The War of the Lance

The Vingaard Campaign

From the Research of Foryth Teel, Senior Scribe in the service of Astinus, Master Lorekeeper of Krynn.

Most Gracious Historian, you do me too much honor! To think of this task — the study of the greatest military campaign in the post-Cataclysm history of Krynn — and to realize that you have selected me to prepare the documents! I am honored, humbled. But, as always, I shall endeavor to do my best, so that the truth can be recorded and saved.

Thank you too, Excellency, for your concern about my health following my previous mission. My nerves have settled and the tremors have almost disappeared from my hands. Also, I am able to sleep for several hours at a time without suffering the recurrence of nightmares.

As always, a return to my work seems to promise the most complete cure — and in this assignment, Your Grace, you could not have provided a more perfect medicine. The tale of the Vingaard Campaign! The very phrase strikes a martial note in my soul! I hear the clash of steel, the thunder of hooves and the strident call of the battle trumpet! I imagine the wings of dragons, good and evil, blotting out the sky. I picture the blasts of powerful magicks, the gallant charge of the knights!

But forgive me. I have not forgotten that the historian is a dispassionate reporter of the truth. Such flights of fancy are for poets, not scholars such as I. I shall try to control my emotions. Nevertheless, as I relate the exciting story of a young elven princess who changed the face of Krynn in a few short weeks — the sharp, dangerous attacks that baffled her foes, the fast marches across the plains placing her miles from her supposed location, and of course, her epic victory at Margaard Ford — I trust that Your Excellency will forgive an occasional exclamatory aside.

In studies, I will examine the topic primarily from the viewpoint of the Army of Solamnia. The records of the dragonarmies were relatively well kept, and have been researched by many scribes. The campaigns from the Golden General's side, on the other hand, have only been discussed in the histories of the Knights of Solamnia. To read them, one might think that the contributions of the good dragons to these battles was merely to fan the battlefield with their wings, cooling the sweat from the brows of the hard-riding knights to whom the laurels really belonged! In my own reports, I shall strive for a greater degree of objectivity — as befits a proper historian.

I now commence my task in the musty library of the High Clerist's Tower at Westgate Pass. Extensive records from a variety of sources have yielded themselves to my diligence. Gunthar Uth Wistan's account, formulated on the distant island of Ergoth from reports received by that venerable captain from his knights in the field, proves surprisingly complete — and accurate. (He does a remarkable job, Excellency, of separating the wheat from the chaff as regards the reports received from his enthusiastic warriors!) The records of the interviews conducted with the captured dragonarmy general Bakaris also shed a good light on the campaign. Also, I have been afforded the aid of a hitherto unknown source: a young human female named Mellison (no surname, apparently), self-appointed servant of the general. I have found the tattered remnants of a diary she kept during the short period of the campaign (it is amazing in the extreme to think that this sweeping series of battles lasted a mere twenty days!).

Mellison had been born and raised in a small village on the Plains of Solamnia. When the dragons came, her community was scorched, and her parents slain (or, perhaps, taken as slaves). Mellison, alone from the village, managed to escape to the shelter of the High Clerist's Tower and, eventually, Palanthas.

I do not know how she met the elf woman who would become the Golden General — those pages, at the start of Mellison's diary, have been destroyed. However, by the time Laurana had been appointed by Gunthar Uth Wistan, Grand Master of Solamnia, to command the knights and the army of Palanthas, the human girl had attached herself to the elf woman.

Mellison proved very useful to the general, preparing Laurana's tent for those nights when the general was able to steal a few hours' sleep; and Mellison always fanned a blaze into light for her mistress's predawn awakenings. Though the young woman participated in none of the battles, her observations of Laurana's campfire councils have provided us with key insights into the development of the campaign.

The first of these discussions occurred on the field below this very tower, and it is here that Mellison gives us a picture of Laurana's council of war. Present were the elf woman, the two Knights of the Crown — Sirs Patrick and Markham — who served as her chief lieutenants, and two unnamed knights of the other orders. Mellison refers to them, in her childlike hand, as "Lord Sword" and "Sir Rose." Gilthanas — Laurana's brother and proud prince of the Qualinesti elves — also attended.

(Incidentally, Your Grace, the letters sent by Gilthanas to his brother Porthios provide us an additional primary source on this campaign, especially as it was seen from an elven point of view.)

Of course, the context of the meeting is well known: the dragonarmy known as the Blue Wing had been blunted (but not destroyed) in the Battle of the High Clerist's Tower. These troops, under the command of the Dark Lady — the Highlord Kitiara — and her general, Bakaris, had fallen back upon Dargaard Keep, where they represented a significant threat. The good dragons had arrived here following that battle, on the day preceding Laurana's council of war. These mighty serpents, of gold and silver, brass, copper and bronze, had at last ended their exile from the war. Brought to Palanthas by Gilthanas and the great silver dragon called Silvara, they were anxious to exact vengeance against their evil cousins.

Though the numbers of dragons and troops in Laurana's force equaled a mere fraction of the total evil forces, she had the advantage of concentration — all of her forces were here, in the pass, while those of the enemy — the Red Wing, portions of the Green and White Wings, and the remnants of the Blue Wing — were scattered over Solamnia from Vingaard and Caergoth to Kalaman and Neraka. Also, a huge reserve army under the command of Emperor Ariakus himself had spent the winter encamped in Sanction. Recent rumors placed the dragonarmy on the march, however, though Laurana and her captains had no idea of its location or destination.

The time was night, a council fire flared high. Mellison reports that its light was reflected in gold and silver gleams from the massive dragons crouched just beyond the human commanders.

"We can hold them here forever!" stated Sir Rose, opening the council. "With the dragons and the men of Palanthas to back us up, the knights will form an unbreakable wall!"

"Hold them, indeed," agreed Sir Patrick. "If they dare to attack again, we'll butcher them to the last scale-faced draconian! Don't you agree, general?" Grudgingly he turned to Laurana for confirmation. Of the Crown Knights, he had been most reluctant to accept her leadership — yet the orders of Gunthar Uth Wistan had thus far proven sufficient to steel him to his duty.

"I have no intention of holding them here, or anywhere!" declared Laurana, with that shake of her head that set her golden hair flowing about her shoulders.

"What is your plan?" inquired Markham, with his easy grin that somewhat lightened the tension.

"We attack." Laurana spoke the two words, and then paused to fix her eyes on each of her listeners. She seemed to grow in stature as the firelight flared across her fair skin, her almond-shaped eyes. "The Army of Solamnia will advance under the wings of the good dragons, seek out the dragonarmies, and destroy them!"

"Leave the pass unguarded?" sputtered Sir Rose. "After this great victory, you risk throwing everything… the lives, the — "

Laurana's reply was sharp and bitter. "I know very well the cost in lives!" she snapped with enough force to shut the mouth of the grizzled veteran. For a moment she closed her eyes. Mellison saw the sharp pain of memory etched across Laurana's face. Gilthanas placed a comforting hand on his sister's arm, but she shrugged it away. She took a breath and continued.

