Khirsah dropped Tas (nearly on his head), and—spreading his wings—turned to face the southern part of the city where the enemy was grouping and where the city’s defenders were valiantly holding them back.
Tanis came over to stare down at the small culprit, who was staring right back at him defiantly as he stood up.
“Tasslehoff,” said Tanis, his voice quivering with suppressed rage, “this time you’ve gone too far. This prank may cost the lives of hundreds of innocent people. Give me the bracelet, Tas, and know this—from this moment on, our friendship ends!”
Expecting some hare-brained excuse or some sniffling apology, the half-elf was not prepared to see Tas regarding him with a pale face, trembling lips, and an air of quiet dignity.
“It’s very hard to explain, Tanis, and I really don’t have time. But your fighting Lord Soth wouldn’t have made any difference.” He looked at the half-elf earnestly. “You must believe me, Tanis. I’m telling the truth. It wouldn’t have mattered. All those people who are going to die would still have died, and you would have died, too, and—what’s worse—the whole world would have died. But you didn’t, so maybe it won’t. And now,” Tas said firmly, tugging and twitching his pouches and his clothes into place, “we’ve got to go rescue Caramon.”
Tanis stared at Tas, then, wearily, he put his hand to his head and yanked off the hot, steel helm. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. “All right, Tas,” he said in exhaustion. “Tell me about Caramon. He’s alive? Where is he?”
Tas’s face twisted in worry. “That’s just it, Tanis. He may not be alive. At least not much longer. He’s going to try to get into the Shoikan Grove!”
“The Grove!” Tanis looked alarmed. “That’s impossible!”
“I know!” Tas tugged nervously at his topknot. “But he’s trying to get to the Tower of High Sorcery to stop Raistlin—”
“I see,” Tanis muttered. He tossed the helm down into the street. “Or I’m beginning to, at any rate. Let’s go. Which way?” Tas’s face brightened. “You’re coming? You believe me? Oh, Tanis! I’m so glad! You’ve no idea what a major responsibility it is, looking after Caramon. This way!” he cried, pointing eagerly.
“Is there anything further I can do for you, Half-Elven?” asked Khirsah, fanning his wings, his gaze going eagerly to the battle being fought overhead.
“Not unless you can enter the Grove.”
Khirsah shook his head. “I am sorry, Half-Elven. Not even dragons can enter that accursed woods. I wish you good fortune, but do not expect to find your friend alive.”
Wings beating, the dragon leaped into the air and soared toward the action. Shaking his head gravely, Tanis started off down the street at a rapid pace, Tasslehoff running to keep up.
“Maybe Caramon couldn’t even get that far,” Tas said hopefully. “I couldn’t, the last time Flint and I came. And kender aren’t frightened of anything!”
“You say he’s trying to stop Raistlin?”
Tas nodded.
“He’ll get that far,” Tanis predicted gloomily.
It had taken every bit of Caramon’s nerve and courage to even approach the Shoikan Grove. As it was, he was able to come closer to it than any other living mortal not bearing a charm allowing safe passage. Now he stood before those dark, silent trees, shivering and sweating and trying to make himself take one more step.
“My death lies in there,” he murmured to himself, licking his dry lips. “But what difference should that make? I’ve faced death before, a hundred times!” Hand gripping the hilt of his sword, Caramon edged a foot forward.
“No, I will not die!” he shouted at the forest. “I cannot die. Too much depends on me. And I will not be stopped by … by trees!”
He edged his other foot forward.
“I have walked in darker places than this.” He kept talking, defiantly. “I have walked the Forest of Wayreth. I have walked Krynn when it was dying. I have seen the end of the world. No,” he continued firmly. “This forest holds no terrors for me that I cannot overcome.”
With that, Caramon strode forward and stepped into the Shoikan Grove.
He was immediately plunged into everlasting darkness. It was like being back in the Tower again, when Crysania’s spell had blinded him. Only this time he was alone. Panic clutched him. There was life within that darkness! Horrible, unholy life that wasn’t life at all but living death.… Caramon’s muscles went weak. He fell to his hands and knees, sobbing and shivering in terror.
