Dan Parkinson - Dwarven Nations 02 - Hammer and Axe

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To my parents, Dr. and Mrs. Harold R. Hickman, who taught me what true honor is
- Tracy Raye Hickman
To my parents, Frances and George Weis, who gave me a gift more precious than
life: the love of books - Margaret Weis
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Inc., 40 West 23rd Street, New York, New York room, USA Penguin Books Australia
Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 2801 John Street,
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Auckland 10 New Zealand
First published by TSR, Inc. 1985 Distributed to the book trade in the USA by
Random House, Inc. and in Canada by Random House of Canada Ltd Distributed in
the UK by TSR UK Ltd Distributed to the toy and hobby trade by regional
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times)
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distinctive likenesses thereof are trademarks of TSR, Inc.
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owned by TSR, Inc.
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental
We gratefully acknowledge the help of the authors of the ADVANCED DUNGEONS AND
DRAGONS® DRAGONLANCE role-playing adventure game modules: Douglas Niles, DRAGONS
OF ICE; Jeff Grubb, DRAGONS OF LIGHT; and Laura Hickman, co-author, DRAGONS OF
WAR. Finally, to Michael: Est Sularus oth Mithas
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the
condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold,
hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any
form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a
similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.
The winter winds raged outside, but within the caverns of the mountain dwarves
beneath the Kharolis Mountains, the fury of the storm was not felt. As the Thane
called for silence among the assembled dwarves and humans, a dwarven bard
stepped forward to do homage to the companions.
SONG OF THE NINE HEROES
From the north came danger, as we knew it would:
In the vanguard of winter, a dragon's dance
Unraveled the land, until out of the forest,
Out of the plains they came, from the mothering earth,
The sky unreckoned before them.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
One from a garden of stone arising,
From dwarf-halls, from weather and wisdom,
Where the heart and mind tide unquestioned
In the untapped vein of the hand.
In his fathering arms, the spirit gathered.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined,they arose
Into the heart of the story.
One from a haven of breezes descending,
Light in the handling air
To the waving meadows, the kender's country,
Where the grain out of smallness arises itself
To grow green and golden and green again.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next from the plains, the long land's keeping,
Nurtured in distance, horizons of nothing.
Bearing a staff she came, and a burden
Of mercy and light converged in her hand:
Beating the wounds of the world, she came.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next from the plains, in the moon's shadow,
Through custom, through ritual, trailing the moon
Where her phases, her wax and her wane, controlled
The tide of his blood, and his warrior's hand
Ascended through hierarchies of space into light.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
One within absences, known by departures,
The dark swordswoman at the heart of fire:
Her glories the space between words,
The cradlesong recollected in age,
Recalled at the edge of awakening and thought.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
One in the heart of honor, formed by the sword,
By the centuries' flight of the kingfisher over the land,
By Solamnia ruined and risen, rising again
When the heart ascends into duty.
As it dances, the sword is forever an heirloom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next in a simple light a brother to darkness,
Letting the sword hand try all subtleties,
Even the intricate webs of the heart. His thoughts
Are pools disrupted in changing wind
He cannot see their bottom.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The next the leader, half-elvcn, betrayed
As the twining blood pulls asunder the land,
The forests, the worlds of elves and men.
Called into bravery, but fearing for love,
And fearing that, called into both, he does nothing.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The last from the darkness, breathing the night
Where the abstract stars hide a nest of words,
Where the body endures the wound of numbers,
Surrendered to knowledge, until, unable to bless,
His blessing falls on the low, the benighted.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
Joined by others they were in the telling:
A graceless girl, graced beyond graces;
A princess of seeds and saplings, called to the forest;
An ancient weaver of accidents;
Nor can we say who the story will gather.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the hear of the story.
From the north came danger, as we knew it would:
In encampments of winter, the dragon's sleep
Has settled the land, but out of the forest,
Out of the plain they come, from the mothering earth,
Defining the sky before them.
Nine they were, under the three moons,
Under the autumn twilight:
As the world declined, they arose
Into the heart of the story.
The Hammer
"The Hammer of Kharas!"
The great Hall of Audience of the King of the Mountain Dwarves echoed with the
triumphal announcement. It was followed by wild cheering, the deep booming
voices of the dwarves mingling with the slightly higher-pitched shouts of the
humans as the huge doors at the rear of the Hall were thrown open and Elistan,
cleric of Paladine, entered.
Although the bowl-shaped Hall was large, even by dwarven standards, it was
crammed to capacity. Nearly all of the eight hundred refugees from Pax Tharkas
lined the walls, while the dwarves packed onto the carved stone benches below.
