Read Dragonlance 10 - The Second Generation for Free Online Page B

mother, a woman he loves—haven't been able to change him, all these years, what can I do? An uncle he never knew, a stranger. He won't listen to me."
    "Not to you," Sara agreed, "but he might listen to his father."
    "His father's dead, my lady."
    "I've heard that the body of Sturm Brightblade is enshrined in the High Clerist's Tower. I've heard it said that the body possesses miraculous holy powers. Surely, the father would reach out to help his son!"
    "Well… maybe." Caramon appeared dubious. "I've seen some strange things in my life, but I still don't understand. What is it you want me to do?"
    "I want you to take Steel to the High Clerist's Tower."
    Caramon's jaw sagged. "Just like that! And what if he doesn't want to go?"
    "Oh, he won't," Sara said confidently. "You're going to have to use force. Probably take him at sword point. And that won't be easy. He's strong and a skilled warrior, but you can do it. You're a Hero of the Lance."
    Perplexed, baffled, Caramon gazed at the woman in uncomfortable silence.
    "You must do it," Sara pleaded, clasping her hands in supplication. Tears slid unheeded down her cheeks; weariness and fear and sorrow finally overcame her. "Or Sturm's son will be lost!"

Chapter Four
Caramon Tries To Remember Where He Put His Armor
    "Well," said Tika, jumping briskly to her feet, "if you two are going to leave before dawn, you'd better get started."
    "What?" Caramon stared at his wife. "You can't be serious."
    "I most certainly am."
    "But—"
    "The boy's your nephew," Tika informed him, hands on her hips.
    "Yes, but—"
    "And Sturm was your friend."
    "I know that, but—"
    "It's your duty. And that's that," Tika concluded. "Now, where did we pack away your armor?" She eyed him critically. "The breastplate won't fit, but the chain mail might—"
    "You expect me to go riding a blue dragon into a… a—" Caramon looked at Sara.
    "Fortress," she told him. "On an island, far to the north, in the Sirrion Sea."
    "An island fortress. A secret stronghold filled with legions of dark paladins dedicated to the service of the Dark Queen! And once in this fortress, I'm supposed to snatch up a trained knight in the prime of his life and haul him off to pay a visit to the High Clerist's Tower. And if I even get there alive, which I doubt I'll do, then you expect the Solamnic Knights to just let us stroll in? Me and a knight of evil?" Caramon was forced to shout this last. Tika had walked out on him, into the kitchen.
    "If one side doesn't kill me," he bellowed, "the other will!"
    "Hush, dear, you'll wake the children." Tika returned, carrying a bag, redolent with the odor of roasted meat, and a waterskin. "You'll be hungry by morning. I'll just go fetch you a fresh shirt. You'll have to see to the armor. I remember—it's in the big chest under the bed. And don't worry, dear," she said, stopping to give him a hurried kiss. "I'm sure Sara has devised a way to get you inside the fortress. As for the High Clerist's Tower, Tanis will come up with a plan."
    "Tanis!" Caramon regarded her blankly.
    "Well, of course, you're going to pick up Tanis on the way. You can't go alone. You're not in the best of shape. Besides…" She glanced at Sara, who had donned her cloak and was standing impatiently by the door. Tika took hold of her husband's ear and pulled his head down to her level. "Kitiara may have lied," she whispered. "Tanis may be the real father. He should see the boy.
    "Then, too," she added aloud, as Caramon rubbed his ear, "Tanis is the only one who can get you into the High Clerist's Tower. The knights will have to let him inside. They wouldn't dare offend him or Laurana."
    Tika turned to Sara with an explanation. "Laurana is Tanis's wife. She was one of the leaders of the Knights of Solamnia during the War of the Lance. She is highly revered among them. Now she and Tanis are both serving as liaisons between the knights and the elven nations. Her brother, Porthios, is the Speaker of the elven nations. To offend