"Nothing could be more wasteful of those lives than for us to cower here, behind these walls, and give the dragonarmies time to concentrate their scattered forces. No, my captains, we won't wait for them to act. It is time this war came back against those who began it!"

"Where do we go, then?" inquired Sir Rose. "Do we advance south, toward Solanthus? Or eastward, to threaten the occupation forces at Vingaard? Both of these courses allow us this fortress as a base. Too, they keep the Vingaard River as a strong barrier between us and the bulk of the enemy — the option to fall back in the event of…" He did not complete his speculation; something in the general's eyes silenced him.

"Vingaard," Laurana announced. "But not as a threat — 1 mean to liberate it. As to the river, I want this entire army across it within a week."

"Beyond the Vingaard?" Patrick was shocked, but his eyes measured the elf woman with surprise and new appraisal. "Into the heart of the dragonrealms?"

"The dragonarmies will meet us there, in force," Markham said cautiously. "Do you intend to draw them into a battle? Destroy them on the field?"

"That will be an historic moment!" Lord Sword declared, his face flushing and his long mustaches bobbing at the prospect. A fierce light entered his eyes. "To drive our lances into the faces of those beasts, for once — instead of merely standing our ground!"

Laurana smiled, too, but it was a grim expression to Mellison. She thought it made the elf woman look much older. "Yes — I will draw them into battle. The first of many. Once we've crossed the river, I don't intend to rest until we reach the gates of Kalaman!"

"Kalaman!" Sir Rose sputtered so much that his mustaches floated out from his mouth. They all knew that the distant city was in desperate straits, following a long winter of isolation and siege. Still, hundreds of miles of enemy territory lay between themselves and Kalaman.

"You're mad!" barked Patrick.

Laurana allowed the insult to pass, but this time her brother stepped forward. "The good dragons give us a striking force that you knights can't begin to imagine!" countered the tall elf. "We cannot waste them!"

"What about Dargaard?" asked Markham, turning to Laurana. "That's a powerful bastion across your path — the Dark Lady is there in force, together with the dragons of her Blue Wing. The ogres of Throtl are supported by green dragons, and they're certain to mass against your south flank."

"I intend to ignore Dargaard, for the time being. The ogres we'll meet, and defeat."

"They'll have the Green Wing to support them. And Emperor Ariakus has sent the Red Wing from Neraka as a reinforcement. Too, we don't have any idea where the reserve army has gone," argued Sir Rose.

"We have dragonlances," cried Gilthanas. "We can meet these serpents in the skies, finally, and defeat them!"

"The weapon, so far, has only proven itself in the closed confines of the tower!" Patrick growled back.

"That is true," Laurana agreed. "But I don't intend to fight all the dragons at once. That's why it's so important that we MOVE!"

"But a major river crossing!" objected Patrick. "You can't imagine the difficulties! And if we're caught with the army divided — "

"Our dragons will screen the crossing. And I intend to reach the Vingaard too quickly for anything but a token force to stand in our way."

"But there's the fortress itself — Vingaard Keep has a massive garrison!" persisted Patrick. "Anywhere we cross puts us in easy reach of a counterattack!"

"That brings me to the next part of the plan," Laurana announced, pausing to make sure she had the attention of all the men. "Vingaard will be liberated — tomorrow."

The knights, to a man, stared at the general in amazement. All knew that Vingaard Keep was three days' ride by horse.

At this point, the Council's voices grew hushed and confidential, so the rest of the conversation is lost to Mellison's diary — and to history. The results of this historic and clandestine conversation are known.

The following dawn, the skies over the High Clerist's Tower were filled with dragons — their metallic colors dappling the ground with moving reflections of the brilliant sunrise. Laurana, astride the huge gold dragon Quallathon, led the way. A wing of griffon cavalry, mounted with elven bowmen and lancers — lately arrived from Southern Ergoth — flew beside the great serpents. Altogether, two hundred of the half-hawk, half-lion beasts accompanied an equal number of dragons soaring southeast toward Vingaard — eighty miles away across the flat plain. Their bodies blackened the sky.

At the same time, the army moved out. Led by the knights on horseback, accompanied by the blue-garbed troops of Palanthas and a large and growing force of irregulars recruited from Solamnia and Ergoth, the soldiers of Laurana's command marched to the northeast. The diverging paths were obvious to all. The flying army was on its own, the battle would be won or lost long before the troops on the ground could arrive.

Gilthanas, in an extensive letter to Porthios, gives us a vivid picture of this assault — the first time the good dragons took the offensive in the war.

"Within four hours our dragons drew within sight of mighty Vingaard Keep, standing on the near bank of the river that bears the same name.

"For more than a year, the dragonarmies had held the fortress, and their presence formed a bleak shroud around the once-grand castle. Layers of soot clouded the walls, and rubble-strewn fields surrounded the high towers, where once thrived lush crops of grain.

"I never knew such exhilaration and excitement. Silvara tucked in her wings and plunged toward the city. Wind lashed my hair and stung my face. The ground approached with dizzying speed, and I felt a fierce joy.

"At last the dragonarmies would get a taste of the terror they had spread so wantonly across Ansalon. Silvara's challenging bellow thundered through the air, echoed by scores of silver and golden throats.

"The draconians lining the walls quivered and shook under the awe of dragonfear, and only ceased their trembling as they died. Clouds of horrific breath expelled by the good dragons swept the draconian ranks, slaying them where they stood. Blistering heat from the brass and gold dragons mingled with the lightning bolts spit by the bronze; spurts of acid from the copper dragons pooled on the paving stones beside the chilling blasts of ice spouting from the silver wyrms.

"A few evil dragons, mostly blues, had taken refuge in the city after the battle at Westgate. Now, these rose to meet us, spitting lightning bolts, carrying their riders into the fray. But even as they rose, the magic of the gold dragons smashed the leaders from the skies. Then a rank of knights led by Silvara and me, carrying dragonlances shining as bright as silver dragonwings, met the enemy and ripped into the blues.

"Silvara reached out with rending claws and tore the wing from one of the blues. I watched the crippled creature plunge to its death. Then a bolt of lightning crackled past my head. Quickly I raised my lance as Silvara shrieked. Her head, of silvered steel, struck the back of the blue wyrm and that serpent, fatally pierced, followed its fellow to the ground. The other good dragons whirled passed us, slaying the remainder of the blues before their deadly breath weapons could begin to tell.

"Within an hour, brother, the good dragons had settled to the rooftops and towers of the city, spewing their deadly breath while the griffon-mounted elves showered the remaining defenders with arrows. For the whole day the dragons remained perched on all the high places in the city, following the plan of our general."

Gilthanas was all for pursuing the enemy troops into their hiding holes, driving them from the city, but his sister insisted on patience. There would be no pursuit. Instead, the dragons of good would occupy every vantage point in the city, barring any draconian from appearing in the light of day.