Elistan appeared at the foot of a long central aisle, the giant war hammer held
reverently in his hands. The shouts increased at the sight of the cleric of
Paladine in his white robes, the sound booming against the great vault of the
ceiling and reverberating through the hall until it seemed that the ground shook
with the vibrations.
Tanis winced as the noise made his head throb. He was stifled in the crowd. He
didn't like being underground anyway and, although the ceiling was so high that
the top soared beyond the blazing torchlight and disappeared into shadow, the
half-elf felt enclosed, trapped.
"I'll be glad when this is over;" he muttered to Sturm, standing next to him.
Sturm, always melancholy, seemed even darker and more brooding than usual. "I
don't approve of this, Tanis," he muttered, folding his arms across the bright
metal of his antique breastplate.
"I know;" said Tanis irritably. "You've said it-not once, but several times.
It's too late now. There's nothing to be done but make the best of it:"
The end of his sentence was lost in another resounding cheer as Elistan raised
the Hammer above his head, showing it to the crowd before beginning the walk
down the aisle. Tanis put his hand on his forehead. He was growing dizzy as the
cool underground cavern heated up from the mass of bodies.
Elistan started to walk down the aisle. Rising to greet him on a dais in the
center of the Hall was Hornfel, Thane of the Hylar dwarves. Spaced behind the
dwarf were seven carved stone thrones, all of them now empty. Hornfel stood
before the seventh throne-the most magnificent, the throne for the King of
Thorbardin. Lang empty, it would be occupied once more, as Hornfel accepted the
Hammer of Kharas. The return of this ancient relic was a singular triumph for
Hornfel. Since his thanedom was now in possession of the coveted Hammer, he
could unite the rival dwarven thanes under his leadership.
" We fought to recover that Hammer;' Sturm said slowly, his eyes upon the
gleaming weapon. "The legendary Hammer of Kharas. Used to forge the
dragonlances. Lost for hundreds of years, found again, and lost once more. And
now given to the dwarvesl" he said in disgust.
"It was given to the dwarves once before;' Tanis reminded him wearily, feeling
sweat trickle down his forehead. "Have Flint tell you the tale, if you've
forgotten. At any rate, it is truly theirs now."
Elistan had arrived at the foot of the stone dais where the Thane, dressed in
the heavy robes and massive gold chains dwarves loved, awaited him. Elistan
knelt at the foot of the dais, a politic gesture, for otherwise the tall,
muscular cleric would stand face-to-face with the dwarf, despite the fact that
the dais was a good three feet off the ground. The dwarves cheered mightily at
this. The humans were, Tanis noticed, more subdued, some muttering among
themselves, not liking the sight of their leader abasing himself:.
"Accept this gift of our people-" Elistan's words were lost in another cheer
from the dwarves.
"Gift!" Sturm snorted. "Ransom is nearer the mark."
"In return for which;" Elistan continued when he could be heard, "we thank the
dwarves for their generous gift of a place to live within their kingdom:'
"For the right to be sealed in a tomb . . :' Sturm muttered.
"And we pledge our support to the dwarves if the war should come upon us!"
Elistan shouted.
Cheering resounded throughout the chamber, increasing as Thane Hornfel bent to
receive the Hammer.. The dwarves stamped and whistled, most climbing up on the
stone benches.
Tanis began to feel nauseated. He glanced around. They would never be missed.
Hornfel would speak; so would each of the other six Thanes, not to mention the
members of the Highseekers Council. The half-elf touched Sturm on the arm,
motioning to the knight to follow him. The two walked silently from the Hall,
bending low to get through a narrow archway. Although still underground in the
massive dwarven city, at least they were away from the noise, out in the cool
night air.
"Are you all right?" Sturm asked, noticing Tanis's pallor beneath his beard. The
half-elf gulped draughts of cool air.
"I am now;" Tanis said, flushing in shame at his weakness. "It was the heat . .
. and the noise:"
"Well, we'll be out of here soon;' Sturm said. 'Depending, of course, on whether
or not the Council of Highseekers votes to let us go to Tarsis:'
"Oh, there's no doubt how they'll vote;" Tanis said, shrugging. "Elistan is
clearly in control, now that he's led the people to a place of safety. None of
the Highseekers dares oppose him-at least to his face. No, my friend, within a
month's time perhaps, we'll be setting sail in one of the white-winged ships of
Tarsis the Beautiful:'
"Without the Hammer of Kharas," Sturm added bitterly. Softly, he began to quote.