“You’re ours!” whispered soft, hissing voices. “Your blood, your warmth, your life! Ours! Ours! Come closer. Bring us your sweet blood, your warm flesh. We are cold, cold, cold beyond endurance. Come closer, come closer.”
Horror overwhelmed Caramon. He had only to turn and run and he would escape.… “But, no,” he gasped in the hissing, smothering darkness, “I must stop Raistlin! I must … go … on.”
For the first time in his life, Caramon reached far down within himself and found the same indomitable will that had led his twin to overcome frailty and pain and even death itself to achieve his goal. Gritting his teeth, unable to stand yet determined to move ahead, Caramon crawled on his hands and knees through the dirt.
It was a valiant effort, but he did not get far. Staring into the darkness, he watched in paralyzed fascination as a fleshless hand reached up through the ground. Fingers, chill and smooth as marble, closed over his hand and began dragging him down. Desperately, he tried to free himself, but other hands grasped for him, their nails tearing into his flesh. He felt himself being sucked under. The hissing voices whispered in his ears, lips of bone pressed against his flesh. The cold froze his heart.
“I have failed.…”
“Caramon,” came a worried voice.
Caramon stirred.
“Caramon?” Then, “Tanis, he’s coming around!”
“Thank the gods!”
Caramon opened his eyes. Looking up, he stared into the face of the bearded half-elf, who was looking at him with an expression of relief mingled with puzzlement, amazement, and admiration.
“Tanis!” Sitting up groggily, still numb with horror, Caramon gripped his friend in his strong arms, holding him fast, sobbing in relief.
“My friend!” Tanis said, and then was prevented from saying anything more by his own tears choking him.
“Are you all right, Caramon?” Tas asked, hovering near.
The big man drew a shivering breath. “Yes,” he said, putting his head into his shaking hands. “I guess so.”
“That was the bravest thing I have seen any man do,” Tanis said solemnly, leaning back to rest upon his heels as he stared at Caramon. “The bravest … and the stupidest.”
Caramon flushed. “Yeah,” he muttered, “well, you know me.”
“I used to,” Tanis said, scratching his beard. His gaze took in the big man’s splendid physique, his bronze skin, his expression of quiet, firm resolve. “Damn it, Caramon! A month ago, you passed out dead drunk at my feet! Your gut practically dragged the floor! And now—”
“I’ve lived years, Tanis,” Caramon said, slowly getting to his feet with Tas’s help. “That’s all I can tell you. But, what happened? How did I get out of that horrible place?” Glancing behind him, he saw the shadows of the trees far down at the end of the street, and he could not help shuddering.
“I found you,” Tanis said, rising to his feet. “They—those things—were dragging you under. You would have had an uneasy resting place there, my friend.”
“How did you get in?”
“This,” Tanis said, smiling and holding up a silver bracelet.
“It got you in? Then maybe—”
“No, Caramon,” Tanis said, carefully tucking the bracelet back inside his belt with a sidelong glance at Tas, who was looking extremely innocent. “Its magic was barely strong enough to get me to the edge of those cursed woods. I could feel its power dwindling—”
Caramon’s eager expression faded. “I tried our magic
al device, too,” he said, looking at Tas. “It doesn’t work either. I didn’t much expect it to. It wouldn’t even get us through the Forest of Wayreth. But I had to try. I—I couldn’t even get it to transform itself! It nearly fell apart in my hands, so I left it alone.” He was silent for a moment, then, his voice shaking with desperation, he burst out, “Tanis, I have to reach the Tower!” His hands clenched into fists. “I can’t explain, but I’ve seen the future, Tanis! I must go into the Portal and stop Raistlin. I’m the only one who can!”
Startled, Tanis laid a calming hand on the big man’s shoulder. “So Tas told me—sort of. But, Caramon, Dalamar’s there … and … how in the name of the gods can you get inside the Portal anyway?”
“Tanis,” Caramon said, looking at his friend with such a serious, firm expression that the half-elf blinked in astonishment, “you cannot understand and there is no time to explain. But you’ve got to believe me. I must get into that Tower!”
“You’re right,” Tanis said, after staring at Caramon in mystified wonder, “I don’t understand. But I’ll help you, if I can, if it’s at all possible.”