This patience paid off in lives. Seeing that their hated enemies were not about to depart, the troops of the dragon-army abandoned Vingaard Keep during the night. Some fled south, fearing the spring-swollen river as much as they did the good dragons. Many of these were humans, who hoped to blend into the populace. A great number of these, it is known from the records of the knighthood, joined the ranks of Laurana's army by the end of the campaign. Others stole what boats they could or, in the case of draconians, tried to use their wings to carry them across the deep torrent. (Fully half of the latter are believed to have perished in the attempt.) When the sun next rose over Vingaard Keep, the fortress was held by the good dragons and their elven allies.

The few humans who had survived the long and brutal occupation crept from their shadowed rooms into the sunrise. They caught sight of Laurana's hair, trailing from her helm like a pennant of streaming gold in her wake. Those long golden locks could be seen a mile away on the battlefield.

"Hail to the General of the Golden Banner!" they cried. Soon it became "Hail to the Golden General!"

And the Vingaard Campaign had begun.

Next I journey to that keep. Excellency, there to sit upon the banks of the river — and ponder the next example of Laurana's audacity, the crossing of the Vingaard.

In devotion, as ever,

Foryth Teel, Senior Scribe of Astinus

To the Great Astinus, Lorekeeper of Krynn,

I am here, now, at the shore of the Vingaard River. The season is spring, as it was when Laurana ordered her forces across — and I cannot but wonder at the courage and vision that compelled an army to ford its murky depths. Now, when the snow is melting in the Dargaard Mountains and along the north slopes of the Garnet Range, the river runs high and deep. It seems propelled by anger, roaring across this great plain toward the distant seaport of Kalaman, nearly two hundred miles away.

During its course, the river passes within a dozen miles of Dargaard Keep, yet in the next weeks Laurana would dare to bypass that dark bastion and press on to her destination — but I get ahead of myself. First, I must describe the crossing. The land troops of the Army of Solamnia reached the banks of the river after a three-day forced march from Westgate.

We know from the multiple sources that the good dragons, fresh from their victory at Vingaard, joined the landbound army at the banks of the river, some forty miles north of the liberated fortress. The Vingaard is wide and deep here, navigable only by ferries — except in a dry summer, when a few fords appear. Such was not the case that spring, of course. Here, we see another example of the elven general's ingenuity — for she employed a tactic that no by-the-book Knight of Solamnia could have imagined in his most daring dreams.

She ferried the troops across the river — by air! One can imagine the shrill neighing of the knight's terrified horses as they were hoisted aloft, gently, in the claws of the largest of the great dragons. Or the poor, trembling foot soldiers, mounted six or eight to a dragon, eyes squeezed tightly shut, praying to the gods of good (or any others!) for their very survival.

It was still a long, slow process. Mellison records that her mistress camped at the shore of the river for three days — we can assume that this was the time required to cross. The baggage train, which had been light to begin with, was abandoned here. From now on the army would survive on the food it could capture or forage. A screen of flying griffons, mounted with elves, guarded the crossing.

The fears of the knights — that the army would be attacked by massive dragonforces in the midst of the crossing — proved unfounded, for two reasons. First, the rout of Vingaard Keep had sent the nearest enemy wing into chaotic flight; and second, the sheer speed of Laurana's march seemed to have taken the Highlords by complete surprise. We know from his own records, for example, that by the time Ariakus learned the Golden General had left Westgate Pass, the Army of Solamnia was already gathered on the east bank of the Vingaard.

One small force did try to disrupt the crossing. Highlord Toede sent six of his green dragons from Throtl to investigate the activities of Laurana's army. The beasts could have wreaked terrible havoc on the heavily laden good dragons, but the griffon-mounted elves intercepted them a few miles from the river. Nearly a quarter of the griffons and their riders fell during that skirmish in the skies. It was a tragic and irreplaceable loss, but none of the greens survived to pursue the attack. Gilthanas writes a long eulogy to the bravery of the griffon-mounted elves and even the official records of the Solamnian Knights, Excellency, include generous words about their sacrifice!

Her forces again assembled on the opposite bank of the river, Laurana was determined to maintain the speed and unpredictability of her advance. (It is ironic to note that this young elf maid grasped, intuitively, principles of warfare that veteran knights, too long hidebound by doctrine, resisted until the proof became too overwhelming to deny. Thank goodness for Laurana's persistence.)

Once again, it is the servant Mellison who provides our look into the planning of operations, for she served tea to Laurana and her captains as they planned their next move.

Present were the same five: Sir Markham, Sir Patrick, "Sir Rose," "Lord Sword," and Gilthanas of Qualinesti. Laurana announced her intention to move on Kalaman. Patrick protested. "But we know that Ariakus had ten thousand troops in Sanction! They could have been on the march for three weeks — and now you want to leave our flank unprotected. The river now guards us. If we march from here, we expose the whole army to an attack from the rear!"

"Our wagons are left behind," Laurana pointed out, coolly. "Therefore, the rear of our army is as easy to defend as the front — even more so, if the enemy expects to encounter a defenseless baggage train, but instead meets the steel of charging knights."

"True, true," noted Lord Sword. "But we move so far from the pass — Palanthas is all but defenseless."

"I realize that, my lord," Laurana explained patiently. "But I'm betting that the Highlords are no longer concerned with that city. Their attention must be riveted upon US! This army is a far greater threat than they have ever faced before. They'll need to concentrate and destroy us. Ariakus — and Kitiara too — will assume they have plenty of time for Palanthas after we've been destroyed."

"Are they wrong?" demanded Patrick.

"Only in the assumption that they'll find us!" Laurana retorted. "That's why it's so important to move quickly!"

"There will be opposition," Markham pointed out. "The Red Wing is out there, and portions of two others — not to mention the reserve army."

"Of course. But with speed, we'll be able to meet these forces — and defeat them — one at a time. It's essential that we bring the Red Wing to battle before Ariakus can join with his allies!"

"But if you're wrong, you risk — "

"I risk what, Sir Patrick?" Laurana snapped. "Would you go back to the days of cowering behind the stone walls of your fortress, waiting for the enemy to attack? And if we win against that attack, then what — we wait for the next, and the next until our forces are depleted, our supplies gone? Better to stake this army on the hope of a real victory — one that will do more than protect Palanthas. We take the war into the heart of the dragonrealms! Only then will our enemies face the prospect of defeat!"

(Excellency, if Mellison did not exaggerate the words, I can only assume that the Golden General quite lost her temper. It is hard to imagine her using a term like "cower" to the proud knight. However, it seemed to have had the effect of silencing him, if nothing else.)

"We know that much of the Green Wing remains in Throtl," continued the elven princess. "Tomorrow, at first light, I will lead the dragons against them. If we can scatter the ogre ground forces, so much the better. The main body, in the meantime, will continue its march to the northeast. I want the Highlords to believe that Dargaard is our next destination."

"A bold plan, my general," Sir Rose noted, with a smile. "As you know, these plains were my home. I should warn you that the river narrows and deepens north of here. It presents a formidable obstacle to movement to our left."

"Thank you, Sir Knight," Laurana replied. "I, too, knew of this river — and, in fact, it will play a role in my plans."

