Legacy of Steel

8

A cold, blustery wind swept up the mountain trail sweeping golden aspen leaves and dust before it. Sara put up with it for a few hours, then changed out of her skirts into a pair of durable pants that were not only warmer but also easier to wear on the steep slopes. With her hair braided under her loose knit hat and a heavy cloak over her tunic, she looked more like a man than a woman.

She had seen no one else that day but a few shepherds with their flocks in the distance and a small party of travelers trekking south to Palanthas. There was no one in sight going north. Sara mentally shrugged and pushed on. Cobalt was waiting, and she didn't want to worry the dragon into doing something stupid.

The day passed uneventfully, and Sara found a sheltered place to camp for the night. She passed the iron mines the following day, and still she found no other travelers heading toward Daron.

Except for the possibility of danger from thieves and highwaymen, Sara actually preferred solitary travel. She liked picking her own pace suitable to her horse and herself; she liked the dust-free air and the tranquility of the mountains, without shouting drovers, bellowing beasts of burden, complaining merchants, and whining servants. She did not have to carry on meaningless conversations with companions she did not like or waste endless time waiting for the caravan to get ready to move. The only thing she missed was the time spent by the campfires at night, when instruments were inevitably brought out and musicians played rollicking tunes for hours to enliven the cold mountain nights.

She crossed the pass safely during an afternoon of gathering clouds and gusty winds, and that night a light snow began to fall. Snow was still falling in the morning when Sara packed her gear and fed her horse. She eyed the sky warily, for no one in her right mind wanted to be caught on the open mountain trails in an autumn snowstorm. Fortunately the clouds seemed tattered and the wind brisk, leading her to hope the snow showers would end soon.

She filled her water bag from a nearby stream and loaded one of the panniers with dry firewood from a sheltered deadfall. If she were forced to stop somewhere unprotected, she wanted to be prepared. Clucking to her horse, she headed down the mountain.

The snow did end soon, several times. It was one of those days when the sky was a swiftly moving panorama of brilliant sun and dark clouds and intermittent showers of sparkling snow. Cloud shadows scudded over the mountain faces, pushed by a capricious cold wind.

A snow shower had just ended, as abruptly as it began, when the hairs on Sara's neck began to prickle in that uncanny warning she well remembered. Someone was watching her.

Sara's head went up, and her eyes moved along the stony slopes around her. She was walking on an open section of the trail that hugged the side of the hill. There were no trees or large stone outcroppings for cover. There was nowhere she could hide, and nowhere anyone else could hide to ambush her. Yet she still felt the presence of someone close by.

Her pulse quickened. Her right hand slid closer to her bow that hung from one of the panniers. She kept walking beside the horse, trying to look casual, as if she had no hint of danger. The sun burst out of the clouds at that moment, its bright light dazzling after the snow squall.

Something moved to Sara's right. She spun around in time to see a patch of snowy grass and vines suddenly thrown aside to reveal a hole dug in the earth. A man in dirty armor burst out of the hole and lunged at her, a sword in his hand. He was too close for her to use her bow, so Sara snatched her dagger from its sheath, and before the man could lay a hand on her, she flipped off her cloak and slid beyond his reach. Her reflexes may have slowed from age, but her speed and her balance were finely tuned from years of practice.

Her attacker, expecting slow, easy prey, met instead a furious dagger-wielding opponent. His heavily bearded face registered surprise. Then he sneered and moved in to disarm her. Pulling his lips back over broad, yellow teeth, he raised the blade of his sword and brought it whistling around to strike her arm.

Sara heard shouts behind her from several directions, and she realized she needed more than a mere dagger to defend herself. Instead of ducking her assailant, she slipped under his blade, dipped her shoulder, and crashed into his belly. He grunted in surprise. His sword whistled over her head.

Her blade slipped under his armpit, where the breastplate ended, and rammed deep into his flesh and muscle. Sara wrenched it out and stabbed again. The man howled with pain.

Sara rolled over him as he crashed to the earth, then bounced to her feet, snatched the sword from his weakened grasp, and spun on her heel to meet the other attackers.

There were three more, all as lean and hungry as wolves, all dressed in ill-kept armor. Shocked by the fall of their comrade, they slunk forward, studying Sara warily.

"Look" one of them shouted in surprise. "It's a woman!"

Sara dodged behind her horse and grinned wickedly at the men. Her hat had been knocked off in the struggle with the first brigand, and now her braid swung loose like a silver horse's tail.

The old bay, panicked by the shouts and the smell of blood, reared in fright. One of the men tried to grab his headstall, but the gelding whipped his head aside and bolted away down the trail. Sara was left facing the three men.

They slid to a stop and slowly edged around her until she was surrounded.