" 'And so if was told that the Knights took the golden Hammer, the Hammer
blessed 6y the great god Paladine and given to the One of the Silver Arm so that
he might forge the Dragonlance of Huma, Dragonbane, and gave the Hammer to the
dwarf they called Kharas, or Knight, for his extraordinary valor and honor in
battle. And he kept Kharas for his name. And the Hammer of Kharas passed into
the dwarven kingdom with assurances from the dwarves that it should be brought
forth again at need-"
"It has been brought forth;' Tanis said, straggling to contain his rising anger.
He had heard that quotation entirely too many times!
"II has been brought forth and will be left behind!" Sturm bit the words. "We
might have taken it to Solamnia, used it to forge our own dragonlances
"And you would be another Huma, riding to glory, the Dragonlance in your hand!"
Tanis's control snapped. "Meanwhile you'd let eight hundred people die-"
"No, I would not have let them die!" Sturm shouted in a towering rage. "The
first clue we have to the dragonlances and you sell it for-"
Both men stopped arguing abruptly, suddenly aware of a shadow creeping from the
darker shadows surrounding them.
"Shirak;' whispered a voice, and a bright light flared, gleaming from a crystal
ball clutched in the golden, disembodied claw of a dragon atop a plain, wooden
staff. The light illuminated the red robes of a magic-user.
The young mage walked toward the two, leaning upon has staff, coughing slightly.
The light from his staff shone upon a skeletal face, with glistening metallic
gold skin drawn tightly over fine bones. His eyes gleamed golden.
"Raistlin;" said Tanis, his voice tight. "Is there something you want?"
Raistlin did not seem at all bothered by the angry looks both men cast him,
apparently well accustomed to the fact that few felt comfortable in his presence
or wanted him around.
He stopped before the two. Stretching forth his frail hand, the mage spoke,
"Akular-alan suh Tagolann Jistrathar." and a pale image of a weapon shimmered
into being as Tanis and Sturm watched in astonishment.
It was a footman's lance, nearly twelve feet long. The point was made of pure
silver, barbed and gleaming, the shaft crafted of polished wood. The kip was
steel, designed to be thrust into the ground.
"It's beautiful!" Tanis gasped. "What is it?"
"A dragonlance;" Raistlin answered.
Holding the lance in his hand, the mage stepped between the two, who stood aside
to let him pass as if unwilling to be touched by him. Their eyes were on the
lance. Then Raistlin turned and held it out to Sturm.
"There is your dragonlance, knight," Raistlin hissed, "without benefit of the
Hammer or the Silver Arm. Will you ride with it into glory, remembering that,
for I-luma, with glory came death?"
Sturm's eyes flashed. He caught his breath in awe as he reached out to take hold
of the dragonlance. To his amazement, his hand passed right through it! The
dragonlance vanished, even as he touched it.
"More of your tricks!" he snarled. Spinning on his heel, he stalked away,
choking in anger.
"If you meant that as a joke, Raistlin;' Tanis said quietly, "it wasn't funny:"
"A joke?" the mage whispered. His strange golden eyes followed the knight as
Sturm walked into the thick blackness of the dwarven city beneath the mountain.
"You should know me better, Tanis."
The mage laughed-the weird laughter Tanis had heard only once before. Then,
bowing sardonically to the half-elf, Raistlin disappeared, following the knight
into the shadows.
Book I
White-ringed ships. Hope lies across the Plains of Dust.
Tanis Half-Elven sat in the meeting of the Council of Highseekers and listened,
frowning. Though officially the false religion of the Seekers was now dead, the
group that made up the political leadership of the eight hundred refugees from
Fax Tharkas was still called that.
"It isn't that we're not grateful to the dwarves for allowing us to live here;"
stated Hederick expansively, waving his scarred hand. "We are all grateful, I'm
certain. Just as we're grateful to those whose heroism in recovering the Hammer
of Kharas made our move here possible:" Hederick bowed to Tanis, who returned
the bow with a brief nod of his head. "But we are not dwarves!"
This emphatic statement brought murmurs of approval, causing Hederick to warm to
his audience.
"We humans were never meant to live underground!" Loud calls of approval and
some clapping of hands.
"We are farmers. We cannot grow food on the side of a mountain! We want lands
like the ones we were forced to leave behind. And I say that those who forced us
to leave our old homeland should provide us with new!"
"Does he mean the Dragon Highlords?" Sturm whispered sarcastically to Tanis.
"I'm certain they'd be happy to oblige:'
"The fools ought to be thankful they're alive!" Tanis muttered. "Look at them,
turning to Elistan-as if it were his doing!"
The cleric of Paladine-and leader of the refugees-rose to his feet to answer
Hederick.
