Dragonlance 09 - Dragons of the Hourglass Mage Read Online Free PDF Page B

promises were lies, yet he wanted to believe. He joined the ranks of the Dark Queen’s army, and he took many of his Black Robes with him. The wizards of Ansalon continued to present a united front to the world, but in truth, the orders were being torn apart.
    The wizards were ruled by a governing body known as the Conclave, which was made up of an equal number of wizards from each order. The head of the conclave during such turbulent times was a white robe wizard named Par-Salian. In his early sixties, Par-Salian was deemed by most to be a strong leader, just and wise. But given the rising disorder among the ranks of the wizards, there were those who began to say that he had lost control, that he was not fit for the job.
    Par-Salian sat alone in his study in the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth. The night was cold, and a small fire burned in the grate—a real fire, not a magical one. Par-Salian did not believe in using magic for the sake of convenience. He read by candlelight, not magical light. He swept his floor with a plain, ordinary broom. He required everyone living and working in the Tower to do the same.
    The candle burned out, and the fire dwindled, leaving Par-Salian in darkness, save for the glow of the dying embers. He gave up trying to study his spells. That required concentration, and he could not concentrate his mind upon memorizing the arcane words.
    Ansalon was in turmoil. The forces of the Dark Queen were perilously close to winning the war. There were some glimmerings of hope. The meeting of the Whitestone Council had brought together elves, dwarves, and humans. The three races had agreed to set aside their differences and unite against the foe. The Blue Lady, Dragon Highlord Kitiara, and her forces had been defeated at the High Clerist’s Tower. Clerics of Paladine and Mishakal had brought hope and healing to the world.
    Yet for all the good, the mighty force of the dragonarmies and the terrifying threat of the evil dragons were arrayed against the Forces of Light. Even now, Par-Salian waited in dread for the news that Palanthas had fallen …
    A knock came on the door. Par-Salian sighed. He was certain it was the news he feared to hear. His assistant having long since gone to bed, Par-Salian rose to answer the knock himself. He was astonished to find his visitor was Justarius, the head of the Order of Red Robes.
    “My friend! You are the last person I expected to see this night! Come in, please. Sit down.”
    Justarius limped into the room. He was a tall man, strong and hale, except for his twisted leg. An athletic youth, he had been fond of participating in contests of physical skill. All that had ended with the Test in the Tower, which had left him permanently maimed. Justarius never spoke of the Test and he never complained about his injury, other than to say, with a shrug and a half smile, that he had been most fortunate. He might have died.
    “I am glad to see you safe,” Par-Salian continued, lighting candles and adding wood to the fire. “I thought you would be among those battling the dragonarmies in Palanthas.”
    He paused in his work to look at his friend in dismay. “Has the city already fallen?”
    “Far from it,” said Justarius, seating himself before the blaze. He positioned his injured leg on a small footstool, to keep it elevated, and smiled. “Open a bottle of your finest elven wine, my friend, for we have something to celebrate.”
    “What is it? Tell me quickly. My thoughts have been filled with darkness,” said Par-Salian.
    “The good dragons have entered the war!”
    Par-Salian stared at his friend for long moments; then he gave a great, shuddering sigh. “Praise be to Paladine! And to Gilean, of course,” he added quickly with a glance at Justarius. “Tell me the details.”
    “Silver dragons arrived this morning to defend the city. The dragonarmies did not launch their anticipated attack. Laurana of the Qualinesti elves was named Golden General and made leader of