"Come on, be a good girl and give us that sword," the shortest man wheedled.

Sara glared at the men, her eyes narrowed, her lungs breathing hard. Their armor was rusty and dirty and badly dented, but beneath the grime, she could make out the death lily, the emblem of the Knights of Takhisis.

"Swine," she hissed. "Groveling in dirt for those lilies you wear. How many backs did you stab to get those?" She rose on the balls of her feet and crouched forward, her bloodied dagger in one hand, the sword in the other. Her blade sliced the air to keep the men at a distance.

Two of the men laughed. The third, a tall, darkhaired half-elf, studied her moves with a sense of growing recognition. He was about to say something when a shadow passed over their heads.

Everyone looked up simultaneously. A powerful downdraft abruptly smote them all, and a ferocious roar reverberated in the air. Blue wings sailed overhead.

"Cobalt!" Sara cried in delight.

The blue dragon roared again. His teeth snapping, he dropped like a sapphire fury out of the sky and landed with an earth-shuddering thud beside Sara. The three me were too terrified to move. With a snarl, he snatched the shorter man in his front talons. He tore the man to shreds with tooth and claw, then grabbed at a second. He was about to rend that man, too, when Sara cried, "Wait, Cobalt!"

The red fire faded from his eyes. Keeping his prey pinned under his claw, he lifted his muzzle at her command. Blood dripped from his jaws onto his panicked victim, who screamed once and promptly fainted.

The third brigand, the half-elf, stared at Sara in shocked realization. He saluted almost frantically. "My lady, we had no idea you were a dragon rider."

Sara tossed her attacker's sword on the ground. She wiped her dagger on the wounded man's pant leg and thrust it back in her belt before she bothered to answer. The action was meant to look cold and commanding, but Sara also wanted a moment to find her voice and still the trembling of her hands.

"You didn't exactly take the time to ask," she said frostily. "If you had, I would have told you I am Knight Officer Sara Conby." It was a slight exaggeration, but it made the brigand's eyes bulge.

"We didn't think…" the half-elf stammered. "I mean, we never guessed you…"

Sara sneered. "You didn't think. Well, who else would travel the mountain trails alone but someone quite capable of dealing with scum like you! What are you doing up here? Is this any way for Knights of the Lily to behave?"

"Yes, Knight Officer. I mean, no. We're going to Neraka to rejoin our order. But we had no supplies or transport, and winter's coming. We thought a few travelers here and there would get us enough food and coins to go south."

A bolt of anger and hatred shot through her and, in spite of herself, flicked across her face. She quickly drew her brows together before the man caught her expression. "Neraka? I have not heard of anything happening there. I have been hiding my dragon in the mountains. We do not hear news often."

The half-elf, eager to please, plunged on. "Yes, my lady. We heard through our sources in Palanthas that the general has put out a call to all surviving knights to come to Neraka. There are plans to rebuild the order. The city is safe for us because the knights rule there. You and your dragon would be welcome. Come with us. We would be glad for your company."

I bet you would, Sara thought sourly. Glad for the dragonfear spread by Cobalt that would help you murder and steal your way to Neraka. Keeping her face impassive, she merely said, "Who is this general you speak of?"

"General Mirielle Abrena, my lady. She has taken over command of the order since Lord Ariakan's death. She plans to restore the power of the knighthood." Sara felt Cobalt move abruptly, as if startled. The name was not familiar to Sara. Perhaps Cobalt knew. Not that it was important. She had at last the verbal confirmation she wanted.

Suddenly Sara felt stone cold all the way to the core of her being. All she wanted to do now was go home. "I have things I must deal with here before I leave,"she said, her tone short and brittle. "Perhaps I will see you in Neraka."

The half-elf bobbed his head and practically bowed. "We apologize, Knight Officer, for the inconvenience."

Sara jerked her head toward the wounded man groaning on the ground. "You will have plenty of time to consider your actions while you deal with your comrades." She laid a hand on Cobalt's forearm and said to the dragon, "Let him go."

The dragon rumbled deep in his throat and let the man drop several feet to the ground.

She climbed up Cobalt's leg to his shoulders and carefully sat down on his back. Her perch felt very precarious without a dragon saddle to hold her on the thick scales. "Go easy," she whispered. "I don't want to fall off in front of them."

Cobalt obeyed. Instead of springing upward, he took two running leaps downhill, unfurled his wings and glided smoothly into the air. He soared down the mountainside until he caught a weak thermal that lifted him higher into the sky. He curved gently around and slowly flapped his wings until he was following the trail down the mountain.

"See if you can find the horse," Sara suggested wearily. Now that the fight was over and the men were lost from sight, she felt her energy drain away. She leaned forward, threw her arms around Cobalt's neck, and hugged him tightly. "I forgot to say hello. And thank you. And what are you doing here?"

