Dragonlance - Elven Nations 01 - Firstborn - Paul B Thompson & Tonya R Cater

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Elven Nations Trilogy

Volume One

[Dragonlance logo]

Firstborn

Paul B. Thompson

& Tonya R. Carter

Cover Art

Brom

[WotC logo]

FIRSTBORN

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is

purely coincidental.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction

or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express

written permission of Wizards of the Coast, Inc.

Distributed in the United States by Holtzbrinck Publishing. Distributed in Canada by Fenn Ltd.

Distributed to the hobby, toy, and comic trade in the United States and Canada by regional

distributors.

Distributed worldwide by Wizards of the Coast, Inc. and regional distributors.

DRAGONLANCE and the Wizards of the Coast logo are registered trademarks owned by Wizards of

the Coast, Inc., a subsidiary of Hasbro, Inc.

All Wizards of the Coast characters, character names, and the distinctive likenesses thereof are

trademarks owned by Wizards of the Coast, Inc.

Made in the U.S.A.

The sale of this book without its cover has not been authorized by the publisher. If you purchased

this book without a cover, you should be aware that neither the author nor the publisher has

received payment for this "stripped book."

Cover art by Brom

First Printing: February 1991

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 90-71491

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

ISBN: 1-56076-051-6

620-08337

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ASIA, PACIFIC, & LATIN AMERICA Wizards of the Coast, Belgium

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+1-800-324-6496 +32-70-23-32-77

Visit our web site at www.wizards.com/[line]

Prelude

Year of the Dolphin (2308 PC)

The great river Thon-Thalas flowed southward through the forests of

Silvanesti. Three-quarters of the way down its length, the broad waterway

branched and twin streams flowed around an island called Fallan. On this

island was the capital city of the elven nation, Silvanost.

Silvanost was a city of towers. Gleaming white, they soared skyward,

some dwarfing even the massive oak trees on the mainland. Unlike the

mainland, Fallan Island had few trees. Most had been removed to make

way for the city. The island's naturally occurring marble and quartz

formations had then been spell-shaped by the Silvanesti, transforming

them into houses and towers. Approaching the island from the west on the

King's Road, a traveler could see the marble city gleaming with pearly

light through the trees. At night, the city absorbed the starlight and

moonlight and radiated it softly back to the heavens.

On this particular night, scudding clouds covered the sky and a chill

rain fell. A brisk breeze swirled over the island. The streets of Silvanost,

however, were full. In spite of the damp cold, every elf in the city stood

outside, shouting, clapping, and singing joyfully. Many carried candles,

hooded against the rain, and the dancing lights added to the strange yet

festive air.

A wonderful thing had happened that evening in the capital. Sithel,

Speaker of the Stars, ruler of all Silvanesti, had become a father. Indeed

the great fortune of Speaker Sithel was that he had two sons. He was the

father of twins, an event rare among elves. The Silvanesti began to call

Sithel "Twice Blest." And they celebrated in the cool, damp night.

The Speaker of the Stars was not receiving well-wishers, however. He

was not even in the Palace of Quinari, where his wife, Nirakina, still lay in

her birthing bed with her new sons. Sithel had left his attendants and

walked alone across the plaza between the palace and the Tower of the

Stars, the ceremonial seat of the speaker's power. Though common folk

were not allowed in the plaza by night, the speaker could hear the echoes

of their celebrations. He strode through the dark outlines of the garden

surrounding the tower. Wending his way along the paths, he entered the

structure through a door reserved for the royal family.

Circling to the front of the great emerald throne, Sithel could see the

vast audience hall. It was not completely dark. Six hundred feet above him

was a shaft in the roof of the tower, open to the sky. Moonlight, broken by

clouds, filtered down the shaft. The walls of the tower were pierced by

spiraling rows of window slits and encrusted with precious jewels of every

description. These split the moonlight into iridescent beams, and the

beams bathed the walls and floor in a thousand myriad colors. Yet Sithel

had no mind for this beauty now. Seating himself on the throne he had

occupied for two centuries, he rested his hands on the emerald arms,

allowing the coolness of the stone to penetrate and soothe his heavy heart.

A figure appeared in the monumental main doorway. "Enter," said the

speaker, He hardly spoke above a whisper, but the perfect acoustics of the

hall carried the single word clearly to the visitor.

The figure approached. He halted at the bottom of the steps leading up

to the throne platform and set a small brazier on the marble floor. Finally

the visitor bowed low and said, "You summoned me, great Speaker:' His

voice was light, with the lilt of the north country in it.

"Vedvedsica, servant of Gilean," Sithel said. "Rise."

Vedvedsica stood. Unlike the clerics, of Silvanost, who wore white

robes and a sash in the color of their patron deity, Vedvedsica wore a

belted tabard of solid gray. His god had no temple in the city, because the

gods of Neutrality were not officially tolerated by the priests who served

the gods of Good.

Vedvedsica said, "May I congratulate Your Highness on the birth of

his sons?"

Sithel nodded curtly. "It is because of them that I have called you

here," he replied. "Does your god allow you to see the future?"

"My master Gilean holds in his hands the Tobril, the Book of Truth.

Sometimes he grants me glimpses of this book." From the priest's

expression it appeared this was not a practice he enjoyed.

"I will give you one hundred gold pieces," said the speaker. "Ask your

god, and tell me the fate of my sons."

