Disclaimer: Same as in the previous chapter and as in the whole book from now on.

Thanks to Margit as in the previous chapter and as in the whole book, too.

Chapter Two: A Very Long Night.

He had been born in Sanction. Nearly each time that some Knight learned about that, he was stared at with a mixture of horror and aversion, as if he was some draconian hatched from an egg in one of the vaults of the temple of Luerkhisis. But then, when he protested vehemently that it had not been his choice at all, the look changed into one of badly dissimulated pity, which he liked even less.

Sanction. If the name of Neraka represented ancient perversity, nobody in Krynn would deny now that the name of that accursed city represented the new one. It had been there that the armies of Darkness had been slowly gathering before the war, under the wings of the mythical Dragons that had showed there for the first time answering the call of their Queen. There, a powerful and evil magic had corrupted the eggs of the Good Dragons, turning the new born ones into those perversions called draconians, and the terrible temple of Luerkhisis had stood among impending dark volcanoes that breathed fire all over the place. In fact, Sanction was still the stronghold of Takhisis´s mortal minions now that the War of the Lance was lost, for the Armies of Whitestone had never been able to enter that hole where the Dragon Highlord Kitiara Uth Matar had quickly retreated with her remaining forces after the defeat in Neraka. The few that had been there as spies and had returned to tell about it talked in low voice about the terrible suffocating air, about the dark streets full of drunken goblins, ogres and draconians killing each other, and about the perversity of the temple and its unknown subterranean caves, closed and abandoned at the present time.

Ariakan suppressed a smile at the involuntary images, then sighed, stretching his limbs on the bed. As he very well remembered, those pits had not been abandoned in his own time, and he himself had lived in the temple during all his childhood, never having the chance to find "perversity" there by the contrast with those so-called purer zones he had never seen. Draconians did not frighten him, for they had surrounded him since he was born, and so did dragons, especially Tombfrye, the Red of his father. And he had always taken this for normal.

However, he recalled that, as he had gradually opened to Thomas of Thelgaard, the young hero of the Lance, and had told him about his immunity to the devastating force of dragon fear, his companion had been very serious about the matter, and had insisted in bringing him to a Golden Dragon that was eating a deer in the courtyard of the Tower. Unfortunately for him, Ariakan thought with glee, his little experiment had turned wrong. He had wanted to see if the fear for dragons of Evil only affected the forces of Good, and vice versa, but Ariakan was immune to both.

"Perhaps we will have to grow Knights in the caves of dragons." Sir Thomas had mumbled as they had left the suspicious Golden Dragon behind.

"Am I supposed to be used for experimenting?" Ariakan had growled then, trying to hide his satisfaction. Thomas´s only answer had been to shrug his shoulders.

"I know", Ariakan had sighed.

Anyway, small anecdotes apart, he had to confess that the enigma of the dragon fear had never bothered him much. There had been far more important questions without answers in his life, there were still, and the help he could have received to solve them was definitely lost. Some seemingly innocent questions turned to be worse than the claws of dragons, for once they had someone in their grasp they would never release him again, unless the victim had some powerful weapon that allowed him to tear himself away. And this from the very moment that some cursed being put him at their mercy.

Like that woman. Like she had put him once, and was putting him still...

Ariakan closed his eyes, resting his face on the pillow, and tried to remember once more. Her name had been Roselind, a Solamnic name indeed, though she was not from the legendary fatherland of the Knights. She had been born in one of the castles built by the Knighthood near Neraka long before the Catclysm, one of the few that had resisted the earthquakes, and, after it was destroyed and sacked by draconians, she alone was brought to Sanction alive by the very peregrine reason of his own recent birth. The draconians - the first of their kind, used for experimenting - or the kind of humans that fought alongside with them, not to speak about goblins or ogres, could not take care of a child, while that woman had given birth to her own son some time ago and could foster another one without too many problems.

And so it had been. He had been used to see her next to him since he was a baby, always fretting about with an expression of perpetual sadness, or playing with her dirty robes while her honey eyes were fixed anywhere else with an insistent stare. Whenever a draconian entered the room, she went dead pale, and, when it was his father, she ran away to the adjoining chamber, never daring to reappear until she was sure he was gone. This tended to exasperate young Ariakan.

