Legacy of Steel

10

The dragon escorts led Cobalt to the broad, open field in front of the main gate and landed on either side of him their stance threatening, their yellow eyes hooded in suspicious stares.

Two of the three riders slid off their mounts and strode with wary purpose toward Sara.

Sara closed her eyes for just a heartbeat, a silent prayer on her lips. She had no idea if any god or immortal being could hear her, but this time she did not care if it seemed foolish to pray to an empty firmament. She had to put her hopes and fears into some form of expression that let her soul reach out beyond her own limitations to something more potent, more powerful than she. She would command her own actions and decisions, but if some deity wanted to throw a little luck her way, she just wanted him to know she would be grateful.

She then swallowed once to sooth the dryness in her throat and slid off Cobalt to the parched, hard-packed ground.

The two knights stopped in front of her. Their hands rested on their sword hilts. Their armor gleamed from hours of careful polishing; their weapons were honed and in good repair, and their boots were new.

Sara felt her stomach lurch from a flash of memory that exploded in her mind like a crack of lightning; two knights, wearing armor decorated with the skull and the lily of Takhisis, walking up the path to her house-Lord Ariakan and his guard coming to take her son away.

Sara stiffened her back and saluted with a mix of feigned arrogance and stifled hatred. "I would like to see your commander," she demanded before the other two could say a word.

They exchanged a glance. Their gaze slid to Cobalt, then back to Sara, their eyes unreadable behind their own helms.

"Your sword, please," one ordered.

Sara handed it over grudgingly. "Take care of it."

"This way." The man indicated the main gate with a gloved hand.

Sara nodded curtly. After a quick pat to Cobalt's neck, she followed her guide to the massive gateway leading into Neraka's fortified inner city.

Cobalt yawned to show his curved teeth to the other dragons, flipped his wings neatly to his sides, and made himself comfortable in the sun to wait.

At the gateway, the knight stopped Sara with a curt signal. The huge iron gates stood open like the maw of some great stone beast. On the battlements, horns blared a signal to the guards, and flags of black and blue fluttered in the wind.

The captain of the guard left the gatehouse to meet Sara's escort. He ran his eye speculatively over her riding gear, her sword in the knight's hand, and the lily brooch that gleamed on her cloak.

"This dragon rider wishes to see the general," the guard informed him.

The captain, a human mercenary of muscular proportions, jerked his head toward the interior of the fortress, "The general is in the temple square."

The guard behind Sara pushed her forward through the iron gate.

Sara immediately wished she could turn around and go home. The view of the city from the heights had shown her the temple ruins, a fortress, and the helter-skelter growth of buildings and tents inhabited by a busy, motley populace. What it did not prepare her for was the squalor, the stench, and the rowdy crowds.

Neraka had been captured and held by the Solamnic Knights for a while, and they had made some effort to rebuild and strengthen the walls, erect permanent buildings, and clean the streets. Unfortunately most of their good efforts had vanished in the three years since the Knights of Takhisis moved back.

The narrow streets were jammed with decrepit wooden edifices and hastily erected buildings that looked ready to collapse at the first hearty sneeze. Humans, tall brutes blithely ignoring the winter cold, draconians of every description, ogres, goblins, and hobgoblins clogged the walkways and passages. Some marched in guard patrols or ran about looking purposeful. The majority crowded into the countless brothels, bars, and gaming rooms and engaged in brawls at every opportunity. Gully dwarves scampered underfoot like rats, eating the refuse in the streets and stealing anything that wasn't tied down. Among the crowds, Sara also saw slaves of every race that had been brought to serve the denizens of the city and provide for any need or pleasure.

A chill queasiness crept through Sara. Although the sun was shining, none of its warmth and little of its light seemed to get past the high walls. The air inside the fortress was still, cold, dank, and gloomy.

She and her escort hurried along the paved road through the Queen's Court and into Temple Square. Automatically Sara's eyes went to the ruins of the evil temple At one time, the black, twisted Temple of Darkness rose like an obscene growth out of the barren earth of the Neraka vale, until the Heroes of the Lance, aided by the gemstone man, Berem, brought about its destruction.

Thirty-four years later the ruins remained as a tremendous crater in the temple compound. The innermost walls round the Temple Square were nearly leveled in the blast that had turned the temple into a cloud of shards.

Sara noticed the crater had been barricaded by a wall built of rubble. Through a break in the walls, she saw a gang of draconians supervising slaves inside the barrier in some labor Sara could not yet determine. A group of high-ranking knights in blue and black uniforms stood close to the wall in close consultation with a dark-robed cleric.

The guards escorting Sara took her across the square and stopped several paces away to await their commander's notice. The brief respite gave Sara a chance to look over the wall. She wished she hadn't.

A cold, bitter chill emanated from the shadow that shrouded the crater. The hole plunged downward out of sight into the dark bowels of the temple's foundation. The draconians she saw carried whips, which they used mercilessly on a long line of slaves that trailed down into the depths like a worm crawling into a corpse. A second line toiled out, carrying chunks of broken stone and buckets of broken mortar and dirt, which they added to and ever-increasing pile. The slaves trembled and staggered, fear plain on their filthy faces. But the draconians drove them at their work until they collapsed and others were forced to take their places. Sara saw a heap of bodes dumped at one end of the barricaded wall.

"Who are you?"

