The Second Generation

“Even as a child. Perhaps you think it’s because I knew the disparity of the two strains of blood that ran in him, but I swear to you, by the gods of good, whose names I can no longer say in innocence, that I could literally see the battle being fought for his soul. Every good quality in him was tainted with evil; every evil quality gilded with good. I saw this then! I see it more now.”

She lowered her head. Two tears slid down her pale cheeks. Tika put an arm around her. Caramon left his place by the fire and stood protectively near her as she continued her tale.

“It was in Palanthas that I first heard about Sturm Brightblade. I heard the other knights talk about him—not in particularly approving tones. He was said to associate with outlandish folk—an elf maid, a kender, and a dwarf. And he was defying authority. But the ordinary people of the city liked and trusted Sturm, when they didn’t like or trust many of the other knights. I talked about Sturm with Steel, took every opportunity to make Steel aware of his father’s nobility and honor ...”

“Did Steel know the truth?” Caramon interrupted.

Sara shook her head. “How could I tell him? It would have confused him. If s odd, but he never asked me who his parents were. I never made any secret of the fact that I wasn’t his real mother. Too many in my small town knew the truth. But I lived—I still live—in dread of the question: who are my real father and mother?”

“You mean”—Caramon looked astonished—“he doesn’t know? To this day?”

“He knows now who his mother is. They took care to tell him that much. But he has never once asked his father’s name. Perhaps he doesn’t think I know.”

“Or perhaps he doesn’t want to find out,” Tika suggested.

“I still think he should have known,” Caramon argued.

“Do you?” Sara cast him a bitter glance. “Think of this. Remember the battle for the High Clerist’s Tower. As you know, the knights won. The Dragon Highlord, Kitiara, was defeated, but at what a terrible cost. As you said, she killed Sturm Brightblade, killed him as he stood alone on the battlements.

“I was horrified when I heard this news. Can you imagine what I felt? To look at Steel and know that his mother had slain the man who was his father. How could I explain such things to a boy when I didn’t understand them myself?”

Caramon sighed. “I don’t know,” he said moodily. “I don’t know.”

Sara went on. “We were living in Palanthas when the war ended. And then I was truly frightened, terrified that Kitiara might start searching for her son. Maybe she did. At any rate, she didn’t find us. Some time later, I heard she had taken up with the dark elf mage, Dalamar—apprentice to her brother, Raistlin, who was now Master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas.”

Caramon’s face softened, grew grave and wistful, as always, when Raistlin was mentioned.

“Forgive me, Caramon,” Sara said softly, “but when I heard the stories about your brother Raistlin, all I could think of was-here is more dark blood, running in my child’s veins. And it seemed to me that Steel drifted deeper into the shadows every day. He wasn’t like other boys hisage. All boys play at war, but, for Steel, war wasn’t a game. Soon the other children refused to play with him. He hurt them, you see.”

Tika’s eyes widened. “Hurt them?”

“He didn’t mean to,” Sara said quickly. “He was always sorry afterward. He takes no pleasure in inflicting pain, thank the gods. But, as I said, the games weren’t games to him. He fought with a fierce ardor that shone in his eyes.

Imaginary enemies were very real to him. And so the other children shunned him.

He was lonely, I know, but he was proud, and he would never admit it.

“And then came the war over Palanthas, when Lord Soth and Kitiara attacked the city. Many people lost their lives. Our home was destroyed in the fires that raged through the city, but I wept with thankfulness when I heard that Kitiara was dead. At last, I thought, Steel is safe. I prayed that the dark cloud would be lifted from him, that he would begin to grow toward the light.

My hopes were dashed.

“One night, when Steel was twelve, I was awakened by a knocking at the door. I looked out the window and saw three figures, cloaked in black, riding horseback. All my fears returned to me. They frightened me so much, in fact, that I woke Steel and told him we must flee, escape by the back door. He refused to go. I think... I think some dark voice called to him. He told me to run, if I wanted. He would not. He wasn’t afraid.

“The men battered down the door. Their leader was... Do you recall, I spoke of Ariakas?”

“Highlord of the Red Dragon army. He died in the temple, during the final assault What has he got to do with this?”

“Some say he was Kit’s lover,” Tika inserted.