If the princess revealed that role on this night, we don't learn of it from Mellison. The girl drifted off to sleep while the warriors discussed tactics into the early hours of predawn. Perhaps even now the elven princess foresaw the Battle of Margaard Ford and was drawing up her plans for that epic confrontation. But alas, we can only speculate!

My journeys, Your Grace, shall next take me along the foothills of the Dargaard Mountains. I will retrace the steps of Laurana's army as she moved east, south, and then north — always keeping the Highlords guessing.

Until that next message, I remain,

Your Devoted Servant, Foryth Teel

To the Great Astinus, Lorekeeper of Krynn,

The Army of Solamnia exploded across the plains, shocking the dragonarmies in a series of engagements. These were distinct and isolated clashes, some of them cavalry skirmishes, others dragonfights in the skies, and a few of them pitched battles pitting all of Laurana's troops against equal or greater numbers of the Dark Queen's minions.

The dragonarmies were forced to fight when they had planned to march. And when they planned to fight they found no opponents and were forced to march. Not until the final confrontation, at Margaard Ford, did the Highlords finally assemble an overwhelming force — and then they fought a battle at the very place Laurana had selected. But forgive me, Your Grace; again I precede myself.

First to challenge Laurana's advance was the portion of the Green Wing encamped in Throtl. Two dozen dragons and more than a thousand draconians — mostly vicious kapaks — formed the heart of this legion, supported by hundreds of ogres, honorless men, and more than three thousand hobgoblins.

These troops were ostensibly under the command of the Highlord Toede, though the records of that ignoble hobgoblin make no mention of the battle. Our best reports of the fight come from Gilthanas, and the interviews conducted by the knights with one Kadagh — an ogre who served as captain of one of the Green Wing companies.

Kadagh awakened to a clear, sunlit morning — unusual weather, here in the shadow of the Dargaard Mountains. Yet this day the eastern peaks and foothills were visible, etched in vivid detail as the ogre emerged from his tent and stretched the kinks out of his knotted muscles. Then, restless, his gaze drifted to the west.

He first thought that the gods had sprinkled gold dust through the skies. Gold gleamed in the sun, floated gently through the air. But ogres are pragmatic, and Kadagh quickly observed the specks of metal growing steadily larger. His bellow of alarm alerted the camp of the Green Wing to the danger.

Laurana and her dragons had caught the detachment of the Green Wing as it prepared to march in a delayed response to the Army of Solamnia's rampage across the plain. The green dragons squatted on the ground, saddled but riderless, as gold and silver and brass death came screaming from the skies. The few greens who leaped into the air were mercilessly smashed to ground and destroyed.

Gilthanas commanded his flyers to be utterly ruthless in this deadly strike against the enemy dragons — and it seems his orders were carefully followed. The dragonlances again proved their worth, although the numerical advantage of the good dragons made the outcome all but inevitable. In moments, the evil serpents had been slain; with tooth and claw and lance.

Just before the bloody end, however, Kadagh saw one stooped figure scramble into the saddle of a green dragon and urge the beast into the air. Flying low, ducking and weaving between trees and hillocks, the lone dragon and its rider vanished into the heights of the Dargaard Range, leaving the battle far behind. It was Lord Toede, providing an example of courage for his doomed army.

Laurana's dragons conserved their killing breath weapons for the attack against the draconians, ogres, and hobgoblins of Throtl's legion. Swiftly Kadagh assembled his company — brutish ogres, armored in plate mail and bearing great swords. They were the most formidable footsoldiers of the Green Wing, and records of both sides indicated they fought accordingly.

The ogres scattered into the ravines and thickets around the camp, fighting in small groups and rushing at any dragons careless enough to get caught on the ground. The gold dragons belched fire into the underbrush, and smoke and flame drifted across the battlefield. Kadagh himself led the charge against a brass dragon that had landed, exhausted, near a clump of brush. He leaped onto the creature's wing and felled the rider, a knight, with one blow of his great sword. Others of his company rushed at the dragon, and when the wyrm reared back, Kadagh plunged his blade into the base of its skull.

(This tale is more than mere ogre boasting, Your Grace. Gilthanas witnessed the entire incident. Silvara immediately pounced on the ogre, crushing him to earth and felling the rest of his company with a blast of her icy breath. So impressed were the elves with the ogre's valor, however, that they later returned him as a prisoner to Laurana's camp.)

The knights sought and slaughtered the monsters of the Green Wing for the rest of that grim and bloody day until the tattered remnants of the force finally slipped into the wilderness of the Dargaard Mountains.

It is interesting to note, Your Grace, that by dint of this tactic, Laurana left her own ground forces open to the same kind of attack by the blue dragons in Dargaard. She was bold enough to gamble (correctly, it turned out) that Kitiara was still too chastened by her defeat at the High Clerist's Tower to risk sending her most powerful forces into a possible trap.

After the Battle of Throtl, Laurana once again divided her army. She sent many of the dragons — all of the brass and bronze, with some of the copper — to guard the portion of her army that marched on the ground. The other dragons scattered across the plain, to all points of the compass, seeking the dragonarmies. Laurana knew that elements of the White Wing lay somewhere to the south, but she had no clue as to the location of the mighty Red Wing.

And still there was the presence of Ariakus's huge reserve wing, vanished since it had departed Sanction. Laurana dispatched a pair of the precious silver dragons toward that glowering seaport, determined to learn what she would about the reserve army's location.

When the scouting dragons discovered forces of the Dark Queen, they were to report the location of those troops to the Golden General. Under no circumstances were they to precipitate an attack. I surmise, Excellency, that these dragons performed the reconnaissances in the guise of soaring birds of prey. At least, the records of the dragonarmies show no sign that they knew they were under observation — and Laurana's assignment of the scouting to the golds, silvers, and coppers indicates a preference for those dragons who could polymorph themselves into the bodies of different creatures. And what better than a hawk or eagle, symbolically patrolling over the plains?

The soaring spies first spotted the strong contingent of the White Wing, larger than the Throtl Legion and including many sivak draconians (the only draconian, as Your Grace well knows, capable of true flight). Dragonarmy records show that this force had been ordered northward by Ariakus himself more than a week earlier. (After the battle at the Clerist's tower, the emperor had anticipated the need for additional forces in the plains, and issued the necessary orders.)

The White Wing was discovered by none other than Silvara, herself, as the great silver dragon flew a southwestward arc in her search. The force had just crossed the Dargaard River, and marched northward along the east bank of the Vingaard, placing it squarely across Laurana's line of retreat. The river here flows through the rock-carved channel noted by Markham — a gorge that is some twenty miles long.

(Silvara flew alone on this scouting mission. I submit, Your Grace, that the absence of Gilthanas from her back supports the idea that she flew in the body of a bird, rather than as a dragon.)

Laurana's response to the information was immediate and bold: she reversed her army's line of advance and urged the troops into a forced march straight into the advancing White Wing. Each scouting dragon, as it returned from its patrol, rejoined the army, until the Golden General again held all her dragons close to the body of the force. Within twenty-four hours, the Army of Solamnia was massed and focused on a single line of march, screened by a picket line of flying, griffonmounted elves.

