DragonLance Lost Legends 01 - Vinas Solamnus

barely feel the clubs and mauls and ails.

With that realization, fear sloughed from him like a cape. Emann
and his brutal empire might kill Vinas’s esh, but they would not
destroy his honor. They would not end his rebellion and the hope he
had given the world.

Hot, eshy ngers took hold of Vinas’s atrophied arms and lifted
him back to his feet.

“Get going!” one of the guards growled.

Cold, withered, and naked, Vinas was thrust out between the lines
of dead. He took a step, a second, a third.

The nearest deadman reached a hoary claw out toward him and
swiped clumsily at the air. Vinas instinctually shied away. A sound
like laughter came from the throats of the dead. The lumbering
clumsiness of their own kind amused even them. Vinas took the
moment to plod forward, his own legs feeling as dry and brittle as
sticks.

Ducking more artless blows, he proceeded toward the gibbet.

Perhaps when I am hanged, Luccia will descend from the sky and
whisk me away… .

A great block of wood smashed his chest and sent him sprawling
back—back the ve steps he had managed. He landed on shoulder
blades and elbows, and for a moment the bright sky was dark.

When his sight returned, one of the dead loomed over him. Half
its skull had been sheared away. The rest of the face drew up in a
graveyard grin. A bloodied block hung from a chain in its skeletal
hand, and a long, punctured wheeze came from its dry lungs. It
waited, waited with the others for its frail quarry to rise again and
walk.

Vinas breathed once, twice. He would rise. He would be slain
today, yes, but not in such a manner.

The block whirled and came down again. Ribs snapped beneath
its weight and esh tore free. They were not Vinas’s ribs or his esh,
for the block whirled in a di erent hand.

Luccia swung the maul again. The rest of the dead man’s head
snapped sideways and hung limply from a tom neck.

She had sneaked in among the peasants. She had come to die with
him.

Vinas tried to grab an axe held by a dead man. The axe clattered
to the ground before he could grasp it, and it was soon buried
beneath the unmade form of its bearer.

Vinas looked up to see Gaias draw back a sword from the pile of
bone and esh. The commander was about to say something when a
giant erupted from a nearby curtain, his brazen voice quelling the
cries of the crowd.

In the name of Paladine, begone to your graves, dead ones!

The dead could not fall fast enough. Bones and esh became ashy
soot and crumbled to the cobbles. Where moments before had stood
two rows of dead there now lay twin trails of ash.

But living soldiers quickly took their places, surrounding Luccia,
Gaias, Titus, and Vinas. The commander’s three friends held their
weapons out, keeping at bay the growing crowd of soldiers. There
would be no escaping this.

Then, the mob of soldiers began to thin… .

With inexpressible joy, Vinas saw the peasants converging. Their
canes and rolling pins brought down the soldiers. The people of
Daltigoth were climbing the city walls, too, and tearing to pieces the
black tangle of dead. Ergoth was breaking through the unholy
armies that had kept it captive these hundred years.

Red peasant faces. They had been red with more than cold. They
had been red with hope and excitement.

The war was ending. The forces of the emperor were falling. The
dead were dispersing, in the mouths of the victorious people rose a
chant that, like a word of unprecedented power, drove back the
armies of darkness.

“Solamnus… Solamnus… Solamnus!”

Two Months Hence, 1 Mishamont, 1207 Age of Light

In the two months following the peasant uprising, an exhausted
Vinas Solamnus did his best to bring about a calm and bene cial
close to the tumultuous events that had nearly destroyed the city.

The emperor (as always, fearing for his life) had temporarily ed
Daltigoth, and Vinas negotiated for Emann’s surrender. Many felt
such arbitration was unnecessary, given that Vinas was now residing
in Castle Daltigoth. It was indeed a comfortable position from which
to make demands, but Vinas knew that Ergoth would remain a
sovereign entity and that there would be many more emperors to
come. He intended to use his advantage to secure the right of self-
determination for each province (in order that each could choose to
assert their independence or remain loyal to the empire) and wanted
to do so in the most honorable and civil manner possible.

Of course, Vinas couldn’t help but make a few “improvements”
during the emperor’s conspicuous absence.

