aloof whites and cunning greens—bowed low their heads, spread their wings, and bent their proud necks before her. The death dragon circled once above her head and then vanished as if it had been absorbed into the darkness. The other dragons lifted their wings and flew away, heading different directions. Their departure created a great wind that nearly blew the men over. The dragons were gone, and they were left on foot, with no mounts, in a strange land, with no idea where they were.

It was then Mina told them.

“Nightlund,” she said.

Once this land had been ruled by a Solamnic Knight named Soth. Given the chance by the gods to halt the Cataclysm, Lord Soth had failed and brought down a curse upon himself and the land. Since the time of the Cataclysm, other doomed souls, both living and dead, had found in Nightlund a place of refuge and they had come to dwell within its deep shadows. Hearing that the land had become a hideout for those fleeing the law, the Solamnic Knights, who ruled this land, had made several attempts to clean them out. These proved futile, and soon the Knights quit entering the forest, leaving it to Soth, the accursed knight, to rule. Nightlund was a no-man’s-land, where none of the living came, if they could help it. This land had an evil reputation, even among the Dark Knights of Neraka, for the dead had no allegiances to any government of the living. Mina’s Knights and soldiers formed ranks and marched after her without a murmur of complaint. They were so confident of her now, they believed in her—and in the One God—so strongly, that they did not question her judgment.

Mina’s soldiers entered Nightlund with impunity. They encountered no enemy—living or dead. They marched beneath huge cypress trees that had been old at the time of the forging of the Graygem. They saw no living creature, no squirrel or bird, mouse or chipmunk, no deer or bear. They saw no dead, either, for none of them possessed magic, and thus the dead took no interest in them. But the soldiers and knights sensed the dead around them, sensed it as one senses he is being watched by unseen eyes. After several days of marching through the eerie forest, the men who had followed Mina into Nightlund without hesitation were starting to have second thoughts.

The fur on the back of Galdar’s neck prickled and twitched, and he was continually whipping his head around to see if something was creeping up on him. Captain Samuval complained—in low tones and only when Mina could not hear him—that he had “the horrors.” When asked what malady this might be, he could not explain, except to say that it made his feet and hands cold so that no fire could warm them and gave him an ache in his belly. The sharp crack of a falling branch sent men diving to the ground, to lie quivering in terror until someone told them what it was. Shamefaced, they would rise and carry on.

The men doubled the watch at night, though Mina told them that they had no need to set a watch at all. She did not explain why, but Galdar guessed that they were being guarded by those who had no more need of sleep. He did not find this particularly reassuring, and he often woke from a dream of hundreds of people standing around him, staring down at him with eyes that were empty of all except pain.

Mina was strangely silent during this march. She walked in the front of the line, refused all company, said no word to any man, yet Galdar could sometimes see her lips moving, as though she were speaking. When he once ventured to ask to whom she spoke, she replied, “To them,” and made a sweeping gesture with her hand that encompassed nothing.

“The dead, Mina?” Galdar asked hesitantly.

“The souls of the dead. They have no more need of the shells that once housed them.”

“You can see them?”

“The One God gives me that power.”

“But I can’t.”

“I could cause you to see them, Galdar,” Mina said to him, “but you would find it most unpleasant and disconcerting.”

“No, Mina, no, I don’t want to see them,” Galdar said hastily. “How . . . how many of them are there?”

“Thousands,” she replied. “Thousands upon thousands and thousands more after that. The souls of all who have died in this world since the Chaos War, Galdar. That is how many. And more join their ranks daily. Elves dying in Silvanesti and Qualinesti, soldiers dying defending Sanction, mothers dying in childbirth, children dying of sickness, the elderly dying in their beds—all these souls are flowing into Nightlund in a vast river. Brought here by the One God, prepared to do the bidding of the One God.”

“You said since the end of the Chaos War. Where did the souls go before that?”

“The blessed souls went to other realms beyond. Cursed souls were doomed to remain here, until they learned the lessons they were meant to learn in life. Then they, too, left for the next stage. The old gods encouraged the souls to leave. The old gods gave the souls no choice. The old gods ignored the fact that the souls did not want to depart. They longed to remain within the world and do what they could to assist the living. The One God saw this and granted the souls the gift that they could remain in the world and serve the One God. So they do, Galdar. And so they will.”

Mina looked at him with her amber eyes. “You would not want to leave, would you, Galdar?”

“I would not want to leave you, Mina,” he replied. “That is what I fear most about dying. That I would have to leave you.”