Caramon sighed heavily, his head drooping, his shoulders slumping. “Thank you, my friend,” he said simply. “I’ve been so alone through all this. If it hadn’t been for Tas—”
He looked over at the kender, but Tas wasn’t listening. His gaze was fixed with rapt attention on the flying citadel, still hovering above the city walls. The battle was raging in the air around it, among the dragons, and on the ground below, as could be seen from the thick columns of smoke rising from the south part of the city, the sounds of screams and cries, the clash of arms, and the clattering of horses’ hooves.
“I’ll bet a person could fly that citadel to the Tower,” Tas said, staring at it with interest. “Whoosh! Right over the Grove. After all, its magic is evil and the Grove’s magic is evil and it’s pretty big—the citadel, that is, not the Grove. It would probably take a lot of magic to stop it and—”
“Tas!”
The kender turned to find both Caramon and Tanis standing, staring at him.
“What?” he cried in alarm. “I didn’t do it! It’s not my fault—”
“If we could only get up there!” Tanis stared at the citadel.
“The magical device!” Caramon cried in excitement, fishing it out of the inner pocket of the shirt he wore beneath his armor. “This will take us there!”
“Take us where?” Tasslehoff had suddenly realized something was going on. “Take us …”—he followed Tanis’s gaze—“there? There!” The kender’s eyes shone as brightly as stars. “Really? Truly? Into the flying citadel! That’s so wonderful! I’m ready. Let’s go!” His gaze went to the magical device Caramon was holding in his hand. “But that only works for two people, Caramon. How will Tanis get up?”
Caramon cleared his throat uncomfortably, and comprehension dawned upon the kender.
“Oh, no!” Tas wailed. “No!”
“I’m sorry, Tas,” Caramon said, his trembling hands hastily transforming the small, nondescript pendant into the brilliant, bejeweled sceptre, “but we’re going to have a stiff fight on our hands to get inside that thing—”
“You must take me, Caramon!” Tas cried. “It was my idea! I can fight!” Fumbling in his belt, he drew his little knife. “I saved your life! I saved Tanis’s life!”
Seeing by the expression on Caramon’s face that he was going to be stubborn about this, Tas turned to Tanis and threw his arms around him pleadingly. “Take me with you! Maybe the device will work with three people. Or rather two people and a kender. I’m short. It may not notice me! Please!”
“No, Tas,” Tanis said firmly. Prying the kender loose, he moved over to stand next to Caramon. Raising a warning finger, he cautioned—with a look Tas knew well. “And I mean it this time!”
Tas stood there with an expression so forlorn that Caramon’s heart misgave him. “Tas,” he said softly, kneeling down beside the distraught kender, “you saw what’s going to happen if we fail! I need Tanis with me—I need his strength, his sword. You understand, don’t you?”
Tas tried to smile, but his lower lip quivered. “Yes, Caramon, I understand. I’m sorry.”
“And, after all, it was your idea,” Caramon added solemnly, getting to his feet.
While this thought appeared to comfort the kender, it didn’t do a lot for the confidence of the half-elf. “Somehow,” Tanis muttered, “that has me worried.” So did the expression on the kender’s face. “Tas”—Tanis assumed his sternest air as Caramon moved to stand beside him once more—“promise me that you will find somewhere safe and stay there and that you’ll keep out of mischief! Do you promise?”
Tas’s face was the picture of inner turmoil—he bit his lip, his brows knotted together, he twisted his topknot clear up to the top of his head. Then—suddenly—his eyes widened. He smiled, and let go of his hair, which tumbled down his back. “Of course, I promise, Tanis,” he said with expression of such sincere innocence that the half-elf groaned.
But there was nothing he could do about it now. Caramon was already reciting the magical chant and manipulating the device. The last glimpse Tanis had, before he vanished into the swirling mists of magic, was of Tasslehoff standing on one foot, rubbing the back of his leg with the other, and waving goodbye with a cheerful smile.
CHAPTER
3
ireflash!” said Tasslehoff to himself as soon as Tanis and Caramon had vanished from his sight.
Turning, the kender ran down the street toward the southern end of town where the fighting was heaviest. “For,” he reasoned, “that’s where the dragons are probably doing their battling.”