"But why cannot you act normal ?" he used to ask her with a child´s uneasiness.

"I´m sorry, I...I will." she always answered, regaining her composure only to do exactly the same at the next opportunity.

But at night, when they were alone, she seemed to change. No draconian, human or dragon passed by them anymore, and she was able to relax and forget about the horrors that surrounded her. Then, he knew it was time to ask her for the song, for then she would sing it to him without getting stuck at the first words.

Roselind had been very, very afraid when she had been brought there for the first time. She did not know where her people could be, except for the ones she had seen killed by the deadly breath of that red dragon, and all she could see around her were horrible abominations that looked like human lizards peering at her with cruel smiles. They had led her through dark, frightful corridors to a locked room, and, as she had been shoved inside, she had seen a baby crying in a cradle. It was not her son, she had never seen him in her life, but, as she had told the draconians that, they had laughed and had told her that he would have to be for now, and that she´d better calm him if she wanted to stay alive. So she had taken him in her arms, trying to cajole him to no avail, since the child could no doubt sense her horror and continued crying. One of the monsters had begun to walk towards her, and then, suddenly, without even stopping to think about what she was doing, she had started to sing that song. It had made the draconians grimace at first, though, as it had succeeded in calming the child, they had finally left her in peace.

This way, from utter desperation, was how she had found a way to do her task. That song had the ability of calming the baby, and, when he was older, he still wanted to hear it from her. But she only sang at night, and Ariakan knew that it was virtually impossible to force her to break that rule.

Until that day....

"What does it say?" he asked her, instantly wondering how he had never thought about it. The last strange words died in her mouth, and she stared at him in silence.

"I´ve asked you a question, what does it say?" he repeated. Roselind seemed reluctant at first, as if it was by day and they were not alone. It took very long before she opened her mouth to answer, and then, her voice was so low that Ariakan wondered if there really was someone spying on them.

"I don´t know what the words do mean, my little one", she said. " They are in ancient Solamnic. My mother used to sing that song to me after she gave me birth; I bet she didn´t understand as well."

Ariakan opened his eyes, surprised.

"How did she do that?"

"What?" she asked, confused. Then, she thought she understood and breathed. "To sing in Solamnic? It´s the language of Solamnia, a great country that lies West from here. My forefathers..."

"Mother", he cut her impatiently. "You said she gave you birth; like Father and the clerics of Takhisis give birth to draconians."

Roselind´s eyes flew wide open at those words. At first, it seemed as if she was about to say something; then, the words were stuck in her throat again and she turned pale, to Ariakan´s annoyance.

"No one is around ," he tried to bribe her. " No draconians, no Father. Tell me how she gave you birth. She was a cleric, wasn´t she?"

"No!" she cried. "She was a normal woman. Clerics disappeared from our world long ago, except...except here." A shiver crossed her body as she said that. "Every human being", with this, even little Ariakan understood she was alluding to their difference to draconians, "every human being has a father and a mother that unite to give him birth. There is no other way to access existence than through a woman and a man. No other way."

Ariakan´s surprise was great on hearing those words. Unconsciously, he began to behold in his mind those scenes he had witnessed not long ago, in that mystic circle at the bloody shrine of Takhisis, and recalled their every detail. He saw his father, the other man and that old woman holding each other by the hand, the magical current between the three...and then, how his father and the man had begun to do strange things to the dragon eggs with the fungus while the woman, transfixed, had kept praying to Takhisis.

"Who is my mother?" he asked, shaking his head as to drive all this away. But he couldn´t, not any longer.

"I...I don´t know." Roselind answered, shivering again. "Perhaps she isn´t here anymore. Perhaps she gave birth to you and then...went away."

"But surely you must know her!" Ariakan insisted, stubbornly. "Weren´t you there when...when I was born?"

Roselind, however, could do nothing but shake her head."I wasn´t here at that time. Sorry, little one, I cannot help you any longer."

Those, though he hadn´t known it at that time, were to be the last words that he had heard her pronounce in his life.

