Free Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun by Margaret Weis

cloudbank to blaze tri-
    umphantly in the blue sky. Light and warmth cheered the inhab-
    itants of Solace, who crept out of their homes to see what
    destruction the tempest had wrought.
    Solace did not fare as badly as some other parts of Ansalon, al-
    though the storm appeared to have targeted that hamlet with par-
    ticular hatred. The mighty vallenwoods proved stubbornly
    resistant to the devastating lightning that struck them time and
    again. The tops of the trees caught fire and burned, but the fire
    did not spread to the branches below. The trees' strong arms
    tossed in the whirling winds but held fast the homes built there,
    homes that were in their care. Creeks rose and fields flooded, but
    homes and barns were spared.
    The Tomb of the Last Heroes, a beautiful structure of white
    and black stone that stood in a clearing on the outskirts of town,
    had sustained severe damage. Lightning had hit one of the spires,
    splitting it asunder, sending large chunks of marble crashing
    down to the lawn.
    But the worst damage was done to the crude and makeshift
    homes of the refugees fleeing the lands to the west and south,
    lands which had been free only a year ago but which were now
    falling under control of the green dragon Beryl.
    Three years ago, the great dragons who had fought for control
    of Ansalon had 'come to an uneasy truce. Realizing that their
    bloody battles were weakening them, the dragons agreed to be
    satisfied with the territory each had conquered, they would not
    wage war against each other to try to gain more. The dragons had
    kept this pact, until a year ago. It was then that Beryl had noticed
    her magical powers starting to decline. At first, she had thought
    she was imagining this, but as time passed, she became con-
    vinced that something was wrong.
    Beryl blamed the red dragon Malys for the loss of her magic-
    this was some foul scheme being perpetrated by her larger and
    stronger cousin. Beryl also blamed the human mages, who were
    hiding the Tower of High Sorcery of Wayreth from her. Conse-
    quently, Beryl had begun ever so gradually to expand her control
    over human lands. She moved slowly, not wanting to draw
    Malys's attention. Malys would not care if here and there a town
    was burned or a village plundered. The city of Haven was one
    such, recently fallen to Beryl's might. Solace remained un-
    touched, for the time being. But Beryl's eye was upon Solace. She
    had ordered closed the main roads leading into Solace, letting
    them feel the pressure as she bided her time.
    The refugees who had managed to escape Haven and sur-
    rounding lands before the roads were closed had swelled Solace's
    population to three times its normal size. Arriving with their be-
    longings tied up in bundles or piled on the back of carts, the
    refugees were being housed in what the town fathers designated
    "temporary housing." The hovels were truly meant only to be
    temporary, but the flood of refugees arriving daily overwhelmed
    good intentions. The temporary shelters had become, unfortu-
    nately, permanent.
    The first person to reach the refugee camps the morning after
    the storm was Caramon Majere, driving a wagon loaded with
    sacks of food, lumber for rebuilding, dry firewood, and blankets.
    Caramon was over eighty-just how far over no one really
    knew, for he himself had lost track of the years. He was what they
    term in Solamnia a "grand old man." Age had come to him as an
    honorable foe, facing him and saluting him, not creeping up to
    stab him in the back or rob him of his wits. Hale and hearty, his
    big frame corpulent but unbowed ("I can't grow stooped, my gut
    won't let me," he was wont to say with a roaring laugh), Cara-
    mon was the first of his household to rise, was out every morning
    chopping wood for the kitchen fires or hauling the heavy ale bar-
    rels up the stairs.
    His two daughters saw to the day-to-day workings of the Inn
    of the Last Home--this was the only concession Caramon made
    to his age--but he