MARGARET WEIS & TRACY HICKMAN DRAGONS OF THE FALLEN SUN THE WAR OF THE SOULS VOLUME ONE DRAGONLANCE MAR 2000 MiNa's SONG The day has passed beyond our power. The petals close upon the flower. The light is failing in this hour Of day's last waning breath. The blackness of the night surrounds The distant souls of stars now found, Far from this world to which we're bound, Of sorrow, fear and death. Sleep, love; forever sleep. Your soul the night will keep. Embrace the darkness deep. Sleep, love; forever sleep. The gathering darkness takes our souls, Embracing us in chilling folds, Deep in a Mistress's void that holds Our fate within her hands. Dream, warriors, of the dark above And feel the sweet redemption of The Night's Consort, and of her love For those within her bands. Sleep, love; forever sleep. Your soul the night will keep. Embrace the darkness deep. Sleep, love; forever sleep. We close our eyes, our minds at rest, Submit our wills to her behest, Our weaknesses to her confessed, And to her will we bend. The strength of silence fills the sky, Its depth beyond both you and I. Into its arms our souls will fly, Where fear and sorrows end. Sleep, love; forever sleep. Your soul the night will keep. Embrace the darkness deep. Sleep, love; forever sleep. BOOK ONE CHAPTER ONE THE SONG OF DEATH The dwarves named the valley Gamashinoch-the Song of Death. None of the living walked here of their own free will. Those who entered did so out of desperation, dire need, or because they had been ordered to do so by their com- manding officer. They had been listening to the" song" for several hours as their advance brought them nearer and nearer the desolate valley. The song was eerie, terrible. Its words, which were never clearly heard, never quite distinguishable-at least not with the ears- spoke of death and worse than death. The song spoke of entrap- ment, bitter frustration, unending torment. The song was a lament, a song of longing for a place the soul remembered, a haven of peace and bliss now unattainable. On first hearing the mournful song, the Knights had reined in their steeds, hands reaching for their swords as they stared about them in unease, crying "what is that?" and "who goes there?" But no one went there. No one of the living. The Knights looked at their commander, who stood up in his stirrups, inspect- ing the cliffs that soared above them on their right and the left. "It is nothing," he said at last. "The wind among the rocks. Proceed." He urged his horse forward along the road, which ran, turn- ing and twisting, through the mountains known as the Lords of Doom. The men under his command followed single file, the pass was too narrow for the mounted patrol to ride abreast. "I have heard the wind before, my lord," said one Knight gruffly, "and it has yet to have a human voice. It warns us to stay away. We would do well to heed it." "Nonsense!" Talon Leader Ernst Magit swung around in his saddle to glare at his scout and second-in-command, who walked behind him. "Superstitious claptrap! But then you minotaurs are noted for clinging to old, outmoded ways and ideas. It is time you entered the modem era. The gods are gone, and good riddance, I say. We humans rule the world." A single voice, a woman's voice, had first sung the Song of Death. Now her voice was joined by a fearful chorus of men, women, and children raised in a dreadful chant of hopeless loss and misery that echoed among the mountains. At the doleful sound, several of the horses balked, refused to go farther, and, truth told, their masters did little to urge them. Magit's horse shied and danced. He dug his spurs into the horse's flanks, leaving great bloody gouges, and the horse sulked forward, head lowered, ears twitching. Talon Leader Magit rode about half a mile when it occurred to him that he did not hear other hoof beats. Glancing around, he saw that he was proceed- ing alone. None of his men had followed. Furious, Magit turned and galloped back to his command. He found half of his patrol dismounted, the other half looking very ill at ease; sitting astride horses that stood shivering on the road. "The dumb beasts have more brains than their masters," said the minotaur from his place on the ground. Few horses will allow a minotaur to sit upon their backs and fewer still have the strength and girth to carry one of the huge minotaurs. Galdar was seven feet tall, counting his horns. He kept up with the patrol, running easily alongside the stirrup of his commander. Magit sat upon his horse, his hands on the pommel, facing his men. He was a tall, excessively thin man, the type whose bones seem to be strung together with steel