Next day, she was completely silent, and then, more or less at dinnertime, Ariakas entered the room and she went away as she used to, resignedly watched by Ariakan, who had learned that it was impossible to try to hold her. Besides, he had found out by now that she was not the only one that was terrified of his father. More or less all the others who surrounded them cowered from him, even Tombfrye, who was at least ten times bigger than Ariakas and was able to breathe fire. After thinking for a long time, Ariakan had concluded that it should have something to do with his eyes when he was about to shout or kill someone, with how they glowed callously with the light of the shrine of the Queen of Dragons, and with how it gave him somewhat unearthly looks....but, apart from this, he was strong – or rather very strong - and well built, with long black hair and a handsome face, and there was nothing wrong about him.

"Good morning, son", he said. He was dressed in his black armour, and now he performed a brusque movement to pull it over his head. A cleric with long red hair that was behind him took it and discarded it on a chair. "You can go and have some prisoners for dinner now, Tombfrye", Ariakas told him with a movement of his hand. "Not the last spies, they have not spoken yet."

"I won´t touch those ones, my lord", the dragon assured with his hissing voice. Before Ariakan even had a chance to see his face, he was gone.

"Hmmm..."Ariakas advanced towards his son. "So here you are. I haven´t seen you in three days. Are you faring well?"

"I am, Father." Ariakan answered, embracing him. It was so typical. Now he would ask him if he wanted or needed something, and then he´d leave again, for he was always very busy.

But this time he would have to stop, at least for some minutes.

"I want to ask a...a question." the young boy began, as if searching for words. His father turned his gaze towards him again, tearing it away from the door.

"What question?" he asked.

"Who is my mother?"

He had let it fall all of a sudden, but then, he didn´t know why, he had not looked at his father´s countenance while he was saying it. Now that he was thinking about the whole thing again, Ariakan could not help wondering whether there had been a strange expression in Ariakas´ face the same moment he asked that.

Anyway, if there had been one, it had disappeared before he had even had the time to breathe once.

"Hearing stories, huh? Who told you about Zeboim?"

Ariakas put his son on the table and sat down in a chair. If all, he looked amused, and, when he saw surprise in Ariakan´s eyes, his amusement increased.

"What? You ignore still who she is?"

"Zeboim..." the child repeated, as if hypnotised. He had not even heard his father´s other words. "Zeboim....Is she my mother? Who is she? And where is she? Have I ever seen her? Why isn´t she here now? I mean, she should..."

"Oh, shut up, by Takhisis! You will drive me mad! "Ariakas ordered, good-naturedly. " Ask only one question at each time. Zeboim is your mother. We got together and she gave you birth. Who is she? She´s the Lady of the Seas, a goddess of Darkness."

Ariakan had a hard time suppressing a cry, but he couldn´t help gasping.

"Like...like Takhisis?" he stammered.

"Takhisis is her mother." Ariakas explained. "She saw me once and she liked me. She was here for a while in the temple of Luerkhisis, but, after you were born, she left and she never returned."

"But, why?" the child asked, more a whisper than a coherent question. "Why did she leave?"

Ariakas shook his head, then sighed exasperatedly. Ariakan was worried when he saw something like a faint flicker of that dangerous gleam in his eyes, but it disappeared in an instant.

"Think, Ariakan! She´s a goddess. You have said it, like Takhisis. She´s a being who can take thousands of appearances, shapes and sizes. She is in a lot of places at the same time, and controls the might of the Sea. Can you imagine, just for a second, such a being consenting to be trapped here?

The child nodded, surprised to find that he felt angry by some strange and unknown reason. He wanted to say...to ask... However, Ariakas got up, and he knew he wouldn´t have the chance.

"She came as a mortal, and as a mortal you were born." the leader of the forces of Takhisis whispered, more to himself than to his audience. "And she stayed here until you did... as if someone...."

"As if someone...what?" Ariakan asked, forcing him to come back from the world of his thoughts. As he had feared, Ariakas seemed to notice again.

"This is of no interest for you!" he grumbled. "You´re too young. Now bide me farewell, for I have to leave."

His son did as he was told, though mechanically, for he had enough in his mind to mull and fret for a very long while. When his father stopped in the threshold of the door, and asked him, as an afterthought, who had been the first to mention that, he shrugged his small shoulders, and told him.

"Roselind sang a Solamnic song. She said she had learned it from her mother, and that she didn´t understand the words, and then I asked her what was that of mother. And then she explained the whole thing to me."