A voice, sharp and authoritative, brought Sara out of her appalled appraisal. She swiftly erased any expression from her face and slowly pulled off her helm. Thankful that none of them looked familiar, she saluted the officers, three men and two women. "Knight Warrior Sara Conby."

A woman stepped away from the group. Tall and lithe, she moved with leonine grace to stand before Sara. They stood almost eye to eye, which gave Sara an excellent opportunity to study the woman's face. It was almost impossible to tell her age. Her skin revealed she was past the bloom of youth, but no lines or wrinkles marked her even features. She was beautiful as a lioness is beautiful-golden, powerful, streamlined. Her eyes blazed a brilliant blue, as hard and calculating as a predator's Her gold hair, cut short to wear beneath a helm, clung to her strong-boned head in a thick, golden cap.

She studied Sara like a lioness, too, slowly and very deliberately.

Sara did not flinch or waver. She had been sized up by fiercer predators than this one. She remained motionless and kept her eyes straight ahead.

"A Knight of the Lily," the woman said thoughtfully. She flicked her gaze over the few dragon scales glistening on Sara's leather breeches. "A dragon rider, too."

"She and her dragon were up the Firewalk Heights," the guard reported. "They were watching the city. A patrol of draconians spooked them out."

"Watching the city," the woman repeated. Her eyes bore into Sara's calm gray ones. "Spying? That is an offense we take very seriously."

"And well you should," Sara responded coolly. She saw the other officers and the cleric hanging back respectfully to watch the woman, and she knew now who confronted her. "However, General Abrena, the Code states a knight shall have the right to evaluate, the unfamiliar situation or terrain before acting. My dragon and I arrived just before dawn. To come flying into Neraka before I had seen the lay of the land would have been foolish."

The general suddenly smiled a feral grin that pulled up the corners of her mouth, but did not touch the| detachment in her eyes. "Where did you serve?"

Sara remained impassive, her tone matter-of-fact. "Storm's Keep, for many years. I was a dragon trainer for Lord Ariakan. Then I transferred to Qualinesti to fight the elves." Far away, on the edge of her attention, she heard the draconian whips crack, the groans of the slaves, the rumble of stone dropped on the heap. She ignored it, ignored the officers standing in speculative silence, and concentrated on keeping her face emotion-lee. She sensed that even the slightest tick of fear or hesitancy would be recognized instantly by this eagle-eyed general.

Mirielle paced around her. "What have you been doing since the Chaos war?"

"Hiding, mostly," Sara answered. There was truth enough in that. "My own dragon was killed. I found this one wounded and cared for him until he regained his strength."

The general's golden eyebrows rose. "Indeed. And what happened to your first dragon?"

"My wing was sent north toward Palanthas to help fight the war. We were ambushed by firedragons. The others were slaughtered. I was knocked unconscious, but my dragon hid me and died defending me."

"Interesting. You seem to instill a firm loyalty in your dragons."

Sara did not reply.

"Why did you come to Neraka?"

Sara felt on safer ground when she did not have to lie. "I was near Palanthas when I heard the knights were regathering here. I came to see for myself. Cobalt and I are tired of hiding."

"Do you wish to rejoin the order?" the general asked.

"She's rather old," one of the officers put in.

Sara shot a glance at him and understood his remark. He looked barely twenty, and already he wore the insignia of a junior officer-a hard, forceful young man, by the look of his eyes and the forward stance of his body.

"That's enough, Targonne," Mirielle said without bothering to look at him. "Sometimes age and experience more than make up for youthful exuberance. Or," she went on, and her voice dropped into a mild warning, "family connections."

The young officer closed his mouth, disconcerted.

"He's right," Sara said. "I am no longer in the prime of my strength. But I can train dragons, fight, tend sick of wounded animals, and cook."

"But do you want to rejoin the order?" repeated Mirielle.

No! screamed every strand of Sara's emotions. She wanted no more of this evil knighthood, no more of their cruelty and unwavering desire to control. No more!

"Yes," said her mouth before her emotions got the better of her. She had come this far on this strange quest. She couldn't back out now. Besides, if she said no, they'd probably kill her.

Mirielle Abrena nodded in satisfaction. "We need all the experienced knights we can find, Knight Warrior Conby. The tasks ahead of us are enormous." Her long fingers reached out to touch the night lily brooch on Sara's cloak. "That is a beautiful piece."

Sara thought of the man who had given it to her. Out of his armor and behind closed doors, Lord Ariakan had been charming yet arrogant, gentle yet demanding, as dark and handsome as the gift he had given her. Without a second thought, she unpinned the brooch and gave it to Mirielle. "It was a gift from a man long dead. I think he would have approved of you."

For a moment, General Abrena was too startled to move. She was accustomed to fawning sycophants and gifts given in hopes of personal gain, yet Sara's expression expected nothing and her gesture was freely given. Mirielle took the brooch in her hand with a small nod of thanks and pinned it to her own cloak.

"Take her to Lord Knight Cadrel," she told the guards.

"Tell him to find a place for her. I suggest one of the training talons. Her experience will help guide the younger knights."

Sara saluted the general, then the officers behind her, and marched after the guards out of the compound. She let her breath out in a long sigh, but it was hardly relief. For the second time in her life, she had voluntarily joined the Knights of Takhisis. What had she gotten herself into now?