“You never will, Galdar,” Mina said to him, her voice gentle. The amber warmed. Her hand touched his arm, and her touch was as warm as the amber. “I promise you that. You never will.”

Galdar was uneasy. He hesitated to say the next, for fear she would be displeased, but he was her second-in-command, and he was responsible not only to her but to those under his command.

“How long are we going to stay here, Mina? The men don’t like it in this forest. I can’t say that I blame them. The living have no place here. We’re not wanted.”

“Not long,” she said. “I must pay a visit to someone who lives within this forest. Yes, he lives,” she emphasized the word. “A wizard by the name of Dalamar. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

Galdar shook his head. He had as little to do with wizards as possible and took no interest in them or their business.

“After that,” Mina continued, “I must leave for a brief time—”

“Leave?” Galdar repeated, involuntarily raising his voice.

“Leave?” Captain Samuval came hurrying over. “What is this? Who is leaving?”

“Mina,” said Galdar, his throat constricting.

“Mina the only reason the troops stay is because of you,” said Samuval.

“If you go—”

“I will not be gone long,” said Mina, frowning.

“Long or short, Mina, I’m not sure we can control the men,” said Captain Samuval. He kept jerking his head about, constantly looking over his shoulder. “And I don’t blame them. This land is cursed. Ghosts crawl all over it. I can feel them crawling all over me!”

He shivered and rubbed his arms and glanced fearfully about. “You can’t see them except out of the corner of your eye. And when you look at them, they’re gone. It’s enough to drive a man stark, staring mad.”

“I will speak to the men, Captain Samuval,” Mina replied. “You and Galdar must speak to them, as well, and you must show them by example that you are not afraid.”

“Even though we are,” the minotaur growled.

“The dead will not harm you. They have been ordered to congregate here for one purpose and one purpose alone. The One God commands them. They serve the One God, and through the intercession of the One God, they serve me.”

“What is this purpose, Mina? You keep saying that, but you tell us nothing.”

“All will be revealed. You must be patient and have faith,” Mina said. The amber eyes cooled and hardened.

Galdar and Samuval exchanged glances. Samuval held still, no longer jerked his head about or rubbed his arms, afraid of offending Mina.

“How long will you be gone?” Galdar asked.

“You will come with me to the wizard’s Tower. Then I travel north, to speak to the dragon who rules Palanthas, the dragon known as Khellendros or, as I prefer to call him, Skie.”

“Skie? He’s not even around anymore. All know that he departed on some strange quest.”

“The dragon is there,” Mina said. “He waits for me, though he does not know it.”

“Waits to attack you, maybe,” said Samuval with a snort. “He’s not like one of our blue dragons, Mina. This Skie is a butcher. He devours his own kind to gain power, just like Malystryx.”

“You should not go alone, Mina,” Galdar urged tersely. “Take some of us with you.”

“The Hand of the One God brought down Cyan Bloodbane, Mina said sternly. “The Hand of the One God will bring down Skie, if he thwarts the God’s commands. Skie will obey. He has no choice. He cannot help himself.

“You will obey me, too, Galdar, Captain Samuval,” Mina added. “As will the men.” Her tone and her look softened. “You have no need to fear. The One God rewards obedience. You will be safe in the forest of the dead. They guard you. They have no thought of harming you. Resume the march, Galdar. We must make haste. Events in the world move swiftly, and we are called.”

“We are called,” muttered Galdar, after Mina had departed traveling deeper into the forest. “We are always called, it seems.”

“Called to victory,” observed Captain Samuval. “Called to glory. I don’t mind that. Do you?”

“No, not that part,” Galdar admitted.

“Then what’s wrong—besides this place frightens the pudding out of us.” Samuval glanced around the shadowed forest with a shudder.

“I guess I’d like to think I had some say in the matter,” Galdar muttered. “Some choice.”

“In the military?” Samuval chortled. “Your mama must have dropped you on your head when you were a calf if you think that!”

He looked down the path. Mina had passed beyond his sight. “Come on,” he said uneasily. “Let’s keep moving. The sooner we’re out of this place, the better.”

Galdar pondered this. Samuval was right, of course. In the military one obeyed orders. A soldier didn’t get to vote on whether or not he’d like to storm a city, whether or not he’d like to face a barrage of arrows or have a cauldron of hot boiling oil poured on his head. A soldier did what he was told to do without question. Galdar knew that, and he accepted that. Why was this any different?

Galdar didn’t know. Couldn’t answer.