Kagonesti

against a surprise attack against Sanction, where lies the root of her strength.'

The young Pathfinder remembered Lectral saying much the same thing. 'Then why not strike at Sanction from the plains, where your army is?' Ashtaway asked.

'Because the queen's armies-and her dragons-block our passage across those plains,' Sir Kamford said grimly. 'We couldn't attack from there until we defeat those armies. And unless we can burn the depots of Sanction she'll be able to keep her army in the field for ten more years!'

'I have seen Sanction, from a distance,' the young Pathfinder noted. 'There seemed ever to be a black, angry cloud about the place-it seems a fitting abode for the Queen of Darkness.'

The knight chuckled, and even Ashtaway was set aback by the man's lack of manners. Suppressing his own temper, aware of the other warriors' displeasure behind their stoic expressions, Ash forced himself to remember that Sir Kamford was a stranger to proper society-indeed, there seemed to be no rudeness intended in his expression of humor.

'She doesn't actually live there, of course-nor anywhere else on Krynn. But it's rumored that her serpents have their lairs in the volcanoes around the city, and that's where she's assembled the supply depots to run the war.'

Ashtaway was intrigued, remembering what the knight had said earlier. Lectral's speculations in the cave, which had centered around the importance of Sanction to the Dark Queen, came vividly back to him. 'And while her dragons are in the west, menacing Palanthas, you seek to find a way to strike at Sanction? To cripple her village while her warriors are out on the hunt?'

'In a manner of speaking.' There might have been a trace of amusement in Sir Kamford's voice, but it seemed as though he was making a conscious effort, now, to mimic the serene expressions of the Kagonesti. 'Of course, the central plains are too dangerous. Any party of knights caught by dragons, miles away from shelter, would be doomed. And if we tried to march directly, there's no doubt that we would be caught.'

'So you were planning to attack along an indirect route?' Ashtaway surprised himself again, this time by speaking so abruptly on the tail of his companion's words. He could sense Faltath staring at him in disbelief, but he was very curious-and a little awed-by the human's audacity.

'The company you saw last week? No, we were just a scouting party. The Lord Knights won't even consider launching an attack unless we could return with word of a route through the mountains.'

The elven warrior nodded.

'My party had been scouting since the snow melted in the lower valleys. Unfortunately, every time we found a promising path, we ended up in some box canyon or confronted by a ring of tall peaks. Places even a man couldn't go, to say nothing of our horses.'

'You would take your horses to this battle?'

'A knight without his horse is like… is like one of you without his legs,' Sir Kamford said seriously. 'Yes, we would ride our horses into battle. The Knights of Solam- nla, in charge rank, are a force to make even ogres quail.'

The Kagonesti remembered the small company battling against the red dragons, and he had no doubt that Sir Kamford spoke the truth.

'Yet the charge against Sanction, it seems, will never be made,' the knight declared sadly. 'Even if I live to return to Solanthus, I will not be able to offer the lords any hope. There was no route in the mountains, and across the plains lies only death.'

Ashtaway nodded solemnly, as if in sympathy with the human's despair. It was a warrior's tragedy: brave men on a desperate mission, slain by crimson death on wing. This lone survivor, a valiant knight to be sure, the only one left to carry the tale of failure.

At the same time, the elf's mind churned with a knowledge that he suspected he would not be able to contain. Should he speak? There was really no choice involved.

'There is, possibly, another way,' Ashtaway said deliberately. 'Perhaps… even a way that the tribe could remain beside the Bluelake, to live here in safety.'

Even the human remained silent, waiting for him to continue. Ash took a long time to think, collecting his thoughts before he spoke.

'There is a route through the Khalkists, leading up from the south. It is a narrow pass that winds high among the peaks, but I believe it would be passable even for horses.'

'A route that leads to Sanction?' asked Sir Kamford tautly, after a barely respectable pause.

'I have seen the Three Smoking Mountains from the crest of the pass, and looked down upon the city in the valley of fire beyond.'

'The Lords of Doom! So there is-there might be-a way! Tell me, where is this pass? How can I find it?'

'I doubt that you could,' Ashtaway said, without rancor. 'I discovered the place myself only by accident, after many seasons of hunting in the high mountains.'

For a moment, the Kagonesti paused. He felt a sense of portent, and knew what he was about to say even before he articulated the words. At the same time, he realized that his tribemates would react with shock and dismay- yet Ashtaway could not, would not pull back from his decision.

'I will show you the pass,' he said quietly. 'You must return to Solamnia and gather your force of knights. I will lead you through the mountains, so that you may strike at the Dark Queen's village.'

'What treachery is this?' demanded Faltath, his face taut behind the whorls of his tattoos. 'You would lead a force of humans through the heart of our woodlands?' The elf's fist closed around the hilt of his sword, and for a moment Ash wondered if his old friend would draw his weapon and violate the protection extended to the human.

'We aren't coming to invade!' declared Sir Kamford.

Faltath raised his hand from the hilt of his sword and crossed his arms firmly over his chest. 'Do you mean that we should welcome humans into these forests?' he demanded, his tone edging on mockery.

'Perhaps you would prefer to welcome red dragons, or ogres, into the woodlands,' suggested Ashtaway tightly. He felt his own temper rising. Why couldn't Faltath understand?

'That's just the point!' Sir Kamford's voice was full of persuasive enthusiasm, though it sounded harsh and strident to the elven ears. Still, their attention was bound by the force of his conviction. 'I can't promise that if we strike at Sanction, we'll win the war. Indeed, 1 suspect the issue will be decided in the west, dragon against dragon, in the skies over Solamnia. But our attack can weaken the Dark Queen's army just when it is most in need of strength!

'And make no mistake, my elven friends.' Now the knight's tone dropped to an ominous timbre so portentous that none of the Kagonesti reacted to his categorization of them. 'The victor in this war will have strong bearing on the future of Krynn-for all races, all peoples. It is an effect that will outlast the lifetime of even the most venerable elf.'

'I have seen the dragons,' Ashtaway noted. 'If they return, the forests will not be safe for elf or man. Far better to cast our weight before the war is resolved, that the dragons of evil may be defeated.'

He looked at Sir Kamford, and his hazel eyes were flat and cold. 'After this war,' he added meaningfully, 'we can decide what to do about the humans.'

'Fair enough,' agreed the armored knight. 'I offer my word-I shall describe your contribution to my lords, as well as your desire that we leave you alone. We pass through your realm only because it offers the best-the only- path against the Dark Queen's bastion.'

Ashtaway felt a surge of apprehension. Was he doing the right thing?

If he made the wrong decision, and the village was attacked again, could they hope for a repeat of their recent good fortune? Or might they be attacked by dragons and ogres as well as by the dimwitted bakali? If so, Ash knew that it might mean the end of the tribe.

Yet if they left this place, they had no guarantee that they would find another site half as good-perhaps there would not even be woodlands, a range of pastoral forest in which to hunt and live. He knew how quickly humans bred and multiplied, about their insatiable thirst for land. It did not seem inconceivable that during the last thousand years they had claimed great sections of what had once been forest.

Finally Ashtaway sighed and opened his eyes, which he fixed upon the face of Sir Kamford Willis. 'How long will it take you to reach Solamnia and return to the woodland with this army of knights?'

'Two weeks to walk home, a week to gather the force, and another week to return with riders-and myself