"You also forgot something else. You are late!"admonished the dragon. "You said fourteen days. It's been seventeen. And look what happens?" He snorted in disgust. Wisps of steam flying from his nostrils. "I can't let you go anywhere without me!"

Sara laughed. It felt wonderful to be on his back and to know he had worried about her.

"There he is," Cobalt said, and he glided downward toward a wide patch of grass near the trail. There stood the old bay, head down, his sides heaving. He barely flinched when the dragon landed nearby.

Sara slid off and hurried to the old horse's side. His coat was slick with sweat; steam rose from his heaving flanks. She ran her hands down his legs and was relieved to see he had not hurt himself. He was just exhausted. She threw one of her blankets over him so he wouldn't cool too quickly, then she gently urged him back on the trail. He had to walk out his sweat or he would founder.

Cobalt looked on with ill-concealed impatience. "Do we have to take that old bag of bones back? It will take forever. Couldn't I just eat him? I can carry your gear."

Sara threw a frown at him and vehemently shook her head. "You will not eat this horse. He is my friend. If you are hungry, go find an elk or a few deer." She curled a lip and pointed to the blood splattered on his chest from the man he had killed. "And while you're at it, find a lake and wash that off. We will follow this trail, so it will be easy to see us when you're finished."

"All right, I will. It took me a long time to find you, and I am very hungry."

Sara grinned and waved him away. She had no fear that he would go far.

Cobalt came back within the hour, sucking bits off his teeth and looking very satisfied with himself. He flew in low, lazy circles over Sara's head until she found a place to camp for the night.

By the time, the bay horse had cooled and rested enough to want to graze. Sara hobbled him in a sheltered nook by a rock wall where enough grass had escaped the early frosts to satisfy his appetite. She built a fire close to a low overhang and cooked her supper.

Cobalt stretched out where he could watch her, his yellow eyes half-lidded. "Did you find what you wanted to know?" he asked after a while.

"Yes. And no."

"That's helpful."

Sara sighed, her gaze on the hot flames of her fire. "Yes, I learned that the rumors I had heard were true, but I do not know how accurate they are and how far the truth extends."

"And do you need to know that, too?"

She lifted her face to meet the dragon's unblinking gaze. She knew full well what that mission would entail, and the thought scared her silly. "I'm not sure yet," she answered truthfully, then she asked him a question. "Did you recognize the name of Mirielle Abrena?"

A sneer pulled back Cobalt's lips. His horns pressed flat on his head, a sure sign of his disapproval. "She commanded the wing in Northern Ergoth where Vincit and I were sent. As soon as word reached us that Lord Ariakan was dead and the Battle of the Rift was over, she took her personal staff and left the rest of us to fend for our-selves." There was a bitter rumble of resentment in his voice.

"She is ambitious," Sara mused.

Cobalt snorted. "She is dangerous." He bent his head down closer to Sara. "Are you thinking of going to Neraka?"

"I don't know."

"When you decide, you tell me, because I will not let you go away again without me. I have lost one friend and rider. I will not lose another."

Sara did not reply. She could not. No words could escape past the tightness in her throat. She banked her fire for the night, collected her blanket, and settled down against the dragon's warm side to sleep. That was all the answer he needed.

Sara felt stiff and sore the next morning, the result, she knew, of not practicing with her sword for two weeks and sleeping on the ground. The old bay did not feel much better. His gallop down the trail was the most exercise he had had in years. Together they walked gingerly along the trail until their muscles grew limber and the sun warmed their backs.

Cobalt huffed and grumbled at the delay, then went off to hunt.

His departure was most propitious, for as soon as he was out of sight, a party of travelers from Daron appeared at the top of a hill. Sara pulled off the trail and waited for them to pass.

There were five, four men and a young woman, bound for Palanthas-to visit family, they told Sara. They waved to her and remarked on the fact that she was traveling alone.

She just grinned and warned them to watch out for thieves. But their presence on the trail reminded her that it would not be safe for Cobalt to fly about the mountains In broad daylight. While a few travelers could not hurt him, news could spread to the wrong ears, including those of Khellendros. She had heard in Palanthas that the huge blue was killing dragons of all colors in the territory he considered his, and she did not want Cobalt's skull added to his pile.

When the blue returned, she insisted they stop and travel only at night. Cobalt irritably asked again if he could eat the horse.

Instead of getting angry, Sara just patted the smooth scales of his neck. "I lost one dragon when Flare left me," she said. "I do not want to lose you."

Cobalt backed down and did not grumble again the rest of the journey home.