The White Wing, in contrast, had not yet located its foe, though it marched along Laurana's trail, and must have known that the Army of Solamnia had preceded it only by a matter of days. A wide screen of sivak draconians flew ahead of the wing, while the white dragons remained behind with the main body.

The following day near noon, the sivaks and elves came into sight of each other nearly a thousand feet above the ground. The armies advanced to meet on the bank of the Vingaard River, near the rapid channel called, simply, the Narrows. (That channel would give its name to the battle that occurred here.) The airborne skirmish was quickly reinforced by dragons on both sides, and by midafternoon the forces on the ground had formed parallel lines of battle.

Finally Laurana found the chance to unleash her horsemounted knights, and the lancers of Solamnia added much glory to their names on this bloody afternoon. The Knights of the Rose led the charge, supported quickly by those of the Sword — and here, Excellency, we learn the name of the captain called so quaintly by Mellison "Sir Rose." He is Bendford Caerscion, and he led this thunderous advance from the saddle of his night-black charger. His report to Gunthar gives us a first-hand and thorough account of this pivotal melee.

"Eagerly the knights answered the call to attack — trumpets brayed and our restless steeds exploded into a gallop. Pounding hooves reverberated through the ground as the line of armored knights and horses gained unstoppable momentum. My heart swelled with pride — the moment culminated a lifetime of training and devotion. A heavy lance, well-couched at my right side, extended far past my war-horse's snorting head.

"The plain before me seethed with draconians. I saw their snapping jaws, heard them hissing in hatred and fear, as we knights stampeded closer. The reptilian horrors bore swords and shields. The few with spears lacked the wits to brace them to meet the charge. As our thunderous formation neared the draconians, several companies of baaz turned and fled — crashing into a rank of brutal sivaks who tried to whip them back to the fight.

"But it was too late. My knights ripped into the ragged line of draconians with scarcely a falter in their momentum. My lance pierced the body of a huge sivak, pinning the creature to the ground. I released my lance and drew my sword. The monster remained stuck on the lance, its wings flapping, feet kicking, like some monstrous insect pinned to a display board.

"The knights' charge smashed draconian after draconian to the ground, crushing their limbs with pounding hooves, for we were rumbling forward at a fast canter. I slashed this way and that with my blade, aiming for the heads of the monsters and leaving a dozen badly injured in my wake.

"Then we broke through, leaving the shattered remnants of the draconian force to scatter in panicked flight. I hauled back on my reins as soon as the enemy broke from the fight, but my horse — and most of the others — were so excited that they continued the frenzied race for nearly a mile.

"Our two companies of knights numbered less than three hundred in total, but the stampeding momentum of our charge split the draconian line in two. We whirled back and rode against a small contingent of hobgoblins mounted on great wolves. This rabble, too, was quickly scattered or destroyed.

"A shadow flashed over me as this melee ended in the enemy's rout. I felt a chill wind strike me and then, to my horror, I saw a trio of brave knights — riding in close formation — buried beneath the full weight of a diving white dragon. The monster bore men and horses to earth, and dispatched the riders with crushing blows of its great claws and rending teeth.

"Then the serpent's jaws gaped and it belched forth a swirling cloud of numbingly cold frost, slaying several more horses and riders in an instant. I urged my charger toward the monster, but the steady horse refused to go near — and then the dragon turned its attention to me. I prepared myself to die in that moment — but a new shadow flicked past, and in the next instant a huge silver dragon flashed overhead. Its rider — a golden-haired elf — thrust a heavy dragonlance through the white's wing, and then the great silver broke the wyrm's neck with a single bite.

"With a salute of thanks, I recognized Gilthanas — and then we two parted and rode on, seeking the scattered troops of the beleaguered enemy."

All this time the Golden General kept the Knights of the Crown — most numerous of the knightly orders — in reserve. Sir Patrick and Sir Markham no doubt chafed at this delay. It is perhaps well for the sensitivities of this historian that I find no exact record of their remarks, as they were forced to sit idle and watch the orders of the Sword and Rose acquit themselves with glory.

Meanwhile, the men of Palanthas met the charge of baaz draconians with pike and shield, while companies of irregular sword-and-buckler men harassed the flanks of the White Wing. In the sky, the battle raged fierce and costly for both sides. The powerful good dragons eventually slew the last of the whites and their riders, but not before nearly two dozen of them perished — including two silvers and a gold.

Then, as sunset began to cast its shadows across the field, Laurana sent in the Knights of the Crown — five hundred armored riders on eager steeds, charging with their lances, in a thunderous rush that swept the battered remnants of the White Wing from the field. By nightfall, the evil forces were in full retreat, though Laurana ordered a pursuit that continued into the following day. Only when she was convinced that the enemy troops were beyond reassembling did she order her army again to concentrate, turning about to resume the advance toward Dargaard and Kalaman.

From here, Excellency, I depart to follow in the path of that great march. My eventual destination is that great seaport — though on the way, I shall, of course, stop to examine the scene of Laurana's greatest triumph.

It is for this purpose, therefore, that tomorrow I embark for Margaard Ford.

Until that time I endeavor in the service of history,

Foryth Teel

To the Great Astinus, Lorekeeper of Krynn,

I return to the Vingaard River again, Excellency, as did Laurana's army. It becomes increasingly clear to me how the Golden General employed this great flow of water as the keystone of her campaign — using it to screen her movements, defend her force, and — by crossing unexpectedly — surprise her enemy.

After the Battle of the Narrows, Laurana resumed her northeastward push, but misgivings clearly began to grow among the knights. Palanthas and the High Clerist's tower lay too far behind them, now, and the forces of the Dark Lady were known to be mustering at Dargaard.

The losses from this battle — the first pitched fight since the High Clerist's Tower — had been high. We can only guess at the heartache the Golden General must have felt. Did each fallen knight remind her of her dear friend — the stalwart Brightblade? Elves had fallen, and Laurana well knew that each of those deaths had cut short many centuries of life. And the human foot soldiers who had rallied to her cause — surely their loss, too, was as bitter a waste to the elf woman.

Mellison's diary tells us that Laurana retired early to her tent for the nights following that battle, foregoing the camaraderie that had begun to grow between the captains and their general. For three days the army marched steadily, but not frantically. Laurana made certain that the troops and dragons had opportunities to rest, that the horses could graze on the newly sprouted grass beginning to carpet the plain. Spring storms to the east shrouded the Dargaard Mountains, but the skies over the army remained clear.

Finally, on the fourth day after the Battle of the Narrows, the scouting dragons reported back. The Red Wing was on the march, and had been discovered to the southeast, advancing steadily toward Dargaard. Heavy rains accompanied by thick clouds and fog continued to mask the mountains for much of this time, and shortly after the marching column was sighted, it disappeared into the foothills. The Red Wing might as well have vanished, screened as it was by the weather against further observation.

That night, Laurana held another council of war — and again Mellison was present to record the first part of the discussions.

