Free The Dark Queen by Michael Williams Page A

her.“ ”A foolish sign,“ Tamex observed. ”A foolish superstition.“
     ”Whatever its wisdom, he did not complete it. With a firm grip Kestrel grasped the old
     conniver's wrist. 'There will be no warding of my son,' he decreed. 'Let him speak, Racer.
     Unless you can read glyph and symbol.' “Silenced, Racer glared at Fordus, who knelt now
     above the signs fully formed. ” 'Axe,' Fordus muttered. 'Tower and Lightning. The rain is
     hewn of light and memory.' "The elders glanced at each other uncertainly. Surely some of
     them thought of Sirrion's touch, of the flame of poetry or madness.
    “Then Stormlight, his white eyes staring into the whirling depths of Fordus's blue,
     translated for them all. ” 'Halfway between the Red Plateau and the Tears of Mishakal,' he
     pronounced. 'Seven feet below the surface. Water enough for a month of travel.' “They had
     to confirm Fordus's prophecy. Later that night they would dig to the water and their
     thirst would end. But now, in a starlit cluster, Kestrel set his hands on the head of his
     adopted son and began the chieftain's chant that would name the lad Water Prophet. ” 'It
     cannot be!' Racer shouted, bargaining for time, for delay, for anything that would keep
     the title out of the grasp of the upstart. 'The gods honor only the Prophet who stands
     beneath the North Star. It has not yet risen! You know this, Kestrel, and yet you wrest
     the robes from me and confer them on your firestruck son. It is not according to
     tradition, not fitting, not permitted, not... not...' “Silently, triumphantly, Kestrel
     pointed at the lad who stood over his son. 'Who stands above Fordus, Racer?' he asked.
     'What is the name of that lad?' ”Northstar, in his place by design or accident, knelt by
     the lip of the kanaji and, reaching down into the pit, gently and reverently touched the
     top of Fordus's head.“ Larken smiled and stretched, rising from the bed of the old river
     and dusting the sand from her tunic. ”That is the story, Tamex. That is the way it is told
     at the Telling.“ ”But never so splendidly,“ Tamex soothed. ”Never by the fabled bard, the
     Breath of the Gods herself." Suddenly, as though she were awakening from a trance, an
     enchantment, Larken looked at her soli- tary audience in a new, harsh light. He seemed
     much shorter than when he had first appeared, scarcely an hour ago.

Dragonlance - Villains 6 - The Dark Queen
    Chapter 5
    Every morning, despite several floors of stone under his room, Vaananen awoke to the sound
     of rending rock beneath the city. Sometimes it infiltrated his dawn dreams and he thought
     he, too, labored in the dank, musty tunnels to blast and hammer and drag forth the glain
     opals for the Kingpriest. This morning, the dreams had become especially vivid, and the
     constant pounding of the city's secret heart lingered in his ears even now as he strode
     rapidly down a higher passage to keep a regular appointment with his sparring partner.
    Down the spiral staircase he ran, his high-necked practice shirt already damp from the
     rising heat of the day, his arms covered past the wrists in padded sleeves to turn the
     blows of long sword and dagger. When he reached the ground floor, he drew forth a bronze
     key, wrought in the shape of a sidewinding serpent, inserted it into the elaborate lock on
     the heavy oaken door, and took the last easy breath he would get for the next two hours.
    “You are almost late,” said the Kingpriest, tossing a rough-hewn pole at the druid.
     Vaananen deftly caught both the weapon and the malice. He bowed in silent reply, his eyes
     never leaving the sea-blue stare of his opponent. This is the last time, he thought,
     stepping inside the walled garden. For eight years, Vaananen had fought the King-priest in
     these small battles, never winning, never telling, and always leaving the sovereign with
     the suspicion that Vaananen used magic rather than