Vedvedsica bowed again. He dipped a hand into the voluminous

pockets of his tabard and brought out two dried leaves, still shiny green,

but stiff and brittle. Removing the conical cover from the brazier, he

exposed hot coals and held the leaves by their stems over the dully-

glowing fire.

"Gilean, the Book! Gray Voyager! Sage of Truth, Gate of Souls! By

this fire, open my eyes and allow me to read from the book of all-truth!"

The cleric's voice was stronger now, resonating through the empty hall.

"Open the Tobril! Find for Speaker Sithel the fates of his two sons, born

this day!"

Vedvedsica laid the dry leaves on the coals. They caught fire

immediately, flames curling around them with a loud crackle. Smoke

snaked up from the brazier, thick, gray smoke that condensed as it rose.

Sithel gripped the arms of his throne and watched the smoke coil and

writhe. Vedvedsica held up his hands as if to embrace it.

Gradually the smoke formed into the wavering shape of an open

scroll. The back of the scroll faced Sithel. The front was for Vedvedsica

only. The cleric's lips moved as he read from the book that contained all

the knowledge of the gods.

In less than half a minute the leaves were totally consumed. The fire

flared three feet above the golden brazier, instantly dispelling the smoke.

In the flash of flame, the priest cried out in pain and reeled away. Sithel

leaped up from his throne as Vedvedsica collapsed in a heap.

After descending the steps from the throne platform, Sithel knelt

beside the cleric and carefully turned him over. "What did you see?" he

asked urgently. "Tell me–I command you!"

Vedvedsica took his hands from his face. His eyebrows were singed,

his face blackened. "Five words . . . I saw only five words, Highness," he

said falteringly.

"What were they?" Sithel nearly shook the fellow in his haste to

know.

"The Tobril said, 'They both shall wear crowns . . .' "

Sithel frowned, his pale, arching brows knotting together. "What does

it mean? Two crowns?" he demanded angrily. "How can they both wear

crowns?"

"It means what it means, Twice-Blest."

The speaker looked at the brazier, its coals still glowing. A few

seconds' glimpse into the great book had nearly cost Vedvedsica his sight.

What would the knowledge of Gilean's prophecy cost Sithel himself?

What would it cost Silvanesti?

Spring–Year of the Hawk

(2216 PC)

Clouds scattered before the wind, bright white in the brilliant

sunshine. In the gaps of blue that showed between the clouds, a dark,

winged form darted and wheeled. Far larger than a bird, the creature

climbed with powerful strokes of its broad wings. It reached a height

above the lowest clouds and hovered there, wings beating fast and hard.

The beast was a griffon, a creature part lion, part eagle. Its

magnificent eagle's head and neck gave way to the torso and hindquarters

of a lion. A plumed lion's tail whipped in the wind. Behind the beast's

fiercely beaked head and unblinking golden eyes, the leather straps of a

halter led back to a saddle, strapped to the griffon's shoulders. In the

saddle sat a helmeted figure clad in green and gold armor. An elven face

with brown eyes and snow-colored hair peered out from under the bronze

helmet.

Spread out below them, elf and griffon, was the whole country of

Silvanesti. Where wind had driven the clouds away, the griffon rider could

see the green carpet of forests and fields. To his right, the wandering silver

ribbon of the Thon-Thalas, the Lord's River, flowed around the verdant

Fallan Island. On this island was Silvanost, city of a thousand white

towers.

"Are you ready, Arcuballis?" whispered the rider to his mount. He

wound the leather reins tightly around his strong, slender hand. "Nowl" he

cried, drawing the reins sharply down.

The griffon put its head down and folded its wings. Down they

plummeted, like a thunderbolt dropped from a clear sky. The young elf

bent close to the griffon's neck, burying his fingers in the dense,

copper-hued feathers. The massive muscles under his fingers were taut,

waiting. Arcuballis was well trained and loyal to its master; it would not

open its wings again until told to do so. If its master so desired, the griffon

wouldplunge straight into the fertile soil of Silvanesti.

They were below the clouds, and the land leaped into clear view. The

rich green canopy of trees was more obvious now. The griffon rider could

see the pines and the mighty oaks reaching up, connecting soil to sky. It

was a view of the land few were ever granted.

He had dropped many thousands of feet, and only a few hundred

remained. The wind tore at his eyes, bringing tears. He blinked them

away. Arcuballis flexed its folded wings nervously, and a low growl

sounded in its throat. They were very low. The rider could see individual

branches in the trees, see birds fleeing from the griffon's rapidly growing

shadow.

"Nowl" The rider hauled back sharply on the reins. The broad wings

opened slowly. The beast's hindquarters dropped as its head rose. The

rider felt himself slide backward, bumping against the rear lip of the tall

saddle. The griffon soared up in a high arc, wings flailing. He let the reins

out, and the beast leveled off . He whistled a command, and the griffon

held its wings out motionless. They started down again in a steep glide.

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ElvenNationsTrilogyVolumeOne[Dragonlancelogo]FirstbornPaulB.Thompson&TonyaR.CarterCoverArtBrom[WotClogo]FIRSTBORN©2001WizardsoftheCoast,Inc.AllRightsReserved.Allcharactersinthisbookarefictitious.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,ispurelycoincidental.Thisbookisprotectedunderthecopyrightlawso...

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Dragonlance - Elven Nations 01 - Firstborn - Paul B Thompson & Tonya R Cater

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