"We must take up a defensive position!" Sir Patrick urged. "I admit, my general, that your leadership has carried us to victories beyond my wildest dreams. But now — we still don't know where the Emperor's main body is. The clouds mask our entire right flank while we march in the open, day after day! The attack could come with barely an hour's warning. And if it catches us in line of march, we will be smashed and broken in detail!"

"Bah!" Gilthanas — undoubtedly nervous himself — exploded in a rare show of temper. "These dragons are not defensive creatures! If you tie them to one location, you deprive them of their strength. Can't you knights force that fact through your Oath-and-Measure-bound skulls?"

Sir Patrick stiffened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, but the Golden General stepped smoothly between the two. Laurana did not involve herself in the quarrel. Instead, she turned to Lord Sword. "And you, my lord, do you have thoughts on this topic?"

That white-whiskered veteran sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what to believe any more, general. For a certainty you have shown us the value of speed and movement. But Sir Patrick makes a valid point. Without knowledge of the enemy's location, how can we know where to move?"

The elven princess pondered the lord's words, then turned to Sir Caerscion and Sir Markham, who had remained silent up until this point.

"And you, good sirs?" Laurana asked. "Do you counsel a stand here, on the plain?"

"I do, general," Sir Caerscion replied. "With a few days to prepare entrenchments, and a good scouting effort, we can make a strong position. The Dark Lady will find us and attack, but we will meet her forces well-rested and prepared to fight."

"But if we stop, the Highlord will be able to strike us with every weapon at her disposal. That includes the Red Wing — and we still don't know where the reserve army is. Whereas, if we keep moving we force the enemy to keep pursuing. It is far less likely that they will gather the concentration they could muster if we stopped." Markham's remarks provoked a scowl of angry disapproval from Sir Patrick.

Laurana smiled, pleasantly surprised by the young captain's observations. "Exactly! That's why we resume the march, tomorrow, but with a change in course."

"AGAIN!" cried Patrick in exasperation. "If you must march, let us at least fall back on Palanthas!"

"We will, Sir Patrick. Only not quite that far. Our destination is the final battleground. And that — I mean to ensure — will be our own choosing."

Lord Sword gestured to the flat plains stretching away on all sides. "One patch of the grass is pretty much like another."

"For the most part," Laurana agreed. "But there are exceptions."

The others paused, curious to know what she would tell them next. Markham had a half-smile on his face. Lord Sword and Sir Caerscion waited with obvious apprehension. Gilthanas seemed bored and restless, his eyes drifting over to the great silver dragon resting beyond the fringes of the fire.

Sir Patrick, of course, scowled in preliminary displeasure. Finally he could hold his tongue no longer. "Exceptions?" he grumbled.

"Exactly," announced the Golden General. "Exceptions like rivers. That's why, as soon as we reach the near bank, we will again cross the Vingaard."

The council paused as the captains registered their surprise in raised eyebrows or shrewd squints. For once, however, the knights did not greet their general's plan with a chorus of objections — the advantages of her plan were obvious to all of them. Once they had crossed to the west bank — or the north, actually, for the river had already begun its broad sweep eastward toward Kalaman — they would place the river as barrier between them and the dragonarmies of the Red and Blue Wings.

"But don't we allow them the chance to concentrate their forces? We've labored long to avoid giving them the opportunity until now," ventured Sir Markham perceptively.

Laurana frowned. Her face, in the play of the slowly fad ing fire, took on again that look of age. Lines of strain lingered in shadows around her cheeks and her eyes.

"We do," she admitted. "My hope is that Ariakus and Kitiara will see their quarry slipping back to the safety of the High Clerist's Tower and come after us in a hurry. If the Red Wing reaches the river first, we can goad it into crossing before the reserve army or the Blue Wing can join up."

"And if they don't?" suggested Sir Patrick, belligerently.

"You were right in the observation you made before, Sir Patrick," Laurana said, causing the knight to clamp his mouth shut and blink his eyes in surprise. "The clouds over the Dargaard Range hide our foes from us. If we remain this far east, the entire assembled dragonarmy can strike us before we have time to react. That's why we need the river."

"Will we fly the troops across again?" asked Lord Sword, with a worried look. "That was a slow process, and we couldn't expect to do it uninterrupted a second time."

"We'll have to," Sir Caerscion noted. "There is a ford in the bend of the River — Margaard Ford, I believe it's called — but it's certain to be too dangerous to use at this time of year. The current would carry an armored knight and his warhorse away, not to mention the poor blighters on foot."

"It may be that we can use the ford. I won't know until tomorrow. I am weary, gentlemen. I bid you good night." Laurana turned away, and only Mellison saw the smile that creased the general's lips. By her remark about the ford, it was obvious Laurana's plan was already in her mind, though she did not share it with anyone.

So the army once more broke camp before the dawn, turning back toward the Vingaard. The mighty river, no more than ten miles away, to the northwest, was swollen by the spring melt. By the end of a single day of marching, the entire army reached the bank — but even before then, Laurana had embarked upon the next part of her plan.

As the army marched toward Margaard Ford, the Golden General dispatched her" brass and bronze dragons to the edge of the cloud bank, there to patrol and watch for signs of the emerging dragonarmies. Meanwhile, Laurana, mounted on her gold dragon, flew southward, toward the tightest bottleneck of the Narrows. She took all of the silver dragons with her, including the mighty Silvara with her brother Gilthanas astride.

"We followed her without question," Gilthanas reported to his brother, Porthios, by letter. "By this time, our faith in Laurana was absolute — even the gruff captains of the knightly orders had begun to treat her with a 'measure' of respect!

"I have traveled along the bank of the Narrows, and there can be no doubt as to the site Laurana selected for the work of the silver dragons: gray walls of granite rise a hundred feet on either side of the river, forcing the wide Vingaard through a ravine merely two hundred feet wide. In spring, the swollen river becomes an angry torrent, cascading through a forest of boulders, its waters churned into a chaotic maelstrom.

"Less than half a mile beyond, the gorge walls fall away and the river returns to its wide, deceptively placid flow. It remains thus tamed throughout its course to Margaard Ford, some fifty miles to the north of the Narrows. In the spring, at the time of the battle, the water was at its highest, raging around the crests of the boulders that dot the bed, roaring angrily against anything daring enough to enter this channel.

"But the silver dragons entered, and they landed on these boulders — fighting for purchase on the slick rocks, some of the serpents slipping into the water and splashing back into the air after being swept far downstream. Finally, some perched on the wave-swept crests of stone, others crouched on the rocky banks. Their long necks stretched downward to the water, the great serpents awaited the further commands of their Golden General.

"Laurana gave the order. The silver dragons breathed upon the waters; their maws gaping wide, their lungs pulsing with the most potent and deadly of a silver serpent's horrific attacks: a blast of icy frost that casts its chilling grip across everything that lies in its path and magically penetrates the target, sapping every vestige of heat. It is an attack that will drive life from mortal limbs, kill fragile leaves even as the force of the blast shatters the brittle rock into frosty dust. It will turn water, instantly, to ice.