It was then that the unfortunate flaw in his scheme occurred to Tas. “Drat!” he muttered, stopping and staring up into the sky that was filled with dragons snarling and clawing and biting and breathing their breath weapons at each other in rage. “Now, how am I ever going to find him in that mess?”
Drawing a deep, exasperated breath, the kender promptly choked and coughed. Looking around, he noticed that the air was getting extremely smoky and that the sky, formerly gray with the dawn beneath the storm clouds, was now brightening with a fiery glow.
Palanthas was burning.
“Not exactly a safe place to be,” Tas muttered. “And Tanis told me to find a safe place. And the safest place I know is with him and Caramon and they’re up there in that citadel right now, probably getting into no end of trouble, and I’m stuck here in a town that’s being burned and pillaged and looted.” The kender thought hard. “I know!” he said suddenly. “I’ll pray to Fizban! It worked a couple of times—well, I think it worked. But—at any rate—it can’t hurt.”
Seeing a draconian patrol coming down the street and not wanting any interruption, Tas ducked down an alley where he crouched behind a refuse pile and looked up into the sky. “Fizban,” he said solemnly, “this is it! If we don’t get out of this one, then we might just as soon toss the silver down the well and move in with the chickens, as my mother used to say, and—though I’m not too certain what she had in mind—it certainly does sound dire. I need to be with Tanis and Caramon. You know they can’t manage things without me. And to do that, I need a dragon. Now, that isn’t much. I could have asked for a lot more—like maybe you just skipping the middle man and whooshing me up there. But I didn’t. Just one dragon. That’s it.”
Tas waited.
Nothing happened.
Heaving an exasperated sigh, Tas eyed the sky sternly and waited some more.
Still nothing.
Tas heaved a sigh. “All right, I admit it. I’d give the contents of one pouch—maybe even two—for the chance to fly in the citadel. There, that’s the truth. The rest of the truth at any rate. And I did always find your hat for you.…”
But, despite this magnanimous gesture, no dragon appeared.
Finally, Tas gave up. Realizing that the draconian patrol had passed on by, he rose up from behind the gar
bage heap and made his way back out of the alley onto the street.
“Well,” he muttered, “I suppose you’re busy, Fizban, and—”
At that instant, the ground lifted beneath Tas’s feet, the air filled with broken rock and brick and debris, a sound like thunder deafened the kender, and then … silence.
Picking himself up, brushing the dust off his leggings, Tas peered through the smoke and rubble, trying to see what had happened. For a moment, he thought that perhaps another building had been dropped on him, like at Tarsis. But then he saw that wasn’t the case.
A bronze dragon lay on its back in the middle of the street. It was covered with blood, its wings, spread over the block, had crushed several buildings, its tail lay across several more. Its eyes were closed, there were scorch marks up and down its flanks, and it didn’t appear to be breathing.
“Now this,” said Tas irritably, staring at the dragon, “was not what I had in mind!”
At that moment, however, the dragon stirred. One eye flickered open and seemed to regard the kender with dazed recollection.
“Fireflash!” Tas gasped, running up one of the huge legs to look the wounded dragon in the eye. “I was looking for you! Are—are you hurt badly?”
The young dragon seemed about to try to reply when a dark shadow covered both of them. Khirsah’s eyes flared open, he gave a soft snarl and tried feebly to raise his head, but the effort seemed beyond him. Looking up, Tas saw a large black dragon swooping toward them, apparently intent on finishing off his victim.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Tas muttered. “This is my bronze! Fizban sent him to me. Now, how does one fight a dragon?”
Stories of Huma came to the kender’s mind, but they weren’t much help, since he didn’t have a dragonlance, or even a sword. Pulling out his small knife, he looked at it hopefully, then shook his head and shoved it back in his belt. Well, he’d have to do the best he could.
“Fireflash,” he instructed the dragon as he clamored up on the creature’s broad, scaled stomach. “You just lie there and keep quiet, all right? Yes, I know all about how you want to die honorably, fighting your enemy. I had a friend who was a Knight of Solamnia. But right now we can’t afford to be honorable. I have two other friends who are alive right now but who maybe won’t be if you can’t help me get to them. Besides, I saved your life once already this morning, although that’s probably not too obvious at the moment, and you owe me this.”
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