Free Dragonlance 17 - Dragons Of A Vanished Moon by Margaret Weis

her. Attached to each arrow was cord that someone had strengthened with magic. The elves thought it was their magic, naturally. It wasn't. It was her magic."
    "Takhisis?"
    "Simply ridding herself of another rival and the elves at the same time. The thousands of strands of magical cord formed a net over Beryl, dragged her down from the skies. The elves planned to kill her as she lay helpless on the ground, but their plans went awry. The elves had worked with the dwarves, you see, to dig tunnels beneath the ground of Qualinesti. Many elves managed to escape through these tunnels, but, in the end, they proved to be Qualinesti's undoing. When Beryl landed on the ground, her great weight caused the tunnels to collapse, forming
    a huge chasm. She sank deep into the ground. The waters of the White-Rage River left their banks and flowed into the chasm, flooding Qualinesti and turning it into a gigantic lake. A Lake of Death."
    "Beryl dead," Mirror murmured. "Skie dead. The Qualineseti lands destroyed. One by one, Takhisis rids herself of her enemies."
    "Your enemies, too, Silver," said Razor. "And mine. These overlords, as they call themselves, have slain many of our kind. You should rejoice in our Queen's victory over them. Whatever you may think of her, she is the goddess of our world, and she fights for us."
    "She fights for no one but herself," Mirror retorted. "As she has always done. This is all her fault. If Takhisis had not stolen away the world, these overlords would have never found us. Those who have died would be alive today: dragons, elves,
    , kender. The great dragons murdered them, but Takhisis herself is ultimately responsible for their deaths, for she brought
    us here."
    "Stole the world . . ." Razor repeated. His claws scratched against the rock. He shifted his tail slowly back and forth, his wings stirred restlessly. "So that is what she did."
    "According to Skie, yes. So he told me."
    "And why would he tell you, Silver?" Razor asked, sneering.
    "Because I tried to save his life."
    "He a blue dragon, your most hated enemy! And you tried to save his life!" Razor scoffed. "I am not some hatchling to swallow this kender tale."
    Mirror couldn't see the Blue, but he could guess what he looked like. A veteran warrior, his blue scales would be shining
    clean, perhaps with a few scars of his prowess on his chest and head.
    "My reasons for saving him were cold-blooded enough to satisfy even you," Mirror returned. "I came to Skie seeking answers to my questions. I could not let him die and take those answers to the grave with him. I used him. I admit it. I am not proud of myself, but at least, because of my aid, he managed to live long enough to strike a blow against Malys. For that, he thanked me."
    The Blue was silent. Mirror could not tell what Razor was thinking. His claws scraped the rock, his wings brushed the blood-tainted air of the lair, his tail swished back and forth. Mirror had spells ready, should Razor decide to fight. The contest would not be equal—a seasoned, veteran Blue against a blind Silver. But at least, like Skie, Mirror would leave his mark upon his enemy.
    "Takhisis stole the world." Razor spoke in thoughtful tones. one brought us here. She is, as you say, responsible. Yet, she is our goddess as of old, and she fights to avenge us against our enemies."
    "Her enemies," said Mirror coldly. "Else she would not bother."
    "Tell me, Silver," Razor challenged, "what did you feel when you first heard her voice. Did you feel a stirring in your heart, in your soul? Did you feel nothing of this?"
    "I felt it," Mirror admitted. "When I first heard the voice in the storm, I knew it to be the voice of a god, and I thrilled to hear it. The child whose father beats him will yet cling to that parent, not because he is a good or wise parent, but because he is the only parent the child knows. But then I began to ask questions, and my questions led me here."
    "Questions," Razor said dismiss!vely. "A good soldier never