wire, for he was far stronger than he looked. His eyes were flat and watery blue, without intelligence, without depth. He was noted for his cruelty, his inflexible-many would say mindless-discipline, and his com- plete and total devotion to a single cause: Ernst Magit. "You will mount your horses and you will ride after me," said Talon Leader Magit coldly, "or I will report each and every one of you to the groupcommander. I will accuse you of cowardice and betrayal of the Vision and mutiny. As you know, the penalty for even one of those counts is death." "Can he do that?" whispered a newly made Knight on his first assignment. "He can," returned the veterans grimly, "and he will." The Knights remounted and urged their steeds forward, using their spurs. They were forced to circle around the minotaur, Galdar, who remained standing in the center of the road. "Do you refuse to obey my command, minotaur?" demanded Magit angrily. "Think well before you do so. You may be the pro- tege of the Protector of the Skull, but I doubt if even he could save you if I denounce you to the Council as a coward and an oath-breaker." Leaning over his horse's neck, Magit spoke in mock confi- dentiality. "And from what I hear, Galdar, your master might not be too keen on protecting you anymore. A one-armed mino- taur. A minotaur whose own kind view him with pity and with scorn. A minotaur who has been reduced to the position of scout.' And we all know that they assigned you to that post only because they had to do something with you. Although I did hear it suggested that they turn you out to pasture with the rest of the cows." Galdar clenched his fist, his remaining fist, driving the sharp nails into his flesh. He knew very well that Magit was baiting him, goading him into a fight. Here, where there would be few witnesses. Here where Magit could kill the crippled minotaur and return home to claim that the fight had been a fair and glori- ous one. Galdar was not particularly attached to life, not since the loss of his sword arm had transformed him from fearsome war- rior to plodding scout. But he'd be damned if he was going to die at the hands of Ernst Magit. Galdar wouldn't give his commander the satisfaction. The minotaur shouldered his way past Ernst Magit, who watched him with a sneer of contempt upon his thin lips. The patrol continued toward their destination, hoping to reach it while there was yet sunlight-if one could term the chill gray light that warmed nothing it touched sunlight. The Song of Death wailed and mourned. One of the new recruits rode with tears streaming down his cheeks. The veterans rode hunkered down, shoulders hunched up around their ears, as if they would block out the sound. But even if they had stuffed their ears with tow, even if they had blown out their eardrums, they would have still heard the terrible song. The Song of Death sang in the heart. The patrol rode into the valley that was called Neraka. In a time past memory, the goddess Takhisis, Queen of Dark- ness, laid in the southern end of the valley a foundation stone, rescued from the blasted temple of the Kingpriest of Istar. The foundation stone began to grow, drawing upon the evil in the world to give it lif~: The st~ne grew into a temple, vast and awful; a temple of magnificent, hideous darkness. Takhisis planned to use this temple to return to the world from which she'd been driven by Huma Dragonbane, but her way was blocked by love and self-sacrifice. Nevertheless she had great power, and she launched a war upon the world that came near to destroying it. Her evil commanders, like a pack of wild dogs,.fell.to figh~g among themselves. A band of heroes rose up Looking mto theIr hearts, they found the power to thwart her, defeat her, and cast her down. Her temple at Neraka was de- stroyed, blasted apart in her rage at her downfall. The temple's walls exploded and rained down from the skies on that terrible day, huge black boulders that crushed the city of Neraka. Cleansing fires destroyed the buildings of the cursed city, burned down its markets and its slave pens, its numerous guard houses, filling its twisted, mazelike streets with ash. Over fifty years later, no trace of the original city remained. The splinters of the temple's bones littered the floor of the south- em portion of the valley of Neraka. The ash had long since blown away. Nothing would grow in this part of the valley. All sign of life had long been covered up by the swirling sands. Only the black boulders, remnants of the temple, remained in the valley. They were an awful sight, and even Talon Leader Magit, gazi...
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