"Once and then again, each dragon expelled his powerful breath. The Vingaard River froze solid in its bed. A belt of ice, extending to the bottom and anchored firmly in the great rocks of the river bed, dammed the river's flow. As the pressure of surging water rose, waves poured over the top of the frozen barrier and the dragons breathed again, building the ice dam higher and higher.

"The channel behind this bottleneck was much wider than the choke-point, and much deeper. The waters of the Vingaard gathered there, swirling and tossing, surging over their banks and spreading outward. Although the lake thus formed expanded steadily, the wall of ice — thickly built and firmly centered in its frame of granite bedrock — held back the pressure.

"Below the dam, the mighty Vingaard began to dwindle to a trickle, seeping between sodden banks. Fifty miles north of the Narrows, downstream of the dam, the Army of Solamnia reached Margaard Ford at nightfall, to find the water still too high to cross safely.

"That night the brass dragons returned with word: the dragonarmies were on the march. The Red and Blue Wings had joined forces with the powerful reserve wing, which must have been marching northward from Sanction for weeks, concealed by the crest of the Dargaard Mountains and the clouds beyond."

Indeed, Excellency, we know from dragonarmy records that Ariakus had put the formation into action weeks before — even preceding the defeat at the High Clerist's Tower. Although initially the Emperor himself commanded this formation, by this time in the campaign, command had been turned over to General Bakaris.

Now the entire force advanced under a swarming flock of blue and red dragons — the mightiest of evil dragonkind — bound to destroy the Army of Solamnia. To the captains of the knights, who received these reports with their backs to an apparently impassable ford, the news must have seemed dire, indeed.

Nevertheless, the Golden General met her captains there and told them they would cross in the morning. We have no record of their reactions, but surely any misgivings they held faded away as the river level fell steadily during the night. By dawn, the ford was a collection of puddles spotting a smooth, gravelly path. The Army of Solamnia marched across it in a matter of hours, while copper dragons kept watch over the advancing wings of the dragon-armies.

The spying copper dragons dived and circled on the horizon, evading the blues and reds that frequently soared out to drive them away. Finally, Bakaris realized that such futile skirmishes only tired his dragons needlessly. He decided to conserve their strength and allow his enemies to maintain their airborne spies in peace.

Bakaris managed to avoid the mistakes of the other commanders who had thus far faced the Golden General. He maintained the concentration of his forces during the advance, refusing to be distracted by anything except his goal: the Army of Solamnia. He marched with considerable speed, making record time for even the normally fast-moving draconian forces. And he wasted no time deploying for battle when the enemy was at last located.

His skill, determination and, of course, the size of his force, made him a very dangerous opponent. He drew close to Laurana's army with shocking speed. By dawn, the morning after the Army of Solamnia had crossed the Vingaard, the advance elements of the dragon wings were visible on the horizon to scouts on dragonback. The dragonarmies would reach the dry ford sometime around the middle of the day. The captains heard the reports of the vast numbers of the enemy and were dismayed. Defeat seemed inevitable.

But Laurana had a final element to her plan, a part she kept secret to the last possible moment, fearing enemy spies. Some of the hidebound knights — who refused to recognize an innovative tactic until it all but knocked them out of their saddles — must have guessed what it was. Still, concern grew through the camp as dawn passed into full daylight. The battle was six hours away, and no barrier stood between the armies — yet Laurana retained all of her dragons in the camp.

Mellison relates that the captains gathered privately, muttering with concern as the sun rose steadily into the sky. They had just agreed that Sir Markham should go to the general when Laurana surprised them by calling them to her tent.

"I'll be leaving now, for a short time. I'll be taking most of the dragons with me."

The knights were certainly astounded by this pronouncement. If any of them mustered the wits for a reply, it has been lost to history.

"I'll leave you the silvers and the coppers. Form a line of defense along the riverbank. By tonight, we'll have opened the road to Kalaman… or to the Abyss."

The knights argued vehemently, but the Golden General held firm. She seemed unusually somber — perhaps even severe — as they watched her mount Quallathon. Gilthanas stood beside her and clasped her hand for a moment. Then, turning toward the army of metallic dragons around her, Laurana signalled with a wave of her hand. The great flight of brass, bronze, and gold dragons sprang into the air. The morning sun flashed on their wings as the monstrous serpents soared aloft, riding the updrafts. Lifting themselves above the trees, they bore south, along the line of the empty riverbed below.

Shortly after, from the riverside entrenchments, the dragonarmy came into sight. Bakaris proved as aggressive on the battlefield as he had been in the march. His dragons — massive waves of red and blue serpents bellowing their challenges through the skies — slashed into the silver and copper dragons protecting the Army of Solamnia. Gilthanas and Silvara, together as always, fought in the great aerial melee. He wrote to Porthios.

"I saw a dozen good dragons fall in the first pass, wings seared off by fiery breath, wounds gaping in their flesh, ripped by the lightning bolts of the blue. Silvara wheeled sharply, ducking below the crackling lightning bolt spit by a great blue dragon. I raised my lance, tearing the wyrm's wing as it whirled past. The two dragons met with a brutal crash, slashing at each other with rending talons as we plummeted toward the ground.

"The dragons split apart at the last instant, both of them torn and bleeding. Silvara struggled to regain altitude. I lost sight of my enemy in the chaos of the smoky sky, but drove my lance through the belly of a small red that attacked us from overhead. Mortally wounded, the dragon and its doomed rider plunged to earth, bellowing smoke and fire in a spiralling trail."

Yet such victories were rare. Gilthanas saw many corpses of silver and copper sprawled across the landscape below. Finally, after a half hour of savage battle, the elf was forced to accept the grim truth: the good dragons had lost this fight. More than half of them had perished.

Hellish fireballs spewed by the red dragons continued to erupt. Crackling bolts of lightning spit by the blues still crisscrossed the skies, rending copper wings and scorching scales of silver. The numbers made the outcome inevitable, and ultimately Gilthanas and Silvara were forced to order the surviving good dragons to retreat.

During the course of the screaming fight in the sky, Bakaris's ground troops quickly reached the bank of the ford. Hordes of goblins and hobgoblins, mounted upon howling wolves, immediately charged across the dry passage.

Sir Markham, commanding a large force of the knights, watched them approach. He writes: "The frenzied din of the snarling canines and their equally vociferous riders rolled across us — a cacophony of chaos. They rushed forward with astonishing speed, splashing through the shallow pools that were the only remnants of the onceflooding Vingaard."

Markham held his riders back from the west bank of the ford. When the charging wolfpack reached the halfway mark of the crossing, the knight gestured to his signalmen. Trumpets brayed, and a line of armored horses thundered toward the riverbank. The goblins and their snarling wolves scrambling onto the near bank were met by the crushing advance of the heavily barded warhorses and fully armored cavalry. Markham continues:

"My horse pitched and bucked in the midst of a swirling melee. Wolves snapped at my steed's flanks, drawing blood in many places. But a number of the beasts fell with skulls crushed or backs broken by the powerful kicks of the charger's hooves.

