The Second Generation

Lorac’s dream. Lorac had been an elven king, ruler of Silvanesti before the War of the Lance. Afraid that his land was about to fall victim to the invading armies of the Dark Queen, Lorac had tried to use one of the powerful, magical dragon orbs to save his people, his land. Instead, tragically, Lorac had fallen victim to the orb. The evil dragon, Cyan Bloodbane, had taken over Silvanesti, whispered dark dreams into Lorac’s ears.

The dreams had become reality. Silvanesti was a haunted and devastated land, crawling with evil creatures that were both real and, at the same time, a product of Lorac’s fear-twisted vision.

Even after Lorac’s death and the Dark Queen’s defeat, Silvanesti had not been completely freed of the darkness. For long years, the elves had fought the remnants of the dream, fought the dark and evil creatures that still roamed the land. Only now, had they finally defeated them.

Tanis thought of Lorac’s story, thought grimly that it had relevance in this day. Once again, some of the elves were acting irrationally, out of fear. Some of the old, set-in-their-ways elves like Senator Rashas ...

“At least now Porthios has something to take his mind off his troubles—now that Alhana is pregnant,” Tanis said, trying to present a cheerful front, even as he began lacing on his leather armor.

Laurana looked at the armor, which he never wore unless he expected trouble. She bit her lip, but said nothing about it. She continued the conversation, followed his lead.

“I know Alhana is pleased. She has wanted a child for so long. And I think Porthios is pleased, as well, though he tries to act as if fatherhood were nothing special. Just doing his duty by the people. I see a warmth between them that has been missing all these years. I really believe that they are beginning to care for each other.”

“About time,” Tanis muttered. He had never much liked his brother-in-law. Tying his traveling cloak around his shoulders, he picked up a knapsack, then leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Good-bye, love. Don’t fret if we’re not back right away.”

“Oh, Tanis!” Laurana gazed at him searchingly.

“Don’t be afraid. The boy and I need to talk. I see that no w. I should have done it a long time ago, but I had hoped ...” He stopped, then said, “I’ll send you word.”

Buckling on his sword, he kissed her again, and was gone.

His son’s trail was easy to pick up. Spring rains had deluged Solanthus for a month; the ground was muddy, the horse’s hoofprints deep and clear. The only other person who had ridden this road lately was Sir William, delivering Caramon’s message, and the knight had ridden in the opposite direction, toward Solamnia, whereas the Black Swan was located on the road that led south to Qualinesti.

Tanis rode at a relaxed pace. The morning sun was a slit of fire in the sky, and the dew glittered in the grass. The night had been clear, cool enough to make a cloak feel good, but not chill.

“Gil must have enjoyed his ride,” Tanis said to himself. He remembered, with guilty pleasure, another young man and another midnight journey. “I had no horse when I left. I walked from Qualinesti to Solace in search of Flint. I had no money, no care, no sense. It’s a wonder I made it alive.”

Tanis laughed ruefully, shook his head. “But I was shabby enough that no robber looked twice at me. I couldn’t afford to sleep in an inn, and so I stayed out of fights. I spent the nights walking beneath the stars, feeling that at last I was able to breathe deeply.

“Ah, Gil.” Tanis sighed. “I did the very thing I promised myself a hundred times I would never do. I bound you and fettered you. The chains were made of silk, forged by love, but they were still chains. Yet how could I do otherwise? You are so precious to me, my son! I love you so much. If anything were to happen ...

“Stop it, Tanis!” he sternly reprimanded himself. “You’re only borrowing trouble, and you know what the interest on that debt can cost you. It’s a lovely day. Gil will have a fine ride. And we’ll talk tonight, really talk. That is, you’ll talk, Son. I’ll listen. I promise.”

Tanis continued to follow the horse’s tracks. He saw where Gil had allowed the animal its head, saw signs of a mad gallop, both horse and rider giddy with freedom. But then the young man had calmed the horse, proceeded forward at a sensible pace, not to tire the animal. “Good for you, boy,"

Tanis said proudly. To take his mind off his worry, he began considering what he would say to Rashas of the Thalas-Enthia. Tanis knew the elf well. Near the same age as Porthios, Rashas was enamored of power, enjoyed nothing more than political intrigue. He had been the youngest elf ever to sit on the senate. Rumor had it that he hounded his father until the elder elf finally collapsed under the pressure and relinquished his seat to his son. During the War of the Lance, Rashas had been a burr beneath the saddle of Solostaran, Speaker of the Sun. Solostaran’s successor, Porthios, was now having to cope with this irritant.