That night, the woman hadn´t said a single word. Later, he had been able to remember the tears in her eyes while she had rocked herself in a corner, but he had been so worried about the goddess that apparently was his mother and that had left him that he hadn´t noticed it at the time.

The next morning, she was gone.

* * * * *

"Sularus Humah durvey,  Karamnes Humah durvey..."

Morning already, Ariakan realised with regret when he heard the voices of the Knights singing the song of Huma in the courtyard. The clear notes of the melody danced in the clean air of the morning, reaching his window, and he knew that, soon enough, somebody would knock at his door telling him to go down. He would have to be quick, to do what he had intended before this happened.

With quick motions, he got up from the bed where he had been lying. He had to suppress a faint shiver as he left the warmth of the sheets, but he ignored it and went to take a chair that was in a corner, shoving it away with one hand. His eyes were then left confronted with a bare wall that he began to touch until he felt it gave way.

"Come here!" he whispered as he introduced his hand in the hole and grabbed his knife. Like always, touching it was a pleasurable experience, and he concentrated himself on the thrilling feeling of dark power for a while.

It was his. The only thing he owned. When the Knights of Solamnia had taken him prisoner at the temple of Neraka, full of respect for that youngster who had killed five of them single-handed before they had got to him, they of course had taken all his weapons away. But there was one thing they hadn´t discovered then and that had remained with him until the present time, and it was the small knife he had hidden in his boot. He knew it wasn´t a powerful weapon by far, yet it was of the uttermost importance for him and his only remaining connection to the blackness where he had been born.

Ariakan pressed his hands against the blade, which had remained so sharp without help through the months and years, and closed his eyes. Other images were coming to his mind now in a powerful and vivid rush. He saw the old priestess of Takhisis with him in a dark corridor, her piercing black eyes reaching his soul and making him tremble as she described with a hissing voice how his father had killed his grandfather, and how the latter had murdered his wife, the mother of his son, while Ariakas was watching. He saw himself in that day when, being fifteen years old or so, in order to force his father to tell him the definite truth about the matter, he had succeeded in getting him drunk, a feat that nobody else had dared before. Ariakas could drink a lot of alcohol, including dwarven spirits, but he seemed to know when somebody was trying to manipulate him and never fell into the trap. This time, however, he had had to confront the cleverness of someone of his own blood. How ashamed and astounded he had been the following day, that he hadn´t even got angry at his little scheme!

The smile that had begun to appear in Ariakan´s countenance froze, and then, slowly, it disappeared. Pity it had all been for nothing! Ariakas had merely repeated what he already knew, adding a few details like their encounter in that lonely island at the Northern Sea, when the ship he had been sailing on had been wrecked and he had been the only survivor. But of the need for truth and certainty that his son had felt he never had been aware, not even when drunk.

That need his son had felt once.

... unless the victim had some powerful weapon that allowed him to tear himself away...

Tear himself away. Before it was too late.

He had made his decision now, though never in his life had been anything harder for him. Surprisingly enough, though he had been forced to make a lot of sacrifices lately, that last thing still remained floating in a corner of his mind, distracting him and making everything still more difficult. It was annoying, useless, a waste of time. What couldn´t be known couldn´t be known, and, damn! - His father had been right in refusing to have a "serious" talk about it with him. For, after all, would he have been able to prove anything? A mind that needed an absolute truth would have trusted nothing.

And so he had done.

"I was for years thinking about this", he whispered, or prayed, half to himself, half to a goddess...which one, he was not too sure. "I repeated with childish insistence to anybody who wanted to hear me that I was Zeboim´s son, while, no matter what I heard, I couldn´t believe it. When I came here, delusions of greatness were all that remained to me, and so I had to think I was no simple mortal; but I know too well that, be I who I am, I am forsaken, and my brains and my endurance is all that remains to me only if I use them fully. I have other things to care for right now, and you as well as my pride, as I bitterly learned, won´t help me in the least."

As he was saying those words, he suddenly felt the dark sensation of power in his hands increasing. Several drops of blood fell down and stained the white sheet, and, suddenly, he became aware of his hands grasping the blade without protection for the first time.

Immune to fear. Immune to pain, somebody had said.

Wasn´t it, in truth, that he did not care?

A pair of loud knocks resounded from the other side of the door.