First, the dead were buried again, with proper rites that would
keep them from rising. Caiti was singled out for special disposal,
his shattered soul-gems, bones, and ashes ground to a ne dust that
was stirred into holy water. With his dissolution, Phrygia, too,
would not rise. Just to be certain, though, Titus and his platoon of
priests made the rounds of the castle and the city, casting out any
additional evil spirits that lingered in the place. The harsh and
haunted air of the city was dispersed with that housecleaning, and
Vinas sent out a proclamation of sorts that asked that such a priestly
sweep be made again each year.

Having laid the dead to rest, Vinas also took compassionate
measures. The commander dispatched a corps to burn the gibbets in
the city and eventually, those across the land. Bread wagons began
to depart regularly from the castle. Luccia, Titus and Gaias combed

the streets and the nearby countryside to ensure that inhabitants’
basic needs were being met and when, inevitably, they were not,
Vinas received a written report. Though the stacks of vellum grew in
size and number, the commander insisted on reading each one. He
often had to be creative when it came to requests for provisions—
more than one shivering farm lad found himself suddenly swathed
in an opulent yet functional used Ergothian Empire soldier’s
uniform.

Commander Vinas Solamnus had done much, and he was
justi ably tired.

Sitting at a window in the tower where Caiti had once kept his
evil laboratory, Vinas gazed out at Daltigoth. He had worked
ceaselessly for years for the good of all folk in the empire. Now, he
needed to work for his own good. There were certain matters he
wished to attend to… .

The knock at the door was brief—small knuckles on hard wood.
“Come in, my love,” Vinas said without turning.
Luccia entered, gliding quietly up behind him. She waited,
sensing his thoughtful mood. She knew him so well.
He turned to face her. She wore a look of concern. “This came,”
she said softly, handing him a folded dispatch.
Vinas looked at it darkly. The seal, whatever it had been, was
broken. “You opened it?”
“It was the seal of Emperor Emann,” she said. “I didn’t want to
bother you with it if it was some ruse.”
“It is not a ruse?” Vinas asked, turning the letter over.
“Read it,” Luccia replied.
He did:

To the Usurper, Vinas Solamnus,

Greetings,

I send you this missive in order to hasten your departure from
my empire. I sue for peace, that my head no longer be hunted
for bounty, and I surrender, that my land be returned to me.
The other provinces can have their independence, but I assure
you that many of those close to Daltigoth will remain loyal to
the empire. The northeastern nations and blasted Hylo are free
to destroy themselves.

The fact that you and your rabble have ensconced yourselves in
my castle is of no import. You, sir, know nothing of being an
emperor and are ill-equipped to handle the political
machinations of the job, to say nothing of the breeding
required. When you depart Daltigoth, take the formerly royal
linens with you. Anything you have touched will be burned,
and I suspect you will be in need of charity soon.

Emann Quisling
Emperor of Ergoth

“Our countryfolk will be sleeping on the emperor’s sheets,” said
Vinas, smiling. His face suddenly grew grave. “Is this his signature?”
he asked Luccia.

“Yes,” said Luccia. “I’ve had it veri ed three times.”

He sighed. She thought of everything. His mind was whirling. The
emperor had surrendered and Vinas had won freedom for his
people, after all of this time. “What do I do now?” he wondered
aloud.

“Before we leave, we’ll need to eat. Dinner is ready Come down,
or it will be cold,” said Luccia.

He smiled at her. She had a way of making things so simple.
“You’ll be there, won’t you?” he asked, trying to make eye contact
with her as she took him by the hand and led him toward the door.

“It’s getting cold,” she repeated. There was a mock sternness in
her voice. He could see the corner of her mouth turning up in a
smile.

“Whatever I do next, you’ll be there, won’t you?” he asked,
leaning back, using his weight to slow their progress toward the
door.

“No,” Luccia said. She let go of his hand, and Vinas almost fell
backward onto the oor. She turned to face him, hands on hips.
“Whatever we do next… .”

Vinas laughed aloud. His heart felt suddenly light. Luccia’s hand,
small and insistent, grasped his once again as she pulled him
through the door of the chamber and onto the stairs. He said, “Luce,
spring is a nice time of year for a wedding—”

The door closed on his joyous words.

Meus Pater [my father]

I never thought I would say this, but I am glad you are here, in
this dank crypt beneath the temple. I’m glad we’ve laid you to rest
again. It is my bath that while I live, Father, you will remain here in
a long, deserved rest.