"It is because we need new homes;' Elistan said, his strong baritone resounding
through the cavern, "that I propose we send a delegation south, to the city of
Tarsis the Beautiful:"
Tanis had heard Elistan's plan before. His mind wandered over the month since he
and his companions had returned from Derkin's Tomb with the sacred Hammer.
The dwarven Thanes, now consolidated under the leadership of Hornfel, were
preparing to battle the evil coming from the north. The dwarves did not greatly
fear this evil. Their mountain kingdom seemed impregnable. And they had kept the
promise they made Tanis in return for the Hammer: the refugees from Pax Tharkas
could settle in Southgate, the southernmost part of the mountain kingdom of
Thorbardin.
Elistan brought the refugees to Thorbardin. They began trying to rebuild their
lives, but the arrangement was not totally satisfactory.
They were safe, to be sure, but the refugees, mostly farmers, were not happy
living underground in the huge dwarven caverns. In the spring they could plant
crops on the mountainside, but the rocky soil would produce only a bare living.
The people wanted to live in the sunshine and fresh air. They did not want to be
dependent on the dwarves.
It was Elistan who recalled the ancient legends of Tarsis theBeautiful and its
gull-winged ships. But that's all they werelegends, as Tanis had pointed out
when Elistan first mentioned his idea. No one on this part of Ansalon had heard
anything about the city of Tarsis since the Cataclysm three hundred years ago.
At that time, the dwarves had closed off the mountain kingdom of Thorbardin,
effectively shutting off all communication between the south and north, since
the only way through the Kharolis Mountains was through Thorbardin.
Tanis listened gloomily as the Council of Highseekers voted unanimously to
approve Elistan's suggestion. They proposed sending a small group of people to
Tarsis with instructions to find what ships came into port, where they were
bound, and how much it would cost to book passage-or even to buy a ship.
' And who's going to lead this group?" Tanis asked himself silently, though he
already knew the answer.
All eyes now turned to him. Before Tanis could speak, Raistlin, who had been
listening to all that was said without comment, walked forward to stand before
the Council. He stared around at them, his strange eyes glittering golden.
"You are fools;" Raistlin said, his whispering voice soft with scorn, "and you
are living in a fool's dream. How often must I repeat myself? How often must I
remind you of the portent of the stars? What do you say to yourselves when you
look into the night sky and see the gaping black holes where the two
constellations are missing?"
The Council members shifted in their seats, several exchanging long-suffering
glances indicative of boredom.
Raistlin noticed this and continued, his voice growing more and more
contemptuous. "Yes, I have heard some of you saying that it is nothing more than
a natural phenomenon-a thing that happens, perhaps, like the falling of leaves
from the trees:'
Several Council members muttered among themselves, nodding. Raistlin watched
silently for a moment, his lip curled in derision. Then he spoke once more. "I
repeat, you are fools. The constellation known as the Queen of Darkness is
missing from the sky because the Queen is present here upon Krynn. The Warrior
constellation, which represents the ancient God Paladine, as we are told in the
Disks of Mishakal, has also returned to Krynn to fight her:'
Raistlin paused. Elistan, who stood among them, was a prophet of Paladine, and
many here were converts to this new religion. He could sense the growing anger
at what some considered his blasphemy. The idea that gods would become
personally involved in the affairs of men! Shocking! But being considered
blasphemous had never bothered Raistlin.
His voice rose to a high pitch. "Mark well my words! With the Queen of Darkness
have come her 'shrieking hosts; as it says in the 'Canticle: And the shrieking
hosts are dragons!" Raistlin drew out the last word into a hiss that, as Flint
said, "shivered the skin:"
"We know all this;" Hederick snapped in impatience. It was past time for the
Theocrat's nightly glass of mulled wine, and his thirst gave him courage to
speak. He immediately regretted it, however, when Raistlin's hourglass eyes
seemed to pierce the Theocrat like black arrows. "W-what are you driving at?"
"That peace no longer exists anywhere on Krynn;' the mage whispered. He waved a
frail hand. "Find ships, travel where you will. Wherever you go, whenever you
look up into the night sky, you will see those gaping black holes. Wherever you
go, there will be dragons!"
Raistlin began to cough. His body twisted with the spasms, and he seemed likely
to fall, but his twin brother, Caramon, ran forward and caught him in his strong
arms.
After Caramon led the mage out of the Council meeting, it seemed as if a dark
cloud had been lifted. The Council members shook themselves and laughed-if
somewhat shakily-and talked of children's tales. To think that war had spread to
all of Krynn was comic. Why, the war was near an end here in Ansalon already.