* * * * *

"With the razor?" A very amused Thomas allowed his mouth to be distorted in a snicker, something that happened very rarely to so serious a young Knight. "Ariakan, you´re crazy! If somebody knew about it, your reputation as a swordsman would be completely ruined!"

"Oh, well, say what you want!" Ariakan grumbled, removing his glove again and staring with seeming surprise at the deep cuts. "I am sure, nay, certain, that you´ve had the same problem at some moment of your life. In fact, I never realised how easy it was to take it by the wrong end when you´re half asleep!"

"Then let´s pray to Paladine that you don´t take a sword when you´re half asleep!" Thomas exclaimed, as he threw his shield on a chair. Both young men had finally left the field of practices, where they had been sparring all morning while older Knights had been looking at them with hidden admiration. None of those who watched them was going to abase himself proving his skills against a mere youngster, even if he was a Knight of the Rose, and, as for Ariakan, he wasn´t even a Knight, but a prisoner who was graciously allowed to practice with a sword without an edge. The truth was, of course, that they were the best swordsmen in the whole Tower, and that their young age covered their long experience. Nobody wanted to risk an humiliating defeat facing any of them, at least none that Ariakan knew.

"Perhaps, if you grew a respectable moustache like we Knights, you wouldn´t have those problems", the Knight added as an afterthought. Ariakan, who was in that moment trying to count the number of doors between the courtyard and the armoury, stared blankly at him, and then laughed.

"Not in my life! In my opinion, you all look ridiculous. No wonder your enemies laughed at you."

"You did?" Thomas asked, a little offended. Ariakas´s son watched with amusement how his companion began to touch it unconsciously.

"I do." he answered, and turned away.

"Ariakan!" The Solamnic went behind him, pushing somebody who had crossed his way. "We haven´t finished the conversation yet!"

Two eyebrows arched at the same time.

"What conversation?"

"I know what happened to you. But you haven´t explained to me yet why it happened."

Ariakan sighed with exasperation.

"I told you, I was..."

"Half asleep?" his companion finished for him. "Oh, yes, it´s evident. You have dark circles around your eyes, and I defeated you soon enough. You are not well this morning, and that´s what I try to make you confess."

"On the contrary, I´m fine", Ariakas´s son replied curtly. All of a sudden, his black eyes seemed to acquire a deeper hue, as if he was meditating, planning, or perhaps trying to block an unseen attack. "And do not boast of your incredible luck this morning."

"Boast! I never boast!" Thomas shouted, though his anger was short-lived. "Go to your room and take a rest. I will be responsible for you again."

"I´m really thankful and surprised for the interest of an important Knight of Solamnia in my welfare." Ariakan began carefully, turning around to face him. As a result of his movement, sunrays fell over his braids, showing them in all their rich black splendour. "And I´m thrilled at the thought of you guarding my door with sword and shield, prepared to die a horrible death if the Lady of the Seas decided to come for me, but you are decidedly exaggerating. I had a sleepless night, that´s all. Or will you pretend now to make me sleep as you want to, as well?"

"The Lady of the Seas!" The Knight shook his head and grumbled, purposefully ignoring the last remark. "If I could pray to the gods of Darkness, I would ask her to come here and try to knock some reason into your head. Lord Gunthar may want to speak with you soon, Ariakan."

"I´m aware of that, thank you. "

The youngest of the two stayed immobile on the threshold of the door long after he had whispered those words. Then, suddenly, to Thomas´s surprise, he took him by his right arm.

"Do you think I´m progressing, Thomas?" he blurted out, with a strange and indefinable mixture of hope and worry in his eyes. Gone was now in a single moment the arrogant mask he used to show in every moment of the day, and the change was so brusque and astounding that even the severe Knight of Solamnia hesitated and stopped to search for the words he was going to answer.

"Er...well... Something is indeed true, and it´s that you´re not the fierce, uncooperative blockhead that you were when you were brought here", he started after a few "ahems", visibly incommoded. "Everybody would speak for you and for your desire to adapt yourself to our ways. Though it´s also true that you persist in some... dark customs."The Knight sighed, breathing heavily as he set his eyes on Ariakan´s waiting stance. "I wouldn´t mind your tendency to swear by sinister gods, or your refusal to have anything to do with clerics or any place or object consecrated to Paladine or Mishakal. After all, if the War of the Lance taught us something, it was that there has to be some kind of balance in this world. But that obsession with praising and remembering with fondness that horrible...place where you lived, those corrupted beings that surrounded you! For us Solamnics at least, you know that there is no pride, no honour, in trying to destroy the land and enslave the weak with fire and terror, and unless you realise that, Lord Gunthar and the others will never set you free. Nor will your continuous claim of being the son of the Dragon Highlord Ariakas and the dark Lady of the Seas be of any help with that matter."