All of us, at one time or another, stand above a grave and wish we
could bring back the one who lies within it. We are fools. Why bring
back a body ravaged by the cold ground?

It is better to meet you in memory and honor, to embrace not the
corruptible esh but the incorruptible spirit. It is the greatest
inheritance a father can provide.

Postlude

Sixteen Years Hence, 2,3 Corij, 1225 Age of Light

V inas Solamnus, praetor emeritus of eastern and northern

central Ansalon, was far from his home. He was lost and starving.
He looked as ragged and worn as the storm-torn island around him.

The old commander fetched up beside a monolith of black granite
—a strange, strange rock. It had seemed strange the rst day he had
arrived, and it seemed even stranger now, three nights later.

Three days and nights of fasting and prayer.

“I never was good at praying,” he muttered. His stomach rumbled.
“Nor fasting, either.”

Vinas clutched the rock. He had no more breath for prayers. He
panted into the sti wind.

The sky above was clearing for the rst time since he had arrived.
The constellations watched him with bemusement. Beneath them
the wind roared like a ravenous beast.

Vinas rested until he had drawn enough breath to laugh. Then he
did laugh—not at the wind or the constellations, but at himself. His
father had once said that all great men can laugh at themselves. If
that was true, Vinas was great, indeed.

He had spent sixteen years struggling to be the best ruler and
husband and father he could be. Perhaps he had not succeeded in
these tilings, but he had developed one of the best senses of humor
in Ansalon.

His son, Elias Solamnus, had in that time become a man. He
waved a sword at anything that moved. Waved was not the right
word, for Elias had become the nest swordsman in Solamnia. Still,
he was only sixteen, and was the son of the old commander—a true
handicap. Elias was neither the right age nor the right cut for the

general infantry, but darn it if that kid hadn’t tried to enlist three
times already. Like father, like son.

That expression came very close to summing up why Vinas
Solamnus was out here on Sancrist Isle, wind-tossed and wayward.
He wanted to nd a way to pass honor to his son, and to his
grandson, and to his great grandson.

The Quest for Honor was what Vinas had called it when, in simple
clothes, he had donned a rucksack and set out from Vingaard Keep.
Luccia shook her head after him and clucked. She would be
worrying every night, too.

Vinas looked down at his tattered clothes and mud- lthy body,
and he laughed again. She had every reason to worry.

“What kind of damned idealistic aw brought me out here?” he
wondered aloud. He chastened himself. This was a holy place, this
weird wedge of black granite, and he ought to keep a reverent—

And then, from a clear sky, lightning ashed. Vinas ducked
instinctually.

High overhead, three constellations shone brightly down upon
him—the Dragon’s Lord, Paladine; the bison-headed Kiri-Jolith; and
the king sher of Habbakuk. They glared at him. In his head he
heard ethereal music.

He heard the grand justice of Paladine in well-ordered chords, the
un agging courage of Kiri-Jolith in enduring themes, and the
temperance of Habbakuk in balanced counterpoint.

Then he heard wisdom—wisdom resonating in his own soul.

A knighthood. He would establish a knighthood to embody honor,
to live it day by day. There would be three orders, the highest for
Paladine, championing justice. The second for Kiri-Jolith, preserving
courage. And the third for temperate Habbakuk, personifying
loyalty and obedience.

“Knights of the Rose… of the Sword… of the Crown,” whispered
Vinas in awe. “They will preserve honor, and pass it, unsullied,
generation to generation.”

Suddenly, the great lights of the heavens glowed in the very stone
beneath his ngers. The black granite had been transformed into
white crystal, and it shone like a chunk of star grounded on
Ansalon.

“Honor,” said Vinas. “They shall live and die by honor. My own
Elias will do so. And so will I.

“My honor is my life.”

Back Cover

Vinas Solamnus.
Soldier, Nobleman, Priest.

Vinas Solamnus.
Rebel, Commander, Conqueror.

Vinas Solamnus.
Author of The Oath and the Measure and founder of the Solamnic

Knights.

No knight was ever nobler, more spiritual, more idealistic than
Vinas Solamnus… but he wasn’t always that way. The story of his
early years, his education, and his crucible is truly one of the most

famous…

Lost Legends of Krynn