The Dragon Highlord, Verminaard, had been defeated, his draconian armies driven
back.
The Council members stood and stretched and left the chamber to head for the
alehouse or their homes.
They forgot they had never asked Tanis if he would lead the group to Tarsis.
They simply assumed he would.
Tass, exchanging grim glances with Sturm, left the cavern. It was his night to
stand watch. Even though the dwarves might consider themselves safe in their
mountain fortress, 'Tanis and Sturm insisted that a watch be kept upon the walls
leading into Southgate. They had come to respect the Dragon Highlords toomuch to
sleep in peace without it-even underground.
Tanis leaned against the outer wall of Southgate, his face thoughtful and
serious. Before him spread a meadow covered by smooth, powdery snow. The night
was calm and still. Behind him was the great mass of the Kharolis Mountains. The
gate of Southgate was, in fact, a gigantic plug in the side of the mountains. It
was part of the dwarven defenses that had kept the world out for three hundred
years following the Cataclysm and the destructive Dwarven Wars.
Sixty feet wide at the base and almost half again as high, the gate was operated
by a huge mechanism that forced it in and out of the mountain. At least forty
feet thick in its center, the gate was as indestructible as any known on Krynn,
except for the one matching it in the north. Once shut, they could not be
distinguished from the faces of the mountain, such was the craftsmanship of the
ancient dwarvenmasons.
Yet, since the arrival of the humans at Southgate, torches had been set about
the opening, allowing the men, women, and children access to the outside air-a
human need that seemed an unaccountable weakness to the subterranean dwarves.
As Tanis stood there, staring into the woods beyond the meadow and finding no
peace in their quiet beauty, Sturm, Elistan, and Laurana joined him. The three
had been talkingobviously of him-and fell into an uncomfortable silence.
"How solemn you are;" Laurana said to Tanis softly, coming near and putting her
hand on his arm. "You believe Raistlin is right, don't you, Tanthal-Tanis?"
Laurana blushed. His human name still came clumsily to her lips, yet she knew
him well enough now to understand that his elven name only brought him pain.
Tanis looked down at the small, slender hand on his arm and gently put his own
over it. Only a few months earlier the touch would have irritated him, causing
confusion and guilt as he wrestled with the love for a human woman against what
he told himself was a childhood infatuation with this elfmaiden. But now the
touch of Laurana's hand filled him wit,, warmth and peace, even as it stirred
his blood. He pondered these new, disturbing feelings as he responded to her
question.
"I have long found Raistlin's advice sound;' he said, knowing how this would
upset them. Sure enough, Sturm's face darkened. Elistan frowned. "And I think he
is right this time. We have won a battle, but we are a long way from winning the
war. We know it is being fought far north, in Solamnia. I think we may safely
assume that it is not for the conquest of Abanasinia alone that the forces of
darkness are fighting:"
"But you are only speculating!" Elistan argued. "Do not let the darkness that
hangs around the young wage cloud your thinking. He may be right, but that is no
reason to give up hope, to give up trying! Tarsis is a large seaport city-at
least according to all we know of it. There we'll find those who can tell us if
the war encompasses the world. If so, then surely there still must be havens
where we can find peace:'
"Listen to Elistan, Tanis," Laurana said gently. "He is wise. When our people
left Qualinesti, they did not flee blindly. They traveled to a peaceful haven.
My father had a plan, though he dared not reveal it-"
Laurana broke off, startled to- see the effect of her speech. Abruptly Tanis
snatched his arm from her touch and turned his gaze on Elistan, his eyes filled
with anger.
"Raistlin says hope is the denial of reality;" Tanis stated coldly. Then, seeing
Elistan's care-worn face regard him with sorrow, the half-elf smiled wearily. "I
apologize, Elistan. I am tired, that's all. Forgive me. 'your suggestion is
good. We'll travel to Tarsis with hope, if nothing else."
Elistan nodded and turned to leave. "Are you coming, Laurana? I know you are
tired, my dear, but we have a great deal to do before I can turn the leadership
aver to the Council in my absence."
"I'll be with you presently, Elistan;" Laurana said, flushing. "I-I want to
speak a moment with Tanis.'
摘要：

V1.0Tomyparents,Dr.andMrs.HaroldR.Hickman,whotaughtmewhattruehonoris-TracyRayeHickmanTomyparents,FrancesandGeorgeWeis,whogavemeagiftmorepreciousthanlife:theloveofbooks-MargaretWeisPenguinBooksLtd,27WrightsLane,LondonW85RZ(PublishingandEditorial)andHarmondsworth,Middlesex,England(DistributionandWareh...

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