"Do you think so?"

Ariakan had listened carefully to the long rant, nodding his head. As he saw the young knight was finished, his eyes acquired some expression again.

"Yes, Ariakan. I think so."

"Do you believe then" he insisted, "that it is possible for a man, not only to change himself, but also to change his birth, his past, as if they had never existed? That I could suddenly deny everything and become one of you?"

Thomas studied the prisoner closely, to search for the typical signs of sarcasm written over his face. He did not see them, though neither did he see anything that could tell him that Ariakan was speaking seriously. The face he was confronted with was...well, strange.

"You do not have to deny your origins. Just scorn the teachings you received, and learn from us. You know very well that we´re eager to teach you. And, oh, Ariakan...could you stop that story about your mother? Right, maybe your father told you that..." He shrugged his shoulders to prove what he thought about Ariakas and his truths "but no cleric has been able until now to see any divine essence in you. You have cold, you bleed, as the cut in your hand shows right now, and you are tired. You´re strong, but you´re not invincible. Perhaps your father, erm.. shared his bed with another woman...?"

"Oh, with plenty of them. "Ariakan interrupted him with a snicker. "Of all kinds. But they would never had lived long enough to bear a child."

Thomas´s deep shock, badly dissimulated, increased his amusement.

"By the gods! I´m not my father, one more time!" he cried. "Now, continue."

"I...I was saying", Thomas continued after regaining his composure ", that I like you, Ariakan, in spite of the darkness in which you lived, of the darkness that is inside you and that you fight continuously. I like you, yes, and nothing would bring me more relief than to see you free, both from it and from the prison you´re kept in here, in the Tower. I´ve spoken many times with Lord Gunthar, and, oh, Ariakan, if you only knew how much that issue of your parentage complicates the things! Not because of Ariakas, since Kitiara would not give a damn for the son of her rival, but for Ze...for that goddess of the Seas. And there is not even a single piece of evidence about it!"

Prepared to receive a murderous glare from his companion, ready to watch him go away, Thomas let go off a sigh and shook his head. It was cruel, what he had had to say, but Paladine knew it was only for the good. And he was sincere, for he really wanted the best for that man about three years younger than himself. He had always felt touched by his inner strength during his captivity, by the endurance that allowed him to be a prisoner of his deadly foes without letting go of his pride and his personality, and also by his evident efforts to change and to become better than he had been, through ways that could never be of his liking. However, this time he had been told to renounce to his greatest pride, his ancestry, and that was something he would never accept. Thomas was sadly certain about this, and also that it would bring his friend problems.

"Sir Knight, I have to ask you a question about the Measure." Ariakan asked then, interrupting his thoughts.

"What?" The thing had taken him absolutely at unawares this time. He had to wait a moment, until he was sure he had heard correctly. "Yes?"

"No Knight is allowed to question publicly the veracity of a direct statement of his commander in chief. If the disagreement is a very important one, the issue should be discussed in private. It´s the point number 103 of the Measure, am I wrong?"

"No." Sir Thomas answered, surprised. Where was he trying to arrive?

"I see I´m learning. Well..."Ariakan smiled a regained clever smile, "it turns out that Ariakas was my commander. He died, so I owe him respect until the hour of my death even if he hadn´t been my father. And it turns out also that he, and no other, was the one who told me about my mother. So, would I question him publicly? It would go against the Measure if I ever wished to be called son of anybody else than the woman, the goddess, that he had called my mother. If Lord Gunthar asks me personally instead of asking you" , the guilty look in Thomas´s countenance was evident, " that´s what he will be told. He will have to understand, won´t he?"

This time, when he turned away, the prisoner was not followed. Thomas of Thelgaard stayed behind, and, as he watched him disappear down the corridor, a sad smile appeared on his face.

"Young clever bastard." he muttered to himself.

(To be continued)