"No sooner had the snarling wolves launched into desperate battle with my knights than three thousand kapak draconians surged across the ford in support. Shrieking and hissing in their hideous tongue, the reptilian scourges flapped their wings madly, hastening the speed of their advance into an unnerving rush.

"Their charge was met by the pikemen of Palanthas, who stood in a three-rank line along the shore. The steely heads of their weapons ripped into the lizardlike attackers. Though the momentum of the charge staggered the line with its impetus, the men held against a breach. Savage and snarling, the formation of draconians crowded against the bank of the ford."

Bakaris here began to reveal his own plan — he hurled the rest of the draconian forces into the attack, holding only his companies of ogres in reserve. At the same time, the evil wyrms appeared in the skies overhead, having defeated the silver and copper dragons. The Dragonarmy general mounted his own dragon — a powerful blue.

Before he rode aloft he sent his field report by courier to Kitiara.

"The time to finish this is now — we own the skies over the field! I join my dragonriders, and we shall waste no time in driving onto the Knights of Solamnia, and the pathetic footmen of Palanthas and Ergoth — all of whom stand defenseless against the onslaught!"

Markham's knights had finally driven the last of the wolfriders back; nearly half of the vicious carnivores and their riders lay dead on the riverbank. Now, however, a newer — and far greater — menace approached.

The knight looked upward in raw, frustrated fury as he saw the green and blue forms fill the sky overhead — a sky devoid of metallic colors. The evil serpents tucked their wings, and Markham felt that every one of the beasts glared straight at him. The wyrms fanned into a broad line, spreading to strike the entire army.

The lines of pikemen and knights on the riverbank wavered as the dragonfear swept across them. Markham cursed and shouted, even using the flat of his sword to try and muster shaken footmen — but to no avail. Whole companies broke, fleeing blindly away from the ford, panicked beyond reason by the great, circling serpents above. Fireballs of dragonbreath and searing lightning bolts landed with enormous blasts, eliminating entire ranks and melting the stony bank. Screams of the dying mingled with the terrified wails of panicked men — veterans and rank recruits alike quailed at the dreadful attack. In mere seconds, most of the Army of Solamnia had broken and fled, leaving the ford unguarded.

Excellency, I must here remark upon the fact that, if the evil dragons had not expended so much of their limited breath weapons against Gilthanas and his flight, the carnage would have been many times worse. Nevertheless, in moments, the Army of Solamnia teetered at the brink of total collapse.

Laurana, meanwhile had flown southward with all speed — the timing of her activities was crucial. Soon the flight of good dragons and their Golden General came to the Narrows, where the ice dam had swelled from the overnight pressure of the great river. A vast new lake spread across the plains to each side. Before the huge sheet of white, glistening in the sunlight, but not melting in the cool spring air, Laurana and Quallathon settled to earth. The other golds and brass dragons also dropped, landing on the rocky riverbed. The bronze dragons circled overhead, watchful for any interference from the dragonarmies.

Again the Golden General turned the breath of her dragons onto the River Vingaard — but this time in the form of heat. Explosive fireballs belched forth from the golds; from the brass came blistering waves of scorching wind. The searing breath weapons swept across the frozen surface, assailing with arcane heat the same waters that had earlier suffered the onslaught of cold.

With convulsive force the great sheets of ice cracked and splintered, shifting and breaking under the rapid change of temperature. Huge chunks broke free, white mountains tumbled into the surging water. With a rush, the dam broke away. The waters of the Vingaard thundered forth, many times more powerful than they had been even at the height of the spring flood.

The huge, newly-formed lake roared through its new outlet, carrying massive pieces of ice, like jagged daggers, in the forefront of the advancing tide. Rocks that had rested in the river bed for a century ripped free in the space of a minute, rumbling along with the flow like great engines of war.

Above the water flew the dragons of gold, brass, and bronze. They soared northward now, racing the torrent — but only barely matching it in speed. Thus, both the waters and the good dragons reached Margaard Ford at the same time, little more than two hours after the dam had collapsed.

Nevertheless, according to Gilthanas, the situation stood at the brink of disaster. His silvers still wheeled in the sky, forced back from the fight — and sadly reduced in numbers. He had all but given up hope of victory, when he saw the glint of sunlight on gilded wings.

Laurana's mighty gold. dragons bellowed a challenge, echoed by a hundred throats of gold and brass and bronze. And below the wings of gleaming metal surged a maelstrom of frothing white, capped by the icebergs and boulders.

The waters swept through Margaard Ford with all the impact of a tidal wave, drowning and crushing the enemy troops trapped there. At the same time, the dragons of Laurana and Gilthanas tore into the blues and reds. The evil serpents fought desperately, but the vengeful attackers swiftly slashed the enemy from the skies in the greatest aerial melee of the war. By my calculations, Excellency, it seems likely that nearly four hundred dragons fought in the air over Margaard Ford!

It is worth noting, Excellency, that Bakaris himself was taken captive in this airborne clash. He ended the fight clinging for his life to the mane of a bronze dragon after his own mount had fallen. It was the famed hill dwarf Flint Fireforge, together with his squire, who rode the bronze. This was Fireforge's last flight on dragonback. He vowed everafter to keep his boots firmly on the ground.

The waters of the Vingaard slowly settled to their normal levels. We'll never know how many bodies they carried along their route to Kalaman and the sea. The few surviving troops belonged to the Blue Wing, and they hastened back to Dargaard Keep, where the Dark Lady still held her fortress.

The last of the dragonarmies had been driven from the plains, and Laurana slowed the pace of her march somewhat, to rest her weary army as it at last approached long-forsaken Kalaman. That city had endured a bleak winter of isolation and siege, and so it was only proper that their liberator and heroine should pass through the city gates to commence the Festival of Spring Dawning.

That event concludes the tale of the Vingaard Campaign. I hope Your Grace will forgive the addition of several of my conclusions that, I feel certain, can be comfortably established within the boundaries of objectivity.

It is interesting to note that the Dark Lady, Highlord Kitiara, was sentenced to death by Lord Ariakus for her failures in this campaign. When he arrived at Dargaard to carry out the sentence, however, Kitiara was able to persuade the Emperor that much of the campaign had passed according to her "plan."

It is true that her life was spared, but my own suspicion is that this is due more to her "friend," the Death Knight Lord Soth, than to any lapse in Ariakus's judgment. It is hard to imagine the campaign being viewed by the Emperor as anything but a monstrously disastrous defeat.

In retrospect, Grand Master Gunthar Uth Wistan's appointment of Laurana as the army's commander stands clearly vindicated. The Golden General proved capable of initiative and audacity far beyond what any Knight of Solamnia could have mustered. In fact, her use of dragon breath for strategic purposes (damming the river) clearly shows how she managed to outwit even her battleseasoned opponents — no Highlord used the dragons for any purpose other than a tactical application on the battlefield.

In conclusion, Lauralanthalasa of Qualinesti must clearly stand alongside Kith-Kanan, Vinas Solamnus, and Huma himself as one of the greatest generals of Krynn.

In gratitude, I shall remain heretofore,

Foryth Teel, Senior Scribe of Astinus