It took Sara three more days to lead the old bay home, traveling at night and skirting around Daron to avoid any confrontations between humans and the dragon. During those nights, she had ample time to think about the Knights of Takhisis and the news she had heard.

The thought that the order was rebuilding bothered her far more than she thought it would . She believed the world had suffered enough injustice and cruelty and evil at the hands of the Dark Knights. Now that Krynn was entering a new age, Sara did not want to accept the possibility that the Knights of Takhisis could have an important place in it. Their influence was dead; let it stay dead! she thought over and over.

So, what if the brigands were right, that a new, ambitious general had taken over the knighthood and was planning to restore it to its former power? Was she as strong and capable as Lord Ariakan? Or was she simply a usurper who would topple in short order? Were there enough knights left to make this attempt successful?

Someone should go, Crysania's words echoed in Sara's thoughts. Someone should go see what was going on.

But Sara's mind rebelled. "I can't," she said to the horse plodding by her side. "I have a new life now. I have responsibilities and friends. I have a home where people need me, a house and garden that need tending. The potatoes should be dug before a freeze. My loom must be restrung. I can't go back among the knights. It just one of them recognized me, they'd kill me. I am too old. I couldn't pull it off."

The old horse just flicked an ear at her and kept quiet.

But if her horse was quiet, a small voice in her heart was not. Yes, such a journey to Neraka to investigate the knights would be dangerous, it told her. They could discover who she was; they could kill her as a spy or traitor. But who else would be better to go than a woman who had spent ten years learning the original organization from bottom to top? If she could keep her wits about her and no one recognized her, there was no reason the knights would be suspicious of her. She could slip into Neraka, blend in for a short while, learn all she could and slip out again. She could take her information to the Solamnic Knights, if she could find them. Or maybe Caramon Majere would know whom to contact. It would take a few weeks at the most, if Cobalt flew her there and back. This could work, the little voice said. Someone should go.

Her internal debate lasted the entire trip home and for days after. She dug her potatoes and restrung loom, tended the villager's animals, and took care of Cobalt, but her thoughts were always elsewhere, and even the most obtuse farmers noticed she was terribly distracted. Her friends tried to ask her what was wrong, but she refused to talk to anyone.

Then the inevitable happened. Someone spotted Cobalt in the mountains and brought the news back to the village. A shepherd had taken his dogs into the high hills to track a rogue wolf that had been killing his sheep. Instead of the wolf, he found dragon tracks and the scattered bones of deer, elk, and, to his horror, sheep. In the distance, on a high promontory, he saw the blue dragon sleeping in the sun. The shepherd was furious and scared and smart enough to know he needed help to rout the dragon out of the region. He called off his dogs and raced back to Connersby to sound the alarm. Word spread quickly, and the villagers began to gather near the village well to make their plans.

Sara heard the news that evening while she was putting a poultice on a cow's sore leg. It took every bit of her self-control to keep her voice bland and her hands from shaking. Quietly she tied the cloth that held the poultice and patted the cow's tan hip.

"You're coming, aren't you, Sara?" the farmer asked excitedly. "We're meeting to decide how to deal with the brute. We can't have the likes of that dragon lurking around here and eating our stock."

"No," she answered slowly, "you certainly can't."

Ignoring the farmer's curious gaze, Sara put her things back in the bag. "Change the poultice in the morning and keep the wound clean," she mumbled, and she walked out without another word.

She walked home lost in a daze of thoughts and emotions, and worry for the dragon. After the door closed behind her, she leaned against the cool wood and drew in a deep breath. Now there was no more time to debate or procrastinate. She had known somehow, from the instant Crysania spoke those words in the night, that she would eventually go to Neraka. All she needed was some impetus, a kick in the pants, to get her over the threshold of her fear. The danger to Cobalt-and the villagers she liked so much-was impetus enough.

She knelt by her clothes chest and dug down through the clothes and the linens to the hard bundle that lay at the bottom. It was heavy and cumbersome, and she dumped nearly all the contents of her chest on the floor before she hauled the package out and laid it on her bed. One after another, she untied the strings that held the bundle together. The covering fell away to reveal something deep blue trimmed with black fur. It was a cloak, a gift long ago from Lord Ariakan. She unwrapped the cape and pulled out several more items, laying them side by side. Gloves, a helm, boots, and leather breeches – the kit of a dragon rider.

One more item fell into her lap, a large brooch wrought in mother-of-pearl, another gift from the late, unlamented Lord Ariakan. Sara picked it up and turned it over in her hands, almost loath to touch its four gleaming petals. It was a black lily, the emblem of the Knights of Takhisis. She curled her lip and almost flung the brooch into the cold fireplace. But, no, it and the blue dragon could be her passport into Neraka. With deliberate care, she pinned the brooch to the blue-black cloak and began to pack.